DISCLAIMER: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Paramount Studios and Pet Fly Productions. These stories are offered for the enjoyment of the fans. No money has exchanged hands.
Kevin Miller dropped down onto the couch next to his lover, Tyler Hirken with a sigh. "Ty, I can't believe we just had over a hundred people in this house. What a mess!" The lamplight highlighted the gray in his carefully clipped black hair. Clear gray eyes glowed with happiness even as exhaustion carved lines into his distinguished features.
Tyler flashed his pearly whites. "Well, you know, you didn't have to invite half the clientele from your cafe to the Christmas party."
Kevin shook his head, laughing. "Oh yeah? And what about all those people you invited? I seem to remember a couple of sweet young things. Should I be jealous?"
Tyler swung his feet up onto the couch, putting his head in his partner's lap. Looking up, his brown eyes shone with joy and mischief. "Never. I'm yours from now until eternity. Till death does us part! Or, at least a good pate."
Kevin laughed. "You and food. You're like a horse: feed you, exercise you, strap on a little leather..." He ran his fingers through Tyler's brown hair. How many more evenings like this would they have together?
Tyler gave him a mock frown. "Are you saying I'm losing my girlish figure?" He tried, and failed, to pinch an inch at his waist.
"I'm saying you're..." The doorbell rang. "Who could that be? We already threw everyone we knew out the door an hour ago." He shoved Tyler's head off him and stood up. Walking to the door, he opened it. Kevin shivered in the cool air coming from the open door.
A smooth deep male voice said, "Hi. Kevin Miller?"
Kevin smiled uncertainly. "Yes, I'm Kevin Miller."
"You don't know me, but Father Hills gave me your name. He said you might be able to help me."
Tyler came up behind Kevin. Putting his arms around him, he put his chin on Kevin's shoulder and smiled at the person at the door. "Hey, what can we do you for?"
"Can I come in and talk?"
Kevin hesitated. It was late and he had to open the cafe the next morning. Ty gave him a quick hug. Patting Tyler's hands, he opened the door wide. "Sure, come right on in."
The jungle closed around him, thorny vines catching on his thick black coat. As he ran through leafy ferns and over rotting logs, rocks cut the pads of his feet until they throbbed with pain. Still, he kept running. Somewhere ahead of him came the anguished howl of a wolf. He doubled his speed, ignoring the agony each step brought him.
Looming in his path were the remains of an ancient tree that had fallen to the jungle floor. Powerful muscles bunched as he gathered himself to leap. Springing, he cleared the log, only to howl when he realized that nothing lay beyond the giant log but air. Time froze as he hung in mid air, his cat eyes taking in everything. To his left was a ragged rope bridge stretched across the ravine, one of the guide ropes dangling towards the ground below it. A silver wolf was crouched on the wooden slats, his ears laid back in fear. Time unfroze. Screaming in rage, the cat tumbled through the air, head over heels. Above him there came a snapping sound and a growl of despair.
Noooooo! Jim woke up, his mind screaming. Strong fingers clung to the sweat-soaked sheets, as the sensation of falling pushed his body further into the mattress. Forcing his eyes open, he stared at the skylights above him, the rush of blood sounding like the roar of the ocean. He dialed back his hearing. It was just a dream, Ellison. It can't hurt you. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, releasing his fingers from their death grip. Cautiously he dialed his hearing back up, listening to the hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the whir of the heater turning on.
His heartbeat spiked as a moan like the one from his dream sounded in the apartment. Holding his breath, he listened. Before the second moan ended, the covers were off him and his hand was reaching for his robe. Cool air lapped the sweat-slicked skin of his legs, causing the coarse hairs to stand on end. He ran silently down the steps and around the corner into his partner's room. Pausing at the french doors, he took in the thrashing ball of tangled blankets, zooming in on the mop of dark curls peeking out at the head of the bed. Sitting down on the bed, he grabbed his partner's shoulders in a firm but gentle hold.
"Sandburg, wake up. You're safe, Chief, wake up."
The movement beneath the blankets stilled as Blair moaned his name. "Jim?"
Giving his shoulders an encouraging squeeze, Jim whispered his response. "Yeah, it's me. I need you to wake up now, Chief."
Long lashes fluttered open. A hand struggled through the twisted sheets to come up and clutch Jim's. Assured the sentinel's presence wasn't part of his nightmare, Blair collapsed into the bed. "Oh God Jim, it was so real. All that blood and Cyndi. I couldn't stop the blood. I couldn't stop it from happening!"
Jim's heart twisted at the despair in his friend's voice. It echoed the howl of the wolf in his dream. Turning his hand over, he clasped the sensitive fingers lying on top of his own. "Yeah, I know. You just have to remember it's all in your head. It can't hurt you."
Blair gave a shallow laugh. "I know that when I'm awake, I just can't seem to remember it when I'm dreaming. I mean, what is a dream? It's a bunch of symbols that your mind uses to process the day's events. And even in visions you can't take what you see for granted. It's all symbolic." He tried to sit up, but the blankets were tightly wound around him.
Jim chuckled softly. "I think sometimes you get wrapped up in all that logic. Here let me help. With the hair and all you look like someone's mummy."
The blankets tightened around the hapless guide as tried to squirm out of his nocturnal cocoon. "Ha ha, Jim. Very punny. I feel like I'm back in my dream. Trapped."
Leaning over younger man's body, Jim tugged at the fabric. "Yeah, I know, that's the way that it was in my dream."
Giving up on the struggle, Blair lay there, looking up at Jim. "Oh man, I'm so sorry."
Jim frowned at Blair. "Why are you sorry? It's not you're fault I had a nightmare."
"Yes it is. I mean, you've been listening to me have nightmares for the past few weeks. I'm just surprised that you didn't start having them before now."
Shaking his head, Jim found the loose end of the sheet under Blair's shoulder. "Blair, we live together, we work together, but please do not suggest that we dream together. That would just be too scary."
Blair looked up at Jim. "I'm serious, man."
Grasping the sheet tightly, he shook his head at Blair. "So am I. Getting information out of you is like squeezing water out of a rock. You talk to that department shrink that Simon sends you to, but you won't talk to me. It's been weeks now since the Cristo case and all I've gotten out of you is that you're fine. You're not fine, you're hurting and I want to help you. But I can't help you if you don't let me in." Jim winced at plaintive note in his voice, but dammit, Sandburg had to open up. One last yank and the blanket came free.
Blair rolled away from Jim as the colorful quilt unwound from around him like thread from a spool. Landing on the floor with a soft thud, his sleep-mussed head slowly came up. "I told you, Jim, they're just nightmares. I can handle them."
He tossed the quilt to his partner. "Yeah, you're handling them all right. You've been having them off and on for the past two months. You have to talk about them with me. Really talk about them. You can't handle this alone. You taught me that."
Standing up, Blair spread the quilt over his bed. Picking up a pillow, he turned to Jim. "You want details? Fine, I'll give you details. I'm in uniform, answering a call. I have my gun out. I go into this apartment building. I smell some burning incense so I follow it. I knock on the door and no one answers. There's some murmuring, so I kick the door in. There's my younger self, sitting on the floor in some sort of trance, chanting. The crystal pendent that Cyndi gave me, the one from my vision, is hanging in the air in front of him, me. I put my gun down and step into myself." He hugged the pillow tightly, as if he could squeeze the dream into a ball and throw it away. "All of a sudden, I'm -- we're -- in front of the door to Cyndi's meditation room. I don't want to go in, but the door opens and we go in. Cyndi's on the floor and there's blood everywhere. I look around and there's a mirror." He took another shuddering breath. "I see Cristo's reflection in the mirror. I was Cristo and I had a knife in my hand, blood on my hands, on my shirt, it was everywhere." He tossed the pillow violently down on the bed. "It happens every single time. I can't change it. I felt her dying, Jim. I killed her."
"You didn't kill her, Chief. Cristo didn't even kill her. Manning killed her."
"He used Cristo's MO. And it was my involvement in the case that got her killed. He killed her to set Cristo and me up. I knew she was going to die." He sat down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Jim, his eyes shining with tears he refused to let fall. "I saw Cyndi dead in my Sierra Verde vision, Jim. Then, when I was preparing to go undercover, I saw her death again. I saw your death, Jim, in the Sierra Verde vision. What if you die too? What if I can't stop the terrible things I saw from coming true?"
Jim flipped the quilt over Sandburg's legs and sat down next to him. "I'm not dead yet, Sandburg. What you saw is the future. It hasn't happened yet. We can change that future."
Blair shook his head. "Yeah, it could change. Like your vision changed what happened? I died. You saw my death in a vision and I died."
Jim felt the blood drain out of his face. It had been the worst moment in his life when they'd pulled Blair's limp body out of the fountain. He'd killed him. He killed his best friend. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy. And now Blair was facing the same dilemma. He stood up. "That's not going to happen, Blair. It's not going to happen."
Blair looked up at Jim, despair in his eyes. "How do you know?"
Jim pulled him into a one-arm hug. Taking a moment, he thought about it. "Because in the vision I had I shot you with my arrow. Did that happen?"
"No, I drowned. But dead is dead, Jim."
"Yeah, but you said it yourself, dreams and visions are symbolic. I symbolically killed you. These dreams you are having, they're symbols of the fears you have. It was my fear that killed you. I didn't listen to my spirit guide. I shoved you away when I should have kept you close. This time will be different. We'll talk and we will face this together."
Small shivers ran through the younger man's body. He leaned into the older man's warmth. "You think that will be enough, Jim?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Blair poked him in the ribs. "Well then, what did you dream tonight, huh?"
Jim's hand buried itself in thick curls, rubbing away the tension that it found there while he thought about his answer. The feeling of urgency that he had felt in his dream filled him again, making his pulse jump. "In my dream I was in the jungle and I was the panther. I found you on the rope bridge as the wolf. You were on the middle of it and it was falling apart. You were the one in danger." His stomach dropped as the weightless feeling returned at the memory of his own drop.
"It's okay Jim. The bridge fell apart in my vision. It was a test of faith. Maybe what I need is faith. Faith in the future."
Jim's hand tightened on Blair's shoulder. If Blair had passed the test in his vision, why did it seem like he failed in Jim's dream?
Blair looked at Jim, concerned. "Did anything else happen in your dream?"
Jim hesitated, his eyes sliding away from Blair's intelligent gaze. He was afraid of what his dream fall meant. Did it mean he was afraid of failing Blair? That he wouldn't be there for him?
"I dreamt that I fell into the ravine. As I was falling, I could see the rope bridge fall apart on you. I didn't even look down. I just watched the bridge fall apart."
Blair expression was serious, but his eyes smiled at Jim as he replied with a fake German accent. "Very interestink. I dink da symbols of the bridge and the falls are very symbolic, ja? Da fall is symbolic of a loss of control. Da bridge indickates a transitional phase. You are afraid dat you will have no control if I am in trouble, ya?"
Jim put on a suitable awed expression. "You can tell all that from my dream?"
Blair sniffed as if offended. "That and the fact I feel the same way about you." His act crumbled as he grinned at Jim. "Why do you think I could never stay in the truck?"
"Here I thought it was insatiable curiosity." Jim shook his head in mock dismay.
"Hey, it's not my spirit guide who's a cat. Even though you did bring me back."
Jim groaned. "Please Blair. Mixed metaphors at this time of the morning is inhumane." He stifled a yawn. It had been a long day at work and they still had a couple of hours before dawn.
"It sounds like someone is ready to go back to bed." He wrinkled his nose. "Though, you may want to take a shower before you go back upstairs. You stink."
Jim smiled ruefully. "You don't smell like roses yourself, Chief. These night terrors are going to send our laundry bill through the roof. I have dibs on the fresh sheets."
Blair tried to lunge out of bed, but Jim was still sitting on his quilt. "No fair, Ellison. That's entrapment."
He stood up, freeing him. "That's making sure I get fresh sheets. All we have left are the flat ones, and you're not the one with the sensitive nose. Go hop in the shower and while I make up my bed. You have five minutes."
Tossing off the sheets, the younger man shivered in the cool air. "Five minutes, huh? You think you can get the sheets and remake your bed that fast?" His impish grin implied doubt at the idea.
Jim's chin rose as he looked down at his partner. "I think I can handle it. Why, do you care to make a wager?"
"Why, I believe I will. Whoever finishes last has to do the laundry tonight." He stuck out his hand. "Deal?"
Jim shook his hand. "Deal. Remember, no softener in the wash for my sheets."
Blair groaned as the alarm went off. His arm reached out from under the warm nest of blankets and slapped the snooze button. Just one night of uninterrupted sleep would be nice. If it wasn't the nightmares, then it was work. Not that he hadn't appreciated the reprieve from crime sprees, but having nothing to do could be as tiring as having too much to do. Of course, he could have done without theY2K serial killer case. Morton Schenk didn't even have insanity as an excuse for killing. He should have known he wasn't cut out for computer programming and just cut his losses. Like maybe I'm not cut out for police work? Blair loved his job, but there were sometimes if he wondered if he had made the right choice, joining the force.
Shoving that thought away, he remembered last night's mad dash to the shower with a smile. He'd almost killed himself slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, but he'd made it in and out of the shower in under three minutes. It had taken Jim three and half minutes to remake his bed. I'll have to remind Jim that I like softener in my sheets.
Rolling over, Blair buried his head in the pillow. It's time to get up now, body. Any second Jim will be coming through that door and say...
Jim stuck his head in the doorway and called out cheerfully. "Rise and shine, Chief. You still have to take your morning shower. Breakfast is in twenty minutes. "
Blair lifted his head. That wasn't what I was expecting. Jim's usually a bear in the morning. Especially when he doesn't get his normal sleep. "Jim, have you been in the catnip again?"
Jim grinned as he leaned against the door jam. "Nope. You know that experiment you tried a couple months ago, the one where you tried different stimuli to affect my dreaming?"
Blair let his head fall back onto the pillow. "Yeah, we stopped it because it was giving you such weird dreams. The running water made you dream of going white water rafting upstream without any paddles. The towel on your pillow made you dream that the Downey bear was after you. You never did tell me what that bit of sage I put in your room made you dream of." He smirked at the red creeping up his partner's face.
"It was just a weird dream about a ritual or something. I can't even remember what the point to it was." Jim glared at Blair, daring to contradict him. When Blair said nothing, he continued. "And why did you put sage in my room? You know I'm allergic to it."
Blair put his most innocent look on. "You're only allergic to the fumes from burnt sage, like insense, or if you inhale actual particles. Otherwise, dining out would be a real hassle. I was kinda curious what you would dream about."
Jim snorted. "Uh-huh. You know what curiosity did to the cat. How did we get on this topic, anyway?"
Blair sat up in bed. "You were the one who brought it up. Something to do with your good mood this morning?"
Jim straightened. "Oh yeah. I spilled some baby powder last night in the bathroom. I cleaned it up, but some of it must have gotten on my boxers. By the way, why do we have baby powder in the bathroom?"
"I used it in my tennis shoes last night. The talcum powder absorbs the smell. So what did you dream about?"
Jim sighed, his face softening. "Everything was out of focus and the perspective was all screwed up. I remember feeling safe and loved. There was a woman's voice and she was singing to me. I don't remember anyone singing to me like that."
There was a peaceful look on Jim's face that Blair had never seen before. So many things have happened to him, so many demons to haunt him in the night. Now he has some of my demons chasing him. Then it hit him, who the woman was.
"Jim, don't you realize who that woman was? It was your mother! That baby powder must have triggered a sensory memory from when you were a baby."
The peaceful look vanished from his partner's face, replaced with a pained expression. He said abruptly, "You only have ten minutes left, Sandburg. It's too late for bacon and eggs. I'm going to do some toast. Do you want some?"
Blair sighed. So much for the peaceful Ellison. "Yeah, a couple slices of whole wheat sounds good. Light on the butter."
Jim nodded and left the room. Blair yanked the covers off and stood. Open mouth, insert foot. You are soo Mister Sensitivity this morning.
Jim checked his watch. Five minutes until we have to leave and Sandburg still isn't out of the bathroom. He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. I'll have to remember not make coffee when I'm distracted. Ugh.
Blair slipped out of the bathroom and dashed into his room. Jim heard him rummaging through his clothes for something to wear into work. You know, Chief, if you organized your closet it would be easier to find a clean shirt in the morning. Turning back to newspaper, he reread the headlines. Y2K predications proved groundless. I guess everyone was pretty much prepared for that. Robert Asters must have been real disappointed. I wonder what he and his group of survivalists are going to do now?
His brooding was interrupted as Blair came out of his bedroom, tugging on his thick sweater. Jim handed him the paper towel wrapped pieces of toast and his thermal cup of coffee. "Ready to go?"
Blair nodded. "Yeah. Let me grab my coat and we're all set." They walked over to the door. Jim grabbed his coat and put it on. A smile tugged at his lips as Blair juggled the coffee and the toast, trying to get his coat on without dropping them. Without a word, he took the mug and the toast from his partner. Blair smiled his thanks and shrugged into his coat.
Making one last check of the loft, Jim followed his partner through the door. As he listened to the tumblers locking, he heard the door down the hall opened. He turned around to watch their new neighbor backed out.
Her legs were the first things to catch his eye. They were showcased in a tight leather miniskirt. Moving north, his gaze skimmed over the slender hips and the long line of her back. Her dark brown hair streaked with bronze was professionally cut and styled, tumbling around her shoulders. Locking her door, she turned around. He noted her skin was a creamy cocoa. Slender arms struggled with a bundle of magazines and a long wool coat. Slick periodicals slid from her arms onto the floor as she noticed the two men staring at her. Even the surprised squeak she made was attractive.
Blair handed his coffee and toast to Jim. "Here, let me help. We didn't mean to startle you." Jim watched, bemused, as Blair turned on his famous Sandburgian charm and crouched down to gather the magazines.
The woman smiled, a light blush staining her angular cheeks. "You didn't startle me; I was being clumsy." She tried to get down and help, but the tight skirt and high heels made it impossible. Standing, she smiled at Jim. "Hi, I'm Leesha Timmons." She held out her hand.
Jim was mesmerized by sparkling sapphire eyes surrounded by lush black lashes. Balancing the toast on top of the coffee, his large, strong hand gently grasped her delicate one, cradling it as if it were made from spun silk, careful of his strength. He noted the manicured nails and long slender fingers. "Jim Ellison, and my partner, Blair Sandburg. We haven't had a chance to welcome you to the building, yet. If you need anything, we're just across the hall."
Blair stood up. "Do you have a bag or anything you can put these in? These magazines are real slippery."
Full lips made a moue of distress. "No, I just moved in and I haven't made a run yet to the grocery store. The agency had someone stock my kitchen before I came."
Jim unlocked the door to loft. "Chief, why don't you go in and grab a plastic bag out of the kitchen. I'll keep Miss Timmons company."
Blair stood there for a second. Jim could see he was torn between getting the bag for Leesha and leaving his roommate alone with her. Obviously sensing he was outmaneuvered, he smiled and stepped back into the loft.
There was silence as they stood there, taking each other's measure. Leesha was the first to speak. "How long have you two lived here?"
"Blair moved in with me a few years ago. I've been here a bit longer. You buying or renting?"
Leesha smiled. "Renting. I've decided to make an extended stay here in Cascade. That's why the agency set me up in an apartment this time."
"What agency is that?"
Leesha opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Blair came out.
"Here you go, Leesha. That's an awesome shot of you on the cover."
All three of them looked down at the magazines. There she was in a full-length evening gown, her long legs peeking through a slit on the side. Jim thought he saw a flash of surprise on her face from the corner of his eye, but when he looked up, the expression was gone.
"Yes, thank you. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm running a little late. Thanks for all your help." Turning around, she started down the hallway towards the elevator, not looking back.
Blair frowned. "What did I say?"
Jim put an arm around him. "I don't know. Here, take your breakfast and let's go. We're late." A splash of color caught his eye. Handing the coffee and now cold toast to Blair, he leaned down and picked up the stray magazine. "You missed one." He looked down the hall but Leesha had already gone. Bypassing the elevator, he opened the stairway door and Blair slipped through.
"Huh, must have slid behind you. I don't think we're going to catch her. I'll take it back to her tonight." Their footsteps echoed in the stairwell.
"You will, will you? And what makes you think that I'll let you. I'm the one who found it." Jim held the magazine out and away from Blair as he reached for it again.
Blair huffed. "But I picked up the rest of them. I missed this one, so I should take it back."
Jim gave him a toothy grin. "Possession is nine tenths of the law. I think that I'm the one who'll be taking it back."
Simon was coming down the hallway when Jim and Blair stepped off the elevator. He walked up quietly behind the arguing pair.
"I saw her first, man. Now give me back that magazine."
He grinned at the friendly bickering. Blair had been much too quiet after the Cyndi Blake incident. Then he'd acted like police work was one big bore. The Christmas season had temporarily cured him of that. Now he was acting more like the Sandburg he knew.
Schooling his face into a serious expression, he made his presence known with his deep rumbling voice. "Who is she?" He smothered another grin as the younger man jumped around, surprised.
"Simon! Jim and I were just talking about our new neighbor, Leesha Timmons. Can you believe it, the Leesha Timmons living just across the hall from us."
Simon could practically see the enthusiasm radiating from the kid in waves. He turned to Jim as they entered the bullpen. "The Leesha Timmons? The one who's been on the cover of almost every major fashion magazine for three years running?" Simon was glad that he didn't have his cigar in his mouth, or he might have swallowed it. The Leesha Timmons.
The absolute silence of the room brought him back to the bullpen. Looking around, he saw all his detectives staring at him. He glared at everyone, daring someone to comment. The bullpen burst back into motion as everyone suddenly found something urgent to do.
He looked back at the pair who had started this. Jim was holding a magazine out of Blair's reach, while Blair hopped and feinted in an effort to get it away from the taller man.
"Children, children," Simon chided. "If you can't share, then I'm going to have to take that toy away from you."
Both of them stilled. Blair retreated to behind his desk. Jim brought the magazine down.
"That's better. May I see?" He held out his hand. Jim handed it over.
Simon looked down at the picture. "I can't believe you have Leesha Timmons as your new neighbor."
Joel plucked the magazine out his hand. "Wow, I wish I had a neighbor like this."
Another detective snatched it from him and took a good long look. It went around the room as the detectives of major crimes ogled the picture, wolf whistles filling the air. Megan was standing off to the side, a slightly disgusted look on her pretty face. Simon counted to twenty before grabbing the magazine from Rafe, who looked as if he was going to start foaming at the mouth.
"Enough. If you're finished drooling, I think we have something called work that needs to get done some time today. Ellison, Sandburg, I want you in my office." Simon took the magazine with him to ensure their prompt obedience.
Setting down his donut, he opened a drawer and dropped the periodical inside. Closing the drawer again, he picked a file out of his inbox and tossed it onto his desk.
"That is your new assignment gentlemen."
Blair picked it up and opened it. "A murder case." His voice was neutral.
Simon watched the young detective carefully. He had consulted with the department shrink before assigning them this particular case. Dr. Morse thought Blair was ready to return to heavier work. Simon had some reservations, but Blair had done pretty well with the Y2K serial case, so he was handing them this one. He had a feeling it was going to get messy before it was over. "Yeah, Homicide had it for a while, but they bumped it over to us."
Blair picked up the file. Handing Jim the envelope containing the crime scene photos, he looked over the details of the case.
"Kevin Miller and Tyler Hirken. Miller owned a local cafe. They met when Hirken was a freshman in college. He applied for a job as a handyman for Miller's house. They were found the day after Christmas in their home. Hirken died of head trauma. Hair and blood samples found on the stone mantel of their fireplace suggest that he fell or was shoved and hit it. There was also an unidentified blood stain on the mantel."
Simon nodded. "The only solid piece of evidence so far on the killer, but it doesn't help us until we have a suspect."
Blair continued reading from the file. "Miller died of massive internal bleeding. Contusions and broken ribs were consistent with repeated beating of a heavy slender object, most likely the poker from the fireplace. It was missing from the crime scene. No money or jewelry was taken. Nothing to suggest a motive. Neither one has any close relatives. " Blair looked up at Simon. "Maybe a jealous ex-lover?"
Simon shook his head. "It's a possibility. They had an off-again, on-again relationship. Hirken had only moved in six months ago. Forensics picked up dozens of fingerprints. They had a Christmas party the night before. Guests interviewed say that everything was happy between the two. What do you think, Jim?" Simon looked over to the detective, who was staring at the crime photos, his expression blank. "Jim?"
Simon watched as Blair put his hand on his partner's arm. "Jim, what's wrong?" Blue eyes drifted down to the crime scene photos. A large hand moved to cover the photos, but this time the eye was quicker. The sinking feeling Simon had felt when Jim failed to respond exploded in his stomach as the color drained out of the younger man's face.
"Sandburg, what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
Blair's voice was tight with tension. "I have. The men in these pictures, they're the ones from my Sierra Verde vision."
Continue on to Act II...
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This page last updated 2/2/01.