"The Path to Trust" - Part 2

[calic0cat]

Three-quarters of a tank and a dozen turns onto progressively more minor roads later, Blair had to reconsider his decision to allow Jim to wake up on his own. They were going to have to stop for gas at the next small town, and it would be best to keep a low profile while doing so. Two guys travelling together, one sound asleep with his fingers securely tangled in the hair at the nape of the other's neck, didn't exactly qualify for low profile status.

"Jim," he said softly. "Time to wake up, buddy." There was no response from Jim, so, a little louder this time, Blair repeated, "Time to wake up. C'mon, man, rise 'n' sh-" His voice rose sharply as Jim jolted awake, fingers convulsively jerking on the hair entwined around them. "-it! Easy on the hair, man!" Hastily braking and pulling off onto the narrow shoulder, he reached up to grab Jim's wrist, stilling it. "Easy, Jim, take it easy," he soothed. "Just stay still a minute while you wake up properly, okay?"

Jim didn't answer, but he did stop trying to pull away. After a moment, Blair released Jim's wrist. "It's okay," he reassured. "We're okay; we just need to stop for gas pretty soon, so I figured I'd better wake you up."

"Yeah," Jim rasped in agreement. "Where..."

Guessing his meaning, Blair said apologetically, "Uh, somewhere in Arizona. Or maybe New Mexico. I think."

"Sandburg..." Jim growled in exasperation.

"Hey, don't give me that look, man. I'm not the one navigating; I just follow where they lead." He jerked his head to indicate the pair of spirit guides that had suddenly appeared on the road ahead. The jaguar's tail twitched as it paced restlessly, the wolf shadowing its steps. "And let me tell you, they've been leading me on some mighty circuitous routes." At first, he'd wondered why, but now he figured that they'd been buying time, waiting for Jim to reach a certain point in his recovery before taking them to the location promised by the two spirit Shamans. He'd gotten the impression that this 'road of the gone-before ones' wasn't exactly accessible by car. It probably would have been impossible to reach while Jim was in zombie-mode. Even now, with Jim aware but functioning well below par, it was likely going to be a very tough trip.

Assuming that they were even going to be making it once he'd explained everything to Jim.

"Uh, Jim, we need to talk." He shot a nervous glance at the uneasily pacing spirit guides, then back to Jim. "You know - look at our options, decide where we're goin' from here... We've got some kinda big decisions to make, man."

Finally disentangling his fingers from Blair's hair, Jim scrubbed blearily at his face. "Right, right... decisions..." he muttered hoarsely.

"Right. I mean, Brackett's dead..." Blair interrupted himself to qualify the statement with, "...well, I think he is anyway, Alex had him screamin' pretty steady before he suddenly went silent, so I'm pretty sure she finished him off, but then again, Brackett's Brackett..." Alex had seemed determined to cut Brackett's heart out, but Incacha hadn't actually mentioned the guy, and he hadn't seen the dead body himself, so... He shrugged and grimaced; he really couldn't be certain.

"Anyway, Brackett's dead. Probably. Along with most of the other scientists at the lab. But, obviously, he had a backer in a high place somewhere - and knowing him, probably more than one, and in more than one place too - and they're not gonna be too thrilled with the way things went down, so I don't think we can assume the threat's gone even if he is. At least, the visions say it's not, and Incacha said to trust them, so going back to Cascade's out, as is joining the Chopec in Peru."

"Visions?" Jim croaked disbelievingly. "Sandburg, since when do you have visions? And what do you mean, Incacha said?!"

Blair winced. He'd known that Jim wasn't going to take this very well, and he was making matters worse by letting his own anxiety about Jim's reaction muddle up his explanation. "Since I realized that the whole Shaman-thing was the only way to find you," he said simply.

"Chief, what the hell have you done?"

Skipping over the minor little details, like taking the ayahuasca brew without anyone there to watch over him and the fact that his blood pressure had still been dangerously high by the time he'd finally thought to check it afterwards, Blair summarized, "I did a little research, came up with an abbreviated adaptation of the traditional ritual, used it to reach Incacha and our spirit guides, and they've stuck around ever since. Well, okay, so Incacha hasn't been around since shortly after we busted you out, but before that, he gave me a crash course in acting as Shaman to a Sentinel." He gave Jim a pointed look, adding, "Which apparently not only includes getting my own visions, but is also supposed to involve helping you interpret those 'blue dreams' you mentioned, like, once, then promptly clammed up about."

"Sandburg..."

Ignoring Jim's warning growl, Blair barged on hurriedly, "See, apparently, if we'd, y'know, checked out this particular 'water' together like I'd wanted to in the first place, we'd have known what the hell we were doing, and we'd have been warned more clearly before you were grabbed, instead of us both just feeling uneasy. Excuse me if I happen to think a little weirdness is worth putting up with in exchange for a little forewarning when the shit's about to hit the fan."

Jaw clenched, Jim stared grimly out of the side window, pointedly avoiding looking at either the spirit guides or Blair.

"Look, I know you hate this side of the whole Sentinel thing; I get that, okay?" The jag landed on the truck hood and snarled at them both impartially, its tail lashing impatiently. Blair gave a semi-hysterical laugh and admitted, sotto voce, "It's kinda freakin' me out too, frankly. But, Jim, we've gotta deal with it now."

Jim threw up his hand and shook his head in automatic denial, and Blair's chest tightened with anxiety. He had to convince Jim; he had to. If Jim wouldn't deal with the visions, then he wasn't going to believe the warnings, let alone agree to following some mysterious 'road' that Blair had seen in a dream. And there was just no other way to keep him safe, to keep them both safe, along with all of their friends and family...

Desperately, Blair pressed on, "Listen, it helped me find you, it helped me rescue you, and I'm hoping like mad that it's gonna get us the hell out of this mess we're in, because otherwise I haven't got a fucking clue how to fix this one, man." He dragged shaking hands through his hair, distantly aware that all the things he'd been putting off dealing with were starting to catch up. If he couldn't convince Jim... God, he didn't know what the hell he was going to do. He closed his eyes for a moment, saw a blue haze instead of black nothingness, and hastily reopened them. This was not a good time for another one of those damn things.

"Look, Jim, man, I'm sorry, but every idea I come up with just spawns another nightmare run of those damn visions; the only thing that doesn't is the idea of following the path that Incacha had this other dead Shaman show me, and if I understood him correctly, it's a one-way trip to a new life, no guarantees except that those we leave behind will be safe from those hunting us, and we'll have a chance - just a chance, man, but it's... more... than we've... got... if we... stay..." He gasped out the final words between gulping breaths, the long-overdue panic attack finally refusing to be staved off any longer.

"Sandburg! Snap out of it! Sandburg..." Blair was dimly aware of being dragged from behind the wheel and having his head pressed down between his knees. "Dammit, Chief, breathe." He tried to comply, but the tightness in his chest and throat made it difficult. The jaguar snarled angrily, and the wolf growled in return. Around him, the world turned blue and began to change. In a vain attempt to shut out the vision, Blair closed his eyes.

Watching, cold and numb with shock and denial, as Jim's truck was pulled from the ocean. Refusing to accept the apparent facts; being driven by a never-ending urge to find his friend, his partner, his Sentinel, his soulmate. Tapping every possible resource dry, calling in every favour ever owed, yet still coming up empty-handed.

Turning to the spirit world out of sheer desperation. Failing time and again to reach it before finally, finally, succeeding.

Spending hours in meditation, communing with and learning from Incacha. Aching with loneliness, spirit guides and a dead Chopec Shaman providing an inadequate substitute for the warm companionship of his best friend.

Finding Jim at last. Shaking with rage at his captors and with fear for him.

Plotting and planning, frantic but focussed, every ounce of intelligence, cunning, and experience committed to one goal. Slotting his strategy into place piece by piece, planning both rescue and return.

Coming up with idea after idea. Considering media campaigns and new identities, running away and staying put, enlisting the help of friends and going it alone.

Sleeping. Dreaming of fire and destruction, of hostages and object lessons, of fear and defiance, of captivity and control. Knowing torture of both mind and body, flesh and soul. Suffering. Resisting. Failing. Breaking.

Dying.

Waking in the claustrophobic confines of his dark, cold room, sick and frightened and feeling oh, so very alone. Shaking violently. Retching to the point of dry heaves. Dragging his exhausted body up to Jim's spacious bedroom, wrapping himself in Jim's faded Jags sweatshirt, sleeping in Jim's big bed, and feeling vaguely comforted.

Coming up with more ideas and repeating the whole thing over and over again, becoming increasingly discouraged and despairing, until finally, finally, being guided by Incacha to a spirit-Shaman with an alternative path to offer...

The blue faded and the world shifted again. Wearily, Blair forced his eyes open, grateful beyond words for the comforting arms now wrapped around him.

"God, Blair..."

"Sorry," he gasped, still struggling for a normal breathing pattern. He'd never had a panic attack in front of Jim before; it had been a long time since he'd had one, period. He'd probably worried the hell out of his partner. If he'd ever had any chance of persuading Jim that the weird shit was important and useful, it was undoubtedly shot now. Having seen the panic attack, Jim would just dismiss his visions as an overreaction to the stress he'd been under.

Blair wasn't going to even think about the significance of that weird flashback or vision or whatever the hell it had been. He hadn't experienced anything quite like that before, thank god, living through all of that the first time around had been bad enough.

The arms around him tightened. "You're sorry? I'm sorry, Chief. Sorry you had to go through all that alone..." Stunned, Blair realized that Jim must have shared his vision. "...and sorry for shutting you down about the weird shit. Ignoring it doesn't solve anything; after the temple, I promised myself I wouldn't pull that kind of crap again." Jim coughed to clear his throat before continuing on to rasp, "You're not alone. We'll deal with the mystical shit, okay? I still don't like it, but..." Jim's entire body shuddered convulsively, his arms squeezing almost painfully around Blair. "I won't risk ignoring it, either. Not this time, Chief. I promise. We'll deal with it - together."

"Okay," Blair murmured, weak with relief at Jim's capitulation. So that's what that flashback had been, a very pointed reminder for Jim, courtesy of their spirit guides. Well, in that case, having to live through all of that a second time had been worth it. "Okay..." He relaxed and just let Jim hold him for a few minutes, soaking up the sense of strength and security that being together again gave him. Then the jaguar coughed and the wolf howled, and, without any words being exchanged, he and Jim were both in motion.

It was time to move on.

***

Blair addressed, sealed, and stamped both envelopes, then dropped them into the mailbox. With any luck, sending them care of William's and Stephen's overseas business addresses should ensure that they arrived safely. At least that way, Jim's family would know that Blair had succeeded in rescuing him, that he was alive and free, even if he would probably not be able to get in contact with them again.

As for his own family... well, Robert wouldn't expect to hear from him again for a long time, if ever. And it wasn't unusual for people in his mother's circle of acquaintances to simply disappear for years, then casually turn up at some remote ashram; Blair's disappearance following Jim's apparent death wouldn't faze Naomi in the least. She would probably simply assume that the notorious Sandburg wanderlust had finally kicked in, send a few positive thoughts in his direction, and continue on her lighthearted way, relieved that he'd finally left 'the pigs' behind. Even if, by chance, she happened to seek out either of the Ellisons in search of news of Blair, it wouldn't be safe for her to be told the truth - she was too likely to raise a fuss and attract the wrong kind of attention - and he'd made sure to warn them of that in his own brief addition to Jim's letters.

Mail safely taken care of, Blair casually strolled back inside the small country store. Anxious as he was to get back to where he'd left Jim slowly setting up camp, there was no need to call unwanted attention to himself by appearing to be in a rush. Jim hadn't seemed any more eager to be separated than he was, but Blair had done the college-student-gone-walkabout routine before, and knew that a solo trip into town would be less noteworthy than a visit by a pair as distinctive as Jim and himself. With hair loosely braided, a laidback attitude, and a hint of a southern California drawl - he and Naomi had lived there through most of his high school years - he wasn't likely to attract undue attention.

Besides, the spirit guides hadn't kicked up a fuss, so Blair was hoping that meant that he wasn't making a mistake. He wanted to pick up fresh groceries for supper and breakfast, plus he needed to top up their supplies.

Properly loaded, each backpack was capable of carrying over a hundred pounds of gear, but Blair hadn't been able to handle that much weight, plus a zombified Jim, on his own. Now that Jim was capable of taking responsibility for one pack, it was time to make sure that both were fully stocked. At least he wouldn't need to replace the heavy cans of Ensure protein drink now that Jim was able to feed himself.

Even so, Jim was far from fully recovered. He might not be able to carry a fully-loaded pack for very long, but it would be better to have the supplies and end up having to dump them than to be caught short if the spirit guides suddenly led them entirely away from civilization. Blair suspected that time was coming soon; the landscape bore a distinct similarity to that of the place that the Navajo Shaman had shown him in the vision. He wasn't too sure that Jim was really up to a serious cross-country trek just yet, but then again, Jim had a habit of managing the impossible when he really needed to. That didn't mean that Blair wasn't concerned about the journey that still lay ahead of them, because he was.

But it was odd just how much of a difference it made, knowing that he and Jim were on the same wavelength again, working as partners again. Somehow, their entire situation just seemed more... manageable... now that it was a burden shared. Despite the fact that it had been a struggle for Jim just to stay awake long enough for them to fuel themselves up at the greasy-spoon next door to the gas station where they'd fuelled up the truck. At least he'd only slept for a couple of hours once they'd hit the road again before waking, sufficiently alert to finally read the letter that had been amongst the things that Stephen had supplied.

Stopping the truck so that he could remove the letter from the moneybelt around his torso, where he'd been carrying it for safekeeping. Handing the envelope over to Jim with a brief explanation of its origin. Waiting while Jim stared at the simple 'J' scrawled across its front, then finally pulling back on the road once he realized that Jim wasn't going to read it while being so closely observed. Hearing paper tear, then rustle, as Jim finally opened the letter and read it. Trying not to intrude on the moment, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, despite the temptation to ask Jim what it said, or to at least watch his reaction. Biting his tongue to keep from speaking as more rustling signalled that Jim was folding the letter up and tucking it back in the envelope.

Tossing off a casual, "Sure," when Jim asked if he had a pen and paper. Keeping a firm rein on his curiosity while Jim wrote. Agreeing unquestioningly to stop and buy stamps and envelopes to mail the letters at the next town.

Having his self-restraint rewarded with a tiny half-smile and a grateful, "Thanks, Chief," followed by an invitation to include a note of his own.

Maybe Jim would eventually tell Blair what had been in that letter and what he'd written in return. Maybe he wouldn't. Either way, Jim seemed at peace with all of it, as if something had at long last been resolved between him and his family, so Blair didn't intend to press the issue. No matter how curious he might be.

Double-checking the pile of groceries on the counter against the list in his hand, Blair decided that he hadn't done too badly, considering that he was shopping at a small country store rather than a specialty camping one. The canned goods were substantially heavier and more bulky than the foil-packaged foodstuffs that he'd purchased previously, but that couldn't be helped. At least he'd managed to stock up on an assortment of healthy snack foods; Jim needed something nutritious to snack on now that he was showing more interest in eating. Carrots, celery, and apples, together with a couple of jars of peanut butter to spread on them, should keep him busy munching for a while. All in all, not a bad haul, even without taking into consideration the special treats inside the ice-filled styrofoam cooler.

Steak for supper, and bacon and eggs for breakfast. Two artery-clogging meals in less than twenty-four hours. Jim was never going to let him hear the end of it, but he knew that Jim needed the protein and calories in order to start rebuilding his level of fitness, to start restoring the condition that had been lost over the past few months. He had a feeling that Jim was going to need it soon. Very soon.

***

Blair couldn't help throwing a worried glance over his shoulder as, behind him, Jim stumbled again. The Sentinel was not ready for this. Physically, he wasn't sufficiently recovered for a forced hike over rough terrain. Plus they couldn't maintain bodily contact under these circumstances and, without that grounding touch, Jim's senses kept sliding out of control. Periodic stops to rest and re-ground Jim's senses were becoming necessary with increasing frequency, despite the agitated insistence of the spirit guides that they keep moving.

Following the jaguar up a narrow, neglected track to a small, abandoned house. Hiding the truck in a ramshackle shed, and spending the night and following day resting in the house. Rousing to the wolf's howl-bark of warning, and setting out by moonlight along a path so faded that only the spirit guides knew it was there. Watching unhappily as Jim struggled with a trek that would have been easy for him before he was taken. Pausing to redistribute their supplies, giving Jim the lighter load. Knowing just how difficult Jim was finding the trip when he only made a token protest.

Travelling by daylight and moonlight alike as they hiked into the mountains. Sleeping in brief snatches when their guides allowed them to stop and rest. Seeing Jim falter more and more often.

A few minutes later, Jim stumbled again, this time going heavily to his knees. "Enough!" Blair muttered grimly. Dangerous as the delay might be, they would have to stop for a longer rest. Making it to their destination wouldn't do much good if Jim nearly killed himself getting there. Turning back, he helped Jim struggle to his feet.

"Sorry, Chief," Jim gasped out hoarsely, leaning heavily on Blair's shoulder. "Just... need... a minute..."

Looking around, Blair spotted the shadowed mouth of a cave a little further up the trail. "Hey, look, there's a cave up ahead. Let's hole up there and rest till it cools off this evening."

"Chief..."

Pressing a finger to Jim's lips to cut off the protest, Blair shook his head. "Save your energy," he admonished. "Listen, Jim, I'm hot and tired, too. We'll make better time if we take a break."

Jim didn't agree, but he didn't argue either, and he continued to lean heavily on Blair as they made their way towards the cave. Blair stopped a short distance away. He picked up several rocks and, one by one, tossed them into the cave's shadowy depths, and waited for a reaction. "Good, nobody's home," he said, reassured that there was no wildlife holed up inside. "C'mon, Jim."

***

Several times over the course of the afternoon, the spirit guides appeared, pacing agitatedly outside the cave's mouth. Their unease communicated itself to Blair; he dozed in brief snatches, waking with a nervous start, heart racing and palms sweating, at every little sound. Had he been alone, he would have moved on, but Jim's obvious exhaustion kept him waiting, hoping that their guides would warn them if pressing onward became critical.

Jim slept through it all, not even stirring when the jaguar grumbled its unhappiness or the wolf whined, though he woke with a jerk when a helicopter made several passes over the area in late afternoon. His face went distant, as it did when he concentrated on one of his senses, and Blair automatically moved to touch and ground him. After a few moments, Jim shook his head in frustration. Blair opened his mouth to speak, only to have Jim silence him with a touch. In the dust of the cave floor, Jim scratched out, "Huey. Military?"

Blair nodded in acknowledgement, his heart racing as adrenaline flooded his system. Beneath Jim's words, he wrote, "Stay? Or go?"

Jim's expression went distant again as he listened. After a few moments, he erased both questions, replacing them with, "Still sweeping. Wait."

Blair nodded and started to withdraw. Jim caught his hand, lacing their fingers together and tugging gently. Squeezing Jim's fingers lightly in silent acknowledgement, Blair settled down at his side to wait.

***

The spirit guides returned to the cave again after dusk, just as the sound of beating rotors had faded beyond the reach of Jim's hearing. On their return, the animals were extremely agitated, insistently chivvying him and Jim out of the cave and onto the trail again. That same sense of urgency had been growing within himself since even before Jim's identification of the helicopter sweeping the area, so Blair didn't attempt to resist.

It immediately became obvious that, although the rest had helped, Jim wasn't really fit to carry on, but they had no choice. Even without the insistence of their guides, Blair knew deep inside himself that they were running out of time, and he could see the same knowledge reflected in Jim's exhausted but grimly determined face.

Blair really didn't feel ready, but his concern for Jim, and the need for them to move quickly, left him no choice. It was time to try out some of Incacha's teachings.

Sitting in full lotus, a circle of candles burning around him, saucers carefully placed to protect the living room floor. Slipping into a meditative state with an ease that increased with each session, then waiting patiently for Incacha to contact him.

Learning that the Shaman to a Sentinel had unique duties and abilities, ways to protect and aid his Sentinel. Being taught in theory how to tap into the energy of nature, how to harness and use that energy himself, and how to share his strength with his Sentinel. Having the first part of that learning reinforced when Incacha merged with him, drawing power from the elements themselves to summon the storm and rescue Jim.

Cautiously, uncertainly, Blair reached out to their surroundings, sensing and drawing energy from the heat slowly dissipating from the rock and dirt around him. Faint trickles of power whispered over his skin, making it tingle. Painstakingly, Blair widened the connection, drawing more heavily on his source, and then, even more carefully, fed a trickle of strength into the link between him and his Sentinel, hoping desperately that it would work the way that it was supposed to.

And it did. Not perfectly - Blair could tell that he was wasting much of what he could have gained - but well enough to let them both occasionally push their pace into a sure-footed, ground-eating lope once he increased the flow of energy to his partner. Occasional speculative glances told him that Jim was aware that he was doing something even if Jim didn't know exactly what but, evidently equally aware that it was necessary, Jim made no comment.

The dusk of evening turned to the pitch-black of a cloudy, moonless night. With the arrival of darkness, they were forced to drop to a walk once more.

An eldritch, blue-tinged trail, barely visible even to Shaman's sight, led Blair as he followed their faintly-glowing animal spirits. Beside him, fingers linked with his for grounding and mutual reassurance, Jim made his own cautious way, guided by Sentinel vision that was still unreliable at best.

As night wore on, turning to early morning, the land cooled, energy became harder to channel, and Blair's concentration gradually weakened until it finally gave out. Unable to draw any more power from the land, he reluctantly reduced the strength that he was feeding Jim to a mere trickle; it wouldn't do either of them any good for him to drain himself to exhaustion by giving Jim more strength than he could afford to share.

"Chief?"

The concerned query was almost Sentinel-soft, felt as much as it was heard. Not wanting to waste energy on talking, Blair squeezed Jim's fingers lightly in response. Jim obviously understood the unspoken reassurance, since he made no further attempt to speak.

A short while later, the spirit guides halted, the jaguar sprawling across the path and blocking it while the wolf sat at his side. Taking the obvious cue for a halt, Blair and Jim dropped ungracefully to their knees, packs still in place, ready to resume their journey at a moment's notice. By unspoken agreement, they shared a quick snack. Jim pulled the last nutrition bar from his pocket, where Blair had tucked a couple away for easy access while on the trail. Breaking off half for himself, he offered the rest to Blair. Once the bar was gone, Blair leaned over and retrieved an apple from Jim's pack. With a sharp twist, he split it in two, handing half to Jim. Each of them took a few sips from their respective water bottles, rationing the liquid with the caution of past experience.

Around them, the landscape gradually became visible to normal sight as the sky lightened with the sunrise. Jim leaned sideways against Blair, his pack straps pulling uncomfortably taut, and fell asleep with his head resting on Blair's pack. Blair fought the temptation to doze himself, bone-deep weariness almost enough to override his anxiety.

And still, the spirit guides barred the path. Blair thought that they were waiting for something, though he had no idea what. His own sense of urgency hadn't lessened; if anything, it was still growing stronger.

Suddenly, Jim jerked awake. "Chopper's back," he warned, bracing himself against Blair in order to struggle awkwardly to his feet.

"Shit." Clasping Jim's proffered hand, Blair lurched up as well before turning an accusing gaze on the pair of spirit guides who were now, finally, continuing up the path at a brisk pace.

Exchanging grim looks, Blair and Jim pushed their weary bodies into a trot and followed.

When the helicopter rotors became audible to Blair's ears, he reached out, found a tiny trickle of power in the form of a nearby spring, and drew on it as heavily as he dared, somehow finding enough strength for them both to push that trot into a full-out run. Ahead of them, the path narrowed and disappeared between a pair of tall rocks, a third bridging them at the top.

Jim's stride faltered. "Cliff," he gasped out despairingly, stumbling to a halt.

The first thought to pass through Blair's mind was that he'd really been hoping that the vision had been symbolic. The second was that there were far easier ways to commit suicide.

The third was the Navajo Shaman's admonition.

He had trusted Incacha, and that trust had been repaid abundantly with the Chopec's aid in Jim's rescue. Incacha had taken him to the other Shaman, promising a solution to keeping their freedom. Blair had to trust that the road was truly here, that they hadn't been guided all this way just to die. He had to trust what the Navajo had shown him.

And Jim had to trust him.

With a Shaman's sight, Blair looked at the guardian rocks. Looked, and saw the power coiled within them, saw the motes of energy dancing in the air between them. He didn't know where the path would lead them, but it was there.

"Trust me," Blair yelled over the roar of the rotors as the helicopter burst into view, black and menacing against the cloudy morning sky. Turning to face Jim across the few paces separating them, he held out his hand and repeated urgently, "Jim, trust me."

Jim only hesitated for a moment. "Scariest words, Chief," he shouted hoarsely, but he crossed those few paces to clasp Blair's wrist in an unbreakable grip.

Blair gave him a wild grin and clasped his wrist in return, relief sending adrenaline surging through his system. "Leap of faith, man. Leap of faith."

Jim nodded sharply in acknowledgement. "Let's do it."

Blair dragged Jim into a stumbling run as the helicopter made another pass low overhead, a rope ladder dropping as it circled around. Together, they ran towards the rock doorway into thin air. Towards it, then, bodies pressed close to fit, through it, in a brilliant flash of light and power.

***

Had any of their pursuers had the sight to see or the ears to hear, they would have seen that flash, would have known that four, not two, passed through the doorway together. They would have caught a brief glimpse of their quarry emerging onto a grassy plain beneath a cloudless sky, have faintly heard a victorious whoop of sheer exuberance. Perhaps they might have even tried to follow, only to discover that some roads are barred to all but the chosen few.

But none of them was so gifted, and so they were left to believe the obvious, left to search the shores and waters of the river far below, seeking in vain to salvage something from their failure while, elsewhere, Sentinel and Shaman Guide slept peacefully beneath a foreign sky.

---

Author's Note: While not actually a crossover, this story does contain several references to one of the books in the Witch World series, in homage to the memory of one of Sci-Fi/Fantasy's most prolific and influential female authors, Andre Norton (1912-2005).

Comments

[amejisuto.livejournal.com]

Whoa.

I've never read Norton so I'm not too sure where they ended up but this is a damn good story! Loved every word of it. So glad they got away safe and can rest. Loved Blair being the one to believe that Jim was still out there and not giving up and loving Steven believing in him too. This was a great read, thank you so much!

[calic0cat.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it; I certainly enjoyed writing it. A bit of a different twist on the classic "on the run from the feds/scientists/bad guys" scenario, a healthy dose of TS-style mysticism, lots of off-screen Jim-owwies, a strong and resourceful Blair, and a handful of barely-there pre-slashy hints - what more could an author hope to cram in to a single story? *grin*

As for never having read Norton - it really doesn't matter. The "doorway to another world" is certainly far from unique to her stories, and I didn't *necessarily* intend for them to end up in Witch World anyway. The Navajo Shaman and the gateway that they used were both references to "Key to the Keplian", one of Norton's last Witch World novels (technically a collaboration with another author, like many of her most recent books). An interesting tidbit for those who do know Norton, but really not essential to the story, which is why I said that it's not - quite - a crossover.

[rhianne.livejournal.com]

Wow! Terrific story :) I loved all the mysticism in it, and the spirit guides showing Blair how to save Jim. Beautiful in oh so many ways. Thanks for sharing!

[calic0cat.livejournal.com]

*grin* I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've got a real soft spot for TS-style mysticism, and I had a lot of fun working with the spirit guides.

[epona34.livejournal.com]

wow.
i often found your fic amazing. and i regret once more the books by andre norton can't be found in French (and in France)... they were translated some years ago but aren't available anymore... i tried to find them after reading your gw crossover...
thanks for sharing this fic.

[calic0cat.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed the story.

As for Andre Norton's books in translation - you can find at least some of them as second-hand copies through Abebooks. Their French site is at http://www.abebooks.fr and their main site is at http://www.abebooks.com - hopefully one of those will help you track down a few of Norton's books.

[epona34.livejournal.com]

thnks a lot for the link... it will help me.

[ozsaur.livejournal.com]

Even before I read your note at the very end, I got a vague feeling that you had at least read Andre Norton. What a nice homage! I grew up reading her books and loved them.

I am really delighted with this story. It has everything: plot, h/c without being too graphic, mysticism, a strong Blair etc. You didn't turn their spirit guides into pets, either. You hit all the right notes with this story. What an enjoyable read.

[calic0cat.livejournal.com]

I grew up reading Andre Norton's books too; I think she really was a major influence for several generations of readers.

It has everything: plot, h/c without being too graphic, mysticism, a strong Blair etc.

I think about the only thing that *didn't* make it in here were the slashy bits. The pre-slash hints are faint enough that it could be read as gen, really. But anything more than that simply didn't "fit" the story as a whole, so I left it at that. Anyone who reads my stories knows that the guys will get there eventually, when the time and circumstances are right.

You didn't turn their spirit guides into pets, either.

I was very careful about that aspect, since I was aiming for a very canon portrayal of the spirit guides, etc.

I'm glad you enjoyed the story. Thanks for the feedback!

[vamysteryfan.livejournal.com]

This was an exceptional story! You did an incredble job with the TS-style mysticism. I found it quite believable within the context of previously established "blue dreams."

The Andre Norton touch was an unexpected bonus. She wrote one of the first science fiction books I ever read and I've adored her continuously since then. And in the first Witch World book, the guardian syas the gate opens to a place of the heart's desire. So they'll all be happy!

[calic0cat.livejournal.com]

You did an incredble job with the TS-style mysticism. I found it quite believable within the context of previously established "blue dreams."

Thanks, glad to hear that! I really wanted to make the mysticism as canon as possible.

The Andre Norton touch was an unexpected bonus.

Glad you liked it! It really seemed like an ideal solution to the situation, plus it gave me the opportunity to give a "tip of the hat" to an author who had a major influence on my reading habits over the years. Whether a reader chooses to believe that they ended up in Witch World or somewhere else entirely, they're together, and free. And with their pursuers believing them dead, those they've left behind will be safe as well.

[(Anonymous)]

Beautiful! I love the flashbacks and Blair's careful planning. Awesome.

[calic0cat.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Flashbacks don't always work in a story's best interests but, in this case, they were a conscious stylistic choice and seem to have worked out quite well.

And thanks for posting feedback - it's nice to hear that people are still reading and enjoying my stories long after their initial posting.