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.