Fight for Our Lives

By EJKatz

Present:

“Nooooo!” Jim screamed his denial as Blair collapsed, face down on the pavement.

With one quick twist and a glance towards his fallen partner, he flung himself on the animal who had taken Blair down.

For several minutes he fought futilely, his emotions taking over momentarily, making him less than effective.

Fists flew but punches rarely landed.

Jim fell to his knees as a particularly hard blow caught him off guard. The fist smacked him on the side of the head. Stars floated for several seconds as Jim attempted to regroup. Without warning, another blow took him down and a foot finished the job and he sunk into the waiting blackness.

~*~*~*~

Earlier that day:

Jim cursed the stupidity of the criminal mind. Another case closed only because the perp had run around the block hoping to avoid capture and get back to his car, which he had parked outside the store. Of course there were police all over the place and they arrested him the instant he tried to unlock the door to his beaten down Chevy.

While humorous, it had wasted an entire day when Jim could have been out looking for Ramon Quintano. The bastard had escaped five days ago from a maximum-security prison in California. It was thought that he had probably left the country but Jim knew better. The sicko had vowed to get his revenge on Jim and there was no doubt in Jim’s mind that the madman intended to do exactly that.

While not wanting to scare Blair, Jim had suggested that he bring his tests home and grade them there. Of course, not knowing the real reason for Jim’s request, Blair had laughed him off saying it would be easier and he would get more done if he did the grading from his office and post the grades before coming home.

Laughing, Blair had told him not to wait up. And with those parting words, he had left for school.

Several times throughout the day, Jim had picked up the phone to call but thought better of it. Maybe he was just concerned over nothing. If Quintano were smart he’d not come back to Cascade.

Yeah, and hell is a cold place this time of year.

It was getting late and he wanted to get home. His hand was reaching for the phone when it rang. Praying it was Blair checking in, he answered it.

“Ellison.”

“Well, well. Long time no hear from, eh, Detective.” The familiar voice snarled over the receiver.

“Quintano, you son of a bitch. I figured you for stupid but this is beyond stupid. If you’d been smart you would have headed the other direction.” Jim matched the snarl in tone but surpassed it in venom.

“But then I wouldn’t have the opportunity to meet your new partner. Such a pleasant young man. Nice form but I must say, rather loud. I am surprised you would allow yourself to be partnered with such a weak man as Mr. Sandburg.”

“What have you done to him, you asshole?”

“Nothing. Yet. If you would like to see him alive once more then come to the warehouse on Old Jefferson Road outside of town. Come alone for if I see anything resembling a cop I will kill him and it won’t be pleasant. You have one hour. Don’t be late or we’ll start without you.” With those ominous words, Quintano hung up.

Jim stared at the phone, cursing the man. He debated following the instructions but knew it to be foolhardy. Knowing Simon would be in a meeting for another half hour with the mayor, Jim quickly typed up and email and sent it to the Captain.

That would give him time to answer Quintano’s demands and still get backup. All he would have to do is stay alive until Simon got there. Chances were he’d lose his job doing such a stupid stunt but he had no choice. He had to save his Guide, especially since it was because of Jim and his job that Blair was suffering.

~*~*~*~

Jim fought back the panic as he turned onto the old road leading to the Jefferson Road Warehouse. It had been years since anyone had come this way and the road was rutting and in great need of repair. He could see the faint traces of tire marks made hours earlier. It brought a cold fury to the forefront and he fought to squelch it. Jim was more than aware he would need all of his faculties to fight the coming battle.

One that would mean life or death for his guide.

If Jim failed, Quintano would take Blair's life. If he succeeded then Quintano would bother no one ever again. Ellison knew enough about Quintano to know that this would be a fight to the death and nothing Jim could do would change that.

He stopped the truck several yards from the front doors.

The warehouse entrance was mark by what might have at one point been bright red double doors. Now however they were a faded rust colour and one door hung haphazardly from its hinges. The other door was completely gone. The interior was pitch black but that was no problem for Jim. His eyes automatically compensated, drawing every tiny particle of light together to show the room in all is gory detail.

Blair stood in the middle of the room. His own eyes unable to distinguish more than a faint glimmer of light. His arms were bound tightly behind him, a gag cruelly trapping any words from escaping. His face was marred by the bruise forming on his left temple and by what to all appearances was the beginning of a substantial black eye. A tiny trickle of blood ran from one corner of his mouth. It was this that drew Jim's attention.

Brilliant red even in the dim light of the warehouse. The pain of that mark called to him, drew him into the glow. Held him. Sang for him.

And he was lost.

A strangled moan brought him back. He looked up and met Blair's eyes though he wasn't sure Blair could see him. The panic that formed there was enough to get him moving forward once more.

"Ellison." A low voice spoke a split second before powerful lights flashed on, blinding the sentinel momentarily. When once more he could focus, he saw Quintano standing beside his partner, one hand twisted in the blood-matted curls. He yanked back Sandburg’s head, drawing a muffled cry from behind the gag.

"Quintano, let him go. He has nothing to do with this." Jim growled. He refused to allow even one iota of fear mar his voice.

"I don't think so, Detective. I think that this little man here is exactly what I need to bring you down." An evil laugh bubbled up from between the thin lips of the former drug czar. "You should have backed off and taken the money."

Sandburg squirmed at the words. His eyes wide with fear but deep in the azure blue depths Jim could see the trust there.

"Yeah, I could have but then I would be no better than you. You are scum. I take your money and I am lower than scum and well… I am just not like that." Ellison grinned a feral smile that did nothing to hide the cold ice of his eyes. It was a smile that had terrified friends and foe alike for years, at least until Blair had come along. It was the young man's trust and faith in the goodness of his Sentinel that made Jim human once more. However, that human was gone now. All that remained was the primal sentinel. The one whose guide was threatened.

A cold calculating look came into Quintano's eyes. He'd felt the fear for a moment before the frozen touch of insanity took over and it was gone.

"Well, Then I guess Detective, you'll wish you had." With that his other hand can up, the hand wielding the gun. It struck Blair on the head, right where the bruise was already forming. Without a sound, Blair collapsed, taking all semblance of control with him.

"Nooooo!"

~*~*~*~

Present:

Quintano stood over the still body of the detective. "Too easy detective, too easy. I guess we'll have to make this more challenging."

He laughed as he began to drag the bodies out the door and into the dark blue Jeep Grand Cherokee waiting there. When he was done, he took a small box from the floor of the truck. From it he removed a small vial of clear liquid and a syringe. Quickly filling the syringe and getting rid of the air bubbles, he plunged the tip into the silent detective's neck. Depressing the plunger he emptied it. He repeated the performance on the still body of the observer.

Then he climbed into the driver's seat. No one was around to witness the gravel that flew up behind as the truck raced off into the black of night.

~*~*~*~

Jim groaned as bright lights broke through his awareness. He was lying, bound tightly with rope, on a cold, hard surface. He tried to sit upright without opening his eyes but nausea forced him back. His head was spinning and a battering ram was playing the drums somewhere deep inside his head.

He lay for a moment, trying to collect himself when memory flared. Blair! He forced himself upright, seeking the comforting sounds of his partner and guide. There was nothing. Fear for his friend helped push back the remnants of drugged nausea. He scrambled to his feet as he heard the doorknob turning.

Dizziness made his knees weak and his legs unsteady so he used the wall to stay upright as Ramon Quintano entered. He was alone.

"Glad to see you're up and about." The man grinned, maliciously. "I hope you are significantly recovered because I have a lovely evening of entertainment planned for you."

"Where is Blair?" Jim asked.

"Never fear, Detective. He is near and relatively unharmed. He is merely a guest and a witness to the proceedings. If you are ready, I will take you to him."

There was something discomforting about the almost solicitous demeanor displayed by Quintano. It was unsettling to say the least. However for now, Jim was well aware that he wasn't in control of the situation and he would need to be calm and patient. He would not allow his emotions to rule him like before. Quintano would never have been able to take him before if he'd kept his cool.

Quintano indicated for Jim to lead. With his hand still bound and the dizziness not yet completely gone he was helpless to do anything but submit… for now.

~*~*~*~

Blair woke to the sound of approaching voices. His head ached something fierce. Vaguely he remembered someone coming into his office brandishing a gun. He’d made some sort of smart remark about psycho’s picking on hi, which in hindsight was probably not the wisest thing he’d done but it just irritated him no end.

Why was he the one that people came after when they wanted to get to Jim? Did he have a sign tapes to his forehead that said, ‘Hey Psycho, come and get me, I’m easy.’

Blair’s memories of what followed were a little hazy after that. He’d been grabbed as he was leaving the university after a late night of grading exams. His car was the last in the lot and there was no one around to help. He was too tired to respond and to his humiliation he’d been grabbed easily. He hadn’t heard the man until he was right on him, the ‘gentleman’ requested urgently that his life depended on his getting into the four door sedan parked in the short-term parking spot.

There was something distinctly heinous about the soft-spoken man with the gentile words and manners who carried a large gun that threatened to aerate him without qualms if he did not obey.

He had gotten into the car but then he remembered nothing more until he’d awaken in pitch black. Terror gripped his mind when at first he thought he’d been rendered blind but then he could see the faint light from small holes in the building’s wall. He had no idea where he was but knew without a doubt that someone was in the building with him and that scared him.

Unable to see anything and knowing that his life had been threatened, how was he to know whether the person with him was the man who’d threatened him or not. He’d been tied up tightly with rough cords and gagged with something that tasted vaguely like oil and dirt. He had forced down the bile that rose unbidden from his empty belly.

Now, what he was facing was twenty times worse than being in that darkened warehouse. He wished fervently to be blind once more. He didn’t want to ever have to see what lay before him.

The room was build to resemble a Roman coliseum. High pillars and rounded seating surrounded a pit filled with a layer of sand. Two men stood facing each other, Jim with a sword, the other man held a trident and a net.

Blair tried to review what he knew about gladiatorial fighting. The man with the sword was generally know as s secutor, while the man with the trident and net was a retiari. The retiari generally had the advantage and was consider the favorite to win. In roman days these fights were to the death and Blair had no idea if Jim even knew how to use a sword. Sure he could use a knife with much skill but a sword was different.

Blair was strapped to the high back chair with thick black Velcro straps across his chest, waist and head. He was facing the arena where Jim and their captor circled each other warily. He tried to free his wrists but they were strapped down also and he was completely unable to help Jim. And now, his best friend was being forced to fight the sadistic bastard for their lives.

~*~*~*~

Jim watched their captor warily. So far he’d said nothing and had made no movements towards him. Five minutes ago the two men had entered the arena. The gun held in Quintano’s hand kept him from making any sudden moves while his hands were partially untied, enough so that he was able to get loose on his own once Quintano had stepped back out of harm’s way. Then he had produced a sword, which he’d thrown at Jim’s feet, still not speaking a word.

Now, Jim wasn’t sure what was being planned. Quintano had picked up the strange looking fork, it had taken him several minutes to remember that it was called a trident, and a net which he hoisted like he knew what he was doing with it.

After circling and staring each other down, Quintano stopped, lowered the point of the trident towards Jim. “Detective, here’s the game.

“I have been fascinated with the concept of Secutor vs. Retiari for as long as I can remember. A great deal of skill is involved in this form of combat. The odds of course favour the retiari but I doubt it would matter under these circumstances.” He laughed wickedly, obviously delighting in the squirms of his captive, bound tightly in the high back chair who had no choice but to watch.

Jim continued to stare icy barbs at the man before him. There was no doubt in his mind that this man was seriously out of his mind. He remembered reading about gladiators when he was younger and one thing he remembered just as clearly as wanting to be one. He practiced for hours in the woods behind the school with a handmade wooden sword and thought he’d gotten fairly good at it, but it had been a long time ago and he doubted it would be nearly good enough to get out of this alive.

Jim glanced at Blair, cursing his own folly for getting them into this. He winced at the pained look that covered Blair’s features, the bruising and cuts that marred the familiar face. Mentally he apologized for the coming events. He feared that he would not be good enough and it would bring about both his and Blair’s deaths. He could handle his own but knowing he would ultimately be responsible for the death of the most passionate, sensitive and remarkable man he’d ever known. The man he considered to be his brother in all things.

‘God, I am so sorry, Blair.’ He thought, his emotions close to the surface. He forced them back, striving to maintain the strict control he’d worked so long and hard to master.

“Are you paying attention, Detective?” Quintano leaned in a little closer, the edge of his trident a touch higher, one tinge lifting the hem of his black tee-shirt, scoring a long mark against his ribs on the left side.

He winced inwardly at the sharp pain but made no outward sign. The trident moved again and this time the tinge actually sank into the fleshy part of his abdomen. This time the wince was visible to Quintano who grinned in delight. Jim was glad that Blair couldn’t see his face from where he stood.

He hid the pain as Quintano pulled back, taking the trident with him. Ellison felt the slippery, stickiness of blood as it ran from the wound. He brought the sword up and the play began.

He knew he would have to work fast and furious to beat Quintano before he lost too much blood. Obviously, Quintano wasn’t quite as confident in his ability to defeat Jim that he wanted to gain a further advantage.

Quintano swung the net with an expert flair. Ellison jumped back easily, avoiding the weights that hung form the edges of the net. He would not be able to get close enough to Quintano unless he got the trident away. The difference in reach was not a good thing.

He spun, kicking out, knocking the trident to one side, and moving in for a blow with the sword. Quintano jumped back, barely avoiding the full blow. The tip of the sword managed to still catch him a glancing strike, drawing a line of red against the pristine white of his dress shirt.

He laughed as he dragged the back of the hand holding the net across the cut. He lashed out with the trident, Jim turned, letting the tinges pass harmlessly under his arm. With the speed of his spirit guide, he caught the trident under his arm. Continuing the turn he almost managed to get the damn weapon away from Quintano but the man countered by swinging the net. It caught Jim around one ankle and he lost his balance.

The fall to the ground knocked the wind out of Jim for a moment but her recovered quickly, rolling smoothly to his feet, sword still clasped tightly in his right hand. His fall managed to tear the net from Quintano’s hands and Jim refuse to let him get it back. He stood guard over it, while fending off blows from the trident.

He couldn’t make another lunge with the blade due to the far-reaching trident. Making a quick decision, he turned to the left and ran a few feet, towards Blair. He was with a few feet when Quintano caught up but Jim had turned again and was now to the other man’s left. Quintano’s unprotected side open for Jim’s attack. The sword lashed out and caught Quintano on the arm. The blade cut deep and with a cry of pain Quintano dropped the trident.

The drug dealer backed away and headed for the table where he’d left the gun. Jim raced after him, throwing the sword down. He threw himself forward in a classic football tackle. He caught Quintano around the knees bringing him down with ease.

Quintano was not too hard to subdue now. He was a big man when he had the advantage but not now. Now he was defeated and he knew it. Ellison dragged him back to where Blair was struggling against his bonds.

“Hang on, Chief. I’ll get you out.” Ellison told him as he scooped up the sword again. He pushed Quintano to the floor. “Stay down.”

Quintano sat huddled in on himself. Jim cut Blair free. He was weakening something fierce. He had held up well, forcing the pain and weakness away but now he was fading fast.

He pulled Quintano to the chair and bound him to it as tightly as he could.

He dropped the sword away from them as the last of his strength drained away. Blair cried out as Jim collapsed to the ground.

“Jim!”

“Find a phone, Chief. Get back up and an ambulance.”

“Okay. Are you okay, Jim?”

“No, so hurry, huh?” He managed a small grin but wasn’t able to hold it. He noticed the concerned look on Blair’s face but they didn’t have time. “Go, Sandburg. Find a phone and get help, okay.”

“I’ll hurry, Jim but promise you will stay awake.”

“I promise.” Jim lied, knowing that he might not even be alive when Blair returned but he knew that was fine knowing that Blair was safe.

He watched until Blair was out of sight before falling back onto the sand, blackness taking him, cradling him in the warmth and safety of its bosom.

~*~*~*~

Warmth was the first sensation he felt. Then a heaviness that seemed almost disassociated from him. A familiar and pleasant sound echoed in his ears. For a long moment he rested there, not wanting to move or disturb the peace in which he floated.

How long he lay, he didn't know. Where he was, he wasn't sure. The only thing he knew for sure was that there was a distinct absence of pain that he was vaguely certain should have been there.

The weight moved, twitched slightly. A moan interrupted the steady rhythm of the bass drum that pounded softly nearby. The distressed sound bothered him, sparked a need for him to fix the problem.

With infinitesimal slowness, like molasses through a sieve, he managed to open his eyes. He recognized the room as a hospital room but it was bathed in moonlight. The curtains over the window filtered the light enough to see by but not enough to hurt his eyes.

The weight on his body shifted once more, localizing to more his arm. Pain began to make itself known but it was still manageable. Silk tickled his skin and he realized that it was Blair's head, lying on his undamaged side. One strong hand held his in a tight but not painful grip. A reminder that he wasn't to go anywhere with out his Guide.

Jim smiled at the sight. Blair's hair was mussed, a line of drool lead to a small but growing pool on the sheet beside his arm. He looked like Michelangelo’s David with his innocence and purity of spirit.

Except for one thing.

The none to quiet snores that emanated from between the slightly parted lips. Jim chuckled but had to grip the bed when the small motion sent shockwaves of pain ripping through his abdomen. The motion woke Sleeping Beauty.

"jim.." he mumbled.

"Hey, Chief." Jim smiled as bleary eyes tried to focus on his face.

"Hey, you're awake. God you scared me. Don't do that again. I told you to stay awake. Can't you even do one simple thing?" Blair rose to his feet and began pacing. Jim recognized the anger for what it really was; concern.

"Hey Chief?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. You okay?" Jim let him fuss for a moment before speaking again.

"I'm fine. You did good, Sandburg. Thanks, you saved my life."

"Yeah, well you saved mine first." Blair grinned, running one hand through the disheveled locks.

"Technically you did. Remember, the garbage truck?"

"Oh, yeah, right. I guess I did." Blair once more took the seat next to the bed. "You really had me worried, Jim. I came back and you were out. I couldn't wake you and there was so much blood. Paramedics said your heart stopped and I thought you were gone."

A lone tear made its way down the rough cheek. Blair angrily wiped it away. He kept his eye on the hand as it fell back into his lap.

"I'm sorry I didn't want to lay this on you right now. Look, you go back to sleep. I will be here when you wake. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise, Chief?" Jim asked, deeper meaning held in the simple words.

"Yeah, Jim. Not ever."

End

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