SLAVER

By DoggyJ

OUTSTANDING AU SERIES

EMAIL: doggyj0525@yahoo.com

I've been working on this for - oh, forever, I think!

Warning - it's long! But I had fun writing it, hope you enjoy reading it.

Rated R for language and violence, Jim owies

Summary - In the future, who has control of the sentinels?

Acknowledgements: to Mary Ellen; without her help and prodding, this
would not have been completed!

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and objects from The Sentinel
belong to Pet Fly Productions, UPN, and Paramount. I'm just playing
with them for awhile. I promise to clean them off and put them back
when I'm done. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is
being made. If I happen to stumble on an original idea, its mine,
mine, all mine!

Dr. Blair Sandburg paced nervously in the small conference room. Now
that he had a go, he was anxious to be on his way, get this over with
quickly. They had planned this operation as thoroughly as possible,
but there were so many unknowns that he would largely be on his own
once he arrived. The door opened and several other people stepped
into the room. Blair nodded at each one of them as they entered and
took their seats.

"Well, Sandburg, are you ready?" Simon Banks, Captain of Special
Operations, asked abruptly. He wasn't harsh or unfeeling, but he
didn't believe in coddling his operatives or beating around the bush.

"Yes, sir," Blair answered. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Do you have any questions? Any points that need to be clarified?"
Banks asked, looking around the round table. "Anyone?"

Dr. Megan Connor, the medical specialist assigned to the team, spoke
up. "You understand the importance of maintaining your medication
schedule?" she asked Blair. "That is vitally important to the
success of this mission, not to mention your own well-being."

Blair grimaced. "I know. But I still wish they had come up with a
pill or something. I'm not that fond of needles." Megan nodded her
head in sympathy.

"Well, if that's it..." Banks waited a moment for any other comments,
then rose. "Taggart will take you to the port, Rafe and Brown will
meet you on your return." The others rose as well. After a slight
pause, Banks held out his hand. "Good luck, son, and Godspeed."

***

Once more, Blair checked his watch. Thirty minutes until landing.
He pulled his soft-sided briefcase from beneath the seat in front of
him and dug out a small zippered bag. Inside, the bag was lined with
a new, secret material, which effectively shielded its contents,
rendering them invisible to the magnometer screening all passengers
passed through. Making his way to the small bathroom at the back, he
stepped inside and locked the door.

Blair closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hated this part,
but understood the necessity. He took off his blue jacket and pushed
up the long sleeve of the red Henley shirt he wore beneath it. He
opened the small case and pulled out the contents. First was the
length of rubber tubing he wrapped around the upper part of his arm,
tying it off securely and putting the loose end between his teeth.
The big vein rose along the inside of his elbow as he pumped his
fist. He took an individual alcohol pad out, tore open the wrapper,
and wiped at the skin. Next he took one of the small, prepared

syringes from the kit and pulled the plastic tip protecting the
needle off with his teeth.

Grimacing around the bit of plastic in his mouth, Blair pushed the
needle into his skin, wincing, until a bright bead of blood pushed
its way back through the needle into the syringe. A quick tug on the
end of the tubing pulled the whole tie off his arm, and he depressed
the plunger, emptying the drug into his system. Pulling the needle
out, he grimaced in distaste as he wiped at the small puncture wound
with the alcohol pad. When he was sure that he was no longer
bleeding, Blair wrapped the tubing back up and tucked it inside the
pouch.

As the drug made its way through his bloodstream, Blair felt his
awareness of the other passengers fading away, finally disappearing
altogether. With his empathy cut off, he felt as if he had suddenly
gone deaf and blind; a frightening experience for an operative of his
nature. The success of his missions, and indeed his very life, often
depended on his being able to gauge the emotions and attitudes of
those around him. But in this case, that same empathy could alert
the target and spell disaster. He would just have to deal with it.

He spit out the plastic cap and covered the needle again, then threw
the used syringe into the waste disposal chute, along with the
alcohol pad he retrieved from the bathroom floor. The evidence
disappeared; the shaving kit was zipped up. Blair took a moment to
breathe, then rinsed his face with cool water and left to take his
seat again.

The trip back to the hotel was silent. Although Blair could not see
the sentinel beside him, the man's tense presence was like the
fulfillment of all his dreams. When the Split within the country had
occurred such a few short years ago, all the known sentinels had been
under the command of the military group that overthrown the
government in the east. Any that tried to escape had been killed
outright; the others made into virtual slaves of the new regime, the
Eastern Empire.

Those without guides had become experimental subjects, leading to the
wire mesh collar and the control box, apparently. Many sentinel and
guide pairs tried to escape and were killed. Others died in the
fierce fighting to take the capitol in the east. Anyone with empathy
or guide abilities fled to the new western republic of Pacifica,
although few made it. Since then, there had been no sentinels in the
west, although the guide population was growing steadily.

Thus this desperate mission: to purchase a sentinel on the black
market, bring him back to the west, and attempt to remove the control
collar and bond him to a guide. Dr. Blair Sandburg was the perfect
choice for the operation. As an anthropologist, he had made a
thorough study of all the literature relating to sentinels. An
intelligent, resourceful young man, he was opposed to tyranny in any
form, and quickly accepted a position with Special Operations when
approached.

He had excelled in all of his training, only showing a reluctance to
kill his enemies when there was any other means of rendering them
impotent. His escapes quickly became legends in the service, as well
as his choice of weapons. There had been many a time he had used a
vending machine, fire hose, or simply a can of vegetables to take his
opponents out of the fight.

The car rocked to a stop, pulling Blair's mind back to the present.
He had acquired his objective, but still had to get him back home,
with both of them intact. He sat still as the door was opened. The
blindfold was removed, then Franklin was stepping back from the car
to let Blair exit. Blair noticed that James was still sitting in the
car with the blindfold on.

Blair grabbed his briefcase and crossed behind the car. The other
man, whose had never spoken and whose name Blair had never learned,
stood beside the door. He watched blankly as Blair opened the door
and removed the blindfold from the sentinel himself. Glancing around
quickly, Blair said, "Come on, James."

He felt conspicuous leading the taller man into the hotel. But
slaves had become a way of life in this part of the country, and no
one even gave a second glance to the taller, more powerfully built
man meekly following the younger man into the elevator. Once in the
hotel room, Blair blew out a huge sigh of relief.

The sentinel had stopped in the middle of the room, and stood
watching his new master carefully. Blair didn't need empathy to read
the slave's emotions. The man's uneasiness was clear in every taut
line of muscle. His head was lowered submissively, but his eyes
tracked his new owner's every move. Hands were fisted loosely at his
sides.

Blair started to say something, then looked around the room quickly.
He had no way of knowing if the room were bugged or not, and he
didn't trust James enough at this point to ask him to check.
Instead, he took the control from his jacket pocket, holding it up in
clear sight. "James, look at me."

The sentinel raised his head, staring boldly at his new master. His
eyes locked on the control, then moved back to Blair's face. Blair
nodded in approval as he saw no fear in that ice blue gaze. However,
there was an underlying shadow of resignation and acceptance. This
man had learned some harsh lessons from the small box in Blair's hand.

"Will I need this, James?" he asked quietly.

James shuddered and closed his eyes. "No, Master."

"I didn't think so," Blair said. "Good. Now, since I wasn't given
any of your belongings, I'll assume you don't have anything to take
with you."

"No, Master," James answered.

"No other clothes? No. mementoes? Nothing?" Blair inquired.

"No, Master."

"Very well, then," Blair answered, in a business like voice. But
there was a sadness in his eyes that the other man could not fail to
miss. "Take a seat, James, while I pack. I'll just be a moment."

"Yes, Master."

"And stop that! Call me." Blair stopped. He couldn't break cover,
not now. Not when he was so close. "Just `sir' will be fine, for
now."

"Yes, sir," James said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Blair sighed as he stepped into the closet, deliberately placing the
control on top of the television and out of his reach. He took just
a bit longer in the closet than he needed to, but when he came out,
James was still on the bed and the control was right where he'd left
it. Blair was now dressed in an obviously expensive blue silk suit.
With a nod, Blair acknowledged James' behavior. To his surprise,
James nodded back, seeming to relax just a little.

The close proximity to the sentinel was pulling at Blair's empathy
again and he could feel his medication wearing off. Blair sighed.
He would have to inject himself one last time, for the trip home.
Then he would be off the drugs and able to immerse himself in his new
project. Freeing a sentinel.

Getting his bag from the briefcase again, Blair opened it and took
out his supplies. Almost apologetically, he glanced at James, who
frowned but looked down at the floor. Blair quickly prepared
himself, took the medication, and disposed of the used items. "It's
okay, James, we're almost there," Blair said softly. The sentinel
looked up in surprise, but caution prevented him from answering.
Blair rolled down his sleeve and slipped his jacket back on,
adjusting his blue and red striped tie.

The laptop went back into the briefcase along with the drugs while
Blair's other clothes went into a garment bag. Blair turned to the
slave. "Get that bag, we need to leave," he in a louder voice, just
in case anyone was listening. He slipped the control into his jacket
pocket and grabbed his briefcase. James picked up the larger bag and
silently followed Blair from the room.

"Leaving so soon, Mr. Sampson?" asked the clerk. The sentinel looked
at Blair quickly, then back to the floor. Blair never blinked.

"Yes, thank you," he replied, handing over a credit card. Free men
had no need to explain themselves. Especially free men who dressed
in silk suits, attended by a slave. And if anyone reviewed the
surveillance recordings, they would see three different men; although
James would be hard to miss.

The card was handed back and Blair led the way out of the hotel and
across the lot to the inconspicuous gray car. "Just put the bag back
here," he said, opening the back door. James did as he was told then
got into the car on the passenger's side as indicated.

They drove for several minutes in silence. James sat tensely,
pressed against the door, looking out of the window. Blair noticed
that his hand twitched several times.

"Where would you go, James, with that noose around your neck?" Blair
asked. The other man jumped and turned to him, surprise and
apprehension clearly visible in his eyes. Blair chuckled. "Of
course you were thinking of jumping out. I would too, in your
situation. But you ought to at least hear what I'm offering you,
first."

Blair was not worried about the generic rental car being bugged.
Although the slavers knew what hotel he was in, he had rented the car
under a different alias than he had used at the hotel or to the
sellers themselves. If they had been able to discover all that
information, he would not now be driving through the night toward
home and freedom. Freedom, he hoped, for the man sitting beside him.

The sentinel just stared at Blair, his eyes now effectively shielded
against revealing any more of his emotions. Once again Blair sighed,
wishing for his empathy. But it was just too risky at this point.
When they were in the air, well on their way, then it would be time.

"For now, James, just keep an eye out, will you? Tell me if anyone
is following us," Blair said nonchalantly, turning onto the highway
leading north of town.

James shot a curious look at Blair, then turned halfway around in the
seat, watching the traffic behind them. After a few minutes, James
cleared his throat. Blair glanced at him. "Permission to speak,
sir?" James asked.

"Of course," Blair answered. "And you don't have to ask my
permission. You are free to speak to me any time."

"Where. where are we going?"

"I can't tell you that, yet, James. But I will, as soon as I'm
able." After that the two men were quiet, Blair concentrating on the
road ahead as Jim watched the road behind. Almost an hour passed
until Blair slowed the car and turned down a side road.

The lights of the car swept across a private airfield where a small
passenger jet was waiting. Several men were standing around, and one
at least reached into his jacket as they pulled up. James tensed in
the seat and Blair reached over to touch his arm. "Relax, James.
They're my people," Blair assured him. "I hope," he muttered under
his breath. Of course, the sentinel heard him.

Blair stopped the car and both men got out. "Get the bags, would
you?" he said, not looking at the other man. He kept his eyes on the
group standing in the bright beams of the vehicle's lights. Two of
the men started toward him. "Mr. Saunders?" one of them called.

"Yes," Blair replied.

"We're all fueled up and ready to go," the man said. He was a
nondescript man, medium height, medium build, blue shirt and blue
jeans. Totally anonymous. Two of the other men had turned
immediately and climbed into the plane.

James came up to stand right behind Blair, holding the garment bag
and the briefcase in his left hand, leaving his right free, if
needed. His presence at Blair's back was comforting, in an odd sort
of way.

"The payment was satisfactory?" Blair inquired.

"Yes, sir, right on time," the man replied.

Blair looked beyond him, to the younger man standing by his side.
Tossing the car keys to him, Blair said, "Do me a favor? The car was
leased for a week. Return it to the port by noon on Saturday, okay?
Unlimited mileage, but make sure the tank's full." The man, barely
more than a boy, really, grinned and pocketed the keys.

"Sure you know what you're doing, Mr. Saunders?" the other man asked,
shaking his head.

"Absolutely," Blair said, throwing a quick grin their way. He had no
doubt that that car would log more miles in the coming week than the
rental company had anticipated. And, if there were a tracking device
on it, would lead anyone looking for him on a merry chase. Turning
away, Blair was absolutely sure that James had noted every word and
was watching him closely.

Without any further conversation, Blair led the way on to the
Learjet. He watched as James silently stowed the bags away, then
pointed to one of the leather covered recliner seats facing the rear
of the plane. Taking the seat facing the slave, Blair settled down
on the comfortable chair and sat back, watching him. The two other
men that had been waiting for them were obviously the pilot and co-
pilot, and had gone forward to prepare the jet for takeoff.

James seemed nervous, sitting stiffly in the seat, as if afraid to
move. Blair wanted to wait until they were in the air to tell him
anything more, so he couldn't fault the man for being apprehensive.
The engines roared to life, and the sentinel winced a bit at the
noise and vibration.

"Everything all right, James?" Blair asked, concerned.

"Yes, sir," James answered, although the tightness didn't disappear
from around his eyes.

One of the men came back to the passenger compartment. The plane
could seat seven in its luxurious interior, but they were the only
passengers on board. "Are you ready, Mr. Saunders?"

"Yes," Blair replied.

"Very good. We'll be taking off in about five minutes, then. Feel
free to help yourselves to the galley after we're airborne," the man
said, indicating the polished wood fixture in the middle of the
aircraft on one side. "We have some snacks and sandwiches if you're
hungry, and a variety of drinks. I can also make some coffee if
you'd prefer, once we hit cruising altitude."

"Thank you, that would be great." The man nodded, looked over James
without really seeing him, and returned to the cockpit.

Jim flinched as the engines revved up higher. Blair leaned forward,
worried. "James, don't lie to me. I can see you're having trouble."

"I'm fine. Sir," James ground out. Blair sat back and sighed. He
knew the other man was lying, but didn't want to push him on it.
When - no, more likely, if - James had a spike, he'd just have to
deal with it then. In preparation, Blair pulled out the control and
studied the panel. When he looked up, James had gone pale. His eyes
were fixed on the control in Blair's hands.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Blair tried to reassure him. "You're
spiking, aren't you? I just want to be ready to help." James' eyes
never left the control. The glimpses Blair had seen of defiance or
challenge were all gone, replaced by mute despair. Anything else
Blair might have said was drowned out as the jet engines roared out
their power and the plane began to move down the runway.

James hunched down in his seat, eyes squeezed shut in pain, hands
clamped over his ears. "Oh, god, what ." Blair grabbed frantically
at the control. "Hearing, hearing, got to be his hearing," he
muttered. He selected the hearing function with the stylus on the
screen, trying to turn it down. The sentinel howled in pain,
doubling over. He would have fallen from his seat if the safety belt
had not been fastened.

"Damn! Must have gone the wrong way." Blair peered more closely at
the control, deciding to use the buttons this time, seeing the `+'
and `-` signs on either sides of the buttons. He pushed the button
the other way a couple of times, watching anxiously for any response
from the sentinel. James quieted some, but still panted harshly,
clutching his head.

The plane rose sharply in the air then banked hard. Blair waited
until they had leveled off before unfastening his seatbelt and moving
over to the bigger man. He started to reach out but stopped as the
sentinel stiffened and drew away. Sighing, Blair dropped his hand
and knelt in front of James' seat.

"James, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked
softly.

James stared at him in disbelief, then a kind of bitter humor seemed
to fill his eyes as he dropped his hands and leaned back in his
seat. "Let me go," he answered softly.

Blair rose and stepped back, looking down on his sentinel - his,
bought and paid for. "Would you like something to drink?"

James looked away, as if suddenly aware that he had been staring at
his `master', at the man who had paid an unknown amount of money to
own him. If he thought it strange that the smaller man should fetch
him a drink, he didn't show it. "Some water, please."

"All right, I'll get it on my way back," Blair said, tugging at his
tie. "First, I'm getting out of this monkey suit." Blair got his
bag from the small closet James had put it in and made his way to the
bathroom just behind the cockpit. True, this was a luxury airplane,
but the bathroom was still small and cramped.

Awkwardly, Blair got out of the expensive suit and hung it up as best
as he could. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, even though the door
was locked, he quickly slipped into his jeans and pulled his
comfortable red Henley back over his head. Looking in the mirror, he
thought about the flight over. Then, he had been pushing up the
sleeve on this shirt to inject the empathic blocker. Well, that was
all over with for now, he hoped. Shivering in the cool, dry air
pumped out of the aircraft's ventilation system, he pulled out his
lightweight blue jacket and shrugged into it.

Blair put the bag back into the closet and grabbed a couple of
bottles of water as he headed back to his seat. He found James just
as he had left him, with the remote control apparently untouched on
the facing seat. James looked up as Blair held out the water, then
watched quietly as Blair moved the control, sat down, and refastened
his seat belt.

"There," Blair sighed, taking a deep drink of the cool water. "Now I
don't have to worry about ruining that suit." James, of course, did
not make any reply to Blair's comment; just drank his water and
waited for his new master to tell him what to do next. Or not.

Blair had the feeling that the sentinel was acutely aware of his
every breath, even if he seldom looked at his new owner directly.
The agent had seen reports of the abuses suffered by sentinels and
guides in the new regime, subjected not only to physical torture but
drugs and, obviously, electrical shock.

James seemed to be in relatively good health, despite the bruise
marring his face. Blair suspected that most of his punishment lately
had been delivered through the collar. The shocks, while painful and
debilitating for a short time, would leave him relatively unharmed.
Their main effect was as a deterrent; the human mind was programmed
to avoid painful stimuli as a survival mechanism. If Blair could win
his trust, maybe he would find out what had happened to James. But
then again, he thought, maybe he didn't really want to know.

"So," Blair finally said, "you want me to let you go." James did
look directly at him then, eyes narrowed. Blair found himself
studying those eyes. Some arch of the brow or odd tilt of the lids
seemed to make the sentinel's light blue eyes seem almost soulful;
full of the man's damaged but unbeaten spirit, quickly hidden.

"Is that possible?" Blair continued.

Surprise and suspicion crossed James' face in quick succession. "I'm
serious. Is it possible to free you? Do you know of a way?" Blair
pressed.

James raised his hand toward his neck, but stopped short of touching
the collar. His gaze firmly fixed on the control beside Blair, he
answered, his voice bitter. "No."

"Well, I hope you're wrong," Blair said softly. "Because that's
exactly what we mean to do."

James stared at him, all but holding his breath. "Who are you?" he
demanded.

Blair could feel the anger smoldering just beneath the surface of the
man's words. "My real name is Blair Sandburg," he answered. "I'm
from Northwest Pacifica."

James let his breath out in a shaky laugh. "Right," he said, clearly
disbelieving. "And I'm the tooth fairy. What do you want from me?"

Blair shifted uncomfortably. "I want to be perfectly honest with
you, because I think you deserve to know the truth." He bought
himself a few moments by sipping at his water. "Basically, we want
to experiment on you." To his credit, James didn't bat an eyelash.
Blair leaned forward and continued.

"We want to find out if it's possible to get that collar off of you.
And, once it's off, to see if you can control your senses either by
yourself, or with the aid of a guide." He fell silent, waiting for
James to respond.

When James remained quiet, Blair began to speak again. "I want to
make one thing perfectly clear to you. You are free to refuse." He
ignored the snort of derision. "If you don't want to participate,
we'll do whatever we can to make you comfortable. You'll have
anything you need."

Blair paused for just a moment. "But you'll always have that thing
around your neck. Someone will always have to be on the other end of
the control. Not to punish you, not ever, but we'll have to manage
your zones and spikes somehow. You'll never be free of it. And
we'll get another sentinel. And another, until we find one who has
the courage to fight for his freedom. I'm hoping that you're that
one, James. But it's entirely up to you at this point. We should be
over the mountains in a couple of hours. Once on the other side,
you're a free man, as free as you have the courage to be."

Without warning, Blair tossed the remote control to James, who caught
it neatly. The sentinel stared at the agent in shock. After another
long look, Blair leaned his seat back, raising the footrest on the
comfortable chair, and closed his eyes. The empathic blocker was
beginning to wear off, and he was intensely aware of the other man's
confusion and uneasiness. He wanted to give James a chance to think
over what he had been told, and come to a decision on his own.

As the minutes passed, Blair became more and more aware of the other
man's feelings, of the emotional turmoil going on in the seat
opposite him. Most obvious was the anger, always on the surface of
the man's mind; anger at the collar, anger at life in general, and
anger at his `owner' in particular. But beneath that was a keen
intelligence that observed everything about him.

He could also feel the pilots up front, their sense of competence and
boredom. One of them was worried about something, but Blair didn't
get the impression it had anything to do with their flight.
Restlessly, he shifted, drawing the sentinel's attention like an
annoying itch just beneath his skin.

Blair sat up abruptly, startling James, whose anxiety rasped across
Blair's nerves like a file. Unbuckling his seat belt, Blair stood up
and began to pace in the narrow confines of the plane's body. James
watched him closely, his apprehension vying with a growing concern.
The feelings burrowed into Blair's brain, irritating him further.

He thought about the small bag in his briefcase, and the three doses
of the blocker left. Megan had warned him that, once the medication
wore off, there might be a rebound effect. His empathy might be
stronger and sharper than it was under normal conditions.
Apparently, she was right, as usual. Blair sighed, running his hands
through his long, curly hair. Raising his eyes, he met the
sentinel's concerned stare.

"Do you need your. medicine?" the other man asked. An undercurrent
of fear lay beneath the concern. Blair thought that an unpredictable
master must be one of the horrors of the enslaved. This man probably
thought Blair was some kind of addict, suffering the pangs of
withdrawal.

"No, no," Blair tried to assure him, hands raised in front. "It's
not that. Do you know what a guide is? To a sentinel?"

Blair winced with the other man as a remnant of emotional pain
rippled through him.

"Yes," James answered shortly. Blair waited. "I. I had a guide,
when all this started. He. he died. Couldn't take the captivity and
the stress." James' voice trailed off. Blair was almost overwhelmed
by the sadness and sense of loss the other man exuded.

"I'm sorry," Blair said, sincerely. He resumed his nervous
pacing. "I wasn't sure if you'd had a guide or just the. collar. But
at least you'll understand what I'm talking about. I'm a guide,
myself. Or, I would be if there were any sentinels in Pacifica.
I've been using an empathic blocker just in case proximity to a
sentinel, even a collared one, triggered an increase in my empathy.
And it's a good thing, because that's what happened back where I
first saw you. That's why I had to go. use the medication."

Blair knew he was rambling, but he had to do something to block the
emotional input he was receiving. "I don't really know if it's your
presence that's making everything so intense right now, or a rebound
effect of the drug. I thought it would be safe to stop, since we're
on the way home. I hate using that stuff anyway; I'm more of an
herbal type of guy myself."

The monologue broke off in shocked surprise. The sentinel - the
collared slave - was laughing at him. Laughing at the man who had
purchased him, who had told him that ridiculous story about flying to
Northwest Pacifica. "What?" Blair demanded irritably.

"Breathe, Chief," the older man chuckled. "You'll be okay."

Blair did. He took a deep breath, and amazingly, felt his empathy
settled down to its usual level. Blair grinned back at James. "So,
what do you say? Willing to give this a try?"

The smile faded from James' face. "I don't seem to have much of a
choice, do I?"

Blair sobered. "You have the choice not to participate in the
experiment."

"But then I'm still a slave, aren't I?" He waved off Blair's
denial. "A slave to this collar. I'll always have to have a -
keeper," he finished bitterly.

Blair was quiet letting James have the time he needed to think. "You
don't have to give me an answer now," he said softly. "We'll be
landing in a couple of hours, then going to the compound. I'll
introduce you to the rest of the team and show you around. You can
decide after you have more information."

James sighed. Blair could feel him shutting off his emotions.
Without a bond to rely on, Blair had no way to push past that barrier
to read the man. "No. I'll give you my answer now. I want to do
whatever it takes to get this damned thing off." The sentinel stared
straight into Blair's eyes. "Even if it kills me. Anything is
better than this."

"We'll do our best," Blair promised. After a moment, he asked, "Are
you hungry? Do you want something to eat?"

James nodded and undid his seatbelt. The two men went to the galley
to see what was available to eat. The co-pilot came back to make
coffee, then disappeared back to the cockpit with sandwiches and
coffee for his senior officer and himself.

Blair and James sat back down and ate on a beautiful inlaid wooden
table that folded down between the seats from the side of the plane.
While they ate, they began the awkward business of learning about
each other. Blair talked about Pacifica, and what had been happening
in that part of the former United States of America while James had
been in the control of the Eastern Empire.

James, in turn, told Blair a little about conditions in the Empire,
and what his life had been like as a slave to the regime. By the end
of their conversation, Blair had begun calling James `Jim', and had
the feeling that the man appreciated the gesture of friendship.

Since his guide had died, he had been passed from one agency to
another. Finally, his zones and spikes had become more and more
frequent, and harder to control. He was deemed of no further use,
and slated for termination. That was when he fell into the hands of
the black market slavers. What body they used for his proof of
death, he had no idea.

After a couple of hours, the co-pilot came back to tell them they
would be landing soon, and that the weather in Pacifica was overcast
and drizzling, but they didn't anticipate any problems with the
landing.

"Great," Blair grumbled. "Just what we need. And you don't even
have a coat. But don't worry, we'll be met at the runway and it will
be a short walk to the car."

"I'll just dial down my sense of touch," Jim shrugged, "or you can."
He held the control out to Blair, who just stared at him in
horror. "Face it, until you get this thing off of me, you're going
to have to use this. Better get used to it now."

"I'm afraid I'll hurt you again," Blair said. "Besides, we'll hurry
to the car. I'm sure. one of the men meeting us will have a spare
coat or blanket or something."

Jim just shrugged again. He'd stand out in the freezing rain until
he turned blue for a chance at freedom, true freedom. A little
drizzle was nothing. They were quiet as the plane landed and taxied
at the small, private airstrip. The co-pilot came out and opened the
door, lowering the stairs.

Blair pulled his coat around him as the cool, wet air swirled into
the plane. He grabbed his briefcase. Jim had already pulled the
garment bag out of the closet and was holding it.

As Blair reached for it, Jim said, "I got it. Least I can do."

Blair looked at him for a long moment. "Jim, as of the moment you
stepped on that plane, you were no longer a slave. You understand
that, don't you? Even if we can't get that control collar off, you
won't be forced to do anything you don't want to."

"I know that." Jim stopped, and Blair could feel the roil of
emotions from the other man. "But can't I help out a friend?"

Blair grinned. "Yes, you can. And so can I. I hope."

He turned and led the way down the stairs. A short distance away
Blair saw the dark colored four-door sedan. Two men were standing
outside, and started towards them as soon as they were off the
stairs. Jim moved up close behind Blair. "Relax, they're friends,"
Blair reassured him. The auras of pleasure and relief were clear to
Blair, who knew Rafe and Brown instantly despite the dark night, or
rather, early morning.

The two men grinned widely, reaching out to clap Blair on the back or
shake his hand. They seemed to need to touch the young agent, to
reassure themselves that he was back safe and sound. And obviously
successful. Blair pulled away and turned to Jim.

"And this, gentlemen, is the culmination of a lot of planning and
hard work. James Ellison, sentinel, and willing research subject.
Jim, this is Rafe, just Rafe; and Henri Brown. We call him H."

Jim stared at the hand Brown was offering, then slowly reached out
with his own. Rafe, also, somberly shook the sentinel's hand. Blair
had to close his empathy against the complexity of feelings Jim
struggled to control. After having been regarded for so long as a
thing, an object, the simple handshake was a verification of his
status as a real person once again, a free person.

Blair shivered in the wet air. "Well, don't just stand here
staring. I hope the heater's cranked up; I'm freezing my butt off.
And Jim doesn't even have a coat." He led the way to the car and
waited while Rafe opened the trunk. Throwing the garment bag in,
Blair and Jim climbed in the back seat while Brown slipped in the
driver's side. Rafe slammed the trunk and slid in the front seat,
and they were off.

Pulling out a cell phone, Blair turned to Jim. "What size do you
wear?" he asked.

Jim looked at him blankly. "What size? Clothes?" Blair
persisted. "Unless you want to be stuck in the same shorts for the
rest of your life," he snickered.

Grimacing, Jim quickly gave Blair his sizes. "I guess that's still
what I wear. I don't think I've lost a lot of weight. They." he
hesitated. "They wanted to keep me pretty healthy, I guess." The
former slave turned his head to stare out the window at the dark
night.

Blair allowed the other man his privacy. Jim had a lot of
adjustments to make, and would need time to process the changes in
his life. Dialing the phone, Blair spoke briefly with Joel at the
compound, explaining that Jim would need some of everything.

After disconnecting, Blair turned to Jim, touching him lightly on his
arm. "You okay?" he asked softly.

Jim looked at him, giving him a short nod. "Yeah, just a lot." His
voice trailed away.

"To look forward to, I hope." Blair finished the sentence for
him. "Why don't you relax? We've got about an hour's ride from
here." The agent leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes,
letting the stress and excitement from the successful mission bleed
away. He dozed off; waking only when the car slowed down to let the
gates of the compound open.

Joel met them, holding the door open so they could get out of the
rain quickly. H and Rafe shook out their dripping coats and, with a
casual wave, disappeared down one of the halls. Blair introduced
Joel to Jim, noticing that Jim seemed much more comfortable when Joel
held out his hand to shake.

Leading the way down the hall, Joel turned to the other two men. "I
think I got everything you asked for. If the clothes don't fit, we
can get some more."

"Great, Joel. Thanks a lot, man. Jim, you should have everything
you need. We already stocked up on soap and stuff, all organic
based, hypoallergenic products. If you have any problems at all, let
me know right away. Hey, here's your room." Joel stepped back as
Blair opened a door in the same hallway Rafe and H had gone down.

Blair opened the door to a room that would have been right at home in
any discount hotel in the world. There was a double bed in the
middle, flanked by a nightstand with a small lamp and clock radio.
In one corner was a desk with a chair and another lamp. Across from
the bed was a small dresser with a television sitting on top. Just
inside the door a small closet opened up across from the bathroom.

"Blair, I'm gonna go. See you in the morning," Joel said. "Jim,
nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you."

Jim stepped slowly into the room. Blair was right behind him,
suddenly nervous. "I know it's not much, but it's just for while
we're here." He stepped past Jim, who now seemed frozen in
place. "Um, here's the radio, and a TV. No restrictions, you can
watch or listen to anything you want. Of course, we didn't know
anything about the . about you, so if you want to read or anything,
there's a lounge down the hall to the right with some books. I think
there might be some movies and CD's there, too."

Blair looked around, trying to see if there was anything else he
needed to tell his guest. Jim walked slowly around the room, looking
in the bathroom and at the clothes hanging in the small closet. As
he touched each item, Blair continued.

"The outside doors are locked at night, for our safety," he added
quickly when Jim's head snapped around toward him, "and there are
patrols out there. So you'll be fine inside. No one can come after
you here. You're safe now." Jim's hand tightened on the jeans he
was touching.

Suddenly Blair was as his side. "Jim, man, you okay? You're not
zoning on me, are you?"

Wordlessly, Jim shook his head. Blair could see the muscle in Jim's
jaw jump as he clenched his teeth. Hesitantly, Blair lowered his
barriers, trying to read the man. He caught his breath as his mind
was flooded with an almost overwhelming wave of emotion.
Frantically, he tried to sort out the feelings, finding relief,
gratitude, regret, and a deep-seated sadness.

"Jim?" Blair waited, afraid to touch the sentinel, worried about
destroying the man's fragile control.

"It's over. It's over, isn't it?" Jim whispered, voice husky. "It's
finally over. I'm really here. Oh, god, if only. Dan."

Blair waited, hoping Jim would continue. While the other man visibly
struggled for control of his emotions, Blair gently prompted
him. "Dan?" he asked gently. "Was that your guide?" Blair could
feel the barriers within the sentinel slam into place as an almost
physical blow.

Trying to let Jim know that he understood, and wouldn't pry at this
time, Blair took a step back. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm sorry for all
that happened to you. I'm sorry you lost. so much." Blair took a
deep breath. "As far as it being over, I hope it is. I hope we can
get that collar off and you can be a totally free man. We'll do
everything we can. Please, believe that."

Jim nodded, still unable to speak of all his feelings. He unclenched
his hand, letting go of his new clothes. Turning to look straight
into Blair's eyes, he said, "Thank you."

Blair nodded. "You're welcome. Are you going to be all right by
yourself tonight? The door has a lock on it, if you want. Will you
be able to sleep?"

"I think so," Jim answered. "I. all this. for me. It's been so
long."

Blair grinned. "It's a start, man. It's a start." Leaving Jim
alone Blair headed for his own room, convinced he would never get any
sleep himself. He was much too excited about the events of
yesterday, not to mention the days to come. Even though they had
left about ten at night, they had been flying westbound. They had
spent almost four hours on the plane, but arrived in Pacifica just
after midnight. Blair fell asleep wondering if Jim was sleeping.

The next morning Blair knocked quietly at Jim's door. When the man
inside called for him to come in, Blair opened the door to find Jim
sitting rather forlornly on the side of the bed. His hair was still
wet from the shower, and he was dressed in a pair of new khaki slacks
and a blue button down shirt. He looked like a kid all dressed up
for his first day at a new school. When Blair stepped inside, Jim
stood.

"I wasn't sure where to go," he said warily. Blair could clearly
hear the underlying meaning: Jim wasn't sure where he was allowed to
go.

"Yeah, the tour last night was kind of rushed, sorry," Blair said
sincerely. "Come on, I'll show you the kitchen. There's a small
staff here who provide the food service, as well as housekeeping and
laundry. Kind of like a hotel."

Jim followed Blair quietly down the hall to an open area with several
tables and chairs. Along one wall was a counter with cupboards above
and below it, and a large double sink right in the middle. Along the
counter was a series of stainless steel serving dishes; the hot water
pans beneath keeping the food hot. A stack of plates, bowls and cups
was on the other side of the sink, along with a canister of
silverware. Next to that was a large coffee machine with two pots on
the hot plates, only one of which was full.

"Here, let me introduce you first," Blair said, as every eye turned
to the two men. He led Jim to one of the tables with three people
sitting at it. "You remember H and Rafe, and this is Dr. Megan
Connor, our medical specialist. You'll get to know her real well."

"Good morning," Rafe said courteously. "Did you get settled in
alright?"

"Yes, thank you," Jim replied. Blair could feel the big man's
discomfort at being the center of so much attention. H just nodded,
and Jim nodded back.

"It's so good to meet you, finally," Megan said. "Don't listen to a
word Sandy tells you about me. I am very gentle."

Jim looked a question at Blair. " `Sandy' from Sandburg," Blair
explained. "Megan's the only one that calls me that," he continued,
rolling his eyes.

"And over here we have Joel, who you met last night, and the leader
of our little group, Captain Simon Banks. Simon, this is Jim
Ellison, our sentinel." Blair fairly beamed as he introduced Jim, as
if he had found the most wonderful prize and was proudly showing it
off.

The black man stood up, topping even Jim by at least an inch or two.
He studied the former slave intently, and then held out his hand.
Solemnly they shook, seeming to recognize the strengths in each
other. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Ellison," Simon said. "Why don't you
get some breakfast, then we'll get started?"

Jim looked uncomfortable at the other man's greeting, although he
returned the handshake firmly. "Please," he said, "just call me
Ellison, or Jim. Mr. Ellison is. my father's name." The last was
said with an undercurrent of anger that caused Blair to look sharply
at the sentinel. He filed away the reference for future
consideration, then moved in to diffuse a possibly tense situation.

"Okay," said Blair brightly, rubbing his hands together. "Well, over
there are the serving dishes. We have heart attack on a plate," he
glanced at the table where Simon and Joel were finishing, "consisting
of eggs, bacon, sausage, and cholesterol. There're also some cold
cereals in the cabinets, and milk, juice and yogurt in the `fridge,
and fresh fruit in that basket there. Just help yourself to whatever
you find, unless it has someone's name on it."

Hesitantly, Jim led to way to the food. Just as he picked up a
plate, Blair put a hand on his arm, stopping him. Blair flinched as
a frisson of fear ran through the other man. "Sorry, man," Blair
murmured. "Didn't mean to spook you. Let me check with Megan first,
see if she has any restrictions." Jim stood very still, as if he
were afraid to move.

"Megan," Blair called, his hand still on Jim's arm. "Any
restrictions on his diet?"

"No, not this morning," Megan answered, getting up from the table and
bringing her dishes to the sink. "We're just going to do the basic
physical exam."

"Great. Okay, Jim, pig out," Blair said, dropping his hand.

Jim grimaced at him, but helped himself to a healthy - well, large -
portion of the breakfast foods available.

"What about coffee?" Blair asked, as an afterthought.

"Just a couple of cups, I'm afraid. Hope you're not a caffeine
junkie, Jim," she replied.

"No, that's. that's fine," Jim said softly. Blair could feel the
man's tightly leashed frustration. Here they were, telling Jim how
free he now was, but he couldn't eat what he wanted or have more than
a couple of cups of coffee. Blair knew that it was all for Jim's own
good: no one wanted him to get sick during the testing, but the
continued limits on his behavior must grate on his nerves.

"When this is all over," Blair said quietly, so that only the
sentinel could hear him, "I'll take you out to dinner. Whatever you
want, no limits. Okay?"

Jim nodded slightly, enough to show that he heard, and that he
appreciated the support. Blair and Jim sat down at a table by
themselves, as Megan got another cup of coffee and sat back down with
H and Rafe. Blair could feel the apprehension building in Jim, and
let him eat his breakfast in silence. After finishing, they cleared
their table, piling the dishes in the sink.

Jim looked around, and Blair correctly interpreted his questioning
glance. "The staff will get them, just leave them there." As the
two men moved away from the sink, the others quickly picked up their
dishes and cups and deposited them also.

For a moment, they all stood awkwardly in the room. Simon looked at
Jim seriously and reassured him, once again, that he was under no
obligation to undergo the experimental procedures designed to remove
the collar.

Jim stepped back and looked steadily at the group of people he had
just met. "The worst day of my life," he said gravely, "was when I
saw my best friend and guide, Dan, shot down. The second worst day
was when this . thing. was fastened around my neck. I would do
anything to get it off. Anything. Any other sentinel I have ever
met that was collared felt the same way. If you can figure out how
to get this off, and then free other sentinels, then it's worth
whatever the cost."

Megan stepped forward. "It may be dangerous, and painful. We have
some ideas, but you are the first actual subject we've been able to
work with. We'll be groping blindly in the dark for the most part."

Jim nodded his understanding. The team swung into action. Banks
left to advise his superiors that they would be proceeding with Jim's
full cooperation. Megan led Jim down the hall to a fully equipped
examination room.

"First of all, we want to check your overall health," she
said. "Although looking at you," and she did, appreciatively, "I
don't think we have any worries on that score."

Blair hung about in the examination room, almost like a nervous
parent at their child's first check up. Megan indulged him, working
around him quietly and efficiently. Jim was quiet and passive, doing
whatever she asked. But his sharp eyes watched both of them
carefully.

"Well?" asked Blair, as Megan seemed to be wrapping things up. "How
is he?"

"Fine," Megan answered. "He seems to be strong and in good health.
I couldn't get a good MRI on him, the collar's interfering too much."

Blair nodded, then turned to Jim. "How are you doing? Any problems
with your senses?"

"Not so far," Jim answered. Blair beamed, just as if Jim had
performed some wonderful feat.

After the physical exam, which had lasted several hours, Megan,
Blair, and Jim met the others in the conference room for lunch. They
went over the results of Jim's tests and planned out their next
step. After eating, they all went back down the hall to another exam
room. . This one was filled with more electronic equipment than
medical. Rafe and Brown were on one side of the room, busily turning
on switches. A low hum filled the room.

"Now, the real work begins," Joel said, watching them set up the
various testing devices. He turned to Blair. Holding out the remote
control, he said, "Tell me again what they said these were for."

Blair explained what he had been told about the device, and Jim added
what he knew of it from personal experience. Joel was very careful
to handle the control delicately, so as not to affect Jim in any
way. Finally, the equipment was set up on a table, ready to go. He
nodded to Megan.

"All right, Jim. Let's get you ready. If you'd come over here," she
led the way to chair that looked like it would be more at home in a
dentist's office. Jim sat down and leaned back nervously, watching
as Joel, Brown, and Rafe ran through some tests on their equipment.
Blair came over to stand by Jim, feeling the other man's apprehension.

"We're just going to get some baseline readings from you," he said,
reassuringly. "Megan's going to hook up an EEG and we'll have you
run through a series of tests on your senses. Then we'll see how
this control affects you. No, no, no," he added hastily as Jim
tensed in the seat. "Nothing that should hurt you, nothing at all.
I promise."

Jim visibly forced himself to relax. Blair smiled at him, realizing
that Jim must still feel that he had no control over his life; that
these people could hurt him, and he couldn't do a damn thing about
it. "Let's get started," Megan said.

She took out a device that looked like a bowl of woven wire with
electrodes imbedded in it. "This is an EEG cap," the doctor
explained. "Much easier than using all that gel and gunk in your
hair, and perfectly adequate for our needs. I'll just settle this
over your head and run a few checks, then we'll be ready."

After the cap was settled, Megan had Jim blink rapidly, count to
thirty, then look left and right several times. Satisfied that the
machine was operating correctly, she nodded at Blair to begin his
portion of the testing.

Blair pulled a chair over next to Jim and began to speak. "First
thing we want to do, Jim, is get you completely relaxed. I'm going
to lead you through a series of techniques designed to induce an
alpha state. Do you know what that is?" Jim nodded.

"Good. Once you're completely relaxed, I'll lead you through some
exercises to isolate each sense, dialing up and down, so Megan can
get her readings. Ready to begin? Let's start with your breathing.
Listen to my voice, follow my directions." Blair led Jim through a
simple relaxation routine, then started testing his senses.

"Great, you're doing great, Jim," Blair said, sometime later, taking
the earphones off carefully so that he didn't disturb the
electrodes. They had finished with the sight tests, using a modified
virtual reality helmet, and the hearing portion.

"Now we'll test taste, smell, and touch," Blair said, going to a
cart on the side of the room. For the next hour, Jim tasted and
smelled various substances in differing combinations, always
listening to Blair's instructions of "take it to six, now tell me."
or "turn it down to four, are you at four?"

Once they were done, Blair stood up and stretched. "Okay, we need to
take a break. Jim's tired, and so am I." He smiled at the startled
look Jim threw him. "Come on, it's a beautiful day outside. Let's
get out of here and take a walk."

Blair grinned as he could feel Jim's relief. The big man stood and
stretched, much more impressively than Blair had. As Blair started
to lead the way out the door, Joel noticeably cleared his throat.
When Blair turned to him, Joel tossed him a small hand-held radio.
Blair nodded sheepishly, hooking the radio's holder to his belt.
Even within the security of the compound, they needed to maintain
their vigilance and ability to communicate with the others instantly.

Jim followed Blair out of the room. Blair led the way to an outside
door, and the two men found themselves in a small park. The early
afternoon sun shone brightly over the landscaped grounds. Jim
stopped and looked around, noting the high fence in the distance
enclosing the property.

"That's not to keep you in, Jim," Blair said quietly. "That's to
keep them out, in case they try to come after you. You're not a
prisoner."

"What if you can't get this collar off?" Jim asked. "What happens to
me then?"

"Well," Blair answered, as they started to walk, "practically and
realistically, you just couldn't wander off on your own."

"That's what I thought," Jim muttered, disappointment heavy in his
voice.

"What I mean is, you'd still have the collar and still be subject to
zones and spikes you couldn't control. What would you do?" Blair
asked.

Jim was quiet, thinking. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "God
damn it!" he burst out. "I hate this fucking thing!" Jim reached up
and grabbed the collar, pulling at it frantically.

Before Blair could say a word or reach over to stop him, Jim's head
snapped back and his body stiffened. A strangled cry broke from his
throat as he fell to the ground, twitching and gasping.

"Shit!" Blair fell to his knees beside the stricken man, unsure what
to do. Turning toward the building, he hoped fervently that someone
was monitoring the cameras. Scrabbling frantically for the radio,
Blair keyed the mike. "Sandburg, south courtyard," he yelled,
identifying himself and his location. "I need medical out here, NOW"

Turning back to Jim, Blair found the other man curled into a fetal
ball, trembling and panting, eyes clenched shut in pain. "Take it
easy, help's on the way," Blair said, reaching out to put his hand on
Jim's arm. Jim flinched violently away from Blair's touch, clasping
his hands tightly over his ears. His pain knifed through the guide's
barriers, and Blair scrambled mentally to protect himself.

Blair knelt helplessly by the man rocking on the ground, cursing
himself for leaving the control in the exam room. People poured from
the building behind him. Megan reached them first, pulling a
stethoscope from around her neck.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Shh," Blair hissed. "His hearing's out of control. We were
talking," Blair continued, quietly, reaching out to keep Megan from
touching the other man yet. Jim seemed to be quieting, no longer
rocking. He lay still, panting harshly against the ground "He
reached up and grabbed the collar, and next thing I knew he was on
the ground, just like when he got shocked before, when I first got
him."

"Jim," Megan said softly, "can you hear me?" Hands still held
tightly to his ears, Jim nodded, his face drawn in pain. "Blair, can
you do anything for him? Talk him down?"

"I'll try." Blair focused his attention solely on Jim, lowering his
barriers as much as possible. In a low voice, he said, "Jim, listen
to me. I know you're hurting, I can feel it. Everything's out of
control. But you're safe here, I'm here, and Megan's here. And
we're going to take care of you. Now, see if you can listen just to
me, to my voice. Try to find the dial for hearing and start to turn
it down. You can do it. You're in control, now, only you. Turn it
down; keep going, until it doesn't hurt anymore."

Blair was rewarded as Jim's hands began to relax, falling limply on
the ground. He turned briefly to the others on the team that had
come running, motioning them to stay back. Jim was still gasping,
his body still shuddering in the aftermath of what must have been a
massive jolt. "Okay, now touch. Just turn it all down, that's it.
Let all the pain fade away. Let it go and just relax. You're going
to be just fine."

A moment later Jim's shuddering stopped and his breathing evened
out. He blinked his eyes open, looking around in confusion. Blair
reached out and put a soothing hand on Jim's shoulder. "Easy, big
guy. Just rest for a minute. Megan's here, and she wants to check
you over, alright?"

Jim nodded, allowing Blair to turn him to his back. He lay quietly
while Megan leaned over him. She listened to Jim's chest, checking
his heartbeat and breathing. "Jim? Can you talk to me? Do you know
where you are?" Megan asked.

Jim took a deep breath and sighed. "I hate it when that happens," he
said.

"What? What happened?" Blair turned accusing eyes on the people
gathering around. "What did you do? Did one of you screw around
with the remote?"

"Down, Chief," Jim said, letting Blair pull him up to a sitting
position. "No one did anything. I did it to myself." His voice was
tired and defeated. He gestured toward his neck. "That's what
happens when you try to take the collar off."

They helped Jim up and back into the building. Megan insisted on
checking him over once more, but found that other than being
extremely tired he seemed alright. After giving him some orange
juice, Megan told him to relax in the reclined chair and try to rest.

The other members of the team waited for Megan to get finished with
her exam. In the short time they had known him, Jim had already
impressed them with his determination and courage in agreeing to the
experiments.

"So," Megan finally said, "tell me once more exactly what happened."
She nodded as Blair described the incident again, then asked, "And
they did this to him with the control before, as a demonstration?"
Again, Blair told them what had happened when he was `buying' Jim.

"Okay, here's what we know," Megan said. "The collar is capable of
emitting electromagnetic fields of differing frequencies, which act
directly on the brain behavior of the subject. I'll spare you the
boring details of hertz settings and monophasic versus biphasic
magnetic pulses. Suffice it to say that with the correct settings,
his senses can be controlled to a certain extent with EMFs."

She paused, noting that the other team members seemed to be with her
so far. "The other function of the collar, as we've seen recently
demonstrated, is to control the subject with an electrical shock
similar to that of a stun-gun. Now, with a stun gun, the amount of
electricity delivered is non-lethal. It will, however, cause the
victim some pain as well as muscle spasms and loss of muscle control,
confusion and disorientation. The amount of electricity generated
seems to be variable according to the settings on the remote
control. Except that the collar itself seems to generate a quite
sizable charge when the subject attempts to remove it, as Jim did
earlier."

Rafe whistled in amazement. He had known that getting the collar off
the sentinel might be difficult, but now this seemed to be an almost
impossible task. How did they remove it without causing him intense
pain? And once it was removed, how would he control his senses?

"Well, people," Simon finally said, "now we know a little more about
what we're facing. What's our next step?"

Joel spoke up. "First, I think we need to trace the circuitry in the
collar, see if we can identify which circuits control the EMF and
which ones the electrical charge. Megan, you said that the shock is
non-lethal. Can you guarantee that?"

Megan shook her head. "I said that the shock from a stun-gun was non-
lethal, by law. With this device, I just can't be sure. The shock
delivered to Jim earlier was enough to keep him from removing it by
incapacitating him. It doesn't need to kill him for that. A few
good bursts like that and he won't want to touch the collar. But as
to outside interference, I just can't say for sure. It might well
kill him if someone else tried to take it off."

Rafe spoke up. "If we get it off, how will he control his senses?"

"That's pretty much instinctual," Blair answered. "Most sentinels
can control their senses most of the time. However, that's why there
are guides, to help them when they get out of control. In the past,
sentinels and guides were paired by the tribal elders. The guide
helps the sentinel focus and keeps him or her grounded and centered.
In this case, if we get the collar off without killing him, I'll
function as a temporary guide until we can find someone to work with
him on a long term basis."

"Brown, any news from the other side?" Simon asked.

"Nope," Brown shook his head. "All quiet. Not a whisper that we got
a sentinel, but I'll keep in touch with our contacts over there.
I've also got an ear out for any others that come on the black
market. So, if this works, maybe we can get some more over here."

"Well, what are you standing around for?" Banks snapped. "Let's get
busy."

Jim looked up nervously as the team approached him. Taking a seat in
the chair beside Jim, Blair asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Jim answered. After a pause, he added, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Blair exclaimed. "For what?"

"For causing such a scene. I know better than to grab the collar.
Shit, that's one of the very first things you learn," Jim said
bitterly. Blair could the man's frustration and despair.

"Jim, don't worry about it. I'm just sorry you're still suffering
with that thing around your neck. I swear, we'll do everything we
can to free you," Blair said sincerely. Now, more than ever, he was
determined to carry through with the program.

Brown and Rafe wheeled a large cart filled with electronic equipment
over to the other side of the chair, while Joel sat down in front of
a computer on a desk by the wall. While they got set up, Blair
reached out once again to touch Jim's shoulder, whether for his
comfort or Blair's own he wasn't quite clear.

"Ready?" Rafe asked. At Jim's nod, he began running a wand over the
collar while Brown made minute adjustments. Joel watched the image
forming on the screen intently. Jim sat forward at Brown's
instructions so he could run the wand around the back of the collar.
They did this several more times, trying to build a complete
schematic for the collar's circuitry and embedded microchips.

"Okay," Joel sighed, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. "Now comes
the more difficult part. Blair, I need you to activate the different
controls on the remote. We need to know exactly what is controlled by
which circuits in the collar. Let's start with his senses first."

Megan put the EEG cap back on Jim's head and attached an instrument
that clipped on his finger to measure his pulse, blood pressure, and
oxygen levels in his blood. She would be monitoring Jim's physical
condition to make sure he wasn't in any distress. "Ready," she said
to Blair.

"Okay, Jim," Blair said. "I'm going to lead you through the
relaxation routine again. We'll take each sense down to about three,
then I want you to let go of your control. Just turn everything over
to me. Can you do that?"

Jim nodded, and Blair was almost overwhelmed by the sense of trust he
could feel from the sentinel. "Alright, then. Just relax. Breathe
in, hold it." Blair relaxed Jim into a light hypnotic trance.

"Good, Jim. You're doing great. Now just drift. Don't worry about
a thing. I want you to see your senses, see the dials. Watch the
dials and tell me when they move. You can't move them yourself, but
you can see them. Do you see them now?"

"Yes," Jim mumbled, voice slightly slurred.

"Good. I'm going to start with sight. Where is the dial for sight
set?" Blair asked.

"Three," Jim answered.

Blair carefully, carefully, selected the function he wanted with the
stylus and began to increase the level. "Is the dial for sight
moving?"

"Just barely," Jim answered.

"Okay," Blair said, moving the stylus more confidently. "What about
now? Where is it now?"

"Almost three and a half," Jim answered, eyes unfocused but moving
back and forth.

Rafe was holding the wand over the collar, looking back at Brown. H
frowned and shook his head. Looking up at Blair, Rafe said
softly, "It might be in the back. Can you get him to sit up?"

Blair nodded. "Jim, I want you to sit up now." He and Megan helped
steady Jim as they sat him up and lowered the footrest on the
examination chair.

"Good. Again," Rafe said quietly.

Blair nodded and continued manipulating Jim's senses, checking with
him at each increase and decrease. After an hour, Blair could feel
his concentration slipping. He would have to call a halt soon or
risk losing control of the sentinel's senses and inadvertently
hurting him. Just as he was about to say something, Joel sighed
loudly and sat back. "Okay. I think we've got it. You can stop
now, Blair."

Gratefully, Blair brought Jim out of the trance and sat back, rubbing
his face tiredly. Jim yawned hugely and waited for Megan to remove
the cap and clip, then turned to Blair. "You okay, Chief?"

"Yeah," Blair said, putting his hands on his back and bending left
and right. "How about you?"

"Fine, feel like I just had a good night's sleep," Jim answered,
smiling slightly.

"Huh, you should. All you've been doing is lying there. I've done
all the work," Blair griped, good-naturedly. He watched Jim
carefully, gratified when the sentinel seemed to catch the humor in
his words.

"You? What are the rest of us? Chopped liver?" Joel demanded.

"Yeah, all you've done is talk a lot," Rafe chimed in.

"Like that's work," Brown added his opinion. "You talk all the time."

"Children, children!" Megan scolded. She glared all of them into
silence. "I'll have you know that I am the hardest worker in this
room," she ended smugly.

Blair glanced at Jim as the friendly bickering broke out again. The
sentinel was sitting back in the chair, watching the affable argument
with a look of wistful longing on his face. After a few more quips,
the rest of the team quieted down. Megan and Joel were looking at
some information on Joel's computer screen while Brown and Rafe were
saving their results and running some tests on what they had found so
far.

Sitting back in his seat, Blair relaxed and opened his empathy
somewhat. Rafe and Brown seemed very satisfied with what they were
seeing on their screen. Jim was peaceful, waiting for whatever came
next with no trepidation. He had fully accepted his role in the
experiment.

A sharp flash of interest drew Blair's attention, and he turned to
look at Joel and Megan. They were speaking together in low voices,
glancing at Jim and Blair then back to the screen. In the chair
beside him, Blair felt Jim tense, his apprehension building. "What
is it, Jim?" Blair asked quietly. "What are they saying?"

Jim just shook his head, closing his eyes and lying back in the
chair. Gone was his brief moment of peace; in its place Blair could
feel resignation and fear. Blair looked back at Megan and Joel then
got up and stalked over to them.

"What's up?" he demanded.

"What?" Megan looked startled.

"Jim heard you, whatever you two were talking about. It scared him;
I can feel it. What's going on?" Every protective instinct Blair
had as a guide was screaming at him.

Megan and Joel exchanged glances, then Joel pulled Blair over to the
side. "Blair, we need to trace the other circuits. The ones that
provide the electroshock."

Blair paled, turning his gaze on the man leaning back against the
chair. "No," he whispered.

"Blair," Joel began kindly. He knew this would be the hardest part
of the procedure.

"No. There must be another way," Blair pleaded.

"Chief." Jim's voice cut through his thoughts. "I knew this would
probably happen. The minute anyone tries to take this collar off I
get zapped. You know that, now. You've seen it. Just keep the
control on its lowest setting. I promise you, I won't feel anything
more than a mild shock." Jim paused to give his next words more
import. "I trust you not to hurt me."

"Damn them," Blair muttered. "God damn them all to hell." At this
point, he wasn't quite sure if he meant those in the Empire or his
own colleagues. He hadn't risked his life to bring this man - this
gift, this sentinel - to Pacifica just to torture him in the name of
science. How would this make him any different from those in the
east who developed the collars in the first place?

Blair drew in a deep breath. Finally, he released it. "God, Joel.
How can we?"

Joel stared at him, a hard glint appearing in his eye. "How can we
not, Blair? We need to know how these circuits work if we're going
to bypass them. Do you want to go into this blind? What if he gets
another shot like he got out there?" Joel pointed vaguely in the
direction of the outside door.

"I know, I know, Joel. It's just that." Blair ran agitated hands
through his long hair. "He's been hurt so much already. I don't
think we've even scratched the surface of what's he been through."

"Blair." Blair jumped. Jim was standing right behind him. "I heard
what you were talking about," Jim said softly. "We've already
discussed this. I know what you have to do, and I'm willing to go
through with it."

Megan had joined their group. She spoke up. "I warned you that part
of this might be painful," she said. "We just don't know what the
collar is capable of."

Jim's eyes never left Blair's. Finally, reading the determination
and willpower of the other man, Blair nodded slightly. Turning to
Megan, he asked, "What do we need to do to get ready?"

Megan released a sigh of relief. They had known, intellectually,
that the process might be painful for the sentinel. They had not
counted on the fierce protective instinct that would be aroused in
the potential guide and team member. This was going to be every bit
as hard on Blair as it was on Jim.

"Jim, I don't want you to eat anything else, not until we're done
with this next part. Why don't you go lie down for about an hour,
take a break and get some rest. Let Joel, Rafe, and Brown plan out
what they're going to do, then someone will come get you."

Jim nodded, and with another glance at Blair, left for his own room.
The others watched him go in silence. Megan turned to
Blair. "Sandy." she began.

Blair held up his hand, forestalling her comment. "Just. give me
some time. I know it has to be done. I just have to get my head
around it." He was quiet for a moment. "I'll be in my room," he
finally said tiredly.

An hour later, there was a knock at Blair's room. "Sandburg? You in
there?" Simon's voice rang loud and clear through the thin door.

"Yeah, Captain. Come on in." Blair sat up in bed, swinging his legs
over the side. He remained sitting as Simon came into the room,
pulling out the chair from the generic desk and taking a seat. The
desk was piled with books along with several spiral notebooks, their
pages filled with notes.

Simon sat quietly for a moment, staring hard at Blair. Although his
gaze was direct, it was not unkind. "You gonna be okay to do this,
Sandburg?" he asked.

Blair sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "Yeah. I just hate
that it has to be done, that's all. How much more does he have to
suffer?"

"But if it leads to getting the collar off, then it's for a good
cause," Simon commented.

"Oh, yeah, the old `ends justifies the means'. We're no better then
them," Blair snapped irritably.

Simon sighed. "Blair, sometimes the ends do justify the means."
After a pause, he continued. "Do you want someone else to handle
this? Joel, or Rafe?"

"No!" Blair drew a deep breath, wondering where his outburst had
come from. "No," he said more quietly, "I have to. I'm the only one
who can read him, who can really tell what he's feeling. If it gets
to be too much, I don't think we can rely on him to tell us. He's
desperate to get that collar off."

"If it gets to be too much," Simon stared hard at Blair, "can we rely
on you to tell us?"

"Don't worry about me, Captain. I'm not the one who's gonna get
fried by that." Blair broke off his bitter remarks. Again, he
sighed. He had come to his room to meditate, to try to prepare
himself for the assault he was about to commit on his lifelong
dream. But he still felt no closer to acceptance than he had before.

"Blair, this is Jim's decision. Remember that. He's the one at risk
here. He's the only one who really stands to gain or lose by the
results." Simon waited for Blair's reply.

"I know," Blair answered softly. "But I just can't stand to see him
hurt."

Simon narrowed his eyes. "Is this a guide thing?" he asked. "Are
you bonding to him?"

"No," Blair gasped. "No," he repeated more forcefully, shaking his
head. "It doesn't work that quickly. And besides, I don't think
it's even possible while he has that collar around his neck. It's
just an instinctual response, I think. There's a deep-seated drive
in sentinels and guides to protect one another. They don't have to
be bonded to feel the imperative."

Simon nodded, but Blair could feel the seed of doubt that had been
planted in the captain. Who was he really trying to convince, Blair
wondered, Simon or himself?

"Well, let's go. It's getting late, and we want to get this over
with before dinner." Simon stood, waiting for Blair. "You go get
Jim; I'll tell the others we're ready."

Heavily, Blair nodded and trudged down the hallway. He paused at
Jim's door, but before he could knock, the sentinel had opened it.
Jim stood there, watching Blair with his expressive eyes. "Time?" he
finally asked. Blair just nodded, and together the walked toward the
treatment room. No words were necessary.

As before, Jim settled into the chair. Joel handed the remote collar
control to Blair, who looked as if he was taking hold of a snake.
Quietly, Rafe and H powered up their equipment, and Joel took his
place in front of the monitors. Megan attached the monitors to Jim
then stood close by, as did Simon. Blair could feel his captain's
sharp gaze as he stood, hesitating.

"What ." Blair began, then had to break off. Taking a deep breath,
he tried again. "What are the effects of this? What will it do,
exactly?"

"Well," Megan answered, "it depends on the voltage of the charge."
Blair nodded, remembering the discussion he'd had with
Jim's `sellers' and the demonstration of the collar's
capabilities. "When you touch a doorknob and get shocked, you're
receiving about twenty-five thousand volts, but that's at very low
amperage."

Blair broke in. "They said this could give a shock up to five
hundred thousand. They hit Jim with a three hundred thousand volt
shock, which put him completely down."

Joel picked up the explanation. "It's all a combination of voltage,
amperes, and hertz," he explained. "To make a long story short, most
stun guns have an effective shock value equivalent to three milliamps
in a sixty hertz shock. Safe levels have been set at five milliamps,
but the dangerous level is considered be up around fifty. My guess
is that the collar has a little higher setting than a regulation stun
gun."

Blair glanced at Jim. The sentinel was lying still on the reclined
chair, his eyes closed. He appeared calm and unconcerned, but Blair
could feel how rigidly he was controlling himself.

"What will it do to him?" Blair asked again.

Joel sighed. "There's also a time factor. The longer the charge is
applied, the worse the symptoms. Generally, one to two seconds will
cause some pain, muscle spasms, and confusion. Three to five seconds
will cause loss of balance and muscle control, and disorientation."

"What the shock does, basically," Megan said, "is to disrupt the
neurological impulses that travel through the body to control and
direct voluntary movement. When the neuromuscular system is
overwhelmed, disorientation and loss of balance occur. However, with
higher amperage, there is probably also some significant pain."

From the chair across the room, the subject of their discussion
snorted to show his opinion of their assessment. Ice blue eyes
opened and locked on theirs. "It hurts like a son of a bitch," he
snarled. "And I'd just as soon get on with it and get it over with."

"Well, you heard the man," Simon said, taking charge of the
experiment. "Let's not keep him waiting."

Reluctantly, Blair took his seat next to Jim. He studied the control
intently, then stared hard at the sentinel. "I don't want to do
this," he said, very quietly.

"I know. That's why it has to be you," Jim answered seriously.

Blair nodded, focusing on the control again. "Ready whenever you
are," he said.

Once again, as before, Rafe approached with the wand attached to the
electronic monitors. H adjusted his controls slightly, and Joel
turned back to his screens. Unconsciously, Megan and Simon took a
step toward the sentinel.

Taking a deep breath, Blair depressed one of the buttons. "What are
you feeling?" he asked.

"Just a slight tingle," Jim answered, opening his eyes and staring at
Blair suspiciously. "Are you sure you have that thing on?"

"As low as I can possibly get it," Blair answered, firmly.

"Well, turn it up. You're never going to get anywhere this way," Jim
growled.

"Hold it, Blair," Rafe said, before the guide could adjust the
controls any. "This is probably a good place to start. Let me just
get some readings, here. Jim, can you sit up so I can run this all
the way around?" Joel stared intently at his monitor as they began
to trace the circuits in the collar, building a three-d image on the
screen of the hair-thin wiring within the mesh fabric.

"Okay, Blair, can you turn it up, just a bit?" Rafe asked. Blair
grimaced, but did as the electronics expert bid.

Jim took a deep breath, shifting in the chair, blinking his
eyes. "How you doing?" Blair asked.

"Okay, still," Jim answered. "It doesn't really hurt, just kind of
hums. I can definitely feel the current."

"Yeah?" Blair said, curiosity piqued. "Where's your dial for touch?"

Jim thought for a moment. "About a four, maybe four and a half."

"What's normal for you?" Blair asked, cutting off the current. The
others listened to the conversation, wondering where it was leading.

"About three, usually. When I'm not working," Jim answered.

"You know, maybe if you turned down your sense of touch, like to
almost nothing, when the collar activates." Blair thought out loud.

"Sandy, I know where you're going with this," Megan broke in. "And
it won't work. The effects are not just pain, or not primarily.
Remember, the neurological impulses will still be affected,
regardless of what the subject actually, or subjectively, feels. We
still have to get the collar off of him. Completely, or he'll never
be free."

"Okay, okay. I know. I was just thinking," Blair replied, somewhat
dejected. "Jim," he continued, turning his attention back to the
sentinel, "take it down, back down to three. Just see if you can
keep it there."

Jim nodded, closing his eyes briefly. Frowning, he opened them
again. "I can't," he admitted. "The shock screws me up, most of the
time, even a mild one. You saw what shape I was in, out there.
After they. would bring me out of a zone, I'd have a lot of trouble
controlling everything. That's one of the reasons they ordered my
termination," he finished softly.

Blair looked up at Megan. "I don't like this," he said. "If even a
mild charge upsets his balance, his senses could spiral out of
control as we increase the level. I don't want to see a repeat of
what happened earlier."

"We could." Megan started, but Jim interrupted her.

"That's why you have the control," he said, staring at Blair, who
paled at his words. "Don't worry. You won't hurt me. I trust you,
Chief."

"Shit," Blair spat, jumping out of his seat. "Shit, shit, shit." He
paced about the room, agitated. How could this man trust him? He
hadn't even known Blair two days ago. And what right did he have to
give Blair control over his life? Control over his senses, his
pain? Blair didn't want to play God, didn't want the responsibility
of Jim's trust.

He turned, startled as powerful hands gripped his shoulders
painfully. Jim had pulled off the monitors and was holding him,
staring at him with ice blue eyes, hard with determination. "I want
this thing off," he hissed. "And I don't care what you have to do to
make that happen. You have no idea what I've endured up to this
point. There is nothing you can do, nothing, that I haven't lived
through before. Now, if you don't have to guts to go through with
this, then give the control to someone who does."

Easing his grip, allowing his face to soften, Jim continued. "I
would rather it be you with the control. I trust you, and I haven't
trusted anyone in a long time. But I won't stop now. And I won't
let you stop me, either."

Blair stared into the other man's gaze for a long minute, then
nodded. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Thank you," Jim breathed, releasing his grip.

Blair looked quickly around the room. Simon caught his eye, nodding
slightly. Taking a deep breath, Blair followed Jim back to the
chair. "Okay, guys, you ready?"

When everyone was back in position and the equipment ready, they
nodded. Blair turned back to the sentinel. "Alright, Jim, I'm going
to try to adjust your sense of touch. Tell me when it's back down to
three." Carefully, Blair adjusted the controls until Jim told him
they had reached the desired level. Rafe moved back in with the
wand, and Joel and H turned back to their monitors.

"I'm going to start back at the original setting," Blair
announced, "then we'll work our way up." He activated the
electroshock function again, asking Jim how he felt as Rafe traced
the circuitry just to confirm their findings.

"Where's your touch?" Blair asked. Receiving a satisfactory answer,
he asked Jim about the rest of his senses. "If something gets out of
control, if you start spiking, tell me immediately." When Jim
nodded, Blair said, "Okay. Going up a notch."

Jim stiffened slightly in the chair, drawing in a deep breath. His
arms and legs began to twitch slightly, and his breathing deepened
somewhat. "How you doing, Jim?" Blair asked.

"Okay," he replied evenly. "A little uncomfortable."

"How are your senses?" Blair pressed.

"Still under control, for now," Jim answered. Rafe ran the wand
along the collar, concentrating his attention on either side of Jim's
neck.

"How does it look, H?" he called.

"Looking good, babe," H answered, making some minute adjustments on
the monitor.

"Alright, Blair, kick it up."

The next half hour was hard on everyone. With each increase in
voltage, Jim's discomfort grew. His body shook continuously, sweat
pouring off of him. His breath grew ragged and harsh. Moans
occasionally forced their way through tightly clenched lips. He face
paled, and his eyes were tightly closed. He could no longer sit up
on his own, but had to be held by Simon and Megan as Rafe ran the
tracing wand along the back of the collar.

Blair deliberately kept his barriers lowered, determined not to shut
himself off from the pain he was causing the other man. He, also,
was pale and shaking by the time Megan called a halt.

"Stop," Megan commanded. "Stop, Blair. That's all he can take for
now."

Blair immediately shut off the control, slumping in his chair. He
wiped a trembling hand over his face. Then he turned to face the
results of his actions.

Jim lay limply in the examination chair, drawing in deep shuddering
breaths. His muscles still trembled; his arms, legs, and face
twitching spasmodically. He looked washed out, utterly spent. Megan
was leaning over him, listening intently to his heart and breathing.
Even though she had the monitors to tell her his condition in detail,
she still felt the need to touch him, to verify for herself that
there would be no lasting harm.

"How is he?" Blair asked.

"He's going to be fine, Sandy," she assured him. "He'll be tired and
worn out, and possibly a little sore. Probably a headache, too. The
shock depletes his body's available reserves of energy; so I'm going
to start an IV, give him some glucose and fluids. When that's done,
I want him to go to bed. Later, if he feels like it, he can have
something light to eat, some soup and jello, perhaps."

Megan stared at Blair critically. "You could use something to eat,
too, Sandy." She hesitated, then continued softly. "You kept your
barriers down, didn't you?"

Blair stared back defiantly. "If he has to go through this, the
least I can do is monitor him."

She nodded. "Just don't." After hesitating, Megan began
again. "Just don't get too caught up in it. You're here to help
him. And you can't do that if you're incapacitated."

Face pale, Blair's eyes took on a frightened look. "It's going to
get that bad?"

"Yes. Probably. Tomorrow," Megan answered, "when we try to remove
the device."

"Sandburg," Jim said weakly. "She's right. I need you strong, you
hear me? I'm counting on you."

Blair stood suddenly and hurried out of the room. Megan stared after
him, then sighed. She quickly set up the IV pole and hung a couple
of bags of colorless fluid on them. "He'll be okay," she assured Jim
as she wrapped a rubber band around his upper arm. "Make a fist for
me."

"He's sick," Jim said.

"He's what?" Megan frowned as she swabbed the back of Jim's hand,
patting the vein gently.

"He's in the bathroom, throwing up," Jim clarified softly.

Megan sighed. "I'll see about him in a minute. Now, you might feel
a sting."

" 'Might'?" Jim snorted.

She ignored him as she deftly inserted the needle and started the
flow of fluids. "Got it in one," Megan bragged. "Now, you just
rest, and I'll be back in just a little bit." Jim nodded as Megan
left the room.

Even though the dorm-like rooms in the compound had individual
bathrooms, there were several bathrooms along the halls of the
working rooms, as well. Megan hurried to the nearest one and knocked
on the door. "Sandy? Are you in there?"

"Just a minute," Blair's voice called back, sounding somewhat
strained. Megan could hear the water running, then Blair opened the
door. His face was pale, still dripping with the cool water he had
splashed on it. Leaning wearily on the doorframe, he stared at the
medical doctor.

"Oh, Sandy," she murmured. "Are you alright?"

"No," he answered shortly. "Megan, I don't know. I don't know if I
can do this. Tomorrow." His voice trailed off.

"Tomorrow," she said sternly, "you will be right there by his side,
with your barriers as strong as possible. He needs you, Blair, and
he's counting on you. You will not let him, or this project, down."

"This `project'," Blair spat, "is a human being, or have you
forgotten that?"

"Have you?" Megan retorted. "He is a human being, one who has been
abused and enslaved. This is his only chance at freedom, or have you
forgotten that?"

Blair closed his eyes, sagging against the wall. "No. I haven't.
It just. hurts him so much."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that. But we have to learn how the
collar works in order to remove it. And if we can get one off, we
can get them all off." She reached out and rubbed Blair's arm
comfortingly.

"Now," she continued, her voice brisk, "you get something to eat.
Jim should be ready to go back to his room in about half an hour."

Blair nodded and turned away, heading for the kitchen. Once in the
common eating room, he found the array of serving dishes with a
variety of foods. He passed on the spaghetti and meatballs, but
paused at the roasted chicken. Briefly considering some chicken and
green beans, he decided he wasn't quite ready for solid food.
Checking out the other containers, he finally got a bowl of chicken
noodle soup and a couple of dinner rolls. Grabbing a can of juice
from the fridge, he sat down at one of the tables to eat.

Brown shortly joined him, setting his plate of chicken, green beans
and corn on the table, then getting a soft drink from the
fridge. "How you doing, Hairboy?" he said affectionately, taking a
big bite of his dinner.

Blair looked up, smiling weakly at the older agent. "Okay, I guess.
God, I could sure use a beer about now."

Brown chewed then swallowed. "We could go into town," he offered
cautiously. While involved in the project, the agents were supposed
to stay at the compound. But Banks was known to turn a blind eye to
the occasional forays into the nearby town. However, now that the
sentinel was actually here, on site, security was much tighter.

Blair shook his head. "Thanks, man, but we'd better not. Besides, I
don't want to leave Ji." he stopped, biting off what he was about to
say.

Taking a drink of his soda, Brown smiled indulgently. "Don't want to
leave Jim, huh?" The other man's expression sobered. "Blair, we've
all studied the material you gave us. You're not bonding, are you?"

Staring at Brown, Blair asked, "Have you been talking to Simon?"

Confused, Brown shook his head. "About what?"

Blair just sighed. "No, I'm not bonding to him, and he's not bonding
to me. In fact, I wonder if he'll even be able to bond once the
collar's off." Blair's eyes took on that faraway look that the rest
of the team had gotten to know so well. Brown just watched as Blair
ate his soup, his mind obviously otherwise engaged.

Taking his dishes to the sink, Blair said, "I'm going to go check on
him," as he left the room.

Rafe and Joel passed him on the way in. Joel turned to watch the
anthropologist's retreating back, then looked at H. "How's he
doing?" he asked.

Brown shrugged. "Okay, I think. He got some kind of idea, and ."
Brown waved his hand in the air, wiggling his finger. Rafe and Joel
chuckled; they knew what the gesture meant. When Blair got an idea
in his head, the rest of the world could cease to exist. It was a
side of him only the people he worked with ever got to see. Out on a
case, that kind of preoccupation could get one killed. In the field,
he was totally focused.

Down the hall, Blair paused in the doorway of the treatment room.
Megan was putting up the IV equipment, talking to Jim quietly. Jim's
eyes turned immediately to Blair, and Megan followed his gaze.

"Oh, Sandy, glad you're here. The other guys just left, and I could
use your help," she said.

"Sure," Blair answered, his eyes never leaving Jim's. "How are you
feeling?" he asked the sentinel.

"Better," Jim replied. "Still a little tired. How are you?"

Blair looked away. "Fine," he answered shortly.

"Okay, Jim, let's get you up," Megan said, sitting the examination
chair up. "Now, just sit there for a moment, tell me if you feel
dizzy at all."

"No, no problem," Jim said.

"Good. Sandy, if you'll get his other side, I want to walk him down
to his room." Megan positioned herself on one side of Jim, ready to
help him stand.

"I'm fine," Jim said, again, pushing to his feet. "I don't need any."

"Whoa, there, big fella." Megan smiled as Jim leaned precariously to
the side. Blair hurried over to support him.

"Sorry, just got dizzy there for a moment," Jim mumbled, embarrassed.

"It'll pass," Megan assured him. Slowly, Blair and Megan helped Jim
down the hall to his room. Once Jim was lying down on the bed, Megan
pulled a small electronic device from her pocket. Putting Jim's
finger in a hole in one end, she checked his blood pressure and pulse
rate.

"Good, you're blood pressure is normal and your pulse is slowing.
Blair, I want you to get him something light to eat, bring it to his
room. Jim, after you've eaten something, you can get up if you feel
like it, but I'd like someone to stay with you for the next few
hours, okay?"

Blair frowned as the sentinel merely nodded his head, eyelids sliding
closed. The man's weariness rolled over Blair like a heavy wave. He
followed Megan out of the room.

"Megan, you sure he's okay?" Blair asked as soon as the door closed
behind him.

"He will be, Sandy," she reassured him. "Even though he's not in any
pain now, that type of experience can be very draining. Not to
mention the physical after-effects of the electrical shock. Some
rest and something to eat will help a lot."

Blain nodded, shooting a worried look at the door to Jim's
room. "Well, I'll go get him some soup. What do you think, juice or
tea?"

"I'd prefer him to have some juice, but if he wants tea, I want you
to put real sugar in it. He needs to replenish his reserves of
energy."

Nodding again, Blair headed to the kitchen. Returning a short time
later, he knocked on Jim's door with one hand while he balanced a
tray with the other.

"Come on in, Chief," Jim called, his voice still reflecting his
tiredness.

Blair pushed the door open and edged into the room. Jim still lay on
the bed fully dressed, having kicked off his new shoes. The light on
the bedside table had been turned to the lowest of the three
settings, leaving much of the room in shadows. Setting the tray on
the desk, Blair turned to Jim.

"Do you want to sit over here and eat or stay in bed?" he asked.

Jim opened his eyes, squinting at the guide hovering anxiously in the
room. "Can I just stay here?" he all but pleaded.

"Sure, man, whatever you want," Blair hurried to answer. After what
Jim had been through today, Blair would hold him up and spoon feed
him if he asked. Somehow, that seemed like a distant
possibility. "I've got some chicken noodle soup. It's pretty good,
that's what I had for dinner. Got crackers here, and some chunks of
cheese, and a bowl of grapes. Also some apple juice, or I can get
you some tea if you want."

"No, that's fine. I'm not really that hungry, anyway," Jim
muttered. He seemed embarrassed by Blair's attention.

Blair helped Jim sit up, propping several pillows behind him. Once
he got the tray arranged on Jim's lap, he pulled the desk chair up
beside the bed. For the next few minutes, the two men were quiet.
Jim ate his soup and sipped at his juice. Blair leaned over in his
chair, elbows braced on his knees, staring into the shadows.

"What was he like?" Blair's soft voice broke the silence.

Jim paused, spoon halfway to his lips. He knew instantly what Blair
was asking. Finishing his soup, Jim pushed the tray away. Blair
picked it up and returned it to the desk, noting that Jim had not
touched the crackers, cheese, or fruit. Taking one of the grapes
himself, Blair popped it into his mouth and sat back down.

"Dan Wolf." A half smile graced Jim's features for a moment, then
faded away. "He was a Native American, just a little older than me.
Hell of a guy. He was a doctor, well, a coroner. Before - before
everything changed, I was with the police, right here in Cascade.
That's how we met. Then, all hell broke loose, and Dan and I got
reactivated, shipped back east. We had both been in the Army before
the police department, although different times, different units."

Jim's eyes were far away as he paused. "When we were with the PD, he
used to get antsy. He had to get away from civilization eve