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

"How long have you been out here?" Blair asked him.

"I don't know, maybe a year?"

"A year?" Blair repeated, unable to hide his surprise. "Why would you stay in these woods for a year?"

"Like I said," Joel answered a bit more firmly. "I lost my nerve. I don’t belong in the city. I'm useless now."

"What did you do there? Jim said you helped him on a case. Are you in forensics?" Blair asked, thankful that the terms used for the peace officers were the same as in Cascade.

"No. I was on the Bomb Squad."

"Ahh." Blair blew out his breath appreciatively. Not only were members of the bomb squad extremely skilled and highly trained, they needed the extra personality trait of remaining calm in the tensest of situations. A bomb squad member who had lost his nerve would indeed think himself useless. Wrongfully so, but if *he* thought he had no place in Owz society, the more likely his retreat from said society would be. But what could have happened that made him so hopeless? Jim had sounded impressed with the man when recalling his contributions to that arson case. Something must have happened to Joel, and someone close to him had dropped the ball on helping him recover. A few more questions were in order.

"Does you family miss you? Your wife? Kids?"

"I don't have a family. I was, how do they say it, 'married to my job'," Taggert answered with a wry grin.

"Friends, colleagues? Does anyone know you’ve been out here?"

"My boss knows. Most of the colleagues who cared about me are either dead or off the force now. No one is falling over themselves trying to track me down if that's what you mean."

Blair raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I didn't mean to upset you, man. I'm just curious as to why someone as highly skilled as you are ended up on his own out here. Lost nerve or not, someone must be missing you."

Joel raised his head to meet the anthropologist's eyes, and the sorrow Blair saw in that gaze nearly took his breath away. The big man slowly shook his head.

"They might have come after the man I used to be, but he's as dead as the people I failed to protect." His head lowered again, and a huge sigh escaped him.

Blair scooted closer until his knees nearly met the other man's. Jim and Simon remained silent, so Blair pressed on gently.

"Do you want to tell us what happened? Maybe if you talk about it, you'll feel better."

The dubious look Taggert shot the anthropologist caused Simon to stifle a laugh. Blair watched as Jim sent a glare in the tall captain's direction, knowing Simon would keep his comments to himself. Banks covered his laugh with a cough, and motioned for Blair to pass the water his way. Joel did not seem to notice the brief exchange. His head remained lowered, his shoulders slumped.

"I can't promise that it will make anything right, but I'm willing to listen if you want to tell me what happened," Blair entreated. He moved a hand to the man's shoulder and gave a light squeeze, conveying sympathy and a desire to understand. Taggert met his eyes and nodded once, quickly. Blair removed his hand but made no attempt to move back away from the hurting man. The deep pain he had glimpsed in Joel's eyes needed to be released before any healing could begin.

Joel began softly, explaining that he had grown up as an only child in a small village north of the city, and had moved to the city when he was old enough to attend the university there. His parents had died a few years before he had gone off to school. His father had been a peace officer, so Joel had attended the academy, intent to become a street officer like his Dad had been. At the academy, his skills in defusion were revealed, and he had abandoned the idea of following in his father's footsteps in favor of the bomb squad. He had a natural gift, or so his bosses had told him, and quickly found himself placed in the most dangerous situations, always coming out the winner and saving the day. Nearly twenty years of success had eventually gone to his head. The adulation of his teams and his division was unwavering, and the man was practically a legend within the peace keeping force.

Simon and Jim were nodding along with this part of the story, their memories of the man and his deeds clearly coming back to them. Simon interjected at one point to give Joel a quick introduction to himself, and to tell him that he had tried on several occasions to seek the bomb expert's help, only to be rebuffed when the situation was revealed as anything less than catastrophic. Joel nodded his head at that, the wry grin back in place.

"I thought I was the King of Owz! No one could match my skills. I even claimed once that I could defuse a bomb in my sleep. My people followed me like disciples, for heaven's sake. Then along came Brackett.

"Lee Brackett was a former Intelligence Operative, who had fallen out of favor with his superiors at the Agency. He was out for revenge, and decided the biggest city in the kingdom was the place to make his point. His knowledge of bombs and triggering devices nearly matched mine. I'm ashamed to say I looked at it as a chance to prove that I truly was untouchable. No one could beat Joel Taggert! I practically lived at the station, hoping another threat would come in so I could go out and play the hero. One of my colleagues, a real nice guy named Ricardo caught the buzz, too. He was good at defusing bombs, but lacked caution. As jazzed as I would get while doing my job, I never let my people get into unnecessary danger, and always had a contingency plan to get the hell out if I found something I couldn't handle. Ricardo started working the media, practically issuing challenges to Brackett. I tried to stop him, but I was secretly proud of him at the same time. He was the first of my men to get killed. By that time, Brackett had all the media attention he wanted, and the journalists were writing up the story of his life as an operative, claiming he had been wronged and sending their bleeding heart pleas to the agency for understanding. Understanding? The guy was insane!

"Brackett had changed the rules. He started setting up bombs that couldn't be defused. He had three, four, even five triggering devices. By the time we finally caught on to his game, two of my people were dead, and three others will never work again. And the civilians. . .

"After the third bomb Bracket placed in a remote location was defused, he decided to make a play for a bit more publicity. Seems the stories weren't big enough to suit his overblown ego. He wired a church, a pre-school and a hospital. I was brought in on those cases, being the best on the bomb squad, and took care of them easily. Then Brackett decided to set up multiple bombs, hoping to see some fireworks and up the media attention. Ricardo was killed trying to defuse one of the undefusable "Brackett Specials" on a city bus. Most of the passengers got off in time, but three were killed along with Ricardo. Another of my people, Serena, saved a boardroom full of executives by handling the bombs planted under table, but was injured badly when the windows blew in as forensics was sweeping the place for evidence. I was taking care of some other explosives at the time. Brackett had an assistant, Veronica Sarris, who was just as needy for attention and glory as he was. She was good, and had learned a few tricks from her partner. It was her bombs that I was working on when Brackett's killed my man.

"I stopped thinking about it as a game, and started getting awfully scared any time the phone rang. We finally got a lead on where Brackett and Sarris were hiding out, and went in full force to take them down. We found them all right, but they were killed along with ten other tenants in the apartment building when one of the bombs was tripped prematurely. I got buried under some rubble and held one of my squad member's hand as she died before the rescue crews got to us. As soon as I got out of the hospital I tried to go back to work, but I started freaking out any time I was asked to go out on a call. I messed up on a few jobs, and was told to take some time off to recover.

"But I just kept seeing those bombs. The wires, the timing devices, the plastique, the C-4, the dynamite. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold a cup of coffee, let alone get dressed and go to work. After the third time my captain came and asked me to come back to work I panicked and took off for the woods. I thought if I was out here alone, I could get over what had happened, and maybe get my nerve back. I brought my defusion kit with me, but just looking at it makes me break into a cold sweat. I'm useless to the peace officers, and scared of my own shadow now."

His tale finished, Joel slumped miserably where he sat, unshed tears dotting his eyelashes.

"I didn’t mean to frighten you, you know. I thought you might be someone from the force coming to check on their errant freak. I thought I could scare them away so I would have more time to get my courage back. You can see how well that worked. I guess I'll just have to get used to living my life as a coward."

"You're not a coward!" Blair broke the silence with his impassioned statement, startling Taggert out of his melancholy. Before the bomb expert could voice a denial, the anthropologist was speaking again.

"And you're not a freak. You're a man, Joel Taggert, a man who saw some pretty horrible things, and who did his job incredibly well."

"Those people in the apartment complex are dead, Blair! Two of my people are dead, and several others maimed for life because I was trying too hard to be a hero!"

"You were trying to stop a madman! You told us yourself that the bombs were undefusable. You're not a god, Joel, you're a man. If you couldn't handle those bombs then no one could. Brackett and Sarris are the bad guys here, not you."

"The kid's right, Taggert," Simon broke in. "I followed the Brackett story, and there was not a whole lot you could do to stop him once he threw away the rule book. The guy was almost as bad as Lash."

"But I still nearly wet myself every time I think of going back into the field. What good am I to anyone if I can't do what I was trained to do?"

Jim's hand on Blair's shoulder stopped the grad student from arguing further. Shifting closer to Joel, Jim finally joined the conversation.

"You get over it, and then do whatever it takes to get back what you lost."

"It's not that easy," Joel hedged.

"I didn't say it would be easy, Taggert. Only you can wrap your head around what happened and make sense of it. Only you can finally admit that we officers can only do our best and pray that it's good enough, and only you can make peace with the consequences when it's not. I've *been* there, Joel," Jim emphasized, bending his head to catch the bigger man's eyes with his own. "Hiding out only gives your mind the chance to multiply your grief. Saying 'what if' will just make you as crazy as Brackett was. It will never bring back your men, and it will cheat you out of the chance to do more good with your life. Hiding out is never the right choice. It's served its purpose, but it's time to stop grieving for what might have been and move on. You're a damn fine explosives expert. Yes you are," he stated when Taggert shook his head.

"Whether you choose to use your skills or not, it's what defines you. What happened to you was terrible, Joel, but it was a setback, *not* the end of life as you know it. Don’t let Brackett win. Don't let what he and Sarris did unmake all the good you did, that you can still do."

Joel sighed again and looked up into the caring faces surrounding him.

"Why do you care so much about someone you just met? Someone who tried to hurt you?"

"Because we've all had bad things happen to us, but we’ve had friends nearby to help us past those things," Blair said simply, knowing that Jim's speech had almost as much to do with his own experiences as they did to Joel's. Simon, too, had benefited from his and Jim's influence already. And somewhere back in Cascade was someone who had helped him through his worst fears, scraping him off the ceiling when things got bad and helping him get his head back on straight.

"You're part of the brotherhood of the peace officers," Simon chimed in. "We take care of our own. Besides, I never cared much for the explosives expert in my division. He was an arrogant son of a bitch, and your accomplishments used to give him fits. I owe you for that, if nothing else."

The laughter Simon's bald statement produced was a welcome change from the heavy atmosphere which had settled over the small group. Blair glanced pointedly at Jim and cocked his head to the side, indicating Joel. The unspoken question was answered with a warm smile and a nod.

"Joel? Would you be willing to come with us to Owz?" Blair asked, bouncing a bit in place at the thought of helping this man to reclaim his life. "I think you'd stand a much better chance of getting back on track if you were among friends instead of out here on your own."

"I don’t know. I mean, I've been out here so long. What if nothing gets better? What if I still can't do my job?"

"You'll never know unless you try. Besides, there's lots of other options for you. You could teach, or become a street officer like your Dad was. You might even try being a detective like Jim. Don’t give up before you've given yourself a chance. Please come with us."

"No more acorns?"

Blair laughed at that.

"Don't worry, I'll lose that last one before we set off. It'll just be a whole lot of walking and some mouthing off from the tall guy," Blair replied, then ducked behind Jim as Simon reached over to swat at him.

"Mouthing off? You have never *seen* mouthing off until you've spent an interminable two days with the scruffy one here jabbering at you day and night."

"Jabbering? I'll show you jabbering!" Blair said and launched himself up to spar with Simon, hoping to score an easy victory as he had over Jim. Larry chose that moment to return from his self-imposed exile in the woods and leapt up into Simon's arms. The captain soothed the little ape as he moved farther from Sandburg's swinging fists.

"You wouldn’t hit a guy with a monkey, would you?" he cried out in mock dismay, using an unnaturally high voice.

Blair, Joel and Jim were bent over double at the sight of the tall man cooing over his frightened little friend like a woman. Wiping away the tears that leaked from his eyes, Joel stood and spread his arms wide.

"How could I pass up the opportunity to hang around with this group?" he announced, grinning broadly. Blair and Jim moved to slap their hands on the bigger man's back, their answering smiles marking the beginning of healing friendship for Joel Taggert.

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

The group decided to spend the night in the brick cottage that had been Joel's home for the past year. They spent the afternoon sharing their histories with the bomb expert, and filling him in on what he might expect while in their company. He seemed at times to retreat back into the frightened man they had first encountered, especially when hearing of Lash's interest in Blair, but each of the three friends made a concerted effort to calm his fears and make light of the danger they were in. Joel was fascinated with the idea of Jim's senses being heightened, but did not ask for any demonstrations, to Jim's delight and Blair's chagrin. The anthropologist wanted to ease Taggert's mind with a display of Jim's abilities. Surely, no warlock could cause them much trouble with a Sentinel in their group.

Like Simon had, Joel asked quite a few questions when it was time for Blair to share his own tale. He had whooped loudly with joy when Kincaid's death was revealed, and was intrigued by the thought that Blair was from another world. It turned out he and Simon had crossed paths before, as had he and Jim, though never getting to know each other well. Despite the less than ideal start, Joel's integration into the group was coming along nicely.

Larry took a liking to Joel, or more specifically, to Joel's house. The Barbary ape ensconced himself in the little nook above the fireplace, sleeping comfortably in the presence of his friends while remaining toasty warm.

Eventually, Blair was called upon to make dinner for the group. Joel objected, but was silenced as Simon regaled him with the story of Blair's attempt to civilize him and the consequences of his actions. The anthropologist rolled his eyes and sighed gustily at the exaggerated telling of the tale even as he moved to inventory Joel's pantry. Simon was truly on a roll. He made the two day experiment sound like a month of abject torture. Every one of Jim's actions were caricatured to frightening proportions, and Simon's description of Blair's role made the anthropologist sound like a bawling infant. He made a face at the captain as the man erroneously recalled having to carry the grad student bodily around the cliff's edge. This was too much.

"Simon, I really don’t think Joel is interested in your fairy tale," he stated, hoping that Joel knew Simon was telling a tall one.

"Ah, ah, ah. Back to kitchen with you. This is my story, and I'll tell it however I please," Simon replied.

Blair glanced towards Jim, hoping to gain an ally, but saw the amused glimmer in his eyes and knew the man was enjoying his discomfiture. Even if the story was making Joel smile, he really didn’t want to come across as a sissy. He opened his mouth to protest again, but was waved off by an absent hand as Jim turned his attention to Simon's further tales of humiliation. He narrowed his eyes, his mind racing to come up with a suitable punishment for his two supposed friends and their unwitting accomplice.

*Payback's a bitch, gentlemen.* he thought as he went back to the preparations for their dinner, a plan already forming in his head.

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

"My lord, Sandburg, this has to be the best dinner I have ever eaten!" Simon exclaimed as he shoveled the last morsel of meat onto his fork.

"I have to agree, kid. You've really outdone yourself," Jim added, wiping his biscuit around the plate to sop up the remaining bits of gravy before popping it into his mouth.

Joel leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile plastered on his face, his hand rubbing his belly.

"They've got it right, Blair. You really do have the touch."

"Are you sure you had enough while you were cooking?" Jim asked. Blair had remained in the kitchen for several hours, shooing the men out any time they wandered near. He had brewed some coffee and brought the pot out to the living area, then went back to his cooking. Several times he had wandered outside, claiming to be missing an ingredient or two. Content with their coffee and stories, the men had stayed away from his preparations. The final result was a splendid five course meal. He had sat with the men as they ate, but had only drank some of the rich red wine Joel had on hand, claiming he had eaten as he cooked and was not hungry. He smiled and shook is head at Jim's question, then refilled their wine glasses. It was time to spoil their party.

"Did you guys save any room for dessert?" he asked, hoping he could keep a straight face as he put his plan in motion. The others glanced at each other briefly before their faces lit up like little children. Taking their expressions for agreement, he moved to the kitchen to retrieve his final creation.

"I saved some room," Jim announced as he rubbed his hands together greedily.

"Oh, me too. I never turn down dessert," Simon added as he tried to unobtrusively loosen his belt.

Joel shifted in his chair and seemed about to decline the final dish when Blair returned from the kitchen, the steaming, aromatic pie held between two towel-clad hands. The bomb expert swiftly moved aside the plates on the table so the younger man had room to place his burden down.

"Oh, man, that smells good," he declared, leaning over to breathe in deeply.

Blair dished up the pie, then sat back to watch the three men as they hungrily ate first and second helpings. Once again, he declined to participate, patting his stomach and claiming himself to be full. He plastered his most innocent expression on his face and began to speak.

"I was really glad that Joel had all the ingredients I was looking for. The meal is one I remember researching a while ago and knew I just *had* to make for you. One of the ancient peoples of my world used this very dinner as a sort of courtship ritual. Prospective husbands would cook it for their beloved future wives and vice versa." He nearly grinned at the odd looks passed among the men. Before he could start chuckling, he continued quickly.

"Of course, it was also used to christen partnerships, too. Groups of warriors ate it together, as did those men and women bonded in friendship." Now the men were sending pleased looks in each others' direction and nodding thoughtfully at the appropriateness of their dinner.

"The dessert also comes from an ancient recipe. The ingredients are specific, but the beauty of it is, you can cook it anywhere. Indigenous ingredients are, in fact, encouraged so that the couple or the group doing the bonding feels a sense of home."

"Nothing reminds me so much of home as apple pie. My Mom used to make it all the time," Simon contributed. His fellow diners nodded in agreement.

"Well, there are *some* apples in there. They mask the taste of the other ingredients," Blair replied with a sweet smile.

"Mask the taste?" Joel asked, frowning at his empty plate.

"What other ingredients?" Jim asked a bit more forcefully.

"Indigenous things," Blair replied brightly.

"Spill it, mister," Simon commanded, his own frown firmly planted on his face. "*What* indigenous things?"

"Well these ancient people believed you could gain strength from the elements. You know, air, fire, water, earth. Each element represented a different aspect of the partnership or marriage. The element of earth gave the warriors a steadfast courage and the strength to see the journey through to its end. Likewise, it would gift the marriage with longevity and the ability to overcome obstacles in the path of true happiness. I figured we all needed an extra dose of 'earth'."

"So you used apples and cinnamon and raisins in this pie," Simon stated, almost daring the anthropologist to contradict him.

"Well, sure. And white grubs, tree bark and insects. Hey, maybe Larry would enjoy this," he exclaimed innocently, his eyes lighting up with victory as he watched the men convulsively grab for their wine glasses.

As the men repeatedly swallowed hard and cleared their throats, Blair casually cut himself a slice of the delicious pie and made a show of scooping a bite into his mouth and chewing slowly, making sounds of appreciation all the while. His eyes sparkled with unashamed mirth. Jim was the first one to catch on.

By the time all three men realized they'd been had, Sandburg had finished his pie and was humming merrily to himself as he brewed some coffee. The ensuing argument over who had actually believed him and who had been duped lasted well into the night and throughout the next day.

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

"We are definitely in the home stretch, Sandburg."

Blair looked over at the most recent addition to his group of companions, Joel Taggert. The two of them had gotten ahead of Jim and Simon, who were in the midst of a blazing argument about who each man considered the greatest borderball player in Owz' recent history. Each had a favorite player in mind, and the mostly good-natured argument had begun that morning after breakfast and was unlikely to be resolved anytime soon, judging by the frequent bellows coming from the two men. Blair had attempted to join the conversation, but although the game sounded suspiciously like the basketball he loved from his own universe, his inability to recite statistics on specific players was not appreciated by the others. Besides, he knew his own basketball hero Orvelle Wallace could kick any of the Owz players' butts any day. Joel had offered his own opinion and had been laughed out of the discussion. Not wanting to damage the fragile friendships he had begun with the other men, the former bomb expert had chosen to walk with Blair and leave Jim and Simon to their heated debate. Larry, too, had been bothered by the raised voices and was scampering along beside Blair.

It was nearing midday, and almost time to break for lunch when Blair and Joel's strides finally took them out of the deep forest region in which they had been travelling for the past few days since leaving Joel's house. The dark woods eventually gave way to sparse copses of trees, and after another mile, into a wide meadow which stretched as far as Blair could see. The men had decided to veer off the brick road and traipse across the softer, grassy ground alongside the road. The sky, which had remained sun-filled throughout the morning, turned overcast, and rain threatened.

"How much further 'til we can see the city?" Blair asked. Jim and Simon had both told him that once they reached the meadow, the city of Owz would be in view. Joel extended a hand and pointed towards where the golden brick road faded on the horizon.

"The moisture in the air is making it hard to see, but clouds or no clouds, we should be able to see it by the time we stop tonight. By this time tomorrow, we'll be in the city, although we might get a bit wet before we arrive. It's not the rainy season yet, but we sometimes get some brief afternoon showers. Looks like you'll get a taste of home before too long." As they walked, Blair had filled Joel in on what he remembered of his real home in Cascade, the rainy weather being one of the subjects he had shared.

"Cool. Not that traveling with you guys hasn't been fun, but I'd kill for a real bed right about now," Blair said with a sigh.

"Yeah. And real food, that takes more than ten minutes over an open flame to heat up."

"That I don’t have to cook!" Blair added, bringing a smile to Joel's face. "I want to have a nice long shower."

"I'm gonna take a nice hot bath, in a huge bathtub so I can soak up to my ears and get rid of all these sore muscles."

Joel did not see the smile falter on his friend's face at the thought of a bath. Blair found himself back in Susan Frasier's apartment staring at her open mouth and dead eyes, cursing again at the clarity of those particular memories. He knew that a 'nice, h-hot bath' was something he never planned on taking again if he could help it. He shook his head to banish the threatening image and continued with their banter, now somewhat forced.

"Joel, *you* can use the tub to get loosened up, *I'm* going for a full body massage right after a quick shower."

Their list of indulgent things they would enjoy once they reached the big city continued as they traveled further into the wide meadow. Jim and Simon, who had frequently stopped walking to demonstrate a particular borderball move to the other to make a point about their favored player, were a good ways behind them now.

The clouds, which had earlier seemed high and thin, seemed to darken and move closer to the ground the further they moved into the open space. The ground occasionally swelled up into small hills, and it was when they were atop one of these protuberances that the promised rain began to fall.

The day had been hot thus far, so at the first few drops of rain, Blair extended his arms and lifted his face to the sky, letting the cool drops of moisture take away the heat of travel. Joel soon aped his movements, and the two of them laughed like children as they spun in circles, not caring about the wetness that would likely grow uncomfortable later on, but deciding to simply enjoy the refreshing weather while it lasted.

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

Behind them, Simon and Jim had stopped again, with the tall captain swinging his arm in a high arc to show the peace officer how to land the perfect hook shot, just his hero, Larry Fowler. Jim was grudgingly appreciative of Fowler's skills, but still thought that in a one-on-one showdown, his own hero, Trickster Johnson, would put the other man to shame.

The start of the rain shower ended the impromptu demonstration, and as they resumed walking, the two men realized how far behind the others they had lagged. Picking up the pace a bit, they strode towards where they could see Blair and Joel romping in the cloudburst. Jim was accustomed by now to scanning their surroundings regularly, usually with the anthropologist at his side to prevent any zoneouts. But as long as he did not extend himself too far or focus too strongly on any one thing, he was comfortable doing a cursory scan without his friend.

He felt the beginnings of a smile appear as he zoomed in on Blair and Joel, their arms and faces upraised as they enjoyed the rain. He looked past them to the far edge of the meadow, his extraordinary sight cutting through the mist and allowing him a glimpse of the city of Owz.

A city that was bathed in sunlight.

Turning in a circle, looking sharply in each direction, he realized that the shower was concentrated solely on the meadow containing the four travelers. The edges of the clouds were visibly cut off about a hundred meters in any given direction. Frowning at the oddness of the weather phenomenon, he increased his gait, and was pleased when Simon did the same.

It was only when a drop of rain coursed into his mouth that he realized something was terribly wrong. He grabbed at Simon's arm, stopping the taller man in his tracks.

"Simon, something isn't right about this rain shower."

"Yeah. Rainy season shouldn't start for another three months."

"No, that's not what I mean," he growled in frustration. "The clouds are unnatural. They're only covering where we are, and the rain tastes funny."

"Tastes funny how?" the taller man asked, already reaching into his pack for a cloth to tie around his forehead to keep the rain from his eyes and mouth. The former captain had grown somewhat used to Jim's heightened senses and was learning to trust them.

"Like it's got chemicals in it or something."

Jim opened up his sense of smell, not willing to allow any more of the abnormal moisture into his mouth, and confirmed to the former captain that the rain smelled unnatural as well. There was something about the taste and scent that pushed at his mind, hinting that he knew what the strange substance was, but it remained elusive. He scanned the perimeters of the meadow once more as they jogged towards their friends but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

He had just about decided that his hyper senses were playing tricks on him when he saw Blair and Joel suddenly drop to the ground. He watched Joel fall forwards onto his stomach, throwing his arms over his head to shield himself from the deadly moisture. Blair, though, stumbled for a moment towards the larger man before rocking back on his heels and falling to a supine position, his arms trying ineffectually to shield his face before they flopped down to his sides. The rain seemed to pour down harder as soon as that happened, and the anthropologist lay unprotected, at the mercy of the poisonous rainfall.

He shouted a warning to Simon to keep his head down and mouth closed, then threw his jacket over his head as he ran, legs pumping hard, tearing up the distance between himself and the afflicted men.

Just as he reached the grad student's side, he heard a cackling laugh echo through the meadow. It was Lash. His brain finally supplied him with the answer to the puzzle of the chemical taste and smell. It was trichloroethanol. Jim had sensed the drug at each of the crime scenes when he and Danny had been pursuing the mad warlock. His senses had still been very much out of control at the time, but the occasional bursts of heightened sensory awareness had led him to identify the evidence tying the warlock to each murder. He had been kept away from the forensic evidence when it was Danny who had been Lash's victim, but the paperwork had indicated that the drug had been used to subdue his friend before the warlock had killed him.

He vaguely noted Simon pulling a still somewhat mobile Taggert to his feet and leading him towards a distant crop of trees, the limp Barbary ape tucked under his other arm. Jim prayed that the warlock would run out of energy soon. A storm of this magnitude would be difficult for all but the most powerful sorcerers to sustain for long, and he knew that Lash's tiring was their only hope of surviving this trial.

Jim crouched over the motionless Sandburg, shielding his face from further rain and wiped the young man's wet face with his sleeve. The anthropologist's eyes shot open, and the abject terror in them was clear to the Sentinel. Jim pulled Blair's arms up and lay them over his shoulder, a burst of worry filling him when they flopped lifelessly onto his back. Wasting no time with gentleness, he heaved the limp body over his shoulder, grunting at the dead weight, and set off for the trees at a run.

As he moved, the cloud cover shrank in size, forming a circle of ferocious storminess solely around the two men. With the concentrated rainfall, it was impossible for Jim to keep the poison from streaming across his unprotected face and into his mouth. He spit it out as best he could, but as he topped the rise of a small hill, he felt the muscles in his arms and legs weakening, causing him to stumble. Automatically rolling to protect the man he was carrying, he felt a sharp rock dig into his upper arm, slicing through the skin and drawing blood. The wound was not serious, but the pain was intense. Moments later, the weakness in his limbs seemed to melt away. He stood and hefted the still-motionless grad student over his shoulder and set off again for the copse of trees. When they were a few meters from the impromptu camp Simon had set up, the rain finally began to dwindle, ceasing altogether a few moments later.

A hoarse cry of fury rent the heavy air around them as Simon helped Jim lay the boneless anthropologist on the ground. Lash was defeated for now, and the peace officer knew it would be several days before the hated warlock would be strong enough to try anything against them again.

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

Jim sent a look of thanks in Simon's direction when a clean, dry towel was pressed into the Sentinel's hands. Jim scrubbed at his face and hair quickly, wanting to assist Simon in caring for the more seriously afflicted Sandburg, who had been placed on a dry blanket. Jim pulled his sodden jacket and shirt off, replacing them with a clean sweatshirt from his bag before kneeling next to the unconscious anthropologist. Simon had removed Blair's shoes and socks, and Jim helped the captain pull off the rest of the drug-soaked clothes before wrapping the now-shivering man in a blanket. Jim used another clean towel to rub at Blair's hair while Simon collected wood and built a fire. Joel lay on a slightly damp blanket not too far from where Jim sat. Concentrating his hearing, the Sentinel was pleased to hear the steady breathing of a sleeper emanating from the bomb squad captain, unlike the hitches and pants that he heard when he listened to Blair. Joel had avoided a heavier dose of the drug when he dropped onto his stomach on the grass, his peace officer instincts having taken over when the danger was revealed. Blair had also followed his instincts -- reaching out to help a friend instead of worrying about his own safety. Jim hoped the kid would wake up soon so he could yell at him for his stupidity then praise him for his noble actions.

Simon finished with the fire and returned to Jim's side with a set of dry clothes from Blair's backpack. Simon chuckled at Jim's awkward attempts to dress the boneless grad student, and took over before Jim managed to dislocate the young man's limbs. Simon explained softly that he had done this very thing to his soundly sleeping son in the past, and that one had to become a parent before learning this particular skill. Jim continued his gentle rubbing of Blair's wet curls while Simon finished dressing their friend.

Jim scooted closer to the fire and instructed Simon to help him ease Blair's head down onto his legs. Jim could have monitored the young man's vitals from miles away, but the nearness eased his worry. A few moments later, a limp bundle of fur, wrapped in the one remaining dry towel, was nestled under the anthropologist's arm. Jim smiled at the care Simon took with the sleeping Larry, and watched as the tall captain bent to fuss over the blankets he had wrapped around Joel.

Satisfied there was no more he could do for the drugged members of their party, Simon dug into the packs and brought out a pot which he soon filled with soup. Once their meal was heating near the flames, he settled himself down next to Joel and finally appeared to relax, though marginally.

"Jesus, James. I don’t ever want to go through anything like that again," Simon breathed harshly.

"You and me both, my friend." Most of the water had been rubbed from Blair's hair by now, and Jim gratefully accepted the warm bowl of soup which Simon dished up for him. The two men ate quickly, frequently checking on their charges, but mostly just wrapping their heads around the fact that they had survived an attack from the warlock relatively unharmed. Jim filled Simon in on all he knew about trichloroethanol, and they prepared to help Blair recover from his near-overdose. Control over his limbs would return slowly for the anthropologist. Jim watched faint tremors dance along Blair's muscles as the drug slowly wore off -- tremors that would soon become painful cramps before they ceased altogether. As expected, soft, breathy moans began to emanate from the too-still figure propped against his legs. He was only semi-conscious, but Blair's sounds of distress proved he was beginning to feel the pain.

Jim instructed Simon to gently extend and flex the younger man's legs, while he did the same for Blair's arms, hoping the muscle movement would alleviate the cramps more quickly. Every few minutes, he would reach out and grip each hand in turn, massaging the numerous muscles there, and waiting to feel an answering pressure to his ministrations. After nearly half an hour of this makeshift physical therapy, Blair's muscles began to respond and his awareness returned.

At the first light grip that Sandburg was able to manage, Jim's face lit up like a beacon. Soon, Blair was awkwardly returning his smile, accompanied by groans as the soreness in his muscles increased.

Simon went to check on the sleeping Joel while Jim helped Blair walk around a bit. Once the young man was helped to his feet by both peace officers, Jim placed a supporting arm about his waist, and held tightly to Blair's forearm, guiding his steps and preparing to catch him should he stumble. Slurred words answered Jim's questions of 'was he feeling okay' and 'did he want to rest'. His responses were still fuzzy by the time Jim gently eased him down onto the pallet Simon had prepared and wrapped a warm blanket around him.

When the young man huddled himself into a tight ball, averting his face from the Sentinel, Jim realized that Blair was embarrassed by what had happened to him. Not being good with words, but still wanting to soothe his friend, Jim eased him into a more comfortable position, gently telling him he would get cramped up again in the night if he slept that way. The peace officer leaned back against a nearby tree and laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder, squeezing gently to signal his presence. After a few minutes, during which Jim listened to Blair's elevated heartbeat, he squeezed again and softly reassured his friend that he was safe, and to rest. Finally, the anthropologist let out a soft sigh and fell into a restful sleep.

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

The first thing Blair saw when he awakened the next morning was a broad back not eight inches from his face. It was Jim.

Remaining still while his brain caught up with his wakening body, he remembered feeling safe and warm all night. Apparently, his friend remained worried enough about him to sleep so close. Blair recalled the soft, encouraging words the Sentinel had spoken each time Blair had stirred in his sleep. The comforting presence of his friend had chased away any nightmares he might have had, though. He felt refreshed and none the worse for wear after the harrowing events of the day before.

He shifted slightly, and realized that a hand still rested on his shoulder. He glanced up to see the smiling face of Joel Taggert.

"Hey Joel," he said softly, not wanting to wake Jim.

"How're you feeling, Blair?" Joel whispered. The anthropologist smiled at the use of his first name. Joel seemed to be the only one in the group not prone to using nicknames.

"Much better, thanks. How about you?"

"Good enough to be spotting the captain on guard duty," he answered and indicated the sleeping captain with a nod. "I had some supper last night after sleeping through the afternoon. I only got a mouthful of that stuff." Joel paused, and shivered dramatically to make his point.

"I hear that," Blair replied, and began the process of stretching out his muscles, preparing to get up. At that point, Jim rolled over quickly, and sat up, rolling his legs beneath him so he was kneeling at Blair's side within moments. Joel gave a noise of appreciation at the quick reflexes of his new friend and laughed out loud at Blair's open-mouthed stare.

"Jeez, man, you move like a cat!" Blair exclaimed as he boosted himself up to a sitting position, pushing away Jim's hands when he moved to help him. "I'm fine now. I'm fine. See?" he declared as he rose to his feet. Luckily, Jim hadn't believed him and stood in time to catch the younger man before he fell flat on his face.

With a wide smile, Jim helped Blair shuffle closer to the fire and sat him down firmly.

"I've seen fine, kid, and you ain't it."

Blair merely grumbled under his breath and asked that the coffee ingredients be pushed closer to him. Understanding Blair's need to rejoin the functioning group, Jim did as he asked and declared that he was walking down to the river for a swim. When he returned, Joel was frying up bacon and toasting biscuits, Simon was making a show of stretching out and bellyaching about the ape who had decided to use his chest for a pillow, and Blair was pouring a truly wonderful smelling cup of coffee for him.

Taking a seat next to the anthropologist, Jim focused his senses on the young man, gauging his vital signs and looking for any indication that the cramps he had experienced the day before were returning. He looked up to see Blair's startling blue eyes watching him, but instead of a flippant remark, the anthropologist simply reached out and grasped Jim's arm.

After gently running his hand over the bandage which covered the small gash he had gotten during their roll down the hill, he met Jim's eyes again.

"Thank you."

Jim knew the kid could have called upon any one of a hundred quotes running around in his head, or spoke at length of friendship and debts owed and repaid, so the simple thanks was all the more poignant for its brevity. He placed and arm around Blair's shoulders and pulled him into a brief hug.

"You're welcome."

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