A groan from the bottom bunk dragged Jim from his dire thoughts and back into his dire reality.  He rolled off the top bunk, landing on his feet, before pulling over a chair and sitting down.

 

Chase's eyelids fluttered twice then slowly opened.  Another groan and his eyes closed again.  "Son of a bitch," he muttered.

 

"Feeling's mutual," Jim said.

 

Chase was startled.  "What the…?"  His eyes focused on Jim.  "Great.  No private rooms available, huh?"

 

"Sorry, thought you meant me with that little epithet."

 

"Well, it applies but no.  Didn't see you."  He struggled to sit up but Jim pushed him back down.

 

"Your ankle's broken, and I'm pretty sure you have a concussion.  Don't move around."

 

"How long was I out?"

 

"A few hours, actually.  I was getting worried."

 

"Worried?  About me?"  He laughed bitterly.  "Yeah, right, tell me another one."

 

Jim frowned.  "What the hell did I ever do to you?  Tell me that, please, because I do not understand why you hate me so much.  You have Blair now; I'm not a sentinel anymore, so why this complete and total hatred?"

 

"Whoa, wait.  What you mean I have Blair?  What are you talking about?"

 

Jim shook his head.  "He's your guide now.  I'm not a threat to you."

 

"Why the fuck do I need to a guide?"  He tried to sit up again, but this time his own pain and weakness stopped him and he, more or less, fell back onto the mattress. "Damn it.  I cannot believe I managed to fuck up this badly."

 

Jim was confused.  "You're a sentinel, right?  A sentinel needs a guide to watch his back…"

 

"Stop, stop, stop.  Right there, you can stop.  I am not a sentinel.  Where the hell did you get that stupid idea?"

 

"Then why the interest in Blair?  Look, I've done this before, you know.  Barnes tried to take Blair as her guide. I figure a sentinel without a guide is drawn to–"

 

"You can stop again," Chase interrupted.  "First of all, I say again, I am not a sentinel.  Secondly, I don't want to take Blair anywhere for anything.  I don't have Blair.  Blair has himself.  He's free, and that was my only concern."

 

"So you did all this out of the goodness of your heart?"  Jim put all his powers of sarcasm into the question.

 

Chase looked at him like he had grown a second head.  "Fuck you, Ellison.  You don't know shit."

 

"Then enlighten me."  Jim sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

 

"Okay, fucker, here's some enlightenment for you.  Pete is my boss.  He said we had a job to do.  I take my work very seriously, so I was going to do the job, regardless.  Now, it just so happens that I also got this message telling me I had to help, because one shaman is obligated to help another.  Get it now?  Believe me, I could have done without the complications of the spirit plane sending a dead guy I had never seen before to tell me to get off my ass and help my brother."

 

Jim was dumbfounded.  He sat up in his chair, his arms unfolding.  "You mean –"

 

"We're brothers, me and Blair, spirit brothers, man.  Shamans.  I was summoned, I guess is the best word for it, by some guy that Blair calls In –"

 

"Incacha."

 

"Yeah."

 

Jim ran one hand over his face.  "Damn."

 

"Yeah."

 

"We're in trouble," he stated flatly.

 

"This is just now occurring to you?  Where have you been, man?"

 

Jim waved his hand to dismiss Chase's remarks.  "You don't understand.  I thought you were a sentinel."

 

"Thought wrong."

 

"Yeah, yeah, but I told Baker and Rose that you were."

 

"What?!"  Chase shot up, only to gasp in pain and sway dangerously near the edge of the bed.

 

Jim caught him and tried to put him down again, but Chase pushed his hands away.

 

"Are you nuts?!  Why would you do that?!"

 

"Baker was going to kill you.  I had to do something."

 

Chase opened his mouth several times as if he was trying to find words, but could find none to adequately express the myriad of emotions and thoughts Jim could see plainly on his face.  Finally, he settled on, "Holy shit."

 

Jim almost smiled.  "Yeah, no kidding."

 

"Well, I guess I did wonder why I was still alive.  Baker hates me."

 

"I gathered that."

 

"But I'm dead anyway, now.  I'm not a sentinel and I can't fake that I am."

 

Jim had already thought of that and dismissed it, but they were not out of options yet.  "That's true, but you can do something that they want.  Maybe that will be enough to save you."

 

"What?"

 

"You can guide."

 

Chase sputtered then glared at him.  "What makes you think that?"

 

"You're a shaman.  Incacha was my first guide; he was a shaman.  Blair was my second; he was a shaman.  Holloway was not a shaman, and he was useless as a guide.  I'm thinking that it stands to reason that shamans can guide.  Maybe you don't have to be a shaman to be a guide or a guide to be a shaman, but maybe it makes it easier.  Even if you aren't actually a guide, you can fake that, at least for a while.  Right?"

 

Chase was shaking his head.  "You really are incredibly thick, aren't you?"

 

Jim sighed and sat back again.  "What? Explain it to me then."

 

"Being a shaman is a calling.  Sometimes even a birth rite.  Being a guide is a choice."

 

"So make the damn choice!" Jim snapped.  "It's the only way to keep your sorry ass breathing!"

 

"No!  I will not make that choice!  God!  You have no idea, do you?"  He paused, wincing and reaching for his broken ankle.  He stopped short, however, thinking better of it, Jim supposed.  Frowning, he tried to gingerly rearrange himself on the bank so that he could face Jim.  "Maybe I should rephrase myself.  Being a guide is a commitment.  You have no idea what Blair's done, do you?"

 

"I know what he's done for me.  I will never forget it, and I can never repay it.  Don't lecture me on Blair.  You can't say anything I haven't said to myself thousands of times."

 

"Shut up, Ellison, and listen.  You said Incacha was your first guide, but that's not true.  He may have guided you, but he was never 'your' guide.  He was 'a' guide.  More than likely, he once had a sentinel and that sentinel probably died.  His commitment was to someone else.  He knew how to guide and he may have helped you out of responsibility, decency, whatever, but he would never be your guide.  In fact, it was probably hard for him to act as your guide."

 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

 

"According to legends in my culture, sentinels were called guardians and guides were called protectors.  The guardians guarded the tribe and the protectors protected the guardian and thus the tribe.  The protector was always a shaman, you got that part right, but this shaman was different.  This shaman made a commitment to the guardian.  He tied his soul to the soul of the guardian.  Pledged his life to the guardian.  That bond could not be broken, even in death.  If one died, the other could live on, but inside something would always be missing, like a part of his soul was gone.  A protector could guide another, but it would be a constant reminder of that missing piece.  Another could guide the guardian, but the bond was never made so the partnership was not as successful.  That's the legend.  Incacha was not your guide.  Blair is your guide.  He's tied to your soul.  He's made the commitment."

 

"How would you know?"

 

"I'm a shaman.  I know.  Somewhere down the line, he was given a choice.  He chose you, though I have no idea why."

 

Jim ignored the cheap shot at the end of the sentence, instead focusing on the meaning of what Chase had said.  "The fountain."

 

"Pardon?"

 

"He came back.  The jaguar and the wolf merged in the vision."

 

"Exactly, there you go.  He made the choice.  A choice I will not make.  No way, no how.  I will not tie my soul to anybody.  My luck, I'd end up with a jackass like Blair did."

 

"Dear God," Jim breathed.

 

Chase frowned at him.  "Do you get it now?  Do you understand what you really did?  The sad part is that the bond is not broken.  Blair is torn up over this.  Scared to stay, scared to leave.  Hurt down to the soul with no way to heal.  I would love it if he never came back to you, if he never looked back, but that's gonna hurt like hell every day of his life.  You don't deserve him, but he doesn't deserve to feel that empty space inside either.  So I'm torn myself.  He listens to me, you see?  Do I convince him to stay with us, make a new life, however painful that may be?  Or do I send him back to you so you can fuck up his life again?  Catch 22.  Damned one way or the other.  For a while, I thought the more abstract pain would be better, but I watched him and already he was struggling.  I realized something that I should have just known.  You can't live without your soul, even a little piece.  I doubt those ancient sentinels and guides had much of a life if they lost their partners.  So anyway, here I am, trying to keep your sorry ass breathing, to use your own words.  Even though I know you'll just hurt him again and again.  I know you wonder why I care.  I can see it on your face.  I barely know either of you.  But I know enough.  What you did was, to my mind, unforgivable.  I'd have shot you if I were Blair.  Lucky for you, I'm not.  And as for Blair, like I said, brothers.  Fuck with one shaman, fuck with us all."

 

"I didn't know.  I didn't mean to."

 

"Well, I don't even understand how you could.  You must be one really cold, repressed son of a bitch to not feel that hurt in him.  If he's tied to your soul, you're tied to his.  Don't you feel anything?"

 

"Of course, I do!"  Jim shouted, coming out of his chair and shoving it hard so that it smacked the wall of their small cell.  "I just…"  He paced.   He did not know how to explain.  "I just don't, can't.  Ahh!" he screamed in frustration.  "I have a job to do!  I can't let emotions get in the way!  I—"

 

"Check 'em at the door?  Heard Pete say that before.  Usually right before he screws something up big time.  You ignored his feelings.  Hell, you ignore your own, so no big deal.  But it is a big deal.  Look where you are now.  Look where we are, thank you, since I seem to have been picked up for the trip.  You took a wrong turn, buddy.  You're lost.  You're clueless.  You're a fool."

 

"Well, you know what, Chase?  Fuck you too."

 

Chase laughed.  "You already have, Ellison.  Look at me.  How's that old song go?  'Stuck in the middle with you.'"

 

"Well, smart ass, I suggest that you learn to fake being a guide PDQ or you won't be stuck here in the middle with me for very long, now will you?  I didn't ask you to come after me.  I didn't want your help, but you're here now, so perhaps you'd like to put aside your hatred for me long enough for us to stay alive and work together to get out of here."

 

"I don't hate you, Ellison.  I just dislike you.  Very intensely.  As for the rest, Jess was with me.  I'm guessing he got away.  He'll be back with Pete and Alex and possibly lots of folks.  They won't leave us here to die.  I can't fake being a guide, but they don't really know what being a guide entails, so they won't know that, huh?  Thing is, you aren't a sentinel anymore, so you say.  So who am I supposed to guide?"

 

"Alex Barnes."

 

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

 

"It's that or let Baker's goons take you out and shoot you."

 

"Gee, what a choice."

 

Rose had come and taken Chase away a few hours later.  Jim had helped the man into the wheelchair as the two of them told the "good" doctor that he did not, in fact, have another sentinel, but a guide.  Rose was in the space of one breath both disappointed and elated.  Suddenly, Jim could see that Chase was going to be treated with kid gloves, at least by Rose.  Jim had worried that Chase's broken ankle would half-heartedly treated until that moment.  Rose had what he needed most, or so he thought, and he needed Chase unimpaired.

 

As Jim sat mulling over the events of the night, he could not help but think, rather uncharitably, that if Chase was forced to be Barnes' guide, at least Blair would be safe from Rose.  He had one sentinel, however insane she was, and he would have one guide.  Sort of.  Maybe, just maybe, they would lose interest in Blair altogether.  After all, Baker was obviously not too keen on Blair anyway. 

 

His thoughts turned entirely to Blair then.  If what Chase had told him was true, not true just to Chase, but the real truth of sentinels and guides, what did that mean for Blair?  What did that mean for him, for that matter?  One selfish part of him screamed that Blair would have to come home, that he would have to forgive Jim.  The more selfless part though whispered that he did not want to cause Blair any more pain, and one way or another, he should just hope that Blair was happy and healthy.  Funny how a whisper could be so much louder than a scream.  "Whatever happens, Chief, please be safe.  Just be happy."

 

Chase said that the one left behind would feel like a piece of himself was missing.  That was how Jim felt.  Had felt for a long time.  It had started as soon as he got the reactivation call.  The realization hit, and he nearly cried.  He had tried to break the bond.  He had been the one to try to walk away.  Blair may have been the one to physically leave him behind, but Jim had already turned his heart away from Blair.  "My fault, Chief.  All my fault."

 

He did not deserve Blair.  Incacha had said it.  Chase had said it.  They were right.  But right did not stop him from begging, pleading with whatever powers steered the universe to give him back his guide.  More than that.  His best friend.  His brother. 

 

Now, he did cry.  No wonder men went insane in solitary, he thought crazily.  Too many truths waiting to be discovered.  Too much time to dig them all up and examine them, to lament bad decisions and wrongdoings, to see yourself as others see you.

 

Chase had held up a very unflattering mirror.  Jim had looked at it and seen a cold, unfeeling man reflected back at him.  His father, came the comparison, unwanted but painfully true.  Lock out your emotions and lock out that which makes you human.  That was what Chase was saying.  But he could not let his emotions rule him.  That was wrong, too.  He had ignored Blair's feelings many, many times.  The Ventriss case, for sure.  His solitary fishing trip that nearly ended in disaster.  He should have learned something then and there.  Reading the dissertation, big mistake.  Yet not as big as jumping to conclusions about it afterward.  Ruthlessly shoving Blair out of his life over and over since that call, deep down knowing what that was doing to his partner, but not willing to find another way.  He could try to call it duty or loyalty to his oath, but it was not.  It was fear.  Afraid to hold on, afraid to let go.  Hurt down to his soul with no way to heal, Chase had said about Blair.  But it was not just about Blair, was it?  No, the bond went both ways.

 

"Goddamn you, Chase.  Why did you have to make me see?"  One hand moved to his chest without any conscious thought on his part, seemingly trying to cover the gaping hole Jim finally allowed himself to feel.

 

Part 8