"Blair?  How do I look?"

He turned around on the balcony, having been gazing at the waves breaking on the shore as she'd been changing her clothes.  Stepping
through the open door, she joined him.  "Think this will be distraction enough?"  She spun slowly, modeling the open-backed, flowered sundress.

"Hmm, what?" he said, dragging his eyes back to her face.

She laughed, a delighted smile spreading across her face.  "Never mind, you just gave me my answer."  Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

That innocent touch sent a rush of adrenaline flooding through him.  "What was that for?"

Suddenly nervous, Alex moved past him to lean on the railing, watching a boat tying up at the pier.  "I . . . just my way of saying thank you, I
guess.  For everything, Blair."  She turned to face him, and he could see a myriad of emotions flashing in her eyes.  "You didn't have to
help me.  I, mean, I was just some wacko stranger in the police station, and yet you took an interest in me, wanted to help me.  And
after all the things I've done to you, to your friends . . ."

"Alex . . ."

She shook her head.  "I tried to kill him, you know.  Plotted it all out and everything."

He knew this was going to be bad, but like a car accident on the freeway, he couldn't stop himself from gaping.  "Kill who, Alex?"

Staring down at her hands resting on the railing, she replied softly, "Jim."

Blair's heart stopped.  No, no, Jim wasn't dead; Jim couldn't be dead.  But it made a sick sort of sense, kill the rival sentinel and steal
his guide.  It was territoriality at its most basic, powerful warrior magic.  "Alex, tell me you didn't . . . tell me Jim's okay!"

"He's fine, he's fine.  That cop who arrested me when I wrecked my car saved him.  I don't know what I was thinking . . . it was stupid, wasting a cop is stupid, they fry you for that. But I couldn't help myself, I justÖ" Her hands fluttered in the air for a moment, then she wrapped them around her stomach.  "Blair, just go, get out of here.  Go back to Jim, go back to where it's safe . . ."

He could hear the fear, the pain in her voice.  Things were happening to her, things she didn't understand.  Blair didn't have a handle on
it either, but the feelings, the instincts he'd had on the way to Sierra Verde had only become stronger the minute they'd arrived.  Yes,
she'd tried to hurt Jim, yes, she'd hurt him, but she wasn't that person anymore.  He could see her changing before his eyes.  Reaching
out his hand to her, he rubbed her arm gently.  "I'm not going to leave you, Alex.  I promise you, we're in this together."  He wiped
away a tear that was sneaking its way down her cheek.

Taking a deep breath, she shrugged off his hands.  "I'm okay, I'm okay."  She tossed her head and swiped at her eyes.  "I think I've
cried more in the last three days than I have the last 20 years."

Blair smiled at her.  "Well, tears are the spirit's way of cleansing itself, of getting through the past, so you can get on with the
future." She looked toward him then, her eyes curious, and full of wonder, as if she was just seeing him for the first time.  This must
be what it's like to zone, he thought, as he found himself lost in those clear blue depths, sensing her lean toward him, anticipating her
mouth on his . . .

A loud knock on the door startled them both.  "Damn, that must be Carl.  Quick, get in the closet!"  Alex darted back into the room,
checking her hair and makeup in the mirror rapidly, as Blair ducked into the small closet, closing the louvered door behind him.  He heard her open the door and greet Hettinger, then there was silence for a long moment.  When they spoke again, it was obvious they'd moved across the room to the balcony.  Blair peered through the slats in the door, able to make out Alex leaning against the door jam, and Carl standing close to her . . . too close.

Alex slid her hands up his chest, and tilted her head back to receive his kiss.  Blair shoved a fist in his mouth to keep his sudden anger
from being verbalized.  God, what was happening to him?  Where was this jealousy coming from?  Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his concentration back to their conversation.

"I should still go with you . . ." Alex was saying.

Carl took a step back.  "Arguillo will only work with me."

"I'm your partner."

Turning his back on her, Carl began to head for the door.  "You're the thief, I'm the fence.  I'll be back in a couple hours."  He passed out
of Blair's line of sight, but he could clearly hear his next words.  "We can go out and celebrate."

The sentinel fairly purred, "Why don't we stay in and celebrate?"

Carl's response made Blair want to gag.  "Even better."  The hotel room door opened and shut, and Blair let out the breath he'd been
holding.

Alex yanked the door to his hiding place open.  "You okay?"

He stalked out and sat down on the bed with a thump.  "What in the hell was that all about? 'Why don't we stay in and celebrate'?"

She stared at him for a moment, then began to chuckle until she was almost doubled over laughing.  "Oh . . . god . . . Blair, you are too funny!"  She took another look at his irritated expression, and collapsed next to him on the bed with the giggles.  "Oh, you should see yourself!  Jealousy is not a good look on you!"

"I am not jealous . . ."

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him down beside her, so his face was inches from hers.  "Yes, you are.  And it's . . . oh, damn you , Blair,
you're gonna make me cry again . . ."  She got to her feet, walking to the balcony and peering out toward the dock.

Blair rose and followed her.  "Alex, I'm sorry . . ."

She made a shushing motion at him.  "Carl went out to the boat, Arguillo's there."  Her brow furrowed slightly in concentration and
Blair's hand automatically went to her back, anchoring her.  "That bastard! He's raising the price!" she growled.

"Easy, Alex, it doesn't matter.  He's not going to see any of that money, remember?"  They remained in that position for several more
minutes, then he felt her relax under his hand.

"He's leaving."

"Do you know the location of the drop-off?"

She nodded.  "It's out in the jungle.  I'll write down the directions for you."

Blair grinned at her.  "And I'll make that phone call."

They were toasting with champagne, a bit prematurely, perhaps, and Blair felt kind of odd celebrating with a fancy wine instead of a cold
beer, but Carl had taken the nerve gas, headed to the meeting three hours ago, and hadn't returned.  Alex touched the lip of her glass to
his.  "Here's toÖand this is a first for me, the loss of 2 million dollars."

Blair returned her smile.  "And to new beginnings . . ."  They were just about to drink when someone pounded on the door.

Giving Blair a curious glance, Alex went to open it.  Carl Hettinger stood there, a large backpack in his hand, breathing hard, his
normally immaculate appearance ruffled.  "Alex, pack your things.  We have to get out of here!  It was a setup!"  Brushing past her into the
room, he tossed the pack on the bed, pulling up short at the sight of Blair.  "Who in the hell is he?  Alex, what's going on?"

"Um, he's ah . . . the man I told you about, the one helping me with my senses."

Carl stared at her.  "The college professor?"  His eyes narrowed as he spied the bottle of champagne and glasses.  His hand slid inside his jacket.  "You set me up!  You bitch!"  He drew his gun as she took a step toward him.  "Jesus, Alex, I don't believe you.  You'd throw away your share just to get me out of your hair?"  He waved the gun in Blair's direction.  "I sure hope he was worth it, because he's gonna
be pretty useless to you full of holes."

Blair didn't even have time to react.  Suddenly Alex was in front of him, her body jerking as she took the bullet meant for him.  Something
snapped inside the Guide, rage fueling a mad rush.  He slammed into Hettinger, his momentum carrying them through the still open door and into the hallway.  They bounced off the railing to the stairs, Blair's hands wrapped in the other man's lapels.  He smashed his forehead into Carl's face, feeling him stagger back, dragging Blair with him.  And then the earth dropped out from under his feet.  Still tangled up with Hettinger, he tumbled down the stairs, fire lancing through his side an instant before they hit bottom and everything went black.

He came to in a few seconds, his hand going automatically to the pain that streaked across his ribcage.  His fingers came away warm and sticky.  Shit.  Blair hauled himself to his feet using the handrail of the staircase, turning to look back at his fallen opponent.  Double
shit.  He'd seen enough dead bodies to know that Carl wasn't getting up again.  Bending down, he picked up the discarded gun, then headed back up the stairs, afraid of what he'd find.

When he arrived at the room, the Sentinel was nowhere in sight.  "Alex?"

"In here . . ." The voice calling from the bathroom was hoarse with pain.  Blair entered the small room to find Alex seated on the toilet, trying to hold a towel to her right shoulder with a shaking hand.

"Oh, damn . . ." he whispered, going to help her.  Steeling himself, Blair examined the wound.  It wasn't too bad, painful as hell he knew from experience, but the shot had gone clean through.  He returned to the bedroom and came back with the bottle of champagne and the sheet from the bed.

Her eyes widened as she caught onto his intention.  Clasping her hand over her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut as he swabbed the alcohol over both the entrance and exit wounds, then tore the sheet into strips and bound the injury tightly.

"Carl?" she asked, suddenly remembering that threat.

Blair shook his head.  "He won't be causing us any more problems."

She could see that whatever he'd done troubled him, but now was not the time to get into it.  "Blair, oh, fuck, babe, you're bleedingÖ"
Her hands went to the bottom of his shirt, raising it gently, hearing his hiss of pain.  She got to her feet, pushing him back against the
counter as she efficiently cleaned and bandaged the 6-inch graze along his right side.  A sound in the hallway caught her attention.  "Come on, we have to get out of here."

Moving swiftly through the other room, they grabbed their still packed duffels, and the backpack Carl had left on the bed.  Blair unzipped it
quickly, checking its contents.  The increase in his heartrate made Alex turn toward him.  "What is it?"

"It's the money . . ." He dug a bit deeper.  "And the freaking nerve gas!  God damn it!  It's like a fucking bad penny . . ."

The Sentinel shook her head.  "Never mind.  Come on, I know where we can go."  She threw her bag over her good shoulder, and headed out the balcony door, Blair right behind her with the backpack and his own stuff.  He had one leg over the balcony railing when he remembered the map.  Sensing her Guide's thoughts, Alex called up from where she had landed on the soft beach sand, "Forget it, Blair, we don't need it."

Tossing his bundles down to her, Blair hung by both hands from the railing, then dropped to the ground, realizing she was right.  He knew with every fiber of his being that the temple would be their sanctuary, and that they would have no trouble finding it.

Shifting her backpack higher on her shoulders, Megan Connor puffed at a sweat-soaked strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes.  Her feet hurt, her back hurt, she had bug bites on her bug bites, and she still didn't understand how Ellison knew where Sandy and the Barnes woman were headed.  She glared at the back of the tall, well-muscled man walking a few meters in front of her.  He'd said hardly a word since they'd left the hotel, the expression on his face only growing grimmer as Captain Ortega had filled them in on what had happened earlier that day.

Seems Hettinger had planned a meet with Arguillo to turn over the nerve gas, but someone had tipped not the police, but the local
militia off to the time and location.  Ellison had been sure that person had been Sandy, but she wasn't so certain.  Sandy working
against Alex she could see, but according to Ortega, out of the three, only Hettinger had been at the drop, and he had gotten away with both the money and the gas, which hadn't been recovered.  Arguillo had not been happy about that fact, and was hunting for Carl and his partners.

Now Hettinger was dead, and if one could believe Ellison's visions, Blair Sandburg had been responsible.  Megan shook her head at the
thought.  Sandy wasn't a killer; the very idea he could take someone else's life was ludicrous, even if it was to save his own.  Jim had
sworn that Hettinger had shot both Blair and Alex, but no gun, or bullets had been found, just two spent cartridges, one in the hotel
room, and one underneath Hettinger's body.  The whole thing made about as much sense as traipsing through the jungle in search of some mythical temple.

She watched as the big detective paused again, cocking his head to the side like he was listening.  All she could hear was the normal chatter of birds and small animals.  She flashed back to searching Sandy's office at the university after Alex had taken him.  There'd been a book lying on the desk, old, judging by the condition of the binding.  "Sentinels of Paraguay" had been embossed in faded gold leaf on the cover.  She'd glanced through it, reading a few brief paragraphs, enough to know that Sentinels were members of primitive tribes who had heightened senses.  As Sandy was an anthropologist, she could see it fascinating him.  But what did it . . . Bloody hell!  That's why he'd been so interested in Alex when he'd first met her at the station.  She had been describing having heightened senses, the bright lights, the loud noises, her clothes irritating her skin.

Ellison moved forward again, and she and Simon followed.  Megan began to observe the detective more closely, noticing again how he seemed to be listening to the wilderness around them, how he was actually sniffing the air like a bloodhound on the scent.  He'd exhibited much of the same behavior at the crime scene at the hotel, at Blair's hotel room in Cascade, and at the University, hell, at every single crime scene she'd ever worked with him.  "It's a long story," Sandy had said when she'd asked him how he'd come to be hooked up with Jim.  A long story about ancient tribes and a cop with heightened senses, she suspected.

There was no way in hell she was going to let this lie.  As Jim moved forward through the underbrush, she grabbed hold of Simon 's elbow and held back a few paces.  "Captain, if I may ask you a question?"

Simon gazed down at the Aussie, taking advantage of the respite to remove his glasses and wipe the sweat from them with a bandana.  "Go right ahead, Connor."

How to put this . . . Banks had to know; it was the only thing that made sense, the only reason the no nonsense captain would tolerate
Sandburg's presence for four years.  She decided not to beat around the bush.  "Jim's a Sentinel, isn't he?"

She could see the surprise in his eyes, and for a brief moment, she knew he considered lying to her.  With a sigh, he put his glasses back on.  "Yes, Ellison's a Sentinel.  But how did you know about that?"

Megan's laugh was a short, sharp bark.  "I'm a detective, remember?"  She shot a glance in Jim's direction; he didn't seem to be paying any attention to them.  "Alex Barnes is a Sentinel too, isn't she?  That's what this is all about, that's what it's been about from the
beginning."  She shook her head.  "One thing I don't understand . . . Sandy, what's he got to do with it?  Why did she take him?  What use is he to her?"

Simon began walking again, and she followed.  "Guess you didn't find out about guides when you found out about sentinels."  She shot him a confused look.  "According to Sandburg, all Sentinels had a guide, someone to help them with their senses, to keep them from zoning, which is when they focus on one sense to the exclusion of all others."

Zoning . . . that explained a lot.  Megan realized she'd actually seen Jim zone a time or two, and watched Sandy pull him out of it.  "So Sandy's a guide, and Alex took him because she needed his help?  But that doesn't explain why Ellison thinks he's working with her willingly.  I mean, we will find them, we will get Sandy back, but Jim's acting like he's lost his best friend for good."

Captain Banks let out a heavy sigh.  "I try not to get too deeply involved in the stuff that goes on between them.  There's a mystical element there I'm not really comfortable with, and I try to avoid learning about.  But there's a bond between Ellison and Sandburg that's deeper than the bond between brothers.  Only Jim had a fight with Blair the night Alex took him.  Blair wanted to repair the damage he'd done to their friendship, only Jim wasn't ready for that.  He said some things that must have hurt Sandburg very much, told him he didn't trust him, didn't need him. This Sentinel thing is Blair's whole life, more so than it's Jim's, even.  Who's to say if Alex offered Blair a chance to be her guide, he wouldn't take it?"

Megan shook her head in disgust.  "That's, that's crazy, sir!  Sandy has more sense than that!  Alex is a violent criminal; she's been that
way her whole life.  Blair is a peace-loving intellectual; her way of life would be abhorrent to him!"

Shrugging, Simon replied, "Jim Ellison was one cold, hard-hearted bastard before Sandburg blew into his life.  Maybe Blair thinks if he
could help Jim change, he can do the same thing for Alex."  The tall man lengthened his stride to catch up with the sentinel, not wanting
to get too far behind.

Megan followed, turning Simon's words over in her mind.

Blair leaned against a tree trunk, his hand going to his side.  "Alex," he called softly.  Even though her wound was the more serious
of the two, she seemed able to shrug it off and cover ground at an amazing rate.  Not for the first time, he wished he had a pain dial he
could turn down.

Reversing her course, she came back to his side, her hand automatically going to his forehead.  "Shit, Blair, why didn't you say
something before?  You're burning up."

"We had to put some distance between us and Arguillo's men."  They'd run into them on their way to the jungle, and had spent several tense moments trying to lose them.  Succeeding somewhat, they'd headed for the temple, but Blair knew they were being followed by the way Alex kept pausing to look and listen behind them.  "How much further?"

Alex frowned, and tried to peer through the dense foliage.  "Another half day's walking, I think.  The sensation is pretty strong.  But
we're not going any further tonight.  It'll be dark soon, and we both need the rest.  Now we just need to find some shelter."  She wandered
ahead a little ways, gazing up at the tall trees surrounding them.  Coming to a halt underneath one, she looked back at him.  "I know
heights bother you, babe, but we won't be safe on the ground in our condition.  Think you can make it up there?"  She pointed to a section
of the tree about 20 feet up, where the branches spread out and curved upward, forming kind of a nest.

He didn't like it, but he knew any predators would see them as wounded prey if they stayed on the ground.  Ten intense minutes later, they
were safe in their hideaway.  Resting his back against the smooth wood, he closed his eyes, trying to will the throbbing in his side away.  He felt Alex's gentle hands pulling his shirt up, and loosening the bandage enough to check his wound.  Wincing as she rebound it, he
gasped at the flare of pain.  "Sorry," she murmured, and then he felt the mouth of a canteen being pressed against his lips.  "Drink."
Blair did as he was told, managing a few swallows of the tepid, stale water.

Alex sat back on her calves, taking a drink herself, then screwing the cap back on the container.  "How's your shoulder doing?" he asked.

"It's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."  She turned around to sit beside him, her hand reaching for his.  He took it, entwining their fingers, suddenly very glad he wasn't alone.  They sat there for several minutes in silence, then she said quietly, "Jim's here."

"What?"  Blair could feel his heart beginning to race.

"He's here in Sierra Verde.  I can feel his presence.  They're a ways behind us . . . but they're looking for you."   Alex turned her head to gaze at him, needing to see the expression on his face.

Blair bit his lip.  Jim was here; he hadn't given up on him.   Maybe there was still a chance, maybe . . .  He felt Alex's hand withdrawing from his grasp.  No! He hadn't meant to hurt her.  "Alex . . ."

She shook her head.  "It's okay, Blair, really it is.  I understand.  In the morning, I'll . . . I'll just go on, and you stay here.  He'll find
you pretty quickly."

No, damn it, he'd made a promise; he wasn't going to break it now; he couldn't break it now.  "No, Alex, you need me, and I made my decision a while ago . . ."  His own words surprised him.  When had he crossed that bridge?  The night he'd stayed to help her instead of escaping? That bumpy airplane flight to Sierra Verde?  Or had it been that afternoon, when he had killed a man to protect her?  He felt himself starting to shake.  He'd killed . . .

"Blair?"  Her arms went around him, pulling him into a careful embrace.  "What is it?"

"Carl . . ." he whispered, pressing his face into her shoulder, waves of guilt, of horror at what he'd become, washing over him, drowning him.

"Oh, babe," she breathed, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.  I never should have involved you in this at all.  I should have left you in Cascade.
I should have never brought you with me . . . This is all my fault, all of it."  She rubbed his back, trying to calm the shudders she felt
rocking him.  "It was an accident, babe, an accident.  It could have just as easily been you . . ."

"It should have been me!"  His voice was raw pain.

Alex pushed him back enough to look him in the eye.  "No," she hissed.  "Your life for his would have been a travesty.  Mine for his would
have been fair."

He looked at her through tear-blurred eyes, remembering her lunging in front of him, sacrificing herself for him.  He knew in that instant
that if she could have taken Carl's place to spare him the pain he was feeling now, she would have.  Blair leaned into her embrace again,
laying his head on her uninjured shoulder.  "We're two of a kind, Alex.  We're both seriously fucked up here . . ."

She made herself comfortable against the tree trunk, cradling him carefully in her arms.  "Yeah, but at least we're fucked up together."
She brought her hand up to stroke his hair.  "Try and get some sleep. We've got a long hike tomorrow."

Blair took a couple of deep breaths, feeling the tension slowly leave him as her presence, her commitment to this thing growing between
them, comforted him.  It wasn't long before he slept.

Jim dropped down behind the fallen log, ejecting the empty clip from his gun and jamming a fresh one in.  Popping up, he squeezed off a
couple shots in the general direction of the enemy and ducked again. Shit!  He couldn't believe their bad luck.  Somehow they must have
passed Barnes and Sandburg last night, and now they were in a stand off with Arguillo's men outside the temple of the Sentinel.

He glanced at his two companions.  Connor was reloading her clip, the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration.  Simon sat with his back to the huge log, his gun clasped loosely in his hand as he caught his breath.  They'd be lucky to get out of this alive.  Arguillo and his
goons had far more firepower, and no conscience.  They didn't give a damn who they killed, as long as they got their nerve gas.  Jim fought down the urge to laugh hysterically. God only knew where the stupid gas was.  All he really wanted now was to find his friend, his
partner, his guide and get the hell out of the jungle.

The sound of a single shot, followed by a distressed cry from Arguillo's side of the clearing got his complete attention.  That shot hadn't come from the three of them.  That meant . . . . Ellison peered over the top of the log, his sentinel sight tracking to where he'd heard the shot originate.  There!  To the west of their position, behind Arguillo's men, he could see the barrel of a semi-automatic through the bushes.  The pistol cracked again, and another of the drug lord's minions slumped to the ground. Renewed by the apparent reinforcements, the three Cascade police officers resumed their battle with Arguillo's group.

A flash of white caught Jim's peripheral vision.  Alex was snaking through the underbrush, Blair behind her.  They broke into the clearing, moving at a dead run toward the temple.  Automatically, he drew a bead on the other sentinel, and pulled the trigger.  She staggered and fell headlong, his hearing picking up her sharp gasp of pain.

The next few seconds played out in slow motion, and would forever be branded into his memory.  Blair bent down, grabbing her under the arm, pulling her to her feet.  As she rose, the guide half-turned toward Ellison, the gun in his hand suddenly visible.  Jim saw his friend's
finger tighten on the trigger. Once, twice, three times the automatic spoke, and the sentinel dove for cover, the bullets burying themselves
in the log, splinters of wood flying.

"Jim, what in the hell's going on!" Connor exclaimed from beneath him, having been shoved to the ground as he dodged the shots.

Ellison rolled off of her, breathing hard.  Blair had shot at him . . . His best friend had just tried to kill him . . . Getting to his knees, he took a careful look over the fallen tree.

Blair and Alex had reached the top of the temple's stairs.  In a scene right out of Jim's vision, they joined hands, then pressed their palms
against the carving of the eye.  An opening appeared in the stone wall, its inky blackness impenetrable by even his enhanced sight.  The
Sentinel and Guide slipped through the narrow slit and it closed seamlessly behind them.

Ellison felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest.  His guide, his brother was gone, and in his place was a stranger.  With
that thought, his senses spiraled out of control, the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of the rainforest overwhelming him.  Hands clutching his pounding head, Jim slumped to the ground, embracing the blessed darkness.

Blair came to a stop just inside the temple entrance, taking a quick look around before the door shut behind them and they were plunged
into darkness.  With a low moan, Alex slid down his body to rest on the floor.  The guide knelt beside her, one hand on her shoulder to
reassure her as he dug into his backpack with the other, coming up with a flashlight.  "Hold on, Alex."  Switching on the light, he turned it on her, finding her curled up on the stone floor, her face ashen.  "Where does it hurt?"

"Left legÖ" she gasped.  "My control's shot to hell; I can't turn it down . . . and I think I ripped my shoulder open again . . ."

Damn it.  Blair pointed the flashlight up, locating the torch he'd caught a glimpse of when they'd entered.  Praying it was still good, he lifted it down from the wall sconce, and lit it.  It smoldered for a moment, then burst into flame.  Attaching it to the wall again, he flipped off the flashlight, and bent over the shivering sentinel, examining her leg.  Using his pocketknife, he cut her pants away from the wound, then dug the remains of the torn sheet he'd stuffed in his pack the day before out.  Pouring water on a scrap of cloth, he cleaned the short but deep graze on the back of her thigh, then bound it carefully.

He helped her sit up, talking her through turning down the pain dial.  Only when she nodded she had the level down as far as it would go did he turn his attention to her shoulder.  Removing the bandage there, Blair discovered she had, indeed, reopened the injury.  He cleaned it, then using a fresh length of sheet bandaged it again.

Leaning his back against the wall, Blair settled her against his chest, holding the canteen for her as she took a drink.  After taking a few swallows himself, he set the water aside, and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sort things through.  He couldn't believe he'd shot at Jim.  It hadn't been a conscious choice to fire the gun but an instinctual reaction, the Guide protecting the Sentinel.  Even though he'd aimed to intimidate and not to injure, Jim didn't know that.  He probably thought Blair had been trying to kill him. God . . . if Jim didn't hate him before, he probably did now.

Aw, damn it.  What in the hell was going on with him?  His whole life was gone, just gone.  There was no way in the world he was ever
getting it back.   He'd broken state, federal and international law, aided a fugitive from justice, killed a man, and now he'd fired on his
friends, friends who were cops.  The only way he wouldn't be spending the rest of his life in prison was if he turned himself in, gave up
the nerve gas, andÖtestified against Alex.  That thought nearly made him physically ill.  He looked down at the sentinel.  Her eyes were
closed, and her head leaned against his shoulder, her hand clutching a fistful of his shirt.   He couldn't do that to her;  she wasn't that
person anymore; she deserved a second chance.

But what about me, a tiny voice in the back of his mind cried.  Don't I deserve a second chance too?  A small whimper of pain escaped Alex's lips, and Blair rubbed her back gently, guiding her through adjusting the dials once again.  When he felt her relax, he knew.  Alex was his second chance, his chance to get the Guide thing right.

Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the rough stone behind him.  Blair could feel the power, the energy in the ancient walls.  It
was calling to him, urging him to get up and follow it.  He felt a smile spread across his face.  He would answer the challenge, Alex and
he would answer it together, but not now.  What they needed most of all now was rest, and maybe some food, if he could get a trail bar
down Alex.  Her soft, even breaths puffed against his neck, and he pressed his cheek against her hair.  Rest it was, then.

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