Rating: PG
Category: Drama
Series/Sequel: Nope
Warnings:None that I can see. Allusions to some eps, but no real spoilers.
Notes: Set late in the second season, after the ep "Survival." The lyrics are from "You Are Loved," by Wynonna. The song is available on the "Touched by an Angel" soundtrack. H/C with a smattering of smarm for good measure.
**********
"We all want to make our place in this world;
We all want our voices to be heard.
Everyone wants a chance to be someone."
****************
"Do you hear that, Chief?"
Blair Sandburg sighed patiently. Of course he couldn't hear it. With Jim's Sentinel abilities, he could be listening to the mating calls of two birds half a mile away. Then again, Blair couldn't hear very much of anything beyond the roar of the rain and the pounding of his own heart. A high-speed chase in a torrential downpour, through mountain roads, had nearly given the young anthropologist a heart attack. The fact that the chase had ended when the bad guy hydroplaned off the road and down the side of the mountain further fueled Blair's plan to have Jim's license revoked.
"I don't hear anything, Jim."
The pair was standing on the shoulder, looking down at the wreck below. Well, Jim was looking down. Blair preferred to stand several feet from the edge, fighting back his surfacing fear of heights.
Blair turned to study his friend, rainwater plastering his auburn curls to his face and neck. "Is it Lewis?" he asked, hazarding a peek over the edge. He'd assumed the man hadn't survived the crash, but...
"No, something else. Like a rumble or a roar."
"Like thunder?"
"Not quite."
Both men looked heavenward. Birds of all sorts were flocking away from the mountain. Jim scanned the side of the incline that stretched high above them. His sight kicked in, piggybacking with his hearing to place the source of the rumble.
"Oh, no," Jim muttered.
"Jim?" Blair grabbed his friend's arm. Jim had gone very pale. "What is it, man?"
"Get in the truck. Move!"
The men scurried for the rented black Chevy pick-up. As Blair yanked open his door, the roar in his ears changed and grew louder. He looked up the side of the mountain; his eyes widened in horror.
A thick wall of brown mud was oozing down through the trees at an alarmingly fast rate. It wrapped around trees, pushing branches, leaves and odd debris before it, like some sort of living beast.
"Sandburg!"
Jim's shout brought him back. Blair scrambled into his seat a split second before the Chevy took off down the mountain. After strapping on his seatbelt, Blair twisted in his seat and stared out the back window. The mudslide had crossed the road and spread out, now going in two directions: over the edge of the bank and down the road. Blair wiped water from his eyes and looked at his partner.
"Man, that mess is following us!" Blair announced with a shaky voice, still nervous about Jim's driving.
"Looks like it found us."
"What?"
Blair saw it the instant they hit. The truck plowed several feet into the mud that had already flooded this part of the road, then stopped. Jim pumped the gas. The wheels spun, but were no longer effective. The truck was caught up in the river of sludge and debris, being pushed near and nearer to the edge of the road.
"Oh, God," Blair whispered. He had never been closely in touch with his religious heritage, but now Blair Sandburg sent a silent prayer for protection to every deity he had ever heard of.
"Hold on!"
Jim screamed the warning as the truck slide over the embankment in the river of mud. The windows collected splatters of the stuff, making it difficult for Sentinel and Guide to see where they were going. Jim gripped the steering wheel madly, as if he could magically control their descent somehow. The bed of the truck crashed into a tree, sending the vehicle into a sudden spin. Another large obstruction was hit and the truck tottered, then began to roll.
Blair's last conscious thought was to curse the state for not putting up guardrails around this particular road.
*****************
"We all have dreams we need to dream,
But sweeter than any star you can reach
Is when you reach and find you've found someone.
You'll hold this world's most priceless thing,
The greatest gift this life can bring.
If you can look back and know
You were loved."
**************
*Cold...wet...ouch!*
Blair slowly dragged his eyelids open. It would have been easier to stay asleep, but the fear of waking back up in a pine box drove the young man to wakefulness. The cab of the truck was dark. Cracks in the mud near the top of the windshield gave just enough light to make out his surroundings.
Miraculously, the truck had landed upright. Blair was still strapped onto the seat, his right leg apparently caught under the dash. He looked over at Jim, squinting to see his friend in the dim light. The detective's odd position, coupled with the smashed interior, was enough to tell Blair that whatever had stopped the truck's descent had stopped it on the driver's side. Jim was wedged partly under the steering wheel, his right hand and foot resting on the front seat. He hadn't had his seatbelt on when they'd gone over the edge. Jim was still unconscious, his face inclined towards Blair.
"Jim?" he called quietly, then berated himself. *What the hell are you whispering for?* "Jim? C'mon, man, wake up. Jim?"
The Sentinel did not stir. Blair's heartbeat lept into his throat. He stretched a shaky hand across the seat and wrapped cold fingers around Jim's wrist. The pulse was there; slow and thready, but there. Blair stretched a bit more and ran tender fingers across his partner's face, trying to discover the extent of his injuries. He found a deep gash on the left side of Jim's head, just above his ear.
"Aw, man," he muttered.
Blair felt around the dark interior, trying to locate his backpack. He had a vague memory of it smacking him in the face during one of the truck's rolls. He found it stuck under Jim's left leg. The anthropologist snagged the pack and pulled it towards him. He bit back a groan as a wave of pain traveled up his trapped leg. Blair counted to ten, then unzipped the bag and produced his cell phone.
"Yes!" he whooped. The phone was undamaged. He punched in a number he would have been able to dial in his sleep. The other line was picked up in two rings.
<"Banks,"> a gruff voice announced.
"Simon, it's Blair. I-."
<"Sandburg? I was wondering what happened to you two. Is this about Lewis?">
Blair snorted. "You could say that. I have good news and bad news."
An audible groan traveled into Blair's ear. He could almost see Simon leaning over his large desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.
<"Good news, please.">
"We caught Lewis," Blair announced with sarcastic perkiness.
<"Then the bad news would be?"> Simon asked, somewhat bewildered.
"Well, we had to chase Lewis up all these back roads and we finally ended up on a mountain road somewhere out here and you know all the rain we've been having? Of course you do. Well, it caused a mudslide, pushed the truck down an embankment and now we're sorta trapped."
<"You're what?!">
"Buried in mud, Simon. Whole truck's covered and we can't get out."
<"Are either of you hurt?">
"Jim's got a big gash on the side of his head and he's still out. He wasn't belted in and got banged around quite a bit. I'm not sure how bad it is. His pulse is real thready."
<"Are you hurt?">
The question threw Blair for a moment. Beyond the a few pains in his leg and a small headache, he hadn't much noticed his own situation. A quick check produced a small knot on his forehead. Another sharp pain shot through Blair's body. He traced that to his right leg, jammed under the crumpled dashboard. He slid his hands as far down the trapped leg as he could. He tried wiggling his toes--nothing. Except for the occasional wave of agony, his leg was completely numb. His hands came back warm and sticky.
*Another good sign. Not only am I stuck, but bleeding, too.*
"Simon, my leg's jammed under the dash. It's bleeding, but I can't tell how bad. Can barely feel it, actually."
<"All right, see if you can take off your belt and use it as a tourniquet. I'll get Search and Rescue out there ASAP. Do you have any idea where you are?">
"We were heading west of Mount Rainier is all I remember. Sorry, Simon."
<"It's okay. Look, we're on top of this. I'll call you back in a little while.">
"Okay."
The connection ended abruptly.
Blair unhooked his seatbelt, then went to work on his belt. The blood on his hands made it a slippery job. A groan to his left took Blair's attention away from the task.
"Jim? Jim?" Blair carefully squeezed his friend's hand.
Another groan, then Jim opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, adjusting his vision to the level of light in the cab.
"Blair?" he croaked.
"Welcome back, man." The panic that had settled in Blair's stomach was lifted a bit by his friend's awakened state.
****************
"You were loved by someone,
Touched by someone,
Held by someone,
Meant something to someone,
Loved somebody,
Touched somebody's heart along the way.
You can look back and say
You were loved."
****************
"What the hell happened?" Jim asked.
"Car chase, mudslide, the truck doing backflips down the side of a mountain. No biggie. Hope you got full insurance on this thing from the rental place."
Jim ignored the attempt at levity. Even without enhanced vision, Blair could make out Jim's horrified expression.
"Are you hurt?" he asked. Jim reached a hand toward is Guide, then dropped it and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Jim, you okay? Is it your head?"
The Sentinel started to nod, then thought better of it. "Yup. Feels like a sixty-piece percussion section in playing the rhumba in my skull.
"Nice imagery."
"I thought so. You hurt, Chief?"
"My right leg's stuck under the dash, but nothing else seems to be bloody, broken or otherwise injured."
"What about that bump?"
Blair's hand flew to his face. "How-?" He cut himself off. Of all people, *he* was about to ask a Sentinel how he saw the bump on his forehead. *Get it together, Sandburg.*
"It's fine. Look, I called Simon. He says S and R are on their way. It just might take a while."
"And why's that?"
"Because I have no idea where we are. Putting aside the fact that I was already lost when we were actually on a road, I'd say we are now smack in the middle of the woods, buried under a river of mud. Kinda makes locating a person that much harder."
The cellphone chirped to life, startling both men. Blair flipped it open.
"Simon?"
<"Yeah. How are you guys?">
"Jim's awake. Head hurts, but he's lucid."
<"Good sign. Keep him awake.">
"Definitely. Where are you guys?"
The phone beeped. *Damnit, not now,* Blair cursed.
<"I'm on the road. Mudslides have been reported all over your area, so a lot of roads will be closed.">
Another beep.
"Simon, the battery on my phone's about to go."
<"Damn. All right, look. We'll be there as soon as we can. Okay?">
" 'Kay."
The phone died before Simon could respond. Blair chunked the useless machine onto the floor and looked at his friend. Jim's eyes were closed.
"Jim? Hey, man, wake up for me. Jim?"
Jim opened his eyes and seemed prepared to close them again. Instead, he shifted his position a bit, so he was sitting more upright.
"You are not allowed to sleep, Jim. You hear me?" Blair hoped his voice didn't betray his fear.
"Loud and clear, Chief."
Blair shivered, feeling goose bumps rise along is arms.
"Cold?" Jim asked.
"Aren't I always?" Blair joked.
Jim reached his right hand around the steering column, gripped the ignition key and turned. The starter rattled, gathered strength, then died. He tried several more times to start the engine, each as unsuccessful as the first.
"Sorry, Chief. No heat there."
"S'okay, man. Hey, Jim, can you move? That position can't be comfortable."
Jim stared at his Guide, as if deciding how to answer. Or more precisely, how to obfuscate.
"Actually, it's not too bad." Jim's intended nonchalantness came off badly as a gasp of pain forced his eyes shut.
"Truth, Jim. Can you move?" Blair didn't bother to hide the concern he felt.
After a moment's hesitation, Jim finally admitted, "No I can't. Can't feel anything below my waist."
"Damn. Well, okay, um...seeing as how neither of us is in any position to move, we can just work on staying conscious until we're rescued.
"That could be hours. Maybe days."
"Happy thoughts, Jim. Besides, you have on massive head injury going and you are not going back to sleep, my friend. I'll talk from here till Doomsday if it keeps you alert."
"You'll have to do the talking, pal. Just moving my lips makes my head want to split."
*************
"You can have diamonds in your hand,
Have all the riches in the land,
Without love do you really have a thing.
When someone cares that your alive,
When someone finds their world in your eyes,
Then you'll know you've found all you need."
*************
Blair combed through his mind for things to talk about. Lord knew, he excelled at small talk and mindless chatter. Unfortunately, those skills seemed frozen at the moment. It was imperative he keep Jim distracted, so he resorted to jokes.
"What's black and brown and looks good on a lawyer?" Blair asked as cheerfully as he could.
Jim stared him straight in the eye and said, "A Doberman."
The matter-of-factness of the statement made Blair chuckle.
"You know, Jim, speaking of Doberman's, I knew a family once who..." And he was off. His memory sparked, Blair proceeded to ramble. His topics springboarded from dogs to apple trees to Afganistanian marriage rituals to paintball as a form of male bonding.
Blair stoppped for a breath and stole a glance at his watch. It had been nearly four hours since the mudslide. He coughed, noticing for the first time that the air was thick, almost musty. It had a funny, used smell to it. *Uh oh. We're running out of air.* Blair glanced at his partner. Jim was staring straight ahead, his gaze unfixed.
The young Guide stared at his window, indecision his companion now. They needed air, but he had no idea how much mud was outside, waiting to be let in. It could be a cup, it could be a half-ton. But he had no choice. He was already cold and wet; how much could a little mud hurt?
Blair gripped the window handle and pulled gently--nothing. He yanked a bit harder--still nothing. It seemed to be jammed.
"Blair?"
"One second, Jim."
Blair gave the handle one final pull. It turned a full 180 degrees, opening the window farther than Blair had intended. Icy mud spilled forth onto Sandburg's lap, making the startled anthropologist yelp. The sludge that came in totaled maybe half a gallon, but it was enough. The smell hit Sentinel and Guide at the same time.
"Man, Chief, that's foul," Jim complained.
"Well, at least you can dial it down." Blair brushed a lock of curls from his face, leaving a streak of mud in its wake. "Wonderful," he muttered, searching for a reasonably clean place to wipe his hands. Finding the search hopeless, Blair stuck his hand out the open window. He could feel a pool of muck that reached to the top edge of the glass. Blair lifted himself as far off the seat as he could comfortably manage and peeked outside. The side of the mountain loomed upward, coated with a thick river of brown, marred by rocks, branches and other random debris. They were, indeed, buried.
Blair dropped back down onto the seat and turned back to face his partner. The latter was rapidly blinking his eyes.
"How ya doing, Jim?"
"Not too bad, except I think I'm starting to see two of you."
"And one of me's plenty, right?" Blair joked.
"More than enough. But I wouldn't trade you for anything."
Blair grinned, but couldn't help raising an eyebrow. It wasn't like Jim to make such an open, emotional statement. The older man had no problem speaking his mind, but endearments weren't normally his strong point. Blair hoped it was just a new side of his best friend he was seeing and not just a concussion-induced babble. Unfortunately, from the unfocused look in Jim's eyes it was probably the latter.
"How's the leg?" Jim asked.
"Huh?" Blair had nearly forgotten his own injury. In fact, he had forgotten about it--the tourniquet at least. He was unsettled by the fact that he had no sensation left in his right leg. "Damn."
Blair finished unhooking his belt and pulled it off. Brushing mud out of his lap, he worked the leather strap around his right thigh.
"Simon told me earlier to do this." He pulled the makeshift tourniquet tight, his slippery fingers trying to fasten the buckle. "Then you woke up and I forgot all about it."
Jim grunted disapprovingly. "Chief, when are you going to start putting your own self-preservation above the welfare of others?"
"Others who? As in you? Forget it, dude. You come first."
"Your life is more important than mine," Jim insisted.
"Not in my book," Blair shot back.
"Well it is to me!"
****************
"You'll hold this world's most priceless prize,
The sweetest treasure in this life,
If you can look back and know
You were loved."
****************
This confession really shouldn't have surprised Blair, but it did. He knew Jim was protective and would not hesitate to take bullet for him, but Blair had liked to think Jim also knew the reverse was true. Maybe it was the Sentinel/Guide bond that produced these behaviors; he wasn't sure. The one thing Blair Sandburg *was* sure of was that he would walk through fire to protect his friend.
Jim Ellison was the brother he had never had. The unlikely friendship was something Blair would have never predicted to happen. It just did. Fate or luck, he didn't care anymore. It was a gift more precious than gold, rarer than any gemstone. But how do you tell that to an anal retentive, slightly emotionally repressed, ex-Army Ranger cop? Blair chose the direct approach, considering Jim probably wasn't lucid enough to comprehend a long, metaphorical speech.
"You're my best friend, Jim." Seeing the statement grabbed his partner's complete attention, Blair went on. "Something like that, the connection we've got, man, that doesn't come around much. It's like...like a rainbow or something. It's a beautiful thing, but you need to pay attention and appreciate it while it's there. You never realize what you've missed until it's gone."
Blair pause, trying to gather his thoughts. His head felt foggy, a possible side affect of his current blood loss. He knew he had begun to preach, but didn't care. Speech or not, this had to be said.
"Since we've met I've jumped off a cliff, been in numerous high-speed chases, participated in a car theft, defused a bomb; I've been kidnapped, chased, shot, beaten up and held hostage. And you know what? I don't care. Well, of course I care, but my point is that none of that stuff if going to make me quit.
"My place if right here, by your side. This partnership, this friendship is the most important thing in my life right now. I'd do anything to protect it...and you."
**************
"So many roads that you can take,
Whatever way you go,
Don't take that road alone.
Better you should know...
You were loved by someone."
**************
Blair blinked several times, alarmed that his vision was blurring. He found it difficult to focus on anything. Since he couldn't really see Jim to gauge his reaction thus far, Blair decided to go for the big finale.
"I love you, Jim."
Jim seemed to be looking at him, but Blair couldn't tell for sure.
"Blair, I..." Jim trailed off, his attention suddenly elsewhere. "Do you hear that?"
"What is it?"
"A chopper." The relief that came with that single statement was impossible to hide in the Sentinel's voice. "I hope they can see us in this mess."
The thought that the truck might be undetectable in the muddy mess had Blair in a momentary panic. *We need a signal of some sort...* His blue eyes fixed on the rearview mirror, already partially broken off from the crash. Blair wrapped slick fingers around it.
"Hope the rental place wasn't too fond of this," he joked, before giving it a firm yank and twist. The hardware came off in his hands. Blair wiped mud from its reflective surface and carefully stuck it out the window. He turned the mirror this way and that, hoping whatever sunlight was out there would be enough to catch the helicopter's attention.
"Jim, how close is the chopper? Jim?"
The silence made Blair turn, trying hard to focus on his friend. Jim's eyes were closed.
"Dammit, Jim, wake up! Come on, man, don't do this to me."
Jim's eyes remained closed. Blair grasped his friend's hand, squeezing hard.
"You feel that? If you feel that, then open up! Come on!"
Blair felt a darkness creeping around the edges of his mind, but he fought it off. *Have to stay awake. Have to...for Jim.* But the darkness was stronger. Blair felt his grip on the mirror loosen, the object fall out of his grasp. His whole body felt numb, frozen. Fifty pound eyelids closed over cobalt orbs. Blair realized he still had a grasp on Jim's hand, but no strength to pull away.
*Hope Simon doesn't see this. How embarrassing...*
Darkness chased away the thoughts.
***************
"You were loved by someone,
Touched by someone,
Held by someone,
Meant something to someone,
Loved somebody,
Touched somebody's heart along the way.
You can look back and say,
You did okay.
You were loved."
***************
He was warm. That was an improvement. He also couldn't move. These thoughts accompanied Blair Sandburg as he struggled back to consciousness. He was aware of a presence nearby even before opening his eyes. He had never doubted that presence would be there. When he had O.D.ed on Golden, Jim's concerned face was the first thing he remembered seeing after awakening in the hospital. The sight was expected and Blair was not disappointed.
Jim was perched on the edge of his wheelchair. A thick, white bandage covered his head, marred by small bloodstains above his left ear. There were several bruises on his neck and jaw that Blair hadn't been able to see in the dim interior of the truck.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Jim said cheerfully.
"Hey, Jim. How's the head?"
"Mine or yours?"
Blair groaned. "We are not going back to that whole self-preservation lecture, because I had thought I made it clear-."
"To answer the question," Jim interrupted patiently, "your head is fine. Mild concussion, a few bumps and bruises. My head, on the other hand, was graced with seventeen stitches."
"Seventeen?" Blair struggled to sit up, but failed. His body felt sore and leaden, as if he'd finished a triathlon on zero sleep.
"That's nothing," Jim commented, as if they were discussing the latest Jag's game. "Your leg took thirty. Gashed it open pretty well under the dashboard. You almost bled to death out there."
The last statement had an accusatory tone, but Blair ignored it. Instead, he focused on Jim's wheelchair. "Can you walk? In the truck, you said-."
"Temporary paralysis, Chief. Everything moves that's supposed to."
"That's good. How long have I been out?"
"About 48 hours."
"Geez, how bad was it?"
Jim looked away for a minute, his worried gaze wandering over his friend's bandaged leg. When it once again met Blair's, the police observer saw that familiar Ellison determination settle in his eyes.
"You lost circulation in your toes for a while. Doc wanted to amputate your foot at first, but I told them to go to hell. Rather interesting confrontation. You'll have to get Simon to tell you about it. You were in surgery forever, but each little digit is still there and in good working order.
Blair took a deep breath, calming himself over what he'd almost lost. "Thanks for that, Jim."
"Anytime. Besides, I couldn't have you limping around beside me. I have an image, you know." Jim's grin mirrored Blair's.
"Yeah, well, about that," Blair said wickedly. "Somehow I think that old Ellison image was shot to hell when he started hanging around with a certain--how shall we describe him?--neo-hippie, witch doctor."
"Punk," Jim added.
"Ah, yes, punk! How could I have forgotten that?"
"Well, this Ellison," Jim said seriously, "doesn't give a rat's ass what people thing or do not think about his image. When it all boils down, you are what matters."
"Thanks. I meant that."
Blair was hit with a sudden wave a fatigue; his eyelids closed involuntarily.
"Get some sleep, Chief," Jim said quietly, giving Blair's hand a gentle pat.
"Night, Jim," Blair mumbled. He heard the creak of metal as Jim maneuvered his wheelchair toward the door. The sound faded out as sleep began to overtake him. A distant voice managed to cut through the fog.
"Blair?"
"Hmmgghhhh," was the mumbled reply.
"I love you, too."
Safe and secure with that knowledge, Blair Sandburg drifted into a peaceful sleep, a contented smile accenting his youthful face, very sure of his place in the world.
*****************
"So remember to tell that one,
You are loved."
*****************
FINIS
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