Inevitable Series 03 The Unsuspecting Read online

  August 1998

  Please note that under the title I have written "The Inevitable, Part Three". Although each of my stories stands on its own as a complete tale, they also work together to create a much larger picture. If I continue to write beyond this particular installment, I will continue to do so within the reality I have created. So please keep in mind as you read this story that as much as I may refer to things that have actually occurred within the TV series itself, I may also refer to things that have happened in my previous two stories as well. Hope this makes sense to everyone.

  As always, Megan Conner does not appear in my story. Although I think Anna Galvin is a fine actress, I do not see the purpose for her character in the show and thus, cannot write for her. (Two people make a partnership in my opinion--not three.)

  I am eternally grateful to all my internet buddies. I know no one personally who watches the Sentinel (their loss) so without all of you, I would have no outlet for this stuff. A special hello to Caroline, Danae, Paula and Sandy.

  Okay, without further delay....

  The Unsuspecting

  by Beth Manz

  Cascade slept. But in the stillness of the night, something stirred…someone searched.

  He drifted over the city, able to move through time and space with a single thought. He was seeking the one whose presence he had felt for the last year. The one who would shape his destiny, give him renewed life. The wind shifted and he moved with it.

  Something's changed.

  Three nights ago, the life force of the one he needed had suddenly glowed strong. The powers he possessed sparked to sudden life. And that resurgence would be his downfall because it would pinpoint his location.

  Near. So near.

  The dark presence floated through the loft, shifting within the shadows. Upstairs? With that single thought, he was there hovering, scrutinizing. But this man was not the one. There was something about him, something…special, unique. But he was not the one he was seeking.

  Breathing, whisper soft drew him and he knew. He had found him -- below... And then he was there, floating, watching. The young man lay sleeping, completely unaware of the presence above him, his face peaceful, his long curly hair spilling over his pillow. He was perfect. So full of life. So strong of spirit. Exactly what he needed. What he had sought for so long.

  He reached toward him...and touched him.

  Something awakened him.

  Jim Ellison sat upright in bed, cocked his head to the side and listened. Nothing. The loft was silent. No sounds from below. Not even--

  "Blair." The name came out on a tense breath. He shoved back his blankets and rushed to the stairs. But even before he was one step down, he saw him.

  Blair sat lotus-style on the couch, his hands rested on his knees palms up, his eyes closed. He wore his sweats and a T-shirt, the standard Sandburg sleep-wear. Jim's brow furrowed. So Sandburg had gone to bed. But why had he gotten up to do this? And when?

  Jim sent his senses out again. Yes, now he could hear it, Blair's heartbeat. But it was not the steady rhythm Jim was used to. This one was slower, deeper. He's meditating. That happens when he meditates. Jim knew that was true. But it didn't explain why he hadn't heard him when he woke. Or heard Blair get up in the first place.

  Something's wrong.

  The two words whispered through his mind, crawled over his skin. Snatching up his robe, Jim started downstairs, his whole focus on his partner. He'd seen Blair meditate before but this was somehow different. And that difference was clutching at his gut.

  "Sandburg," he whispered, as he approached, not wanting to startle him. Nothing. He didn't stir. "Blair?" he tried next. Still, nothing. Reaching out, he laid a hand on his Guide's arm. His skin was ice beneath Jim's fingers.

  "Sandburg," he said again, louder this time and shook him slightly. Blair's head lolled back and forth with the movement but his eyes did not open. His breathing did not increase. There was no visible sign of waking.

  Jim grabbed him by both arms, hauled him to his feet and shook him hard. "Blair!" The name echoed off the walls around him. "Blair! Dammit! Come on!"

  Blair spasmed in his arms. His eyes snapped open. His body arched backward. He drew in a deep shuddering breath. His knees collapsed and he would have crumpled to the floor if Jim did not have a strong grip on him. Blair fell against his partner, struggling to breathe, his hands fisted into Jim's robe.

  "Okay, buddy, just relax. You're okay," Jim soothed. Slowly, Blair got himself under control.

  "I'm okay." He pushed back from Jim, straightening up. But Jim did not release his grip. He could still feel his Guide trembling. Still hear his racing heart. He eased Blair back to the couch, then grabbing the throw blanket, laid it over him.

  Without warning, his mind flashed back to the last time they'd played out a scene like this. The first night Blair had returned to the loft after Jim had kicked him out. The night before Alex and Brackett abducted him. Before he was shot.

  He shuddered as the memories went through him.

  "Jim, what's going on?" Blair's strained voice drew him back to the present. He could see the small beads of sweat on his Guide's forehead. Hear the catch in his voice.

  "I was going to ask you that," he said softly. Crouching down before his friend, he rested a hand on his knee. "Why'd you come out here?"

  "I don't know." Blair ran his hands through his hair, brushing it back from his face. "I don't even remember doing it."

  "What's the last thing you do remember?"

  Blair closed his eyes. Concentrated. "I went to bed," he began, his voice low as he went through each step. "I was so tired and I remember thinking that I was glad to be home. Glad to be in my own bed."

  Jim's hand tightened on Blair's knee with the words, silently telling his partner that he was glad for the same thing.

  "I fell asleep and..." His voice trailed off. His brow creased. "And..."

  "What?" Jim prompted.

  Blair's eyes opened. He rubbed a hand over his chest where the still healing bullet wound was. "I don't know. It's more a feeling than anything else."

  "What feeling?"

  "It was like I was being watched." He turned his gaze to Jim, his blue eyes filled with sudden fear. "Like someone was calling to me and then...something touched me." He shivered visibly and pulled the blanket more tightly around him.

  "It was just a dream, Blair. No one was here."

  Blair nodded but did not look convinced. Reaching up, he rubbed a hand across his cheek, as if trying to brush away the feeling of that touch. "It just seemed so real, man."

  "Is there a face that goes along with all this?" Jim couldn't help but wonder if Blair's sleeping mind was somehow flashing back to his abduction. "Maybe Alex or Brackett?"

  "No, I don't think it has anything to do with that." There was something in his expression. Something that told Jim he was holding back. Sandburg knew or at least had some idea what had caused the nightmare but he didn't seem to be willing to share.

  "Blair, is there something--"

  "Jim," Blair cut-in. "We've done this up all night discussion thing before. Can we skip it this time? I just…I don't feel that great and I'm tired." He rubbed his forehead but dropped his hand back to his lap after just a few moments, as if even that simple movement was too exhausting for him. "I just don't have it in me tonight."

  Jim studied his friend's pale face, resisting the urge to put his hand on his forehead to check for fever. He didn't want to drop this but he couldn't force Sandburg to stay up and talk if he didn't want to. Besides, whatever it was could wait until morning.

  "Sure, Chief." Standing, Jim helped Blair to his feet. "Go back to bed...an
d stay there this time."

  "Hey, man, that was the plan last time." He laughed but the sound was nervous, tense.

  Jim watched as Blair made his way on somewhat shaky legs to his room.

  Jim sat on the couch and dropped his head back against the cushions. My nightmares have stopped and Blair's have begun. Not the trade-off Jim wanted. When are we going to catch a break? Because Jim sure as hell felt that they were entitled to one. Three days. Blair had only been home from the hospital three days and already the problems were beginning. Again.

  What the hell is going on?

  And then it hit him. While Blair was in the hospital, he had finally accepted the fact that he was a Shaman. Or at least needed to find out what the title Incacha had given him meant for him. Meant for both of them, he corrected. Because they were a team and what affected Blair, affected him as well.

  Could his nightmare tonight have occurred because although Blair had decided to accept his role as Shaman, he still hadn't taken any steps toward it? Well, hell, doesn't he get one week of peace? A little down time for someone who's been through as much as he has?

  It seemed that for the past few weeks, all they did was stay one step ahead of something bad. When Blair was shot, Jim had thought the worst was over. There was nothing else that could happen that could compare to the pain Jim had felt when he'd realized he'd shot his Guide. But now...

  There was something lurking in the back of Jim's mind. Something that was telling him this could be even worse. He'll be fine. There is nothing in the darkness waiting for him. Yet Jim could not shake the feeling that was crawling over his skin and whispering a warning in his ear.

  He rubbed his eyes. He was getting carried away. Thinking the worst because of everything they'd been through lately. Blair had had one...episode. Nothing had really happened.

  The kid's been through a lot. Maybe all the stress is manufacturing itself by way of nightmares or sleepwalking.

  He didn't know if that was actually possible but it gave him some peace of mind.

  Right now, what he needed to do was follow his own advice and go to bed. But as he stood, his gaze shifted to Blair's room. He could hear his partner's slow, steady heartbeat, his even breathing. Blair was asleep. Jim hesitated a moment longer before crossing to his Guide's room. He looked around the edge of the French doors at the figure lying in the bed. He knew Blair was right about accepting what Incacha had made him, Jim just wished they had some idea of what to do. Especially if this latest episode with Blair had anything to do with that acceptance.

  Jim resisted the urge to go into the room, to wake Blair again. He's just sleeping this time. But as he made his way back up the stairs to his own bed, he stayed tuned to Blair's heartbeat…just to be sure.

  Jim woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of fingers typing on a computer keyboard. His brow furrowed. He hadn't heard Blair get up. Again. Sure, Blair always tried to be quiet when he got up in the morning but Jim always heard him. Sometimes it was just a fleeting sensation that drew him only an instant before he'd fall back asleep, other times it was a full-fledged now-I'm-up-and-there's-no-way-I'm-getting-back-to-sleep sound. But no matter what, it was always there. Until now. Now, Blair had managed to get up twice and Jim had been completely unaware of it.

  Am I just that tired? Or is there something more to it?

  Pushing back his blankets, he slid from the bed, grabbed his robe and headed downstairs.

  Blair sat at the kitchen table, glasses on, eyes intently focused on the laptop open on the kitchen table.

  "What're you doing, Chief?" Jim walked past him to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup.

  Blair sat back in his chair, his gaze lowered. "Jim, I'm sorry about last night." He pulled his glasses off and tossed them onto the table before rubbing his eyes.

  Jim leaned against the counter, his gaze locked on his Guide's slumped shoulders. "Forget it. It was no big deal."

  "No, man, I know you wanted to talk. I just couldn't last night." He looked at Jim, his face drawn in concern. "I know you wanted to figure out what was wrong and I think we both had a pretty good idea what might be involved." He paused momentarily. "I think it has to do with the whole Shaman thing and I just couldn't face that last night. I didn't have any answers and I just didn't see how staying up half the night talking about it would help."

  "You were probably right." He took a sip of his coffee. "So what's changed today? Why are you willing to talk about it now? Did you suddenly find answers?"

  "No, but I've decided that I need to try. Jim, one of the big things that's always held me back from finding out about Shamanism is the how. I thought I'd have to go to Peru and spend the next ten years being taught by some tribal elder But I don't think that's the case anymore." Snatching up his glasses up, he slipped them back on. "I think I can find out a lot right from our own home."

  Jim crossed to him and leaning over his shoulder, looked at the computer screen. "You're hooked into the Internet?"

  "Yeah. There's all kinds of information out there."

  "Sandburg, do you really think you can learn how to be a Shaman through the Internet?"

  Blair looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "What'd you think? I could just sit down, meditate for a while and suddenly the secrets of Shamanism would come to me?"

  Jim shrugged one shoulder, straightening. "Something like that."

  "Jim, come on, man, think about it. When you first found out you were a Sentinel, you didn't just suddenly know everything, did you?"

  "No, I had you," Jim said simply.

  "And I had books that taught me about you. I mean, yeah, some of it's instinct but I would have had no idea what you were if I hadn't read all about Sentinels first. I helped you by learning about Sentinels. I thought I'd help myself by learning about Shamans."

  "Makes sense, Chief. Have any luck so far?"

  "I've found a couple of books that sound good. I thought I'd run down to the library this morning and see if I can pick up a few of them. But most of the stuff I've been reading…" His voice trailed off, his expression thoughtful.

  "What, Chief?" Jim moved to the table and sat across from him.

  "A lot of it already sounds like me," he said softly. He shook his head, his gaze dropping to his lap. "I know that probably sounds arrogant--"

  "No it doesn't," Jim said, surprised by his partner's sudden self-consciousness. "Blair, if we're right and this has been a part of you all along then it should sound like you." He tapped the top of the open computer. "Tell me what it says."

  "Well, from everything I've read so far, most people consider Shamanism the oldest spiritual path. It's practiced by people from all walks of life." He typed for a minute, bringing up the screen he needed then taking a deep breath, focused on the words before him. "According to this, a Shaman defines himself in terms of who he is becoming, not who he has been. He is a healer and keeper of tribal history. One quote that I've seen referenced several times says that 'a Shaman walks gently upon the Earth and believes in the right of all life to walk their soul path in peace and harmony'."

  Jim thought about the words, especially the last part. Early in their partnership, Jim had asked Blair to think about learning how to use a gun so he could carry one to back him up. Blair had refused. Over the years, Jim had come to admire Blair's non-violent approach to problems. They both knew it was not always possible to talk your way out of a bad situation but Blair tried every time.

  "Jim?" Blair's questioning voice drew his attention. "You okay, man?"

  "Just thinking about what you read." As Jim stared into his partner's intelligent eyes, he felt almost as if he were seeing him for the first time. That the words Blair had just read had given Jim a deeper glimpse into his friend's soul. A soul that had enriched his life, taught him about family and loyalty, made him see beyond his once narrow view of the world. In that moment, he thanked whoever or whatever had brought Blair Sandburg into his life.

  A Shaman walks gently upon the E
arth and believes in the right of all life to walk their soul path in peace and harmony.

  "You're right," Jim said softly. "It does sound like you."

  "I also found references to Animal Spirit Guides." Blair's gaze dropped back to the computer screen as he typed in another quick command. "There are certain characteristics that are attributed to the person who has each one. For the wolf they include intelligence, outwitting enemies, steadfastness, guidance and death and rebirth." He looked up, his eyes wide. "I almost flipped when I read that last part. I mean, death and rebirth. If that's not me, what is?" He laughed but just as the night before, there was no humor in the sound. Just tension, worry.

  "Blair, I think this is all good."

  Blair nodded as he spoke, but the lines of worry remained around his eyes, pulled at his mouth.

  "So why do you look so miserable?"

  "I don't know." He stood with some effort, his hand going without thought to his still tender abdomen, and began pacing, his energy playing itself out in the steady crossing of the kitchen floor. "Last night really freaked me out. If whatever I felt has something to do with this." He shook his head. "Whatever it was did not feel good. It felt...wrong. Bad." He stopped and stared down at Jim. "I'm scared that there could be something dark that I might tap into by mistake. That I might have already tapped into."

  "Did you read anything that talks about that possibility?"

  "No but with my luck, I'm not ruling it out." He laughed again and this time, Jim thought it sounded genuine.

  "Look, you go, get your books and the two of us will pour over them. If there is something you're not suppose to be doing, we'll find it."

  Blair nodded. "You're right. Whatever it was that happened last night...it's over. There's no reason to think it's going to happen again."

  "Exactly." Jim pushed up from the table. "I'm going to grab a shower and head to work." He started toward the bathroom. "You'll see, Sandburg, once we have a better understanding of all this, it'll work out fine." But as he stepped under the hot spray of the shower, Jim wasn't certain who he had been working harder to reassure, Blair or himself.