Notes. Okay, here's the thing: I actually GET inspired by songs. REALLY. And since music is my passion, I decided to name this story after a very powerful piece by Metallica (Oh! I bow before thee, Master Hethfield...) If you have the Load album, listen to the song before reading... then you'll know what I was thinking and just how messed up I really am. he he he.
Betaed by The Guilty One, My english teacher... The MOM. For grammar and spelling... any other mistake is solely MINE. Gracias, Oh! gracias, mi muy respetada y rara vez bien ponderada, Jefatura de Policía... jijiji.

Dedicated: To Tapu. I always suffer inmensely while reading Tapu's stories, I inmerse myself in a different world and really live the angst and action scenes! (If you've ever read Tapu's fic, then you KNOW what I'm talking about!)... anyway,  I suffered big time while writing this one, ergo... [Raise Glass]  Here's to You, Tapu, my friend. Thank you for being such a darn GOOD writer!

Warnings:  (This WAS kind of my first fanfic... sort of... please be warned, I was young... and foolish, he he) Other to that warning... well yes, BE WARNED: SEVERE angst ahead.    Now, do you see any other warnings here? No?  Okay, then, don't get scared and keep reading till the end. ;-)   Rated:  PG for language.
 

Where do I take this pain of mine
I run, but it stays right by my side
So tear me open, pour me out
There's things inside that scream and shout
And the pain still hates me
So hold me, until it sleeps
           (Metallica, Load, "Until It Sleeps")
 

"Blair!"

A loud scream was lost in the louder noises of the midnight storm.

Jim sat up violently, his forehead hot, drenched in sweat, feeling his heart break.
 

His guide was dead.
 

The Sentinel looked around trying to remember where he was. How did I get here? He thought. What happened? Memories savagely attacked his weary mind, like the fierce storm. "Blair... Oh, my God!" Jim said out loud, his heart freezing in fright.

The deafening sound of thunder brought him to reality and jump-started his heart again. He couldn't move, though. The cold hand of fear was painful and seemed to push him back down no matter how hard he tried to get up.

Jim didn't notice the next thunder, the screaming of his aching spirit was too loud.
 

His guide was dead.
 

The sentinel closed his eyes, his mind and his soul.

How would he keep on going? How would he go on living? Why should he even try?

His guide was dead.

A sharp pain suddenly enveloped every part of his being and he screamed in anguish again. Then, silence.
Everything went black.
 

Just like the curse, just like the stray
You feed it once, and now it stays

So tear me open, but beware
There's things inside without a care...

...And the fear still shakes me
So hold me, until it sleeps
 

A deafening noise woke him from his slumber. He was tired, his head felt like it was on fire. Pain again. Jim closed his mouth hard and tried to keep himself from crying out. It was useless. The suffering was getting worse by the minute.

He opened his eyes trying in vain to see through the dark. His powerful vision, gone. Darkness was all he could make out in the cold of night.

He smelled. The chilly night air filled his nostrils with a thousand different aromas. Cold breeze, flower perfume, fish, wet grass, rusting metal, smoke, fire, fur... fur?  ... blood. His guide's blood.

Oh my God, No! No! He screamed inside but no sound came out of his mouth. He tried to move... the pain returned... darkness.
 

 Nearby, a wolf cried.
 

A black jaguar suddenly came out on nowhere, standing in it's way. The figure froze. The jaguar let out a piercing roar and  prepared to pounce, it's eyes bright, ready, on fire.

The figure took a step forward. The jaguar leaped... A loud scream was heard through the darkness, then nothing.

Jim awoke with a loud scream. He'd seen the jaguar in the eye. He'd seen a savage version of himself. Sad, lost.... lost. No guide. His guide was gone. He wouldn't be able to show the Sentinel the way because he was dead.

What was the protector to do without someone to protect? How could he continue?

The pain attacked once more with fury. The sentinel cried in agony one more time. He felt the cold grip of death in his chest, closing, closing... killing. A new storm of despair and anguish drowned his heart in freezing, dark terror.

He was dying. Slowly.
 

So tell me why you've chosen me...         
 

He felt a sudden surge of relief traveling trough his aching chest. The death grip had relaxed. Why?
Was it trying to make it even slower?

Then it came. The thunder. He was hit by the most excruciating pain he'd felt in his entire life. He couldn't even begin to fathom its existence, his head was pounding as the blood raced through the veins in his head with such fierceness, he felt it about to explode. There was no sound coming from him, he couldn't utter it. He'd never felt something like this.

Oh, God, help me!

Instinctively, his mind sought some sort of aid and found the familiar voice of his guide.  Jim, stay with me, man. Focus. That's it. Breathe, buddy, breathe.

He did. Slowly, the pain receded. He took a deep breath.
It took him a long while but he managed to banish the horrible suffering. He started breathing steadily again. He was alive.

"Thanks, Chief."  He finally said out loud.

No answer.

"Blair?" Memory returned, his heart began racing again. His guide, his friend, his brother... he saw how he came to help... how he extended his hand, talking to Jim, his voice soothing and calm, audible through the savage storm, helping the sentinel to hang on to life.

He saw it clearly, he almost felt the warm touch of his young friend, gripping his hand with a strength Jim had never imagined  his young guide to possess. He heard the thundering of Blair's heart as he endured the extraordinary effort it took to lift Jim to safety. And then, he went deaf with the explosion. And he smelled the fire, he tasted the blood, he saw the agony and fear in Blair's blue eyes... and tried to grab.. hold on to the hand that had saved him... only to lose it. He felt the ripping of his soul... and the silent whisper of death.

His guide was gone, forever.

Another thunder broke the emptiness of the night. A single tear rolled but it never got far. The Sentinel wept, he abandoned the safety of calmness... and the pain returned.

This time it was welcome.
 

"Blair?" Jim asked

"No, Jim. It's Simon." A face took form inside  the Sentinel's tortured mind. Simon. His friend.

The storm seemed to quiet down.

"Simon?" Jim said in a whisper. "Where are we?" It took a lot of effort to speak... his strength just wasn't there. He tried to sit up and winced at the sudden attack of voodoo needles all over his body. He cried in pain.

"Sshhh!" Simon's voice came back. "Don't try to move, Jim. You're hurt."

"Simon," Jim insisted, he couldn't find his friend, it was too dark out there.  "Simon... where are you?" He tried to move again and couldn't . Hands were pinning him to the ground.

"I'm right here, buddy." Simon answered. "Why don't you try opening your eyes?"

What was that in Simon's voice?  It was horrible. It was anguish, sorrow... fear. What was happening?

Jim was suddenly afraid of opening his eyes. He couldn't understand anything. He felt lost,  adrenaline filled his body to the point of tears.  What was going on?

And in an instant, everything came back to him one more time. And he went limp in Simon's arms.

"Jim!" Urgency was driving the captain's voice now. Urgency and terror. "Jim, NO! Please!" He looked around, silently pleading for help. "Jim, damn it!  Don't you die on me!"

The Sentinel was quiet... darkness claiming him. He never made a move to stop it. What was the point? He wouldn't win anyway, no matter how hard he tried to fight.

"Jim!" the voice begged again. "Don't ... Not you too... Please!"

The voice was powerful... friendship invaded the Sentinel's soul... he couldn't give up just like that! Not on Simon. He couldn't... he wouldn't... it took every bit of strength he had left... he really tried...

A bolt of lightning hit really close. The heartbreaking cry of the wolf traveled trough the night.

Jim started breathing again.
 
Simon started breathing again.

"Oh, God!" the captain finally said.

The jaguar roared.
 

Jim felt the Earth moving. He tried to sit up and failed. His eyes fluttered open, only to be shut back again, blinded by strong, white lights. Someone was near... touching him... poking... prodding... hurting.

He found his voice. "Simon?" he whispered.

The Earth stopped. "Jim?" Simon's voice was filled with relief. "Jim, don't move. We are getting you out of here... you're going to the hospital!" The captain informed his detective. Jim relaxed and let himself be touched again. He tried to concentrate on lowering those pain dials... he heard his guide's voice... and reality sunk in.

"Simon!" Jim jumped and tried to sit up, a sudden wave of energy prompting his body, he fought against the bright lights, ignoring the ripping pain. "Simon... "

Banks was beside his friend in a second. "Calm down, Jim... you're..."

"Simon!" Jim was still ignoring the pain, a dreadful tone filled the Sentinel's voice... he knew... but he had to hear it... "Simon, where's Blair?"

The captain looked right into his friend's eyes, a crowd of clashing feelings reflected in the man's dark orbs. He couldn't say it... but he had to.. he had to.

"Jim... I'm sorry."

The cry of the wolf filled the cold night once more... then the message reached his brain.

He couldn't speak. It was true... His guide was...

Simon's voice returned, shaking his inner core. It was useless. He knew the Sentinel's senses would reveal it if he lied. "Cameron told us what happened, he saw it... the bastard was there and he didn't help you!" Banks clenched his teeth, his fury was ready to be released. But the empty, desolate look in Jim's eyes gave him the control he needed, he owed his friend. "That son of a... He saw Sandburg fall, Jim! I'm so sorry... we looked everywhere..." The pressure on the sentinel's chest increased savagely. His mind screamed at him like a drill sergeant and urged him to to get up again, he had a job to do.

"I have to find him!"

Simon pushed his friend back down, he was dying inside too. "There's nothing more you can do, Ellison!" he insisted, "It's been three days, and... Oh, Jim!... how can I say this?.... There's no way he could have survived that fall." Jim saw the desperation in his captain's eyes and the effort it took to say those things to an injured man. He was telling the truth, the tears in his eyes were the proof.

"He's gone. I'm so... so sorry," Simon's voice cracked, "But you... you're hurt. You have to let the paramedics take care of you now, Jim... It's what Blair would  have wanted."

Rage came like a hurricane wave to wash over everything else he was feeling. He hated the sound of those words... he hated the use of the past tense... he hated when people talked about his friend like he was dead. But he is!

Blair.

Why?

Darkness threatened to steal his awareness again. He didn't want that. He wanted it to end. He wanted it to be a nightmare... he wanted to wake up to find himself in his room again. It had to be a nightmare, it had to.

But you're not supposed to feel pain in dreams. You're supposed to be able to pinch yourself and not feel it... You're supposed to be able to control your dreams because they are fantasies,... creations of your own mind...

He felt the pain. He felt the cold breath of Death near his sensitive ear... He could see it. He could hear it and touch it. He could taste its bitterness.

He could do so a thousand times more intensely than other people because he was a Sentinel.

He could feel the pain of his guide's loss... a thousand times stronger than anyone else... because he was a Sentinel. The Sentinel. His Guide's Sentinel. His brother's keeper.

He wouldn't fight anymore.

His Guide was dead.
 
 
 

Until it sleeps....
 

A warm hand touched his shoulder and Jim Ellison's heart jumped again. He turned his head to see who it was... and stopped to look at translucent blue, worried eyes.

Brief lightning illuminated the night.

"Jim?" The man before him repeated for the hundredth time. "Please man, talk to me!" He pleaded.  His voice sounded distant.

"What?"

But his guide was dead! Who was this, then?

"Who are you?" Jim asked, frightened.

"I'm...  me." The kid's phantom voice replied. "Blair."

"Chief!" Jim whispered through the haze. "You... I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Came the young Guide's question like in a dream.

Jim couldn't take it anymore, he had no willpower to keep it inside. "I couldn't find you, Blair." He said painfully, his grief translating into tears with every word he said. "I'm sorry. I looked everywhere, I tried, I focused... But it was too dark, and too far away!"  He was starting to lose his balance again. He felt sick. "I tried... I really tried."

"Jim," Blair's gentle voice came back, and this time, Jim felt the pressure of a small, powerful hand touching his chest in reassurance. "I know, you tried to find me, but I fell." His guide's words acted as a painkiller. "The explosion was too strong, it threw me right off the cliff."

"I tried to hold on!" Jim cried. "I couldn't... Your hand slipped... Chief, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, big guy," came the soothing, ghostly voice again, "I know you tried. But there are some things even you can't do, no matter how much you fight. It's okay. Now, you have to let them take care of you!"

"I don't want to. I'm too tired."

"Please Jim, you have to live. You have to.... I need you to be my Blessed Protector, please!" Blair implored now, the guide was losing his Sentinel.

"No, Chief. Not if you are dead." was Jim's calm response.

"But I'm not dead!" Blair exclaimed. "I'm alive. I came back by myself, Jim. I didn't die!"

"You're alive?" Asked Jim, incredulous.

"Yeah, man. I am." Jim opened his eyes. " I'm here. And look at you!... I come back only to find you trapped in the mother of all zone-outs, big guy!" He chuckled, "I can't leave you alone for one minute, can I?"

Jim finally saw through the haze. Blair was smiling at him. His face was bloody and beaten, his hair wet, his expression tired, and there was fear in his eyes. His partner was crying. Jim felt warmth traveling trough his body and looked around. Blair was there... he WAS there. The kid was kneeling beside him, one hand on Jim's chest, the other one holding Jim's hand in a brotherly grasp.

In that moment, Jim knew his friend would never let go.

The Sentinel smiled. His Guide was alive.

The storm calmed down and finally died just as Jim let himself be healed, finally sleeping in the arms of hope.

It holds you, so hold me,

Until it sleeps ...
 

"Oh, wow, Jim!" Blair exclaimed, once again. He'd been saying that for the past hour or so.

The detective only smiled at his friend from the hospital bed. He felt strangely relaxed although it had only been 24 hours since he'd been rescued. It took a lot of explaining from Simon and Blair to put together the things that had happened.

They had been chasing a criminal in the woods. An arsonist named Cameron who loved playing with bombs. The man had set dozens of booby traps and, though Jim could sense most of them, he and Blair had ended up falling into one. Jim had been thrown over the edge of a cliff and Blair had pulled him back up. But another blast had sent both him and his friend over again. Jim had been able to hold on to a rock with one hand and to Blair with the other. It had been too much. Sandburg had fallen. But he hadn't died.

The river had caught him and taken his unconscious body miles down the valley, until he came to and found himself lost, hurt and really... really cold. He tried to find help but there was no sign of civilization anywhere. Blair hadn't said so, but he didn't wait to be rescued because he knew that Jim was somewhere back there, hurt, bleeding. So the kid decided to go back, following the river. That was just like Blair.

The young shaman didn't care how bad his leg was hurt, or how bad the weather was getting, the only image in his mind was Jim, in danger. He had gathered all the energy he had left and  started to limp back. It took him three days.

Jim had been hurt with the explosions. He had a very bad concussion, four broken ribs and bruises all over his body. But the worst injury was to his sanity. He'd stayed up there for three days, looking for Blair... fighting unconciousness. He'd fallen again and almost died from shock and exposure. Then Simon had found him, after the long search had led the rescue team into Cameron's hideout.

The arsonist had told them what had happened, and where, after Simon did some "convincing" on his part. The captain was really furious. Cameron's explanation put them in the right direction and they finally got to a wounded Ellison trapped on a ledge. He had been rescued just in time. It had been close. "Too close!" Simon had said in a tone that had touched Jim's heart. Too close.

Blair said that Jim had 'zoned out' on the trauma of the explosion and the pain, but the sentinel knew better. He'd 'zoned' on the feeling of losing his guide. On the pain of his best friend's death. And that feeling, he could never forget. Not for as long as he lived. How will you explain that on your dissertation, kid? Jim thought happily.

He looked at Blair, sitting in that wheelchair, hair pulled back, tired face. He'd been damaged pretty good too, but he was alive.

He was alive.

Nothing was wrong anymore.

They both looked out the window, at peace. A wonderful red and gold sky looked back at them, painted with serenity and hope. No worries, no thunder, no death, no cold, no sorrow. The pain was gone, the sun was setting. Grateful, the two friends kept enjoying the miracle of being alive as the world went to sleep.

Not so far away, the purring of a Jaguar lulled his wolf companion to slumber, while the lingering warmth of the loving sun surrounded them in harmony, in a beautiful summer twilight.

 Do you think there's a sad story behind this fiction? Well, yeah, there is... but I don't want to talk about it.... Well, okay. The tragedy that prompted my ramblings was the fact that Metallica,... a very ... VERY good Rock Band, is coming on tour in two weeks to Mexico City... and I can't go see them! (Insert dramatic music score here.) Therefore... I write as I weep, and I weep as I write... and I share. Thank you for reading. I really appreciate it.
Killash.
killash_tg@yahoo.com
 
 
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