Title & Summary -
Water Music - Just a nice quiet weekend in the wilderness. After TsbyBS, but you wouldn't really notice.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.

Note from the Author: Written to a fill a very special request. Not what I normally would have written, but I did my best. Probably deserves a smarm warning.

Dedication: Written as a giftfic for Fran on the Sentinel Angst list; much loved and much missed.

Water Music
By Jael Lyn
March 2000

"Simon, why don't you let me drive for awhile? We've been struggling through this all morning, and you could use a break."

"Look around you, Jim. There's not exactly a Starbucks at the next corner. Hell, we haven't even got the corner." Jim snickered. "Blair has a thermos full of coffee - it's not your fancy stuff, but right now it sounds pretty good. Come on, Simon. We live in Cascade. A little rain won't hurt us."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Simon pulled their rented Explorer into the closest wide spot in the narrow logging road they were on. As it happened, some large firs bordered the cut bank, breaking some of the storm. Jim reached between the seats to gently shake a sleeping Sandburg to awareness. "Hey, Chief. Break out your stash. The tour guides need nourishment."

Blair grinned sleepily, pushing up on an elbow. You guys ate a dozen eggs and a package of bacon between you so we didn't have to pack it back to Cascade. How can you possibly be hungry before next week?"

"Driving is hard work, rookie. Get back here and find that coffee." Simon had pushed up the tailgate and left it up as an impromptu rain shield. While Blair bustled through various bags and containers, the other two men set up folding chairs and located some mugs. As it turned out, Sandburg had both coffee and hot tea, along with sandwiches and some fruit. They munched contentedly, sheltered from the rain and the worst of the wind. Even the perpetually cold Sandburg, bundled up in a several layers and a stocking hat, seemed comfortable.

This early spring camping trip had been Simon's brainstorm. It was too early in the season to fish or hike, but they had all needed a break from a series of particularly exhausting cases. Simon's solution was unique, to say the least. They had selected a lower elevation campground, packed way more gear and food than really necessary and headed out. To keep the group entertained, each man had brought six books, three new and three old favorites, one from childhood, which were thrown in a bag and drawn out at random. They had spent three totally relaxing days reading like fiends, taking short walks, eating large amounts of sinfully unhealthy food and laughing their heads off. Blair had taken some ribbing when Simon drew one of his contributions - a battered copy of the Hobbit. In turn, Simon's teasing came to an abrupt end when his two detectives nearly choked over his copy the Banks' copy of Wind in the Willows. Somehow Ratty and Mole seemed a bit out of step with their towering, growling boss. Blair had promptly nicknamed Simon 'Mr. Badger' for the duration of the trip. Blair had drawn Jim's childhood choice. He had simply turned a pair of questioning blue eyes in his partner's direction. Jim had stroked a single finger across his well-worn copy of "Cheaper by the Dozen" and shrugged. "This family just seemed to have a lot more fun than mine did. A full house with a Mom & Dad who were always there sounded like heaven." Blair had responded by opening the small copy as if it were a great treasure and reading the entire book in one sitting. Other contributions had been more typical - mysteries, a few thrillers, two biographies, and a survey of Native American legends from Sandburg. All in all, it had been a great vacation.

Their blissful retreat had been interrupted. A Forest Service employee had appeared on the 4^th morning, just after dawn. The trickling rain, so typical for early spring, had become a monsoon over night. A sudden warming trend had been melting the snowpack at an alarming rate. In less than twenty-four hours, rivers and creeks all over the North Cascades were reaching flood stage. As a precaution, the Forest Service was moving everyone out of the area. Since recreational users were few at this time of year, the task wasn't too tough. They weren't directed to leave immediately, but urged to get on the road before the day was out. They were asked to contact the Ranger district on their way out, again as a precaution. If things got worse, no one wanted to be worried about stragglers. After leisurely breakfast, they reluctantly packed up and headed out. "First time I've ever been chased out of a campground," mused Jim. "Almost as bad as being thrown out of a bar."

Now, after hours of slow going in the driving rain, they still hadn't hit the secondary roads. Simon had carefully picked his way through the slop. It was a blessing to have 4-wheel drive, but even that had limitations. The big man groaned as he stretched, arching his back in the folding camp chair, trying to work out the kinks. Taking another grateful sip of the hot coffee, he considered the steady downpour.

"I've lived in this part of the country a long time, and I can't remember rain harder than this."

"At least it's not cold, Simon - I hate cold. How far are we from getting out of here?"

Jim took another bite of sandwich before glancing up from the map he was studying. "So sleeping beauty doesn't know our location? Simon let's leave him here. We can start a betting pool on how long it will take him to walk out."

"Har har. With my sense of direction, I'd probably reappear on the outskirts of Boise. If I don't get a straight answer, I'm going to leave the final bag of potato chips in their secret hiding place."

"Chips? What kind? Sour cream and chive? You've been holding out on us?"

"Hey, I'm the little guy here. Food is my only leverage with you two. Now answer my question."

"Another five miles. Now where are those chips?"

Jim took over the driving when they got back on the road. With Simon and Blair deep into a lively discussion of the best recipes for bar-b-que sauce, they were making good time, until a series of orange pylons and a road block brought them up short. A forlorn Forest Service employee struggled out of his truck and jogged over to the Explorer. Despite the rain, Jim rolled down the window.

"Sorry gents, I've got to turn you around. The road washed out about 200 yards down the hill. Your only route out is back the other way. Got a map?"

As rain streamed off the man's poncho, he outlined the route. Blair sighed. More driving. He leaned over the back seat and dug for a blanket. May as well get comfortable. Fortunately, with an ex-Army Ranger in the car, his pathetic orienteering skills wouldn't be needed. Simon could be the backup navigator. He smiled as Simon dug a small notebook out of the glove compartment, taking notes on their new directions.

"Were you guys at Spruce Rock Campground? Look, you'll go right by the District Office at Little Falls on your way out. Stop in or leave them a note. I'll radio them to expect you. I don't think I'll have any more customers after you - as far as I can tell, you're about the last ones out."

"They guy this morning said there wasn't a rush," answered Simon. "Have conditions changed?"

"Well - just worse than expected, and sooner. We figured to be over flood stage tomorrow evening - the snowmelt along with the rain has pushed everything way over flood stage. Every creek on the forest has gone over any previous records we've got. We're losing roads right and left. We've got a two man work crew stranded in the area you guys just came out of. It's going to be a hassle to figure out if we got everyone out, if you know what I mean."

"Actually, we do. All three of us work for Cascade Police Department."

"You have a radio in the rig?"

"Nope." Jim shook his head as he refolded the map. "It's a loaner."

"Well, stick to the route I gave you. Just take it slow and play it safe. Just stop at the District, ok? We're going to be pretty busy, so we don't need any extra search expeditions." With a soggy wave, he sent them on their way.

Blair drifted off into drowse, half-listening to Simon as he coached Jim through the twists and turns of their alternate route. Every now and then he roused, especially when they were near water. In addition to the roar of the over-full creeks along the roads, their path was crossed by runoff pouring out of every hillside gully. It was like being in a land of waterfalls. Some of these spontaneous waterways cut across the road, creating real driving hazards. In a few spots the pavement had washed away, but Jim switched to 4-wheel drive and plowed through. A two-hour detour was rapidly becoming an all-day ordeal.

Finally, they turned out onto one of the two lane highways which threaded through the Cascades. Blair settled back down into his blanket as he felt Jim gradually increase their speed. Finally, they were making some decent progress. Driving was still treacherous. Rain continued to pour down in sheets, and the tires could hydroplane in a heartbeat. Blair was grateful Jim was behind the wheel. As long as he didn't get too tired, his sentinel senses were an asset. He was catching every potential skid as soon as it started, and his vision through the downpour was undoubtedly superior to either of his companions' eyesight.

He heard Simon fiddling with the radio. They were finally close enough to civilization to pull in a station. Blair was about to put in a vote for a particular station when Jim suddenly slammed on the brakes. The Explorer skidded toward the road edge. Blair snapped against his seat belt, and saw Simon brace his long arms against the dash. As they squealed to a stop, Blair wiped the condensation at the side window. Even he could see the cause of Jim's panic stop.

Through the gray sheets of rain, the pavement simply dropped into nowhere. Sand Creek, usually almost invisible when driving this section, was raging a torrent. The water had undercut the roadbed, eating away most of the outside lane.

"Sorry, guys." Jim turned to look at Blair. "You ok back there? I was just coming around a curve and didn't have much warning."

Grabbing jackets, they hopped out of the car. There was enough pavement to squeeze the Expedition through, but the water was right up to the edge of the roadway. Simon looked at it doubtfully. "Shit, Jim. What do you think? I don't want to have that give out when we're half way across." The three men studied the pavement with trepidation. Blair shivered involuntarily as rainwater streamed down his back. He took a few cautious steps forward and squatted down, trying to get a better look. "Jim, can you use your hearing to tell if the road stable?"

Jim closed his eyes. After a few moments, he shook his head. "There's a lot of noise coming from the water. I can hear what must be rocks rolling along the streambed. That's overwhelming everything else." He shifted closer to Blair. "Maybe I can sort through it if you help me focus."

Simon watched as Blair raised a hand to rest on Jim's thigh. Jim was just starting to concentrate when a sharp cracking noise boomed in his ears. He watched in horror as another section of the roadbed slipped away. With Blair's shout echoing in his ears, his two friends vanished from view.

Jim felt the ground beneath his feet shudder, but his concentration held his reflexes hostage. He was slipping across the asphalt by the time he got one hand wrapped around Blair's arm. It was a tenuous grip, and he lost his hold as soon as they hit the water. The back of Jim's head slapped against a sharp edge, encompassing the back of his skull in a wave of pain. The murky water closed in over his head, but his butt had landed on something solid. He pushed himself up against the force of the water just long enough to realize that he had lost Sandburg. He had a brief glimpse of his friend's brilliant blue eyes, filled with panic beyond description, flailing in deeper water. The beloved face was swept backward and pulled into the flood, disappearing completely. Jim responded with the only option open to him. He plunged in blindly after his friend.

Both men were strong swimmers, but this was no ordinary body of water. Turbulence eliminated any sense of up and down. The water was filled with debris, which battered them from all sides. Rocks the sizes of melons were rolling and bouncing in the flood. In moments, Jim had been slammed numerous times, his body screaming with each impact. As he struggled to keep his head above water he caught a glimpse of Sandburg's red flannel shirt, his head buried in the water. Using every ounce of strength, Jim half dove in Blair's direction, trying to narrow the distance between the two men. Reaching out blindly, he caught the edge of the flannel which was floating out behind. Frantically, Jim grabbed at the cloth, drawing Blair closer. Despite being dunked below the surface again, he managed to wrap an arm firmly around the other man's waist. When he kicked his way back to the surface, he rolled to his back, pulling Sandburg's face out of the water.

The current still defeated him. They were only 10 feet from shore, but were being swept along at a terrifying rate. Riding the flow headfirst and on his back, Jim was smashed repeatedly into boulders which normally lined the creek bed. Riding the current was not the way to stay alive. In desperation, Jim flipped over, trying to kick his way towards the bank. Blair had caught his breath and worked to join in without hindering his larger partner. Together, they made slow progress. Unfortunately, Blair was now on the down-current side, and was taking a beating as they bounced from one obstacle to the next. In mid-stroke, they were thrown full force into the side of a rock by a particularly violent whirlpool. Jim felt rather than heard his partner's pain.

*****

Simon rushed to the crumbling road edge, and watched his two friends disappear into the roiling water. With relief, he saw Jim's head bob up, but Sandburg had vanished beneath the muddy flood. Resisting his initial impulse to plunge along the bank after the two men, Simon forced himself to the back of the Explorer, digging through the gear. He quickly came up with several lengths of neatly coiled nylon rope which Jim had used to rig a rain fly in their camp. Along with a first aid kit, Simon finally dashed downstream, hastily clambering along the bank, searching for any sight of the two men.

It was slow going. What would have been a pleasant summer walk was now a treacherous fight. The banks were being eaten away at an alarming rate. Simon tried to keep a close watch on the water, hoping for a glimpse of either man. Each foray to the edge was perilous, and slowed his progress downstream. He hoped and prayed there would be something to find.

Nearly a mile downstream, he found them. The creek had risen to the point that it was swirling around the upper branches of a thick grove of willows. Jim had managed to catch hold and wedge their bodies into a precarious perch. Blood was flowing down Jim's forehead and cheek, but he seemed far more concerned with Sandburg. He was attempting to shelter the smaller man with his body. Blair's face was contorted in pain. Clearly, they were not going to make it to shore without help.

Simon was able to catch Jim's attention, but conversation was a joke. Jim might be able to hear him, but Simon's ears could hear nothing above the roar of the flood. Fortunately, it didn't take a genius to figure out what to do next. Simon broke off a substantial hunk of tree limb. Securing one end of the line to a nearby tree, he wrapped the other end around the limb. Slinging the chunk of wood upstream, it took several tries to finally get the line to Jim.

Simon was puzzled. He had figured both men would grab on, and he would haul them to shore. Instead, Jim risked their temporary haven by unwrapping the line and looping it around Sandburg. It was painstakingly slow. When the line was secure, Jim wound his own arm between Blair's body and the line. He spoke to Sandburg, and seemed to be trying to shift him to one side. Signaling Simon with a pull on the line, Jim shoved away from the trees and into the current. It took several minutes, repeated dunkings and all of Simon's strength to haul them to shore. The moment they hit the bank, Simon was slipping through the mud to kneel beside them. Blair was clearly in agony. It didn't take long to see the reason.

From the elbow to the wrist, Blair's arm had two awkward, unnatural bends. His wrist flopped loosely. Jim had flailed up the bank on his hands and knees and was trying to cradle the shattered bone in his hands. Blair was biting back the screams. Simon fumbled to open the first aid kit horrified. The tightly wrapped sling in his hands looked woefully inadequate. As the rain poured down around them, he hesitated, unsure of what to do next.

"We can't splint this here, Simon. We need to get him back to the vehicle and out of these wet clothes. The best we can do wrap it tight to his body to keep it from moving."

"Right. I'll pull his shirt back. Can you shift his arm across his body?"

"Chief? Buddy, you know what's going on here?" Blair nodded in response. "We're gonna move now. We'll go slow." Blair grimaced, burrowing his face in Jim's thigh. His body shook with pain. Jim gently held the arm as Simon used the sling and then an elastic wrap from the first aid kit to immobilize the limb. With a start, he realized the gashes on Jim's head were running freely, dripping blood along with the rain. Without a word, he pressed some gauze to his friend's forehead. Both men jumped as another chunk of bank near them slipped into the water. "God, Jim, we were lucky. So, so lucky."

Cradling Sandburg in his lap, an exhausted Jim Ellison could only nod in agreement.

*****

It took nearly an hour for the three men to maneuver their way back to the vehicle. Jim refused to take time to tend the huge gash on the back of his head, but his back and ribs ended up causing the most trouble. They were nearly carrying Blair between them, and Jim was aware with each step that the vicious crashes with the river rock had done some serious damage to his back. Resolutely dialing down the pain, he kept moving. In the back of his mind, Blair's numerous warnings about using the dials to cover up a genuine injury surfaced and were rejected. At the moment, Blair was his primary concern.

Despite the moderate temperatures, the two drenched men were chilled to the bone. Using items scrounged from the camping gear, Simon and Jim splinted Blair's arm and helped him into warm, dry clothing. Bundling him into the back seat, surrounded by blankets and a sleeping bag, they settled him as well as possible. The remainder of the road had washed away during their foray downstream. Staying as far away from the creek side of the road as possible, Simon turned the vehicle and beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction.

Jim had the heat on full blast and was frantically scanning the map for the quickest detour around the washed out road. He was totally absorbed in this task and monitoring Blair's condition. He was startled when he realized that Simon was slowing to a stop.

"Simon, it's too early to turn off. Our best bet is about ten miles farther up the road. We can cut over at Lone Tree and...."

"I don't think so, Jim. We've got trouble."

As Jim gazed through the rivulets of water coursing down the windshield, his heart sank. Another section of road was washed out. In this thickly forested area, cutting cross-country was out of the question. Walking out with Blair wasn't even worth considering - they were to far away from any inhabited area. They were well and truly marooned.

*****

Wary of the water, they had relocated to a section of the road which was set back about 30 feet from the edge. Simon and Jim unloaded the gear. They opted not to pitch the tent. It was a good model, but the rain wasn't letting up and the ground was completely saturated. Using a tarp, they rigged a small shelter to the side of the Explorer, intending to fold down the seats and use the back as a sleeping area if necessary. Blair seemed to be resting fitfully, so the other two kept their voices low. As they worked, they debated the merits of having one of them walk out to get help.

"They'll look when we don't check in with the Forest Service."

"Not till morning, and maybe not at all."

"Even if the Forest Service doesn't search, someone will check the roads. We can rig some sort of signal, or try to build a fire."

Jim snorted at the thought of a campfire in this downpour. "I was a Ranger, not a wizard. We might as well try to set flame to a swimming pool." He grimaced as he lifted the camp stove from the back of the vehicle. His back was getting worse by the minute, but he continued to dial down the pain. He was frantically worried about Blair. If moving around was what it took to get him settled, moving around it would be. Drawing Simon off a short distance, he lowered his voice. "I'm not so worried about being found. It's how soon. Sandburg....."

"Has a badly broken arm and is going to be in terrible pain. I know. But you need to stay with him, and I can't walk 20 or 30 or more miles in the dark and get help any faster. It's bad, Jim, but not lethal."

"His broken bone we can manage, at least in the short term. It's his lungs, Simon. Think about it."

Jim's fears suddenly made sense. After his drowning in the fountain, Sandburg's respiratory system had never fully recovered. He was sensitive to exposure. Colds and coughs progressed more quickly and made him much sicker than before. "He seemed ok when we got him out - he was breathing and everything. What aren't you telling me?"

"He was under a lot, Simon. For quite awhile, actually. When his arm broke, he couldn't help himself much. I kept losing hold of him when we were hanging on to that damn tree. One time I nearly lost him and it took me at least a minute to drag him back against the current, and he was underwater the entire time. I think he took in some water, maybe a lot. The trip back to the rig had him wheezing. His lungs sound congested to me, and I think its getting worse. We could have a full-blown case of pneumonia on our hands. We're not equipped for the broken bone, but pneumonia would be hopeless."

"OK - I see your point. I think you should stay with him. Let me help you set up and then I'll try to walk out."

"You should go now."

"I'll be walking in the dark anyway. Another thirty minutes won't matter. Don't argue with me. You know I'm going to ignore you."

Decision made, they returned to their work. Jim continued to fight his back, but was losing the battle. As he started to haul out the last few gear bags to stow before folding down the seats, he suddenly crumpled to the ground, catching himself on the back bumper. He tried to struggle up before Simon noticed, and failed miserably. He hit the ground hard, curling up in agony. The dial down technique had finally caught up to him. His senses were spiking all over, and the pain was totally out of control.

Simon, who had been fiddling with the camp stove, came at a run. "Jim! What happened? Take it easy, don't try to move. What the hell have you done?"

"Back - my back."

Simon scooted around, gently pulled of Jim's coat and lifted his shirts. His back was bruised, showing brilliant black and scarlet. Several areas along the backbone, particularly near the small of his back, were horribly swollen. "Shit, Jim. What were you thinking? You're as bad off as Sandburg is. What were you going to do - delay the collapse until I got out of sight?"

Jim tried to roll to his knees without success. Simon gently forced him back down. "How far does the pain go down?"

"Flashes into the backs of my legs. My senses are all out of control."

Simon snagged one of the folding chairs and half-lifted Jim into it. Sit tight - we need to get you down. He took the other chair with him and set it up by the passenger door. Rousing Blair, he carefully guided the young man out of the truck. Waves of misery kept Blair unusually silent. Simon took a moment to listen to his breathing. Jim had guessed correctly --the congestion was already building up. When he folded the seat down, Simon took the small section and propped it up at an angle with some stray gear. At least they could keep him elevated and ease his breathing.

Fifteen minutes later he had both men bedded down in the back. He and Jim exchanged some terse words, but Simon would hear nothing of leaving the two injured men while he hiked out. Jim made one last attempt, and had angrily pushed out of the chair onto his feet. It was a short demonstration. His first step took him back to his knees. Leaving Jim flat on his back, he moved off to warm some tea for Blair and prepare some food. Jim had no choice but to lie quietly and monitor Sandburg, who seemed to be worsening before their eyes.

Supplies were not an immediate problem. Simon heated some soup and resurrected the remainder of Blair's sandwiches. Jim scooted to the side while Simon coaxed some tea and soup down Blair. He was already running a slight fever. Jim struggled into a semi-upright position and managed on his own. He forced more Tylenol down Blair, but Jim refused. Simon finally realized he wanted to reserve what little medication they had for Blair. Simon was tempted to check his arm, but left well enough alone. There was really nothing else they could do, and jostling the broken bones could only do more damage.

Before they lost the light, Simon located every flashlight and all their camp lanterns. Blair had a small candle lantern which he lit and hung. It was going to be a long night. His companions, overwhelmed with their pain, were not very talkative, and the conversation lagged. Blair seemed especially restless. Desperate to distract them both, Simon fished out The Hobbit and turned to the section Blair had mentioned as his favorite. His deep, even voice filled the twilight, as if he were reading to a small, sleepy child. It was going to be a long night.

*****

Blair's eyes snapped open. At first he couldn't remember where he was. Then he tried to reach for his glasses on the night stand, and the sharp agony brought the memories flooding back. He realized what had awakened him. Jim, stretched out next to him, was rocking back and forth, clearly agitated. Blair reached over with his good hand and touched the Sentinel's shoulder.

"Jim," he whispered. "What's wrong, man?"

"Nothing. Are you OK?" Jim pushed up on an elbow. "Do you need something to drink? You're running a fever. Can you breathe alright?"

"Settle down. I'm fine, but you're not. Don't try to snow me. I'm beat up, but I'm not clueless. Is it your senses? You never should have tried to turn them down like that."

Jim sighed and eased back down, staring out into the dark. He knew his Guide would give him no peace. "Everything's firing on high - touch, hearing. Especially hearing. The water is driving me nuts - I can't sleep."

"You know how to tune out rain, Jim."

"It's not the rain. It's the river."

"So pretend it's the ocean. We've done ocean before."

"Can't you hear the rocks?"

Blair listened to the low rumble. The water was flowing so fast the river rocks were rolling, creating a constant deep roar. It sounded like beans shaken in a jar, about 4 octaves lower. To Jim it must sound like hammer and anvil.

"Scoot over here. Closer." Using his good hand, Blair stretched a bit and began to rub Jim's temples. Unconsciously, he dropped into Guide tones. He knew his friend was hurting, even if the other two had tried to conceal it. "OK -filter out the rain, then the water. That's it - the dials are still there. Concentrate on the stones. They're like drums, those big Japanese ones. Good - breathe slow. The stones are music -water music, man - just feel it instead of hear it. Find the rhythm and go with it."

Simon lay quiet, listening to the interaction of Sentinel and Guide. He rarely was witness to the depth of their interdependence. Blair's gentle, even voice, thickened with the slight wheeze from his breathing, continued to sooth. Lying next to him, he could feel Jim's body slowly relax. As the big man stilled, Blair's voice drifted off to a husky whisper. "Water music....just for you, Jim. Just for you." Thoughtfully, Simon drifted back to sleep as well.

*****

"Simon! Simon - wake up! We've got a chopper nearby." Jolted out of sleep by Jim's frantic shaking, Simon popped open the tailgate and rolled out. Jim painfully edged out behind him. "Get out into the open. They might miss us." Grabbing one of the flashlights, Simon raced as close to the water's edge as he dared. He couldn't hear anything, but you didn't back talk a Sentinel under these conditions. Waving the light, Simon did his best to be conspicuous. Jim joined him with another light, hobbling along painfully. He pointed off toward their right. "Over there - and coming our way."

The helicopter finally broke through the low clouds and swooped past them. Apparently they were checking the road, not looking for the stranded. With a sinking heart, Simon watched the big craft disappear into the mist. They must have blown it! Jim continued to look expectantly toward the cloudbank. After a few agonizing minutes, Simon could hear the rotors approaching again. The pilot cautiously brought the helicopter lower. The break in the trees was extremely narrow - this was a risky maneuver. The crumbling roadbed left no possibility of a landing.

Well, they were found. As the two groups stared at each other, Jim suddenly realized that they had no way to communicate the urgency of the situation. Simon obviously had the same thought, and dashed off toward the Explorer. Snatching the first aid kit from the front seat, with its bright red cross clearly visible on the cover, he held it up in full view, pointing toward the vehicle. Finally, Jim saw the co-pilot flash a thumbs-up. Message received. The helicopter began to rise and raced off in its original direction.

Jim limped back toward Simon. "Do you think they got it? I couldn't think of anything else, Jim."

"You were great. They'll be back. They weren't rigged for a rescue. Let's check Sandburg and get something to eat."

Blair insisted on getting up and out, but he was clearly much worse. His skin was flushed with fever, and the wheeze was very noticeable. He was wracked with fits of coughing, which jostled his splinted arm. He settled in one of the folding chairs and refused to lie down again, stating flatly that he'd had enough of the Explorer for one lifetime, and that he felt better sitting up. Reluctantly, Jim relented. With Blair, sometimes you had to know when to give in. Simon heated coffee and made an attempt at breakfast. Blair wasn't so sick that he could resist reminding the other two of the fate of their more desirable morning fare. They were stuck with Blair's 'healthy' multigrain breakfast cereal. Sandburg could hardly contain his amusement. With a mouthful of hot cereal, Simon glared and muttered about invalids pushing their luck.

It was nearly mid-morning when the big Med-Evac chopper appeared over the horizon. Simon moved out in the open to bring them in. Watching from their impromptu camp, Jim leaned down and wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders. "Now that's music, Sandburg. An absolute, gorgeous, four star, symphony. The kind you can ride out on."

*****

Epilogue

"You all settled, Chief? Need anything before I go?"

"Jim, quit hovering. I can sit quietly in a chair without having a catastrophe."

Jim returned from the kitchen, carrying a glass of water. "Here, take your pain meds. I'll just get the essentials and be right back. The fridge is pretty empty."

"You shouldn't exactly be running around yourself. You were in the hospital almost as long as I was. You mess up your back again and they'll put you in a cage."

"I didn't have surgery." Jim handed over the glass and the pills; eyeing Blair's still healing arm. Too badly damaged for a cast, the fragments had been pinned and screwed back together. It was now held in place with a wicked looking contraption composed of gleaming metal, which attached directly to the bone through the skin in several places. Full healing was months in the future. "Besides, I just stayed there to keep you company. It made Simon feel better. I could have done as much sleeping on a board as they did for me in that stupid hospital."

"Sure, Ellison. Everyone knows a good piece of plywood beats traction as a treatment plan. When are you publishing your book on orthopedics?"

Smacking him playfully on the top of the head, Jim headed for the door. "You had better be right there when I get back. Oh, I left you something - it's right there on the table. See ya."

Blair frowned, noticing the box on the table for the first time. It was smaller than a shoebox, with a small envelope on top. Awkwardly cradling it into his lap with his useable arm, Blair dumped it into his lap, surprised at the weight. He pulled open the small card with his teeth.

Hey Chief,

Brought this back with us and had it made for you.

Jim

Blair gently pried off the lid of the box and pulled out several layers of tissue paper. Inside was a smooth, perfect oval of granite river rock, common in the local streams. On it's polished, almost flat surface, an inscription read,

"Friendship is made more sacred by adversity."

As he pulled it from the box, he realized there was more carved onto the back. He turned it awkwardly with one hand.

"Do not fail
To learn from
The pure voice of an
Ever flowing mountain stream
Splashing over the rocks."

With Grateful Thanks
JJE to BJS

And in the quiet of the loft, the river stone was washed one final time, with a few drops, more salty than fresh.

The End