Friendship

Missing Scene for Flight

By Kelly Wood 

"Hey, Chief." He waited until I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "I'm glad you came"

I stared at Jim, speechless for a moment. Glad I came? Really? He's glad *I* came? I almost looked behind me, to see if there was someone else standing there. Jim's not big on sharing his feelings, but one thing I've learned is that he doesn't say anything unless he means it. So even though I felt like I'd been pretty useless on this rescue mission up to that point...

Yeah, so I jumped out of the plane. I was terrified, but I did it. Big deal. I couldn't control my parachute. It's fairly embarrassing to know that I screamed practically the whole way down...if anyone had been listening; I would have given our position away. Last night, Jim told me that he'd lost his Sentinel abilities, and I couldn't help him get them back. Hell, who am I trying to kid? I couldn't even convince him he needed them.

When Jim told me he was seeing an imaginary panther, I had no clue. All I could do was recite what tribal shamans and psychiatrists would say. How helpful is that?

I did manage to stop Kimberly from whacking him over the head again in the village, but that was after she'd already done it once. Normally, I wouldn't be so self-castigating, but Jim was so competent, and I felt like a fish out of water.

And yet...'I'm glad you came.' It echoed through my head as he hesitated, waiting for...something...before running off to rescue Simon.

"Yeah, me too," I managed to choke out. Jim's grim expression lightened just a little as he turned and disappeared. And I was. I am. I wonder if he knows how much those four little words mean to me. It's not a Sentinel/researcher thing; it's a Jim/Blair thing. He wanted me here. He's glad I came.

His senses may be gone, and yet...I still feel like my place is with him. Not with Eli, not even at the University, but with Jim. The Holy Grail I'd searched for all my life, the big scary cop who threw me up against a wall and threatened to search my office for narcotics has somehow become...my friend.

Of course this revelation would have had to come in the middle of the jungle, as he's going after an armed camp of drug dealers. What can I say? My life has never been boring.

'Twenty men or more,' Jim had said after Darryl drew the layout of the camp. 'Heavy weapons, armored vehicles. All we've got is one gun and a couple rounds of ammunition.' And one ex-Army Ranger Sentinel, out there with a primitive crossbow and curare-tipped arrows. Shit.

When Jim handed me the rifle...automatic...gun...whatever, 'just in case', I

took it. I didn't even think about objecting. Me, Mr. No-I-will-Not-Carry-a-Gun. Maybe I was still numb from the events of the day? I guess none of my uncertainty was visible, because Jim's expression didn't change as I pulled the strap over my head. A gun. Not even a one-shot, one hole kind of gun, but a semi-automatic, press the trigger and tear apart everything in sight gun. I wasn't sure that I could use it, but if it made Jim happy, I knew I'd take it.

On the other hand, if the rifle was the only thing between those kids and slavery in a drug factory....

Watching the spot where I saw Jim disappear into the jungle, I felt abandoned. I jumped when a hand touched my elbow. Good thing my reactions aren't as fast as Jim's--or I might have accidentally hurt Darryl.

"Where's Jim going?" Darryl asked, sounding lost. Lost? Yeah, get a clue Blair. The kid wasn't even sure his father was still alive. Stuck in the jungle with me, a botanist, and a bunch of kids neither of us can communicate with, we were a sad group. On top of all that, the most competent member of our little team had just disappeared.

Darryl needed me to stay steady for him. I knew Simon and Jim trusted me to keep him safe. I couldn't be anything but honest though. Darryl deserved that. "He's going to scout out the drug dealer's camp."

"And rescue my Dad?" Darryl asked, his voice hopeful. "Shouldn't he have taken the gun?" His eyes widened as he stared at the weapon slung around my neck.

Oh, absolutely. But I knew I couldn't say that. "Probably. But he's just as comfortable with the crossbow. And it's much quieter."

Darryl's forehead wrinkled as he considered this, and I hastened to reassure him. "Jim lived with the Chopec, remember? He's used to this terrain, and the arrows are tipped with curare." I wondered who I was trying to convince, Darryl or me. From the look Darryl threw me, he was wondering the same thing.

"Can you use that?" the boy asked, motioning towards the assault rifle.

"Yeah," I lied. Looking down at the rifle I wondered if I really could. I had no doubt I could pull the trigger...it was the aiming part that worried me. The little girl with the braids came up behind Darryl and stared at me, her brown eyes liquid. Yeah, I probably could.

Kimberly had sent her to fetch us for dinner--some kind of vegetable and meat stew. We ate absentmindedly; food to fuel our bodies, not to enjoy. Darryl looked surprised when he finished a whole bowl. "This is pretty good," he said. "What's in it?"

Kimberly translated the question, then listened intently to the answer. Her face turned a little green as she turned back to Darryl. "Um, I don't think you want to know." Soft laughter sounded around the campfire as the kids shared a joke at our expense. Suddenly, one of the grinning boys jumped up, his head cocked to the side. He hissed out a long sentence, and the children scattered. I didn't understand what he said, but the fear flashing across their faces was clear.

"The mercenaries," Kimberly whispered, her voice shaking. "They're back." She had started to follow the kids melting into the underbrush when shots ripped into the ground at our feet. Someone shouted something in the language the kids understood, then repeated, in English and Spanish, "Surrender the foreign boy!"

Darryl clutched at my jacket. I didn't need sentinel abilities to sense his fear.

I grabbed the gun and put my finger on the trigger, but it was hopeless. Screams and gunshots sounded all around as the mercenaries crept up on our little band from all sides, grabbing children and holding their wriggling bodies tightly. Even if I had any confidence in my ability to actually hit anything, the men were using the kids as shields. I threw the gun to the ground and raised my hands.

"Well, well, what have we here?" a voice behind us asked. I whirled around to see a man about my age, with thick dark hair was glaring at Darryl. Where did he find a hair dryer to style that hundred-dollar cut in the jungle? Darryl froze, only his eyes moved, darting around the clearing, searching for an escape. I didn't like the way the guy was looking at him, so I moved up between them.

"Who are you?" I asked, hoping that a bit of bravado might help. Who was I fooling?

"Miguel. Who are you?" he sneered.

Time to obfuscate. I put on my best innocent expression, and began. "Nice to meet you, Miguel. I'm Blair Sandburg." So far, so good. "Um, I'm an anthropologist." I motioned to my newfound colleague. "Kimberly and I have a grant to work with this tribe for our university."

He just stared, not saying a word. Hoping Darryl would get it, I continued, "Were you sent by the police to find Darryl? The kids found him in the jungle. He doesn't seem to remember what happened to him." Maybe if they thought Darryl didn't remember anything, they'd let us all go.

Maybe not. Miguel obviously didn't buy it. He spat on the ground and muttered something in Spanish. His accent was different from what I was used to, but I caught something about letting someone else sort it out. His gun pointed steadily at my chest. "Empty your pockets."

He took it all; my wallet, my Swiss army knife, every single thing I had on me. I was relieved that I'd left my passport in my backpack, until I saw it slung over a mercenary's shoulder. Flipping open the wallet, Miguel looked through my ID. "Cascade, Washington? Isn't that where you are from, boy?"

Darryl stayed quiet, not sure what to say. Miguel looked over to where his men were loading the Indian kids into a couple trucks. "Vamos. Go," he repeated impatiently, pushing Darryl, then me with the barrel of his gun. We had no choice. We went.

"Don't try to escape," Miguel warned, his eyes flat and hard. "If you do, I will kill the children." The guy didn't look like the type who would bluff.

The truck is crowded, children are crying all around me. I'm patting heads and backs, trying to reassure them that everything will be fine...but I don't know that for sure. In the front seat, I can hear Miguel talking, and the few words I can make out do not bode well for us.

Jim, I sure hope that you show up at the camp looking for us soon. I hope your amazing abilities come back, because, to tell you the truth, I could use a sentinel right about now.

But even more, I could use a friend.

The end...