I do apologize for the delay in getting this story off to you. It started out well enough, but then got away from me somewhere along the way. If there are any errors/typos in this story, they're all mine and try not to sweat them too much. :-)

"What the hell's going on? Where's Blair?" Jim barked, storming up to his captain in the waiting area of the psychiatric ward.

Simon rose to his feet, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Take it easy, Jim. We don't know what's --"

"Why's he here? What happened?" Jim interrupted, his jaw hard and his eyes narrow. He cocked his head, listening for signs of his partner. He encountered Blair's voice immediately and an icy fist gripped his heart as he listened to the high-pitched, violent screams.

"He was found at 1 a.m. near the Canadian border walking in the middle of the road. Witnesses said he was screaming at passing cars," Simon informed him.

Jim shook his head, pulling his hearing back. "I don't understand. Who found him? What happened to him? Have they done a tox screen? Where --"

"One at a time, Jim," Simon instructed firmly but gently.

"This is ridiculous." Impatience was eating at Jim and he stormed past the Captain to approach the young nurse at the desk. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he slammed his badge on the counter, causing the woman to look up from her computer screen. "Blair Sandburg," he barked. "I'm here to see him."

She rose from her chair, glanced at his badge, then nodded. "Yes, sir." Her gaze shifted to a point behind Jim and she raised her hand, gesturing to someone. Jim turned around to see a graying man in a white lab coat approach. "Dr. Steelshot," she said. "This officer is here about Blair Sandburg."

The doctor glanced at Simon as he passed the Captain and walked up to Jim, extending a hand. Jim shook the man's hand absently, getting straight to the point. "How is he? What's wrong with him?"

"As I told the Captain here," he said, glancing quickly at Banks, "Mr. Sandburg is hysterical, delusional, and violent. We've run a tox screen on him. We found Lysergic acid amide and mescaline in his system. Lysergic acid amide is the predominant active ingredient in morning glory seeds and is chemically related to LSD, but is approximately one-tenth as potent. Mescaline is derived from the peyote cactus and is also an hallucinogen."

Jim felt a headache creeping up behind his eyes, and he raised a hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. Peyote. Lysergic acid. My God, Chief... He knew the kid had used Peyote before, albeit rarely, when "observing" various cultural rituals. But lysergic acid? Had Blair ingested the substances willingly, or had someone forced them into his system?

"How much?" Jim asked, finally opening his eyes.

The doctor took a deep breath, his brow furrowing. "Not a lot. That's what's puzzling. He's got trace amounts of lysergic acid and only slightly higher levels of mescaline in his system. His reaction is highly abnormal, but his medical records show he was dosed with a large amount of Golden a little over two years ago. Right?"

Jim nodded.

"I'm assuming that's the cause of his extreme reaction. Because of his Golden overdose, his neural chemistry is now more sensitive to hallucinogens. Normally, mescaline and lysergic acid, when used in moderate amounts, produce hallucinations, heightened sensory experiences, chills, hyperventilation, nausea, and mood swings. However, the levels he has in his system shouldn't cause anywhere near this strong of a reaction. I've resisted giving him a sedative for fear of complicating the drug interactions."

Jim's hands were clenched into fists at his side. Something the doctor said stuck with him, echoing in his head -- heightened sensory experiences... Anger blossomed in his chest. Damn it, Chief, what were you messing with? What were you trying to do?

He took a deep breath, pushing the anger back down. "Can I see him?"

The doctor nodded. "I can let you see him on the monitors, but you can't have any contact with him. He's extremely violent. It was almost impossible for us to even get a blood sample from him."

Jim nodded. "Lead the way."

He followed the physician down the corridor. Simon walked quietly at his side, and Jim could hear his Captain's heart pounding a bit too fast. He's worried about Blair, too, Jim realized. That knowledge didn't surprise him. He knew the Captain cared about Blair, but sometimes he forgot just how much.

The doctor led them into a small room and closed the door. Jim's gaze immediately scanned the row of monitors against the wall, each one tuned to various rooms and corridors. His eyes quickly found the one focused on Blair, and his heart nearly leapt into his throat.

Blair paced the confines of a padded, white room, dressed only in a dirty, worn pair of loose jeans and, oh God, a straight jacket that bound his arms securely around his torso. He screamed hoarsely at the walls, his tone fluctuating between rage and terror. One moment he was cursing and stomping in fury, and the next moment he was shaking his head, screaming in fear and backing away from some imagined attacker.

"He's been like this since you got him?" Jim asked, glancing at the doctor.

"Yes. His voice seems to be giving out, though -- finally."

Jim sighed, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he saw Blair hurling himself at the padded door.

"Let me out! You can't keep me here! Help! Help me! Jim! Damn you! Jim! Please. Please. Please. Help me! Please, Jim! I know you can hear me! You can hear me! Why aren't you answering, damn it?"

Jim's stomach twisted as he listened to Blair's pleas, and he looked at the doctor. He wasn't worried about Blair mentioning the Sentinel stuff. In the kid's hysterical condition, no one would give the ramblings a second thought. "There's no way he knows I'm here. Did you tell him I was coming?"

The doctor shook his head.

"He's not coherent, Jim," Simon offered, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder. "I think he's just reacting. He expects you to be here."

Jim nodded turning back to the monitors. Blair's screams had died to sobs, and he now hung against the door, hunched over as much as the straight jacket allowed. Oh, Chief...

"Why?" Blair cried. "Why, Jim? Why are you doing this to me? Why won't you come? What did I do wrong? Please, man. Please help me, Jim. Please."

Jim couldn't take it anymore. "I have to see him. Let me in there," he ordered, jerking his chin toward the monitor.

The doctor shook his head. "Absolutely not. He's too dangerous."

"He's in a straight jacket, for chrissakes," Jim snapped angrily, "and he's not going to hurt me, anyway. Listen to him, damn it. He's asking for me."

The doctor looked back at the sobbing man on the screen. After a brief contemplation, he caved in. "Okay, but we'll have to wait until he moves away from the door."

It didn't take long for Blair to retreat. His sobs suddenly turned to screams and his head whipped around frantically. Scampering desperately into the corner, he pushed himself against the wall and kicked at the air with his legs.

"Help! Help me! It's on fire! Please, oh God, oh God. Help! I'm burning! It's burning me!"

"Jesus Christ." Jim spun away from the monitors, flinging the door open. "Let's go, Doc," he barked, then ducked into the hallway, spurring the physician into action.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Be careful, Detective. I'll be outside listening in case you get into trouble," Doctor Steelshot told him.

Jim nodded curtly. He could handle Sandburg on his own, whatever imaginary demons ailed the young man. Inside the room, he could hear Blair crying softly and, when the doctor opened the door, Jim stepped inside to see Blair huddled in a corner with his legs pulled up. The door closed quickly behind him, the lock clicking into place.

"Blair?"

The young man raised his head off the floor, red-rimmed eyes blinking at Jim. He sniffled, his cheeks wet, and used his legs to push himself harder against the wall.

"It's okay, Blair. It's me. It's Jim. You were calling for me. Remember?"

Jim took a cautious step toward Blair and the young man bolted into action, pushing himself up the wall and then hunching forward. A low, primal scream erupted from his throat, and he launched himself toward Jim like an angry bull.

Jim twisted out of the way at the last minute, prepared for the assault. His arms whipped out and snagged Blair as the young man barreled past and, in one swift move, Jim had the smaller man in a bear hold from behind.

"NO!" Blair tilted his head back, using his legs to push against the floor in an attempt to throw Jim off balance.

"Easy, Chief. Take it easy!" Jim allowed himself to stagger backward to the wall so that he could use it as a brace.

"Let me go! Let me goooo!"

"Blair. Come on, buddy. Take it easy. It's just me. It's Jim." He spoke soothingly into Blair's ear so the younger man would hear him over his own screams. "Just relax. I'm not gonna hurt you, Blair. Take it easy."

"NO!" Blair yelled hoarsely, kicking his legs wildly.

"Blair --"

"SCREW YOU --"

"Easy, buddy."

"YOU HEAD CASE!

"Shhhh...."

"HELP!"

"It's okay, Chief."

"HELP ME!"

"Relax, Blair. Just take it easy."

Jim felt some of the tension leave the young man's body, and he slid down the wall, bringing Blair down to the floor with him, his arms wrapped tight around the smaller man's chest. Blair's anger melted to tears, and he hunched forward, his shoulders shaking.

"Please help me. Please," Blair whimpered, his words blurred through a haze of emotion.

"Shhh." Jim began to rock back and forth gently, murmuring low reassurances into Blair's ear. "It's okay. I'm right here, Chief. I'll help you."

Blair sagged, the tension leaving his body. "Jim?"

A sigh. "Yeah."

"Do you see them?" he asked softly, timidly.

"See who, Chief?"

"The fire people. Do you see them?"

Jim closed his eyes, resting his chin on top of Blair's head. "No, I don't see them."

"They're not really here, are they?" came the trembling reply.

"No, Blair, they're not."

A pause, and Jim listened to the slight hitch in Blair's breathing. After a few moments, Blair released a shuddering sigh and leaned his head back against Jim's chest. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Chief."

"Don't be mad, Jim."

"I'm not mad."

"You won't let him get me, will you? Please don't let him get me, Jim."

"Who?"

"L-Lash." Another shuddering breath. "He's with the fire people. You don't see them?"

Jim clenched his jaw. "No, Blair, I don't see them. They're not real."

"Looks real."

"I know, Chief."

"Don't leave, Jim." A faint request.

"I'm not leaving."

"Don't leave." Fainter.

"I'm right here."

The hitch in Blair's breathing evened out and Jim relaxed when he realized that Blair had fallen asleep. The lock clicked, and Jim's eyes snapped to the door as it opened. Doctor Steelshot stepped inside quickly, closing the door behind him, his gaze immediately settling on Blair.

"You've got him calm. I'm impressed," he commented, his voice whisper-soft.

Jim simply nodded.

"Are you planning on staying in here with him?"

Another nod. "He needs me."

The doctor seemed to contemplate that statement for several seconds. Finally, he said, "Okay. We will have to transfer him to a bed soon. He's going to need nutrients and other ministrations. I'm hoping the effects of the drugs diminish within the next couple of hours, but I want you to be prepared for the fact that we'll most likely have to keep him restrained until we're sure he's no longer a danger to himself or anybody else."

A large muscle at the edge of Jim's jaw twitched. "We'll see," he said, clipped.

The doctor pursed his lips together, then nodded. "I'll leave you two alone. An orderly will be assigned to keep an eye on you and someone will be watching the monitors at all times. If you need help, we'll know about it. Okay?"

"Thank you," Jim acknowledged.

The doctor opened the door and ducked out of the room, clicking the lock engaged. Jim closed his eyes briefly, focusing on Blair's shallow breathing and steady heartbeat. Slowly, gently, he slid to the left and shifted the young man onto his side, resting Blair's head on his lap. A low, incoherent murmur drifted from Blair's lips and Jim silenced his partner by placing a hand on the younger man's head.

"Shhhh. It's okay," he whispered, absently stroking the sweat-dampened curls that clung to Blair's head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon looked away from the monitor as Doctor Steelshot entered.

"Will he be okay?" he asked quickly, his stomach twisted into a knot. He glanced back at the screen, watching in silent awe at the tenderness with which Jim attended to the younger man, gently stroking Blair's hair, lips moving in soft reassurance.

"I think so," the doctor replied, "but I can't say for sure. We'll have to wait and see how he progresses. I'm fairly confident, though, that we'll see some improvement within a few hours."

Simon looked back at the man. "How few?"

Dr. Steelshot shrugged. "Anywhere from three to twelve hours. It's hard to say. He's having quite a powerful reaction to minuscule amounts of the drugs, so it would be impossible for me to make predictions and expect them to be accurate. Like I said, we'll just have to wait and see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim jerked to awareness. What? Huh? Where? It took a moment for the fog to clear from his mind, his eyes scanning the white padded walls. The soft murmurs took a second to register, sparking full realization, and he dropped his gaze to the figure curled partially on his lap.

He honed his hearing, trying to decipher the mumbled words drifting from Blair's lips. A ball of ice formed in his stomach when he recognized the strange chant that Blair had muttered in his sleep a month ago. Twice. The first time had been at the loft just before Blair had taken off to "find himself" at the monastery. The second time had been at the hospital after the young man's ordeal in the wilderness.

Jim listened carefully to the softly chanted song, shivers snaking down his spine at how eerie it sounded listening to the obviously primal, ritualistic song coming from his partner. The chant sounded vaguely Chopec, but the dialect wasn't quite right. Another shiver trembled through him when he realized just how much like Incacha Blair sounded at the moment. Jim remembered bits and pieces from his time in Peru, and some of those fleeting images were of himself sitting around a fire with Incacha while the Shaman threw various powders and herbs into the flames, chanting a strange song, his hands flying in semi-rhythmic patterns over the fire.

He came back from the memory, flinching involuntarily when he saw that Blair's eyes were now open and staring blankly into space while his lips continued the low chant. Jim swallowed, a knot of panic forming in his gut. Lights are on, but nobody's home. It scared him, looking at Blair's empty gaze -- so very different from the vibrant intellect that normally shone in those blue eyes.

"Blair?" he inquired softly. "You with me?"

No answer. He didn't expect one. Shifting his arm, he glanced at his watch. 7 a.m. It was light outside by now, but he had no concept of night or day inside the padded cell where fluorescent lights buzzed at a constant volume regardless of the time. Had Simon left by now? Probably not. Jim doubted the Captain would leave without informing him.

He debated what to do next. He couldn't stay in the cell with Blair indefinitely. For one thing, he had to go to the bathroom. He'd hoped that the drugs would wear off and he'd be able to leave the room with Blair, but it seemed that his friend was still in the grip of the hallucinogens.

Maybe he could get through to the kid. Slowly, Jim, slid out from under Blair, using his hands to lower the younger man's head to the floor. Then he shifted around so that he sat in front of Blair. The kid didn't seem to notice -- just kept staring into space chanting that damn song in a language he'd never learned.

"Blair?" He crouched over Sandburg, placing a firm hand on Blair's cheek. "Look at me, Chief. You in there?"

Blair looked right through him, and the chant continued. Jim took a deep breath in frustration. He was going to have a talk with the doctor. There was obviously more wrong with Blair than just a drug interaction. Even in the grips of the Golden the kid had responded to him.

"Come on, Sandburg," he urged, placing his hands on either side of Blair's face and lifting the younger man's head. "Look at me. Come on." A gentle shake. "Snap out of it."

No response. Just that eerie chanting. Jim frowned, leaning back and removing his hands from Blair's face to rub his own. Footsteps tapped against the floor in the hall, and Jim's head snapped up as he listened to the sounds. Moments later, the lock clicked and the door swung slowly open. Doctor Steelshot entered first, followed by a hesitant Simon.

The Captain's gaze immediately fell to Blair, and his brow creased with worry. "He hasn't come out of it at all?" Simon whispered.

Jim shook his head. "Not really. There was a moment when he recognized me, but that's it."

"We're going to need to move him to a bed now," the doctor said. "We need to hook him up to an IV, among other things, until he's coherent enough to take at least marginal care of himself."

The doctor peeked his head into the hall and waved at someone, then stepped back to allow two orderlies to wheel in a stretcher with restraints.

"We'll need to get him out of the straight jacket," Doctor Steelshot continued. "The orderlies can handle that."

Jim set his jaw and shook his head. "I'll do it." His tone left no room for argument.

The doctor hesitated for only a moment. "Uh... Okay. You seem to be able to keep him relatively calm. The orderlies will have to place him on the stretcher and secure the restraints -- insurance reasons."

Jim nodded tersely as he worked at the buckle on the straight jacket. "Just be easy with him," he ordered.

"What's he saying?" Simon asked.

Jim unfastened the buckle and worked Blair's arms out of the sleeves. The young man remained limp, his eyes glassy, as Jim tugged off the straight jacket. "I'm not sure," he replied. "It sounds like Chopec, but it's different. Like a different dialect, or something."

The two orderlies knelt next to Jim and Blair, and Jim moved back a foot to give them room. He tossed the straight jacket into the corner as though throwing away someone else's soiled underwear.

"You grab his feet, Bob, and I'll take this end," one of the orderlies said, and the two men worked in sync to lift Blair gently off the floor.

Blair's chanting stopped abruptly, and his eyes moved over the face of the man hovering over his chest. Blair blinked a few times as he was set onto the stretcher. The orderlies grabbed the restraints, slinging them over Blair's chest and legs, but before either could be fastened, Blair reacted. He practically convulsed off the stretcher, flopping onto the floor like a dying fish, a half-choked sob bursting from his throat.

Jim shot to his feet, but the orderlies intercepted him, converging on Blair with agility born of experience.

"NO!" Blair screamed, his legs lashing out angrily and his arms swinging randomly at the men. "No don't! Jim! Jim, please!"

Jim's body reacted before his mind made a conscious decision, and he grabbed the back of the orderly's jacket, yanking the man away. Blair lunged away from the remaining orderly, and Jim found himself with an armful as the sobbing, shaking young man plowed into him, sending them both crashing to the floor.

"Jim! Please, please, please..." Blair had two fists full of Jim's shirt, holding on for dear life and doing his damnedest to become one with the Jim. "Don't let them take me, Jim. Please, please, Jim, please," Blair begged, rambling, his words running together.

The two orderlies recovered, both reaching for Blair, one grabbing Sandburg's legs and the other trying to pry the kid's arms away from Jim.

"NO!" Blair screamed, refusing to relinquish his grip even as the orderlies pulled at him. "Please, Jim! Don't let them take me! I'll do better, I promise! I promise, please, please, Jim, please, don't let them take me. It burns there. Don't let them get me. Please, please..."

Jim closed his eyes. God, Chief, what's going through that head of yours? He wrapped his arms around the trembling body pressed against his chest and lifted his eyelids to glare at the orderly trying to pry Blair's hands away.

"Back off!" Jim growled, his eyes hard.

Wisely, the two orderlies obeyed, looking uncertainly at the doctor for direction as they released Blair and backed up a few steps. Blair calmed down immediately, collapsing against Jim, his body relaxed except for the hands that still gripped Jim's shirt. His protests had died to soft murmurs that were muffled against Jim's chest.

"Shhhh. It's okay," Jim soothed, one hand rubbing circles on his partner's back. "No one's going to hurt you. I promise."

Blair curled into himself. "Enqueri, take us home," he whispered.

A coldness snaked down Jim's spine. The plea had come from Blair's mouth, but the voice had been Incacha's.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Peruvian night hung heavy with heat, the moisture in the air oppressive. Emprado took a deep breath, letting the smoke from the campfire fill his lungs. Despite the heaviness of the air, his head felt light, as though it would float into the sky at any moment.

Golden eyes peered out at him from the darkness. Eyes of the wolf. He had not seen the creature before, but he knew it was not of this world. The creature gazed at him, its eyes steady, almost glowing. It's grey fur seemed to shine almost white in the darkness. The creature tilted its head back and released a hollow, aching howl that charged the air with foreboding. Emprado shivered, a cold creeping over him from inside despite the heat of jungle.

"Emprado."

Emprado's back went rigid. "Incacha?"

The Shaman's voice spoke to him. Told him what he needed to do. Finish that which had been left undone. Guide the animal spirit. Heal a soul. Find the Sentinel.

Hurry. The Young One suffers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jim, I don't think this is a good idea," Simon protested, even as he helped transport Blair down the hall. "He should be back at the hospital!"

The kid remained relatively calm as long as Jim remained close, talking to him and touching him, but he was far from coherent. He wore the jeans and blue flannel shirt he'd been found in, but the subtle, unpleasant odor of perspiration hung off the clothes, and Simon was sure that Jim's first order of business would be to get the kid into loose-fitting, clean clothes. Blair's head hung forward, his chin resting against his chest, but he kept mumbling something low and unintelligible. The strange chanting was really beginning to wear on Simon's control. He found the sounds damn eerie. The voice hardly even sounded like Blair's, but it was so low and distorted that Simon couldn't tell for sure. During the ride over, Jim had, after much prodding and, finally, a direct command, told him the reason why he thought Blair needed to be home.

Damn this Sentinel stuff! Why did he even ask? Ignorance is bliss. Why the hell don't I remember that? Just leave it alone. But, nooo, I have to push and find out that my best detective thinks his partner is channeling a dead Shaman.

"Drop it, Simon." Jim snapped, coming to a halt in front of the loft's door and fishing his keys out of his pocket. Blair hung between the two men, one arm draped over each of their shoulders. "We've already been through this. I've seen too much to ignore it. You've seen too much, as well, Simon. How can you keep questioning it?"

"Because I'm the one with my head screwed on straight," he snapped back. Damn, he really wanted a cigar. "Blair is suffering from a drug reaction. He's not possessed, damn it. He needs a hospital. What the hell are you going to do for him here?"

"Whatever I can," the Sentinel answered flatly, his jaw tight. He unlocked the door and pushed it inward. Between him and Simon, they shifted into a line formation and moved the young man through the doorway. "They can't do anything for him there. They admitted that. All they can do is wait for the drugs to wear off, and then maybe pump some more drugs into his system. He'll do better here, in familiar surroundings -- not restrained in a white room with strangers poking and prodding him."

"So you're gonna act as nursemaid twenty-four seven?" Simon asked, exhaustion making his words hard. "You're gonna feed him and get him to the bathroom, and stay by his side all the time to make sure he doesn't hurt himself?"

"Yes. This won't last forever. The Doc said only a few hours."

"A few hours came and went a long time ago!" Simon shouted, his temper flaring.

Neither man was prepared for the subhuman growl that came from Blair, nor the sudden eruption that accompanied it as he pushed away from Jim and slammed into Simon.

What the hell....? Simon blinked, laying flat on his back and staring up into Blair's angry face. Sandburg straddled him, his eyes blazing fire. He roared, flinging his arms wide like an animal trying to scare off an intruder. With his wild eyes, long hair, and unshaven stubble, Blair looked like he could have belonged to some primitive jungle tribe.

"Whoa!" Strong arms wrapped around Blair, pulling him off of Simon. "Easy, Blair. It's okay."

Blair remained tense, but allowed Jim to manhandle him. His eyes never left Simon's face, though, and the implicit threat in that gaze made the hairs stand up on Simon's arms. Jim sat Blair on the floor, propping him against the couch, then grabbed the young man's chin and forced his head to the side, stepping in front of Blair to block his gaze.

"Look at me, Chief," Jim ordered gently. "It's okay. That's Simon. You remember Simon? He's a friend."

Simon pushed himself into a sitting position and glared at the back of Jim's head. No, he doesn't need a hospital, Jim. He just pulled a Tarzan impersonation on me, but you can handle him. Sure. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, because he knew that arguing with Jim would prove futile. Still, he'd be damned if he'd let the detective deal with Blair on his own.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked, looking over his shoulder at Simon.

"Yeah." He managed a small smile, slightly embarrassed at having been flattened by the kid. "Just a bruised ego."

Jim returned the smile with a fleeting one of his own, then looked back at Blair, who now rested limply against the couch, having resumed his incoherent murmurings.

Simon rose to his feet and brushed himself off, which was more of a psychological gesture since his clothes were a bit crumpled but not dirty. "You need help getting him to his bed?" he asked.

"No, sir. It's probably better if I handle him alone for the time being."

Simon wasn't about to argue with that. "Okay. I'm gonna stop home and grab a few things, but I'll be back."

Jim looked up at him, his brow furrowed. "There's no need for that, sir. You go home and get some sleep. I've got things under control here."

Sure you do, Ellison. "That may be so, Jim, but all I'll do is stay up all night wondering what's happening here, so I might as well just stay here and save myself an ulcer. Okay?"

A smile crinkled the edges of Jim's eyes. "Thanks, Simon."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bright blue sky hung eternal overhead, consuming Blair's vision. Spattered wisps of green interrupted the blue expanse. He felt a touch on his shoulder, but when he turned his head to look down, he saw nothing but a blur of green grass and a splash of grey that he figured was his shoulder. He blinked, but the world remained fuzzy.

Another touch pressed against his forehead. He blinked again, and the blue sky overhead turned dark, laced with yellow pipes and metal beams. A pair of blue eyes hung overhead, oddly clear against the indistinct backdrop.

"You with me, Chief?"

As if a switch had been thrown, the world clicked into focus and Blair saw Jim's face peering down at him, a tiny, concerned smile tugging at the older man's mouth. The dull pounding of a headache throbbed behind Blair's eyes, and his shoulders ached. The touch on his forehead vanished, so sudden that the abrupt lack of it stole his breath. A golden veil descended over his vision, and he blinked again. The metal beams and yellow pipes disappeared, replaced by the expanse of sky that was now tinged with a yellow glow. The green-gold tree leaves swung overhead, dancing with an invisible partner to the rhythm of chirping birds and the low howl of the wind.

Oddly, his various pains no longer registered. Instead, he felt rather disconnected from his body, as though every one of his muscles had been injected with Novocain. He saw movement to his left, and turned his head toward the motion, but once again saw nothing but the green grass and blue horizon. A dark streak caught the right edge of his vision, and, again, he turned his head toward the source, but, again, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Frustration gnawed at him. Jim? Where was Jim? He'd just been here, hadn't he? No, that wasn't quite right. Jim had been somewhere else. Someplace that wasn't blue and green.

The black thing caught the left side of his vision, and he snapped his head sharply, hoping to catch sight of the thing. Damn. Again, he saw only green grass and blue sky and a few trees spattered around the landscape.

The frustration gave way to fear. Jim? Jim, man, where are you?

The black thing touched the outskirts of his vision again and panic blossomed in his chest. "JIM! JIM, WHERE ARE YOU!"

An invisible warmth pressed against his forehead. "Right here, Chief. Shhhh. I'm right here."

The blue sky shrank, then snapped back to the image of the metal beams and yellow pipes. Jim's face drifted into view, his blue eyes pinched with concern, and Blair released a shuddering breath of relief. He shivered, suddenly cold, and became more aware of his surroundings. His head rested on something soft, and a blanket covered him up to his chest. His looked around briefly. Diffuse light filtered into the room through the curtain and fell in soft rays on the bureau and desk.

My room. I'm in my room, Blair realized, looking back at Jim. The older man sat hunched forward in a chair beside the bed and he studied Blair as though he were a piece of abstract art.

Something's not right here. That was an understatement. He felt weird, for one thing. His head seemed about three sizes too big, and lighter than a balloon. There was a high-pitched ringing in his left ear, but the right ear felt like it had cotton stuffed in the canal. A bitter taste filled his mouth, a thin residue perceptible on his tongue. His throat hurt, scratchy and raw. His eyes itched, and he thought he could smell the faint odor of smoke.

Then there was the matter of the world changing channels like a television, each as real as the other -- one blue and bright, the other dim and cramped. So which one was real? Probably this one. It was more likely that he was in his room with Jim than out in some nowhere place with a black thing that he couldn't really see.

"... feeling?"

Jim's voice helped focus Blair's attention, and he realized the man had been speaking to him. Now that he really looked at Jim, he could see the fatigue in his friend's face -- it was etched in his forehead and obvious in the spidery redness of his eyes. Thick stubble darkened Jim's jaw, making it obvious that the man hadn't shaven -- or slept, probably -- for a couple of days.

The crease in Jim's forehead deepened. "Do you understand me, Blair? You with me?"

Huh? Oh. He hadn't answered the question. "What?" he asked, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. He swallowed and tried again. "What was the question?"

The crease smoothed, and Jim smiled, some of the fatigue lifting from his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Um... Don't know." That was the truth. He didn't hurt -- exactly. His headache was back, and his shoulders ached, but other than that he couldn't feel any real pain. He just felt strange. Tired but shaky inside, like he hadn't slept for days and had ingested five cups of black coffee.

"Do you know what happened?"

Blair closed his eyes and searched his memory. Jim's warm palm lingered on his forehead. The last thing he remembered was talking to Dr. Onrubia in the man's office about shamanistic practices of indigenous Peruvian tribes. Then... wait... Dr. Onrubia had offered him some tea. He'd said it contained some natural elements like Peyote that were commonly used in shamanistic rituals, and he'd agreed to guide Blair through a few exercises.

Peyote? Blair had taken peyote before, in small doses. No big deal there, though he could count the number of times he'd ingested it on one hand. So what happened?

Jim would tell him, no doubt, so Blair shook his head. "No. I don't remember."

"Do you know what you were doing near Canada?"

"Visiting a colleague."

"Who?"

Blair frowned at the sharp edge in Jim's voice. "What happened?" he asked, avoiding the question for now. He didn't want to bring Dr. Onrubia's name into this until he found out what had happened.

"You were found wondering the streets near the border. You weren't coherent. Now, who were you visiting?"

Blair swallowed again, trying to wet the back of his throat. Jim's story didn't make any sense. Dr. Onrubia was an old friend and he wouldn't have done anything unethical or let Blair wander off in a confused state.

"Could I have some water?" he asked, dodging the question again.

Jim's expression softened, and he nodded. "Yeah." He stood up and removed his hand from Blair's forehead.

Oh damn. The world shifted again, turning bright and blue. The black thing returned, scurrying in his peripheral vision. Blair turned his head left, but still couldn't catch sight of the thing. It swept across his right periphery view, and he snapped his head back, but just missed the figure.

Stop it!

The black figure was now on his left side, vaguely larger than before. This time Blair didn't turn his head. He just closed his eyes and willed the thing away. Hot breath blew against his face, pushing up his nostrils with a foul stench. Blair's eyes jerked open, and he saw a black wolf standing over him, golden eyes glowing menacingly against the creature's dark fur. The canine's lips drew back, revealing an impressive row of sharp teeth. A low growl rumbled from its chest and the wolf lowered its head, drawing closer to Blair.

This one's not real. This is the fake world. I'm really in my bed. Blair clamped his eyes shut, trying to ignore the warm breath on his face. His heart thundered, blood roaring in his ears. Hurry up with that water, Jim. Please, please, hurry.

His silent prayer was answered when he felt the warm pressure return, this time on his shoulder, accompanied by Jim's steady voice. "Take it easy, Blair. Breathe. You're heart's going a mile a minute and you're about to hyperventilate."

Blair stifled a cry of relief and opened his eyes, insanely grateful that he was back in his room, although he knew he'd never really left.

"What is it?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head, not trusting his voice. He had to find out more precisely what had happened to him, but right now he just really wanted some water. His eyes darted away from Jim, sweeping around the room until he spotted the cup of water on the bureau next to the bed.

Jim moved the hand he held on Blair's shoulder to reach for the cup, but a surge of panic caused Blair to grasp the Sentinel's hand in his own and hold it in place.

"No please, Jim," he pleaded, his voice low and his cheeks hot with embarrassment. "Things get bad when you take your hand away."

A shadow crossed Jim's face, but it was quickly replaced with a gentle, reassuring smile. "Sure thing, Chief," he said, pressing his hand a bit more firmly against Blair's shoulder as he reached with his free hand for the cup. "This is orange juice. Get some nutrients in you along with the liquid."

Blair lifted his head and took the cup with shaking hands, raising it slowly to his lips and letting the cool liquid slide over his tongue and down his throat. He drained half the cup, then handed it back to Jim and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thanks," he said, as Jim set the cup back at the bureau. Blair met the detective's expectant gaze. "What exactly happened to me?" He still felt shaky, but was pleased that his voice sounded marginally steady.

Jim sighed. "You were found walking on the street near the Canadian border. You were screaming at passing cars and acting violent, so the authorities took you to the hospital where you were placed in the psychiatric ward. You had your wallet and observer ID on you, so they contacted Major Crime, then Simon called me. Rafe and Brown took over my shift for the stakeout and I drove to the hospital near the border. The doctor found trace amounts of lysergic acid and mescaline in your system." He paused, and Blair made an effort to keep his expression neutral as Jim studied him. "Do you have any idea how those compounds got in your system?"

Blair swallowed, suddenly more aware of the fatigue tugging at him. "Yeah," he whispered, lowering his eyes away from Jim's gaze. "I went to visit a colleague at a Canadian university. He was helping me with some shaman practices, and he told me to try a tea that contained natural ingredients commonly used by peruvian shamans. I knew peyote was one of those, but I didn't know what else was in it. He said it wasn't very much, though. It shouldn't have affected me like that."

Jim frowned disapprovingly, but, thankfully, didn't jump into a reproachful speech. Instead, he asked, "Who is this colleague?"

Blair shook his head. "I'm not going to tell you, Jim. You said there were trace amounts in my system, which means Doctor... " He caught himself before he said the name. Damn. What was wrong with him? He couldn't think, and his head still hurt. The ringing in his ears hadn't abated, either. "Anyway," he continued, "he didn't do anything wrong, and he's out of your jurisdiction, so I don't want you to hassle him."

Blair watched in detached fascination as a little vein pulsed at Jim's left temple. The Sentinel took a deep breath, his hand tensing on Blair's shoulder. "I just want to talk to him, Sandburg," he said at last. "Just to get some information."

Blair shook his head, a mistake, he realized instantly, as the room spun. Oh man.  He stomach churned unhappily, and he knew he was about to throw up the orange juice. He pushed himself off the bed, grabbing onto Jim.

"Sandburg!" Jim exclaimed in surprise. "What are you --?"

"Bathroom, now, Jim," he said, grateful when Jim wrapped a strong arm around his waist and practically dragged him down the hall.

He barely made it in time, collapsing over the porcelain bowl just as the orange juice made its reappearance. Fortunately, there wasn't much in his stomach, so it all came out rather quickly. He grabbed some toilet paper and wiped his mouth, leaning back against the tub with a tired sigh. His head now throbbed, and the ringing in his ears threatened to drive him insane.

"You need any help, Jim?" a deep voice intruded from down the hall, and Blair stiffened. Simon? Is that Simon? He groaned and dropped his head back against the fiberglass, closing his eyes. Great. Just great.

"No, I'm fine, sir," Jim yelled back, then he crouched in front of Blair and extended his hand. "You okay?"

I don't know, Blair answered silently, but took Jim's hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Fortunately, the room seemed content to remain stationary. "While I'm here, I'd better use the bathroom," he said, offering a sheepish smile, "and I don't need an audience."

Jim released Blair and glanced uncertainly at the door. "You sure?" he asked, studying Blair. "You said earlier that things get bad when I'm not around. You sure you'll be okay if I leave?"

Shit. Blair had forgotten about that. Still, he seemed to be doing better at the moment. Jim wasn't touching him, and there was no weird vision. -- just the bathroom. There was no blue sky and, more importantly, no black wolf. What was that anyway? An hallucination or a vision? Jim had said that only trace amounts of peyote and something else -- what had he said? -- had been found in his blood. That wouldn't be enough to cause such powerful hallucinations.

At any rate, Jim couldn't stay at his side twenty-four hours a day. He forced a small smile and gave Jim the thumbs up. "I'll be fine. I feel better now, anyway. Thanks."

That was a lie. He didn't exactly feel better. He felt a bit more lucid, he supposed, since he couldn't remember anything that happened between his drinking the tea and waking up in his room, but he didn't feel well. His head still throbbed and the ringing in his ears hadn't abated. At least his stomach felt better.

"Okay," Jim said, backing into the hall. "I'll be right outside." He closed the door, leaving it unlocked, and Blair hesitated a moment, his back rigid, waiting to see if there would be another hallucination. Seconds passed, and the room around him remained solid, giving no sign that it intended to shift to some jungle scene.

He released a breath and reached out one hand to steady himself against the sink as he went about his business.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How is he?" Simon whispered, turning around on the couch as Jim approached.

"He's doing better," Jim replied, relieved that Blair seemed to be over the worst of the hallucinations. "He's coherent now. He knows where he is, but he doesn't seem to remember anything that happened to him in the hospital."

Simon grunted. "That's probably a blessing. Being placed in a padded room in a straight jacket isn't exactly a pleasant memory."

"I'll say," Jim agreed, sinking onto the couch and keeping one ear tuned to his partner in the bathroom. He heard the light tinkle of water and moved past that to listen to Blair's breathing, finding it somewhat shallow but otherwise steady.

"It would help if he could remember what happened to him, though -- how he ended up walking in the middle of the road near the border," Simon added.

Jim heard the sudden gasp from the bathroom, and honed into Blair's pounding heartbeat. Damn. No doubt the kid was having another episode. He rose from the couch just as a knock sounded. Jabbing his thumb at the door, he rushed to the bathroom and glanced back at Simon. "Could you see who that is, please?"

"Sure, Jim." Simon propelled himself off the couch just as Jim approached the bathroom.

"Blair?" Jim opened the bathroom door to see Blair standing frozen in front of the sink, his eyes wide as they gazed at the mirror. "Blair?" he repeated, but the young man gave no sign of having heard him. Hoping his touch would be enough to pull Sandburg from his hallucination, Jim placed a gentle hand on Blair's shoulder. "You're okay, Chief. Whatever you're seeing isn't real."

Blair jerked as though he'd been slapped, taking a sharp gulp of air. Jim caught him just as he sagged and lowered him slowly to the floor. Tremors rippled through the young man, and Blair felt suddenly hot with fever.

"Jim. Jim!"

"Right here," he responded, tightening his arms reassuringly around his friend. "It's okay. You're okay."

Blair went limp against him, his head tilted back against Jim's chest. "Oh man, I am really getting tired of this."

"Do you remember what you were seeing?"

Jim felt a shudder rattle through Blair's chest. "Yeah," he breathed. "I remember. I looked into the mirror and I saw a black wolf staring back at me. It had these big yellow eyes and it was snarling at me."

Simon stuck his head in the doorway. "Jim --"

His voice startled Blair, and the young man flinched, then ducked his head in embarrassment when he realized it was Simon. A flash of irritation washed through Jim, but it was quickly squelched by the urgency in Simon's voice.

"You'd better get out here," the captain finished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blair felt himself drifting. He heard Simon tell Jim to "get out here" and he heard Jim mutter a response, but the a fog was clouding his thoughts, and he felt tired -- a heavy fatigue, almost like the kind that had taken him over when Lash had forced the chloral hydrate down his throat.

He felt himself being lifted off the floor and made a half-hearted attempt to move his legs, but just ended up being dragged toward the bedroom.  As he came out of the hall, he saw a half-naked figure with a red face and long black hair staring at him. Oh man. First black wolves and now Chopec warriors. No way was he going to acknowledge the hallucination. Not with Simon there... and where was Simon? Oh yeah, there he was, right by the couch. He only caught a glimpse of the captain before Jim pulled him into the room.

Jim said something to him as he lowered him onto the bed, then the blanket came up to cover his chest.

"... Chief?"

Blair made an heroic effort to keep his eyelids open as he poured every remaining ounce of strength into focusing on Jim's face.

"One more time, Chief. It would really help if you could tell us who you were visiting in Canada. Doctor --?" Jim prompted

Canada? Oh yeah, he had visited "Doctor Onrubia." Had he actually spoken? He hoped he hadn't gotten Doctor Onrubia in trouble. Doctor Onrubia was a nice man. Doctor Onrubia was his friend. Sorry, Doctor Onrubia. Doctor Onrubia... Onrubia... What a funny name. He giggled. "Doctor Onrubia and Peruvia. Onrubia Peruvia." That was funny.

Jim smiled and gave him a pat on the cheek. "Funny, Chief. Onrubia. Thanks."

Blair grinned. Jim looked happy, so he must have really helped him. Maybe Doctor Onrubia could help him, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim closed the door and turned to face the Chopec shaman standing expectantly next to the kitchen table, his dark eyes wide with curiosity. Jim recognized the Peruvian native from his time in Peru, but the shaman had been barely a man back then.

"Why are you here, Emprado? How did you get here?" he asked in the man's native tongue.

The shaman bowed his head slightly and answered.

"What did he say?" Simon asked, leaning against the back of the couch as he gazed in awe at the primitive man.

Jim glanced briefly at the captain. "He said Incacha's spirit guided him hear to help the young shaman. He means Blair."

"He's saying a ghost told him to come here? And how did he get here?"

Jim relayed Simon's question to Emprado and listened to the man's hasty response.

"He got here the same way Incacha and the others did -- by becoming a stow-away," Jim told the Captain.

"How did he know where to find you?"

Jim turned the the shaman and asked the question. When Emprado answered, Jim turned to the Captain and relayed the information.

"The other members of the tribe who came here last time told him. The animal spirit also guided him."

Simon groaned. "Great. Just great."

Emprado broke into the conversation, his tone low and clipped.

"What did he say, Jim?"

"He said he needs to prepare for the ceremony while Blair sleeps. He told us not to wake Blair because he's going to need to be rested for the ritual."

"What ritual?" Simon asked apprehensively. "The kid doesn't need a witch doctor. He needs a hospital."

Jim sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Right now, I don't know what he needs, Simon."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh God. His head was killing him, throbbing so violently that it felt like little grenades were going off inside his skull. Ripples of nausea washed over him, threatening to turn his stomach inside out. The pain in his head pulsed in sync to the beating of his heart, and he wanted nothing more than for someone to put a bullet in his head and end the misery.

Aspirin. Need aspirin. There were some pills in the bathroom, weren't there? He'd take half the bottle if it meant getting rid of this pain. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Dots of colored lights danced in his vision, obscuring the metal beams jutting along the ceiling.

He rolled onto his side and made a brief attempt to stand, but the room tilted precariously and the floor slammed into him. Pain exploded at the base of his skull and he cried out, curling into a ball and holding his head in his hands as he rocked slowly back and forth.

Footsteps pounded against the floor and Blair felt the vibrations of those footsteps in the wood beneath him. Suddenly, the vibrations ceased, and hands grabbed his shoulders, urging him onto his back. He wasn't inclined to uncurl from his protected position, however. His head throbbed too much. Movement would just be a bad idea all around.

"Blair?" a soft voice inquired, the tone edged with concern.

A deeper voice intruded, speaking in a vaguely familiar language, but the words sounded too garbled for Blair to focus on. All he wanted was for the pain to stop. God! He'd never experienced anything like this before. How could his head hurt so badly unless a blood vessel was about to explode. Aneurysm? Embolism? God oh God...

He choked, his throat constricting, and he registered a sharp, pungent odor. Smoke? He coughed, then rolled onto his back seeking fresh air, but the oppressive smoke continued to smother him, filling his nostrils and snaking into his lungs. Fire?! Am I on fire? Golden flames danced beneath his eyelids. Oh no, not again. This time he recognized the flashback, knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be real, but damn it looked real and he could even feel the heat from the flames on the skin of his arms and legs.

"Take it easy, Chief. You're okay."

Jim? Blair reached out blindly, refusing to open his eyes, pressing his eyelids tighter in an attempt to block out the fiery images. His hand found an arm, and he grabbed onto that solid warmth.

It was then that he realized his head no longer hurt. Immediately, his muscles relaxed and he expelled a lungful of air. Thank you, God. Thank you. The Golden flames died down, leaving him in peace but feeling like a rag that had been wrung and hung out to dry.

A hand slid beneath his head and lifted him up a few inches. Then something was placed on his lips, and he opened his mouth automatically. Bitter-warm liquid washed over his tongue and he nearly choked as it slid down his throat. A shiver snaked down his spine and he felt the warm liquid pool in his stomach.

What was that stuff? Jim? Slowly, he lifted his eyelids and saw the dark eyes of a red-faced Chopec shaman staring down at him. Blair almost laughed. Whoa. What a trip. First black wolves and dancing flames, now this. Next I'll see Incacha and twelve dancing leprechauns. How 'bout some belly dancers instead? That'd be cool.

His eyelids started to feel heavy and drifted closed. Twelve dancing belly dancer leprechauns like in Star Trek. That green chick wasn't so bad. His stomach settled, the nausea that had afflicted him evaporating like a light fog in the face of the late-morning sun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What did you give him?" Jim asked the Shaman in Chopec.

"Cunta byana bally ghan." Something to ease his pain and cleanse his soul.

Jim bit back a retort, turning his gaze down to his sleeping partner. He didn't like the idea of Emprado putting more chemicals into Blair's system, but, on the other hand, the concoction seemed to have worked. For the time being, he was prepared to let Emprado work with Blair.

"Kyeean y tuma." We have to leave here.

Jim's eyes snapped back up to the Shaman. "What do you mean?" he asked in Chopec.

Emprado spread his hands out to indicate the surroundings and told Jim that they needed to go to a more isolated area where they could be alone. In other words, Jim translated mentally, a place where the neighbors won't be disturbed. Just what was the shaman planning?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim parked the Ford truck in front of the cabin. He'd called Stephen and asked if he could use the place for the next few days, and his little brother had agreed. Fortunately, Stephen hadn't inquired into the reason. Probably figures I'm either using it for vacation or spending the weekend with a woman.

With a glance at his sleeping partner wedged between him and the Chopec Shaman, Jim turned off the engine and opened his door. Blair stirred, his eyelids fluttering open, and he blinked several times as he checked out the surroundings.

"Huh? Where're we?" Blair asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Stephen's cabin," Jim explained, glancing at Emprado. The Chopec Shaman was fiddling with the door handle and, after a few fumbles, managed to open his door.

"Vegada Ayi," Emprado said, wrapping a hand around Blair's arm and coaxing the young man out of the truck. Blair looked at the shaman as though he were an alien, then glanced uncertainly back at Jim.

"Man, Jim," he said, "these hallucinations are getting more and more real."

Jim's jaw almost dropped open and he stared at Blair for several seconds before the impact of the young man's statement fully hit him. When it did, he had to stifle a chuckle.

"Uh, Chief," he began, clearing his throat. "That's Emprado. He's not an hallucination. He's real. He's the new shaman of Incacha's tribe."

Blair's brow furrowed and it was obvious he didn't fully believe Jim, but he seemed to accept the statement for the moment as he followed the shaman out of the truck. He slid to his feet and almost collapsed to the ground before Emprado caught him.  The Peruvian shaman muttered something in Chopec and slipped Blair's arm across his shoulders as he helped the younger man up the small steps leading to the cabin's front door.

Jim grabbed the bags from the back and locked up the truck. He'd gotten the key from Stephen on his way up and rifled one-handed through the key chain until he found the right one. Hurrying past Emprado and Blair, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The cabin was large and quite cozy. A fireplace lay set into one wall and a moderately-sized TV sat against another wall. The living room opened into the kitchen, which was compact but functional.

Wow. Not bad. Jim set the bags down just inside the doorway and then helped Emprado with Blair. He draped the younger man's free arm over his shoulders and steered the two men over to one of the doors on the right, hoping that was a bedroom.

"Wow. Nice," Blair mumbled, swiveling his head to look up at Jim. "Hey, man, I can walk. What's up, anyway?"

Jim smiled reassuringly. "Uh-huh. Sure you can, buddy. Let's just get you into the room."

Jim glanced at Emprado again. The shaman still hadn't told him what he'd given Blair. Some kind of smoke concoction followed by a liquid. Whatever the substances had been, they seemed to be keeping Blair pleasantly relaxed. In fact, Jim didn't think there'd been anymore hallucinations or headaches since Emprado had used his potions on Blair.

Reaching the door, Jim turned the knob and pushed inward. A moderately-sized room was revealed, with a twin bed, a dresser, and a closet. Jim helped maneuver Blair to the bed and quickly pulled back the covers as Emprado lowered the young man onto the mattress. Blair seemed vaguely aware of his surroundings, but his eyes still held a distant, glassy look. The young man gave the room a quick, cursory scan then laid down on the bed and curled on side, his eyes drifting closed.

Why is he still like this? Jim worried again. It had been two days since he'd taken Blair out of the hospital and still the kid seemed out of touch with reality. That was part of the reason he didn't like the idea of Emprado giving Blair anymore drugs.

"I must prepare," Emprado said in Chopec. "More needs to be done. He will rest a bit longer. You show me around, then stay with him. He feels safe with you."

Jim nodded. "How long are we going to be here?"

"However long it takes," Emprado said, then turned and walked quickly out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft, deep rumble pulled Blair from sleep and he opened heavy eyelids to see a brown ceiling. Huh? He blinked. Not the loft. Not a hospital. Where...? He turned his head toward the source of the rumble and saw Jim slouched in a small armchair, snoring peacefully.

Confused, his eyes swept the room, but he didn't recognize the place. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he inhaled several deep breaths and took stock. He felt pretty good. His memory was a bit fuzzy, but he knew he had visited Dr. Onrubia in Canada and something had happened. He also remembered being back at the loft and seeing a black wolf.

He shivered involuntarily. That had been one hell of a realistic hallucination.

"Chief?"

He looked back at Jim to see the Sentinel gazing at him quizzically.

"How are you feeling?" the detective asked.

Blair managed a smile as he suppressed a yawn. "Okay. Good, actually. A bit tired, and there's kind of a weird buzz in my head, but I feel good." He looked around one more time. "Uh... Where are we?"

"Stephen's cabin. It was Emprado's idea."

Emprado? "Who?"

"The Chopec shaman," Jim explained. "You remember him?"

Blair pursed his lips. Now that Jim mentioned it, he did vaguely remember something about a red-faced shaman, but it seemed like just another hallucination. "You mean, there's a Chopec shaman here?" Blair inquired.

Jim nodded. "He's fixing some potion in the kitchen."

Blair just stared at the Sentinel. Am I still asleep? There's a Chopec shaman in the kitchen fixing a potion. "Why?" he asked finally.

Jim shrugged. "He said he had a vision that told him he needed to come here and help you."

"Me?" Blair blinked again. "I don't understand."

"Me either... exactly. It has something to do with all this shaman stuff."

Blair swallowed, running his fingers through his hair. "What's going on, Jim?" he asked plaintively. "I mean, I know kind of what happened. I know I drank some tea and it sent me to la-la land for awhile. How long ago was that?"

"We found you three days ago walking barefoot near the Canadian border. You were visiting a --"

Blair grimaced. "Just a colleague." Glimpses of the previous conversation he'd had with Jim about the Canadian professor came back to him, and he narrowed his eyes at the Sentinel. "I told you I wasn't going to tell you his name until I spoke with him myself. Quite trying to interrogate me, Jim. I'm --"

"I'm not interrogating you, Sandburg, I'm trying to figure out what the hell happened to you!" Jim snapped.

Blair clamped his mouth shut, surprised by the harshness of Jim's tone. Okay, so he's pissed. Can't say that I blame him. Nothing like having your partner flipped out on drugs. He looked away quickly, his cheeks flushed. He couldn't really think of anything to say, so he opted for playing with the fuzz on the blanket.

"Look, Chief," Jim said more gently, "I'm sorry for barking at you, it's just --" He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

Blair looked back up at the Sentinel, offering a small shrug. "It's okay." He jerked his chin toward the door. "Why don't you go get some sleep? I'll be okay in here by myself. I think I'm pretty much over the worst of it." Whatever "it" was, he added silently.

Jim looked at Blair skeptically. "You sure?"

"Yeah?" He smiled, nodding. "I'm a big boy, Jim. Been sleeping on my own for quite some time now."

Jim returned the smile, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I could use a few hours in a nice bed." He pushed himself out of the armchair. "You want anything before I head off? Something to drink or eat?"

Blair shook his head. "Not at the moment, thanks." His stomach still felt a tad queasy and he didn't want to risk anything.

"Okay, then," Jim said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the door. "I'll be in the next room, so if you need anything..."

Blair waved him away. "Go, go. I'll be fine, Jim."

"Whatever you say, Chief." Jim nodded and backed out of the room, leaving Blair alone.

Blair watched him leave, unconsciously holding his breath. When the door closed, he released a sigh and sagged against the mattress. Oh man. What's going on here? He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened and he had no idea why a Chopec shaman had come all the way to Cascade to help him. How did he even know I needed help?

And what was with that black wolf? Welcome to my subconscious, folks. Fire demons and black wolves with fangs. Why can't I just see little pink elephants or leprechauns or golden bridges leading to a fairy tale land? No, lucky me, I get monsters and demons and every dark nightmare the human mind is capable of dredging up. I think I'm seriously overdue for some therapy.

He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath... and his lungs froze when he smelled the faint odor of smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emprado gave the mixture one last stir and turned off the stove. A slight smile touched his lips as he turned on the flame again... then off... then on... then off. The little fire-making box was quite useful. He liked it. There were many things here he liked. The large white cold box that held food and drink was also quite useful. And water whenever he wanted it, flowing hot or cold. The Sentinel had quickly shown him how to work all the contraptions and where things were. Most interesting. He would have many stories to tell the others.

Grabbing the pot by the handle, he carried it over to the sink and was about to pour the liquid into the large bowl when the air in the room suddenly changed. The hairs on his arms stood straight and a chill puckered the skin on his arms. He shivered and set the pot back on the stove, then turned around to look at the closed room where the young shaman lay. The Sentinel had left his Guide moments ago to retire to his own room. A cold sense of foreboding settled in his stomach and he lurched into a run at the same moment that a loud crash sounded from inside the young Shaman's room.

The Sentinel emerged from his room and nearly collided with Emprado, but he sidestepped Ellison and pushed the door open. Emprado was not prepared for the mass that plowed into him, sending him sprawling backward to hit the floor hard. The wind flew out of him, leaving him breathless and gasping for air as he lay flat on his back.

"Blair! Blair! Easy, buddy! Easy. What is it?" the Sentinel inquired hastily.

Emprado pushed himself to his knees to see Blair scampering toward the far wall. The young shaman pressed his back into the corner and stared wild-eyed at his open bedroom door, fear etched in the deep lines of his face.

"Wolf," Blair gasped. "There's a black wolf in my room, Jim. I swear it's real. I'm not imaging it. It tried to kill me. It --"

"Blair." The Sentinel's voice, now soft, tried to soothe the frightened young man. Emprado could not understand the words, only the tone, and he asked the Sentinel what the young shaman had said. In a clipped voice, Ellison answered him, and the answer only served to fuel Emprado's fear.

"Sandburg, there's no wolf in your room," Jim said gently, shaking his head as he crouched in front of the young man.

"As there is no animal spirit guiding you, Sentinel?" Emprado asked. He hadn't understood the Sentinel's words, but interpreted the tone of his voice and the shaking of his head to indicate disbelief. "Is the jaguar simply a thing of your mind?"

The Sentinel turned his head, fixing Emprado with a cold glare. There was too much anger in that gaze... and fear. If the young shaman was to find his way, the Sentinel would need to find his own calm first.

"What are you talking about, Emprado? Blair's spirit guide?" the Sentinel asked in Emprado's native tongue.

Emprado shook his head. "Not like you think."

"What do you mean?" Ellison asked, impatient.

"Everything in our world and beyond exists in whole. It has more than just one side, more than just what we see. Just as there is life, there is also death. Light has Darkness. Summer has Winter. Good has Evil. Every man has within him Light and Dark, Good and Evil. That is no secret. It is something we all know, even if we don't always admit it."

"The point..." Jim prodded.

Emprado sighed. The Sentinel would be difficult to work with. "The animal spirit that guides the young shaman reflects the good in him. But with Good there is Evil. Light has Darkness."

"Are you saying this black wolf is the evil inside Blair?" Jim clenched his jaw. "No such thing."

Emprado smiled, glancing at Blair. The young man seemed calmer now, looking back and forth between Jim and Emprado as though trying to understand the conversation.

"Everyone has Darkness within him, Sentinel," Emprado explained. "Fear. Anger. Selfishness. Doubt. Overconfidence. Weakness." He glanced again at Blair. "The Darkness inside the young shaman seeks escape. It has been tapped, released. It is something that every shaman must face -- though not alone. I was sent to help him face his anger and fear."

"Anger and fear," Blair said in a shaky voice, surprising the two men. "I got that. What about anger and fear?" He looked to Jim.

Jim looked back to Blair. "He, uh, said that the black wolf represents your inner darkness."

There was no immediate response from Blair. Rather, the young man just stared at Jim with his mouth slightly open. Then the edges of his lips twitched upward and he expelled a half-chuckle. "My inner darkness?" he huffed sarcastically. "The guy came all the way from Peru to feed me some cliché psycho babble? Next he'll be telling me to 'resist the Dark Side.'"

Jim frowned and Emprado mirrored the gesture. Blair's sudden disdain and tone struck a wrong cord with both men.

"It is his fear talking," Emprado said, again responding to the tone of Blair's voice and the expression on his face rather than the actual words.

"Didn't I already go through all this back at the monastery?" Blair asked accusingly, his gaze focused on Emprado even though the older shaman couldn't understand the words. "What was all that about the wolf feasting on my organs? Was that all just for fun or was it supposed to mean something?" His voice rose angrily on that last part and he turned his eyes back to Jim.

Concern flickered over the Sentinel's features and he looked at Emprado as he relayed the question.

"That was the first step. A shaman is not made overnight. There are many tests and much to learn before one can walk the path with confidence," Emprado explained.

"Jim, man," Blair said, a note of urgency in his voice, "I'm telling you that there was a wolf in my room. I know you think I hallucinated it and I thought I was hallucinating it before, but it was just way to real. It was on my chest, breathing in my face, hell even slobbering on chin." He rubbed his jaw absently at the memory.

Emprado observed in silence as the Sentinel conducted an obvious sensory scan of the young Guide, apparently trying to determine whether Sandburg was still being affected by the contaminates in his system. Blair realized immediately what Jim was doing and a look of irritation crossed his face.

"Jim, I am not out of my mind here. I know what I saw," Sandburg insisted.

Jim nodded, the skepticism fading from his eyes. "Okay, Chief. Taking into consideration the fact that I've been visited by a black jaguar that no one else has ever seen, I suppose your black wolf isn't all that far-fetched." He looked back at Emprado and spoke to the man in Chopec. "So what do we do?"

Emprado smiled, relieved that the Sentinel seemed more receptive now. "We must help your Guide face his fears?"

"He's already faced his fears many times. Overcome them," Jim protested.

Emprado shook his head. "No one truly overcomes his fears. Rather, a wise man recognizes and accepts them, refusing to let them control him."

"Blair's fears have never controlled him. He's jumped out of plane after me, faced danger countless times..."

"It is not those fears that I speak of," Emprado said, "but his facing those fears will help him to face the ones that he must."

"Speak straight, Emprado. I'm in no mood for games."

Emprado sighed. "Your Guide fears the Calling. He fears that he will be changed by accepting the path of The Shaman. He fears that he may fail you. He must learn that choosing the path of a shaman does not change one's soul. There is no one path for a shaman. All are different, as is each shaman. Blair is not Chopec. He is of the city. His path as a shaman will be influence by his surroundings and his own character. To be a shaman means to be able to touch the spirit world. It does not mean to surrender oneself to the Other Side."

Jim's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Okay," he said hesitantly. "I think I understand." He glanced at Blair, "but it's ultimately his decision."

Emprado nodded. "It always will be. The path is not permanent. It can be rejected at any time, though such rejection often proves difficult."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part II