Thanks to Ihket for beta reading.

On SA, Hephaistos submitted a challenge to take an episode where Blair should have been hurt more badly than he appeared,
and, sticking close to canon, write a story where he is, indeed, injured. Requesting Flight, she noticed the "ten days in Peru"
that Chancellor Edwards spoke about in Murder 101 was much longer than the two to three days it took Jim and Blair
to arrive in Peru and rescue Simon and Daryl. 

So what about the remaining seven days...?

"Quiero a mi mamá."

Blair scratched at the annoying itch on his leg, wondering when and if something had bit him. Hell, the jungle was full of icky creepy crawlies, and he'd been sleeping, romping, and tumbling through it all. Trying to ignore the irritating sensation, he looked down at the sniffling little girl and wished he knew the language better so that he could comfort her. He crouched to her level, the automatic weapon hanging heavily from a strap slung across his shoulder, and shifted the gun behind him. The children had already seen enough of guns and violence. Hell, he had seen enough of both to last several lifetimes, and the only  reason he kept hold of the one Jim had thrust into his hands was because the lives of an unarmed woman and several children depended on him. If the mercenaries returned, he would be the camp's only defense.

He swallowed hard and tried not to think about what he would do if the bad guys actually returned. He had a hard time picturing himself pumping holes into another human being, but he also knew he might have to do just that to prevent the children from being killed or kidnapped by slave laborers.

"It's okay." He offered a smile, knowing the little girl would understand his tone and facial expressions, not his words.

The child leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, saying something else that Blair didn't understand. Understanding her silent request, he wrapped both arms around her and rose to his feet, holding her in his arms. He wasn't prepared for the spray of bullets that slammed against the ground around his feet.

Jumping, he almost dropped the girl, but caught her as she slipped and eased her descent, trying to shield her with his body as he reached for the large machine gun hanging behind him. He didn't make it. A bullet creased his left shoulder, spinning him around. He fell face-first into the dirt, barely feeling the pain from the hit. As he rolled over on his back, the sharp metal weapon digging into his spine, he realized he was too late. Men with guns stormed through the camp, and he found himself looking up the barrel of a very large automatic rifle.

He raised his hands automatically, but didn't get the chance to do anything else before the gunman slammed the rear of his weapon into the soft flesh of Blair's stomach.

A familiar voice screamed in the background. "Let me go! Blair!"

Daryl! Gasping, Blair twisted his head to see two large men carrying Daryl kicking and screaming from the small hut. "Daryl!" His diaphragm seemed frozen from the shock of the blow, making it nearly impossible for him to draw enough air into his lungs to speak. Stop struggling, Daryl! Please, stop struggling.

One of the mercenaries fighting with the boy raised his gun to deliver a blow similar to the one Blair had just received.

"No!" Blair launched himself to his feet, but got only half a step before something hard slammed into the back of his skull, sending him into oblivion.

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

It had been a harrowing experience, to say the very, very least. Blair was beyond relief when he spotted Jim in the side mirror emerging at a run from the jungle brush.

"Thank God." Blair opened his door, having stopped the vehicle once he figured he'd gotten Daryl and Simon a safe distance from the gunmen. He didn't want to leave Jim too far behind.

"You guys okay?" Jim came to a halt next to Blair, his eyes darting into the truck to do a quick scan of Simon and Daryl.

Blair nodded, swaying slightly as he hopped out of the vehicle. "Yeah, I think so."  Even as he said the words, he began to register the aches and pains that his adrenaline had thus far suppressed.

The crease of the bullet on his left shoulder stung like hell, and his gut throbbed with a hot, deep ache. The jungle heat weighed upon him, making it difficult to breathe, and a maddening itch on his inner right thigh tormented him. He also felt the beginnings of a promising headache growing inside his skull.

Jim nodded at Blair's assurance and stepped to the open door, peering inside at the two occupants. "Daryl? Simon?"

"We're okay, Jim," the captain replied. "But I say we put some more space between us and that camp, just in case there are a few stragglers still willing to come after us."

"Yeah, I agree... Sandburg...."

Blair turned to Jim, and that small motion caused the world to spin. "Oh man." He raised a hand to his head, his stomach threatening a sudden revolt as the force of gravity apparently doubled.

"Blair?"

Blair didn't realize he was sinking to the ground until it slammed into his tailbone, sending a slither of pain up his spine and through his ribs. He saw Jim's black-streaked face in front of him and wondered just how long Jim had stopped to make the headband from his shirt and paint his arms and face with black streaks. Wonder what he used? Mud and sap? Oil paint? Watercolors. He smiled, feeling much too lightheaded, and let a chuckle escape.

"Oh man, Jim, I gotta tell you... I'm not feeling so great here all of a sudden. Weird. Felt fine a few minutes ago. Must've been the adrenaline right? Man, it's hot. Nice, though. Pretty. Now that we're here, we should do some sightseeing, you know..."

"Yeah, okay." Jim's hand pressed against Blair's forehead. "That sounds nice, Chief." He took Blair's chin in his hand and tilted his head back slowly. "Look up at the sky, Chief.... So where do you want to go?"

Blair studied the patches of clouds in the sky. "I'd love to see the lost Incan village of Mincu Uchu. Or is it Inchu Manchu? Maybe it's Mayan, actually. Funny, I can't remember..."

"Sandburg?"

Blair's brow furrowed. He'd heard his name, but Jim's lips hadn't moved.

"He okay?"

Jim nodded and glanced behind him. "I'm not sure, Simon. He seemed fine five minutes ago."

"Dad, he was okay earlier. He got the truck running and drove us out of there, but I think he got hit in the arm."

Blair watched Jim closely as the other man's gaze dropped and he seemed to study Blair's arm. "Yeah, I noticed. It's just a crease, though."

"And they hit him over the head with a rifle." The voice got softer. "I, uh, I guess that was my fault. One of the guys was gonna hit me because I was fighting and mouthing off. He made a move for the guy, but one of them knocked him out."

"That's kind of unusual. If he has a concussion, he should've had symptoms earlier. He seemed to be driving the truck fairly straight, but then again, it could be that he's got some swelling and the pressure in his skull had finally reached a dangerous level." Jim scrubbed a quick hand over his face. "We need to get him medical attention fast if that's the case."

Blair absently followed the conversation, feeling no need to interject except to make one further complaint. "My leg itches."

Jim frowned. "Your leg?"

"Yeah. My thigh. You got any cortisone?"

Jim's frown deepened. "Lay back, Chief."

Blair didn't have time to comply before he felt one of Jim's hands on his chest pushing him to the ground while the other hand supported him from behind.

"Let me take a look." Jim's hands worked Blair's belt and zipper open.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?" He pulled the pants down. "Which leg?"

"Why are you undressing me?"

"Because. Now which leg?"

"Right... You know, I'm flattered man, really, but I prefer women."

"Shut up, Sandburg... Damn."

"Damn?" Blair didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean, 'damn?'"

"Looks like something bit you."

"Bit me?"

"Yeah. Could be anything, but I'm guessing it's some kind of insect or spider bite. We really shouldn't have slept on the jungle floor, but it's not like we had a lot of choices."

"Maybe the lizard?"

"Maybe, but it's so red and swollen in the area it's hard for me to tell, and most of the lizards that are toxic exude their toxins through their skin. Could be, though... Wait... I think I see a set of punctures, but you have hairy legs, Chief. It's hard to make out even with my, uh, expertise." He flashed a teasing smile at Blair, but it faded quickly. "We need to get you to a doctor. The area is hot and swollen, so it looks like you've got a decent infection. Why didn't you say something earlier?"

He shrugged. "More important things at the time." Feeling somewhat exposed laying on the ground with his pants around his knees, he reached down and tugged at the dockers.

Jim helped him pull the pants up, then closed the zipper, and fastened the buckle. "Simon, help me get him up."

The tall captain appeared suddenly, stooping over Blair, his forehead wrinkled in concern. "Jim, we're far away from anything even close to a medical facility. The radio's blown to bits back at the camp, and this truck's only got about a quarter of a tank left."

Jim nodded. "That should be enough."

"Enough for what?"

"The Chopec. They live in scattered groups in this area, and I know one of the camps is probably about 40 miles from here."

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

"Uh... Jim?"

"It'll be okay, sir." Jim eased the door open, his eyes and ears tuned to the half-dozen arrow-wielding Chopec warriors barely visible in the brush around them. "There's a signal the Chopec give to each other to indicate peaceful intentions."

Keeping his arms visibly in front of him, he slowly slid from the seat and raised his hands above his head, clasping them together. "Chianeya Taybla Eisan!"

Slowly, the warriors lowered their weapons. One stepped out of the brush, a tall man with a broad chest and a wide, square face. He wore the traditional red paint on his face, and his dark hair hung unkempt around his shoulders. He spoke in Chopec, and the other tribesmen relaxed.

Jim turned to Simon and Daryl seated in the truck. "It's okay. The leader recognizes me. I met him during my eighteen months here on an excursion between villages when we were coordinating to guard the pass."

Simon released a loud sigh of relief, and Jim hurried to the rear of the truck, lowering the tail gate. Blair lay on the truck bed, his backpack rolled beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. The packs' contents were stuffed in a netted compartment held to the side of the interior.

"We're here, Chief."

Blair lifted his head, his wet curls plastered flat against the sides of his face and neck. He was soaked both from the humidity and his own perspiration, and his clothes looked equally damp. "Where are we?"

"At a Chopec village. I'm going to leave you, Simon, and Daryl here and go for help."

Blair dropped his head back and closed his eyes. "It's hot."

"I know. We'll get you cooled off."

"Where are you gonna go? There's nothing around for miles, man. We parachuted in, remember?"

"I remember."

"Ellison."

Jim turned to see Simon and Daryl standing directly behind him. "Yes, sir?'

"You stay here with Sandburg and Daryl. God knows you've done enough running through the jungle already. I'll go for help."

Jim shook his head. "Sir, I think I'd be the better choice. I know the language, and I'm more familiar with this area."

"Exactly. You can communicate with the Chopec, and to be honest, there's no one I'd rather have guarding my son than you. Perhaps you can ask one of the Chopec to come along with me and act as a guide? We don't have to talk. He can point, I'll follow." He grinned and jerked his chin toward Sandburg. "And you were a medic in the army. He's going to need your skills. I don't mean to be insulting to the guys with the arrows, but they seem somewhat primitive, Jim. I'd wager your western medical training against jungle potions and witch doctors."

"The Chopec are quite competent..."

"I'm sure they are, Jim, but c'mon. You know about the jungle and the things Sandburg could have been exposed to almost as well as they do, right? Eighteen months is a long time spent here. And you have army medical training, something none of them have. Do they know what causes a concussion? Do they understand bacteria, infections, and antibiotics?"

Jim sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Okay, Simon, you're making too much sense for me." He managed a soft, lopsided smile. "I'll stay here and ask for a volunteer from the Chopec to go with you to find help."

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

Blair felt hands grab his arms and pull him forward. Then more hands wrapped around his legs and hooked his armpits, and he felt himself moving, swinging gently back and forth as vegetation crunched beneath feet. The day was hot and humid -- stifling in its heaviness. He was wet. Sweat rolled off of him, trapped against his flesh by the moisture in the air itself.

His right leg was on fire. His head pounded, and he knew he was going to throw up any minute. The pain in his left arm had died to a distant ache, barely noticeable, overshadowed by the hot throbbing in his leg.

How could he get sick so fast? It was almost as if his body, realizing the danger from the drug smugglers was over, finally gave out. He had no strength left, barely possessing enough energy to open his eyes to see who carried him.

Jim's voice sounded somewhere to Blair's right, but the Sentinel spoke in a strange language. Not English. Not Spanish. Blair didn't bother trying to decipher the words. He wasn't even sure he was really hearing his friend's voice. Perhaps he was dreaming gibberish. If he was asleep, perhaps he could dream himself up a nice, tall glass of iced tea. He pictured the drink in his head -- the clear glass, beaded with dots of condensation, filled with a light red-brown liquid surrounding many, many cubes of ice. The dryness in his mouth seemed to double, and he swallowed, desperate for a drink.

He felt himself being lowered to a hard, flat surface. 

"Come on, Chief."

A hand slide beneath his skull and lifted his head. Then something warm and wet was placed against his lips. Liquid slid into his mouth, light and sweet. It wasn't cold, but it was wet, and he swallowed eagerly. Jim. Jim was an angel. The best, kindest, most generous person on earth, and if Blair had the strength, he'd kiss the man.

Instead, he managed to open his eyes as he finished the last swallow. He saw Jim's black-streaked face a few inches above him and forced a single word from his throat. "Thanks."

Jim smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Lousy."

"I think you have a concussion, and you definitely have an infection and a fever." He placed a hand on Blair's forehead and wiped away the sticky curls. "I'm sorry it took us longer than I thought it would to make it here. The truck couldn't go very fast over the jungle terrain."

Blair licked his lips, tasting a salty wetness. "Where?"

"We're in a Chopec village. Not the one I stayed with, but one I'm somewhat familiar with."

He focused on forming a string of words. "What bit me?"

"I'm not sure, but I'd guess a spider. I just hope you haven't caught something else, like typhoid fever or malaria. We should've gotten complete vaccinations, but we left in too damn much of a hurry."

Blair closed his eyes. "S'okay. I wanted to go." His brow creased and he opened his eyes again. "Where's Simon? Daryl?'

"Daryl's here. He's in another hut. Simon went to get help."

"Why'd we stop here?"

"The truck doesn't have enough fuel to make it to the nearest city, which is quite a ways off. The radio back at the smuggler's camp was blown up, and we have no other means of communication. I'm sorry, Chief, but we're stuck here until help comes."

"Not too bad... Great opportunity to study indigenous...." He swallowed, the dryness in his mouth making his words difficult. "Ice?"

"None here, Blair. Sorry." He turned and reached for something, then shifted back and raised a small clay-type bowl. "Try some more of this?"

"Wh'is it?"

"A plant extract mixed with water and sweetened with fruit juices." He placed the rim of the bowl against Blair's lips and tilted.

Blair took several greedy swallows before Jim pulled the bowl away.

"More..."

"Not so much so fast." Jim set the bowl on the ground and patted Blair's arm. "Just try to rest now. Your body needs it."

Okay. Blair closed his eyes and, for once, did as he was told without question or comment.

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

Jim pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to fight the fatigue that hung like a fog over him, making his thoughts sluggish and his body achy.

Giving into a yawn, he lowered his hands and studied his sleeping friend. Blair lay curled on his side, his hair and clothes still damp from both the humidity and his body's perspiration. His thoughts remained troubled, going over the possible viruses, bacteria, and toxins to which Blair could have been exposed. Since they had been running through the jungle brush and sleeping on the ground, the list was very, very long. Any number of poisonous insects, arachnids, or reptiles could have come in contact with Sandburg.

And then there were the ubiquitous mosquitoes that could carry any number of diseases, including malaria and dengue fever. He doubted Blair had malaria, though, since symptoms usually took a week to appear after infection. Dengue fever, on the other hand, could start as early as three days after exposure... right on time if Blair had been bitten by an infected mosquito soon after arrival. The swollen area on his leg could have been caused by a mosquito bite, but Jim suspected it was more likely a spider bite.

Hell, for all he knew, Blair could have been bitten by a poisonous spider and an infected mosquito. Jim sighed, having the sudden urge to pound his head against a wall. What was I thinking bringing him along? I know this jungle. I was exposed to its dangers for 18 months, and I received vaccinations against everything -- old vaccinations, but still... Blair had nothing, and here I am dragging him along, letting him romp through the jungle and sleep on the ground in the open brush without so much as a mosquito net or bug repellant for protection.

Blair groaned, and Jim yanked himself from his dismal thoughts. He was pretty sure that, on top of everything else, the kid had a concussion, and it was time to wake Blair up, anyway, to make sure he didn't slip too deeply into unconsciousness.

"Sandburg, wake up."

Blair simply curled tighter, his brow creased. Jim couldn't tell whether he was in pain or simply engaged in a bad dream.

"Chief, come on." He leaned forward and shook Blair's shoulder. "Come on, wake up."

"Huh?" Blair's eyelids cracked open, and he squinted up at Jim. "Whu... Where..." He looked around, the crease in his forehead becoming more pronounced. "Daryl?"

"He's okay. He's sleeping in another hut."

"Oh..." He wrapped his arms around his torso and folded into himself, shivering suddenly. "Don't feel too good, man."

"How's your head?"

"Hurts like hell. Legs and arms hurt, too."

Jim frowned. Headache and muscle pain were both symptoms of dengue fever. Unfortunately, they were also symptoms of a dozen other things. If it was dengue fever, however, he'd know in a few days -- a rash should develop on Blair's feet or legs in about three days.

Damn. He really wished they were closer to what passed for civilization in Peru. Even if he got Blair to a medical facility, odds were Sandburg wouldn't get the proper care. The buildings were run down and the equipment old and inefficient, and the doctors and nurses were always incredibly overtaxed with patients, especially in this area.

He could only hope Simon came back with a chopper so that they could transport Blair to Lima where they'd have access to slightly better medical facilities.

"Thirsty," Blair croaked.

"I'll get you something to drink and something to eat that will be easy on your stomach."

"Not hungry, just thirsty."

Jim pushed himself to his feet. "You need to eat... if you can hold it down. How does your stomach feel?"

"Achy... like the rest of me."

"I'll see what I can round up for you. Be right back."

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

Blair closed his eyes, listening to the soft scrape of Jim's feet against the soil as he left the hut. The headache that had been only a dull pain earlier now throbbed like a mad drummer. His right leg was on fire, and his arms and legs ached to the bones. The air felt thick and wet moving in and out of his lungs, and he tried not to focus on breathing because, if he thought about it, he started to feel as though he were suffocating. It was like being trapped in a sauna with no relief from the scorching, humid air.

He drifted, listening to the sounds outside the hut -- birds squawking, shuffling, voices speaking in an unfamiliar language. He thought he heard Jim's voice, but he couldn't be sure. He wasn't even sure whether he was actually awake. Everything had an unreal quality to it, and it seemed absurd that he'd be in Peru laying in a hut with the Chopec, close to the same place where Jim's sentinel senses had first come online.

Maybe the whole thing was a dream. Maybe he'd never gone to Peru. Maybe, right now, he was actually back home in his bed burning up with a fever, and this was all some vivid delusion. Or maybe he was in the hospital and Jim was sitting at his bedside trying to make sense of his incoherent mumblings.

"Hey." Hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him upward, then an arm slid behind his back, offering support. "Drink this."

Blair opened his eyes just as a gritty clay bowl touched his lips. Jim's face held a serious, focused expression as he tilted the bowl so that some of the sweet liquid slid into Blair's mouth.

Swallowing automatically, Blair reached his head forward, sipping more of the refreshing liquid. It eased the dryness of his mouth and throat and snaked down his esophagus easily, leaving a trail of soothing coolness.

"Doing good, Chief." Jim pulled the bowl away and set it on the ground. "Now let's try some fruit. This one's pretty soft and fleshy, so it shouldn't be too hard on your stomach."

"Not hung--" Blair suddenly found himself speaking around a small piece of fruit on his tongue. He threw an irritated look at Jim, but the older man simply smiled.

"Chew it well, Sandburg."

Blair shifted the piece of food in his mouth, trying to identify the fruit. It tasted roughly like mango, but slightly sweeter and softer, and as he bit down, juice flowed from it and coated his mouth and throat with a tangy wetness.

He chewed it well, closing his eyes as he savored the refreshing juices it provided. Then he swallowed, and it went down easily. He didn't think his stomach would object anytime soon.

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

Jim tended to Blair for three days, keeping fluid in the young man and trying to keep his fever at bay. The fever was the priority and the hardest to combat because of the jungle heat and humidity. Blair's sweat wasn't evaporating, so it was unable to cool his body, and the jungle itself was so hot that even the river water was warm.

Every day, Jim checked the bite on Blair's right leg and searched for signs of a rash. On the second day, the swelling began to decrease, but on the third day, a rash appeared on his feet and calves.

"Damn." Dengue fever. Jim sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, wondering whether Simon was okay and if he'd gotten to civilization yet.

The Chopec were being more than accommodating. They kept an eye on Daryl, and the children of the tribe seemed enraptured with the young man. Between the kids and adults, Daryl was kept more than occupied.

The Chopec had also done a great job of foraging for the plants Jim had requested. He knew several plants that had rudimentary antibiotic properties, and although dengue fever was caused by a virus, Jim knew opportunistic bacteria would capitalize off of Blair's already-taxed immune system. The swelling in his leg, too, had started to be cause for worry, but after two days of the plant-extracts, the inflammation had started to recede.

The tribal medicine man had made up quite a few concoctions, and Jim had let the old man force some of the foul-tasting mixtures into Blair. He knew from his previous time in Peru that the Chopec had learned quite a lot about the local plants and which ones held medicinal properties. The tribal healer had also sat over Blair and chanted for hours, apparently attempting to invoke the help of spiritual guides to vanquish the illness raging inside Sandburg's body.

Blair pretty much remained oblivious through it all, shifting in and out of consciousness randomly. Even when he was awake, he wasn't all that coherent. At times, he seemed to think he was back at the loft, and he kept grumbling for Jim to turn down the heat.

On the afternoon of the third day, Jim heard a sound in the sky. Shooting to his feet, he ran out of the hut and scanned the sky, tracking the sound of the chopper as it approached. The tribesmen stopped in their various tasks to follow his gaze. They knew he was a sentinel, and they knew to expect something.

Moments later, the helicopter appeared over the tree tops, and a huge, relieved grin split Jim's face as his sensitive vision spotted Simon seated beside the pilot.

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

The drone of voices woke him.

"I think he's coming around, Simon."

"'He is? Should I get someone?"

"Give him a minute, sir."

"Dad, is he going to be able to travel back with us?"

"I don't know, Daryl."

"Depends. The twenty-four hours of fluid and oxygen seemed to have helped. I think a few more days here and he'll be able to travel."

"What about the virus itself?"

"It's not contagious from person to person except through the bite of a mosquito. Besides, I know he has something important he has to do. One of his mentors asked him to go to Borneo with him. It's supposed to be a big opportunity, and I think he had to give the guy an answer soon. I hope it's not too late, though."

"Did you try to contact the guy? And how long would he be in Borneo?"

"Hey." Blair barely managed a whisper, but he opened his eyes to see three face peering down at him. He gave into a weak smile. "Hi."

Jim sat in a chair next to the bed. Simon and Daryl stood next to one another at the foot of the mattress.

"How're you feeling, Chief?"

"Tired and weak, but better." He swallowed. "What happened?"

Jim leaned forward, offering a slight grin. "On top of a concussion, a cracked rib, a bullet crease, and a bite by a moderately venomous spider, you also got nailed by a mosquito infected with dengue fever."

Blair took a moment to digest that information. "I made the rounds, I guess..."

Simon smiled. "You never do anything half-way, Sandburg."

"Guess not." Blair gave into a yawn. "How come I was the only one flattened?"

Jim scooted the chair closer. "Simon and Daryl both had a full set of vaccinations before they left. I had mine about seven years ago."

"I've been to the jungle before. I got vaccinated."

"How long ago?"

Blair shrugged. "Maybe six years."

"Not the best protection, Sandburg. My vaccinations may be years old, but I did have a year and half of in depth exposure to jungle bugs. Besides, there are about four varieties of dengue fever, and you may not have been vaccinated against all of them."

Blair swallowed, his throat somewhat sore. "How long have I been here?"

"At the hospital? A day. We spent three days before that with the Chopec while Simon went to get help."

Blair tried to sit up, but managed no more than a few inches before dropping back to the mattress. "A week? I've been gone a week?"

Jim nodded. ""Fraid so."

"Man, Dave said he could only cover for me for a few days... and Dr. Stoddard was expecting an answer. Did you call the university?"

Jim shook his head. "Sorry. I'll see if I can get hold of a phone around here. What number should I call?"

"Give me the number and I'll make the call," Simon interjected.

Blair turned his attention to the captain, surprised to see s hint of embarrassment in the older man's eyes. "Thanks, Simon..." He looked at Daryl. "How are you doing?"

"Fine." The young man smiled and moved to the side of the bed. "You've looked better though." He grinned and leaned against the bed. "Thanks, man."

Blair's brow furrowed. What had he done? "For?'

Simon answered. "For keeping close to Daryl and watching out for him. For getting yourself knocked over that hard head of yours trying to protect him. Nice diversion. They were too busy knocking you out to lay a finger on my boy." His face grew serious. "I owe you one, Sandburg. Thank you."

Blair relaxed, a bashful smile touching his lips. "You're welcome." He looked back to Jim. "So when do I get out of here, and when are we going home?"

"In a few days." Jim placed a palm on Blair's head. "As soon as this fever of yours breaks and you can stand without falling over."

"I can probably stand."

"I wouldn't recommend it." He batted Blair's cheek. "You're as pale as a corpse, Chief."

"Nice image. Thanks."

Jim grinned. "But I see your attitude hasn't been dampened by the virus."

Blair smiled. "No, just the rest of me." He fidgeted beneath the sheets, pushing them off. "It's, like, a hundred degrees in here. Don't they have air conditioning?"

"Nope. Just a fan."

"Cold water?"

"Tap water. Lukewarm. I can probably find some ice."

Blair closed his eyes. "Great. I can't wait to get home."

"It'll be soon, Chief. We checked on available flights, and we shouldn't have a problem finding seats when we're ready to leave."

Blair opened his eyes. "Speaking of planes... I, uh, have a confession."

"Oh?" Jim tilted his head. "What's that?'

"I didn't even jump tandem." He flashed a sheepish smile. "I never made it out of the plane."

Jim glanced heavenward, tapping Blair lightly on the side of the head. "It's amazing you've lived as long as you have, Chief."

Simon chuckled. "God protects children and fools, apparently." He moved next to Daryl and placed an affectionate hand on his son's shoulder.

Blair closed his eyes, his smile lingering. "Hey, at least I faced my fear." His smile faded. "But I'm never, ever jumping out of a plane again." He felt himself drifting toward sleep. "And as for planes... think I'll take a boat back to Cascade."

The End

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