Louisiana Swamp--A Cabin, Mid-Morning

Jim sat up straight, panic coursing through his body. A wave of dizziness rocked him and he fell back against the pillow, watching shadows dance in his vision. He tried to remember where he was. The shapes of the cabin came into focus and suddenly Merry was there, smiling calmly at him.

"You look better," she said, her voice dancing around the room in its mysterious way. "I have broth. You need to eat and regain your strength."

"What time is it?" Jim asked, amazed to find his voice had returned fully. In fact, he felt better all over. The headache was gone and his leg no longer throbbed.

"It's still morning," she replied. Merry reached for a steaming brown bowl resting on a wooden crate and stirred it gently with a spoon. "Drink this, Jim."

Merry lifted the spoon to Jim's lips. He sniffed it, but recognized only the faint odor of herbs, nothing he could identify. Without realizing he had opened his mouth, Jim felt the warm liquid swirl down his throat. It had no discernible taste, but was not unpleasant.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It will make you feel better," she said.

She fed him half the bowl, then set it back on the crate. Jim watched her pull back his blanket and lift the bandages on his right leg. She smiled and pulled them off completely. Jim craned his neck. His jeans had been cut off at the knee. The skin on his calf was pale and somewhat shriveled, but his wounds were almost completely healed. The bullet hole was a red spot the size of a quarter, the snakebite two tiny pock marks. He flexed the leg and felt only slight tenderness.

"What did you do?" Jim asked, looking up at Merry.

The young girl just smiled. "You ask many questions, Jim, but you will be fine. Just rest now."

Jim leaned back on the pillow and let his eyes close. As his mind drifted, he tried to extend his hearing to find out if he and Merry were alone. He was asleep before he could locate Merry's heartbeat.

Six Miles South of Potter's Bog

The rogue helicopter had gone down in a grove of trees. The trees were surrounded by water with no actual land for almost a mile. The S&R chopper hovered above the stranded helicopter until three State Police boats made it to the wreckage. It was another hour before they had landed and acquired their own transport back.

Blair watched from his rowboat as two policemen pulled MacGeorge out of the helicopter. His accomplices were already cuffed and in a swamp boat. Blair and Marco maneuvered their boat closer. As they neared, Blair dropped his paddle into the bottom of the boat and carefully stood up.

"Where's Jim Ellison?" Blair demanded.

MacGeorge blinked and looked at him quizzically. A sly grin spread across his face.

"Seems we lost yer buddy in the swamp," MacGeorge drawled. "Too bad about those snakes, though. Some of them are poisonous, especially that copperhead who bit yer friend."

Blair's jaw twitched. He wanted to lunge for MacGeorge's throat, but six feet of water stood between their boats and Blair didn't relish the idea of swimming again. Instead he fixed icy eyes on MacGeorge.

"You'll be coming back to Cascade with me soon," Blair vowed. "So don't get too comfortable."

He scanned the other officers until he found Sheriff Gabelle. Gabelle stared back at him with a mix of sadness and anger. He walked over to the edge of his motorboat and helped Blair aboard.

"We're limiting the search area to the twenty miles between Backstone and Potter's Bog," Gabelle said.

Blair nodded. "Let's get going," he said.

Rafe's Apartment, Cascade

David walked into the kitchen, his bare feet padding lightly on the linoleum. Rafe was already at the table, sipping a mug of coffee and reading the financial section of the Times. David grinned. His brother was still in his pajamas, hair askew and uncombed. It always amused David to see the messy side that Rafe never showed to his friends. David poured a glass of orange juice and sat down opposite Rafe.

He stared at the back of the newspaper for several moments. David had something to say, but hesitated to bring it up. It had to be said sometime, but putting it off seemed easier. Rafe dropped a corner of the paper and caught his eyes.

"There are fresh bagels if you're hungry," Rafe said.

David nodded and dropped his gaze. "Okay."

Rafe put down his newspaper, refolding it carefully. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I do know that, L.T.," he replied. "I'm sorry I've been in such a funk lately."

"Are you nervous about your doctor's appointment tomorrow?"

David bit his lower lip. "Actually, I had that appointment on Friday."

"You already went?" Rafe asked, sounding hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted to go alone," he replied. "I wanted to hear what the doctor had to say without someone there telling me it's going to be okay."

When Rafe didn't respond, David breathed deeply and continued.

"He said I would always have a twenty percent loss of peripheral vision in both eyes," David said. "It's permanent, there's no surgery or therapy available right now. That's why I was so angry all weekend."

"And now?" Rafe ventured.

David half-shrugged and grinned. "Now I'm not angry. I've had months to think about what to do with the rest of my life and still hadn't come up with anything... until yesterday."

"The picnic."

"Yep. I had a great time with those kids. I've always liked kids."

Rafe smiled. "You want to be a teacher."

"I think so," David said. "I want to take some Elementary Education classes at Rainier this fall, maybe volunteer at one of the local schools to get my feet wet. Teachers aren't so particular about peripheral vision. It would have been great to go to the Academy, but that's not my future, I guess."

"No," Rafe said thoughtfully. "But your future is looking pretty good right now."

"Thanks, L.T."

"Anytime."

Louisiana Swamp, Afternoon

Blair and Gabelle were searching a muddy section of the swamp ten miles east of Backstone. The motor didn't work in the muck and they'd resorted to paddling. They had gotten stuck in the low water several times and almost lost their paddles in the mud twice. It was slow going, but the ground was good for foot travel in most places. His stomach rumbled and Blair suddenly realized how late it was getting.

"There," Gabelle said.

Blair turned and followed Gabelle's finger. Something was floating in the water ten feet from the boat. Blair stuck his paddle in the water and pushed. They maneuvered over and Blair pulled the object into the boat. It was a ripped section of a pair of jeans, a piece of the leg with a torn hole and black stain. There was also a familiar patch of white near the cuff.

"They're Jim's," Blair said, pointing to the white. "We helped a friend repaint her apartment a month ago and Jim got paint on his jeans right there. It wouldn't wash out."

Gabelle eyed the fabric, his expression grim. "Gator could have done that," he said.

Blair's heart began to pound hard as fear coursed through him. That fear instantly changed to anger.

"Why are you so quick to write Jim off as dead?" Blair asked, his voice rising indignantly. "Until we see a body, there is still every chance he is alive out here somewhere. How can you be so ready to give up?"

"Because I am realistic," Gabelle shot back. His eyes danced with some hidden emotion he'd kept bottled up for too long. "I've been sheriff here long enough to know what a night in the swamp, unarmed, can do to a person. I've found my share of body parts that couldn't be identified. And I've sure as hell lost my share of friends, so don't act as though I've got no sympathy for what you're going through."

"I don't need sympathy, Harry, I need your confidence. I know my partner and he's out there. He deserves to be found."

Gabelle shook his head. "I was exactly like you, Blair. I believed in my partner, that he was strong and would always be there for me. But you know what? He's just human."

Blair's grip on his paddle tightened. "What happened to your partner?"

"Jesse was mugged and shot at an ATM machine four years ago," Gabelle said hollowly. "He was off duty, meeting me to go bowling that night and needed cash. It was stupid and pointless and we never did catch the bastard that did it."

"I'm sorry," Blair said.

"I don't want to make you think the worst," Gabelle said. "But I can't give you fake optimism. I've never been a good actor. I'm not a very good liar, either."

Blair snorted. "Maybe I'll rub off on you. Obfuscation is my specialty."

"I believe you," Gabelle said with a half-smile.

"We've got more ground to cover before it gets dark," Blair said. "Shall we?"

Gabelle nodded and picked up his paddle. "We shall."

Louisiana Swamp--A Cabin

Jim awoke to the warmth of the sun on his face. He squinted against the glare, surprised to find himself outside. Jim blinked and tried to sit up, only to feel the world wobble. His hands flailed out and grabbed two wooden planks. He was in a boat.

"Merry?" he called, pulling himself to a sitting position.

He saw the outside of the cabin for the first time. It was in sad shape, built on stilts in the middle of the bayou. The roof was rotten and the boardwalk surrounding the place didn't look safe enough for a mouse to walk across. It was absolutely silent.

"Merry?"

"I'm here."

She stepped out of the cabin, her silent footsteps not even rattling the wood beneath her. Her pale skin glistened under the sunlight, appearing almost translucent. Merry walked over to the boat and crouched next to him.

"You have to go now, Jim," she whispered. "Daddy will be back soon and he won't want to see you here. Besides, you're better now."

Jim had to admit he felt great, if a bit disoriented. His senses didn't seem to want to cooperate fully, but that could just be a side affect of whatever natural medicines Merry had given him. He just didn't know how to thank her for saving his life.

"Thank you," he said.

Merry smiled and kissed his forehead, a gesture he barely felt. "Your friends miss you, Jim. They'll be glad to see you."

"Merry, who--?"

She placed two fingers over his lips. "Hush, Jim. Sleep now. Awake in the company of friends."

Jim eyes grew heavier and he slumped back in the boat. His head had barely touched the wooden plank before the gently lolling of the boat rocked him to sleep.

Louisiana Swamp, Evening

As the hours wore on, Blair was beginning to lose hope. The sun would set in another hour and they would call off the search for the night. He didn't want to think about Jim spending another night in the swamp alone.

Gabelle's walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Bird One to all teams. We've got nothing and gas is low. We are heading in. Over."

"They're giving up," Blair said.

"They're outta gas," Gabelle replied.

"They're giving up."

Gabelle nodded.

A dark shadow flitted past the periphery of Blair's vision. He spun around to the stern of the boat and squinted into the gloom of the bog. Something dark floated in the water a good fifty feet away, making it hard to identify. Gabelle also turned and followed his gaze.

"What is that?" Gabelle asked.

"I don't know." Blair picked up his paddle and dipped it back into the water. "Let's check it out."

As they moved closer, the shape of a tiny boat began to materialize. It had caught itself on a root and rocked gently as the waves from their paddles reached it. When they were within ten feet, Blair saw a familiar form lying in the boat.

"Jim!"

They came up alongside the tiny craft. Blair grabbed the edge of the boat, his fingers immediately reaching for Jim's throat. He found his pulse strong and steady. Jim's pant leg was torn and his leg had three small red marks, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Gabelle picked up his radio. "Boat Twelve to Base, we have found Detective Ellison. He is alive. Repeat, we have found Ellison alive. Requesting immediate airlift--"

Blair blocked out what Gabelle was saying, concentrating on his partner. He gently shook Jim's shoulder.

"Jim? It's Blair. Wake up, man."

Jim grunted and stirred.

"Jim?"

"Chief?" Jim mumbled. He blinked and slowly opened both eyes. "Good to see you."

Blair exhaled deeply, his worry evaporating. "You, too."

Major Crime

Simon Banks swiveled listlessly back and forth in his desk chair. A full mug of hazelnut coffee cooled on his desk near the phone. He'd spent all afternoon taking hourly progress reports from the Louisiana State Police and fielding questions from the brass. It had been a tiring afternoon and now he was worried. It was fifteen minutes past when Sandburg said he would check in.

He knew the odds of finding Jim alive after all this time were virtually nil, but if this particular pair of partners were good at anything, it was beating the odds.

Simon reached for his coffee and nearly spilled it when his phone rang. He snatched up the receiver.

"Banks."

"Simon?"

It was Sandburg, sounding out of breath.

"Simon, we found Jim. He's alive and he's okay. In fact, he's better than okay. It's like he was never hurt, but he said he was shot and snake bitten and--"

"Sandburg! Take a breath, will you?" Simon ordered, barely able to keep up with the young man's rambling. A wave of relief flowed over him.

"Sorry. Sheriff Gabelle and I found Jim floating in a boat an hour ago, but he wasn't hurt. At least, he had been but it was all healed. The bullet wound where MacGeorge shot him and two tiny marks where he said a snake bit him."

"Snake?"

"Yeah, but the doctors down here didn't find any venom in his bloodstream and his bullet wound is healed already."

"How can that be?" Simon asked, leaning back into his chair.

"I dunno, Simon. Jim said he was found by this girl, that she took him to her cabin and took care of him. But no one around here knows who she is."

"You know, strange things follow you two around like a shadow."

Sandburg laughed. "I know. The doctors are keeping him overnight for observation, but he's free to go tomorrow. We should be back in Cascade by lunch."

"That's good news, Sandburg."

"Yeah. Listen, I have to go. I'll talk to you later, Simon."

Simon hung up the receiver and rested his elbows on his desk. He shook his head. If he had learned a lesson from this, it was never underestimate the survival instinct of a sentinel. Simon grinned and picked the phone back up. He had a lot of calls to make.

County Hospital, Louisiana

Blair hung up the phone at the Nurse's Station and nodded thanks to the elderly woman behind the counter. He pivoted and walked back down the hall to Jim's room. Blair paused when he saw Harry Gabelle turn the corner in his direction.

"Harry," Blair said, trotting up to the older man. "How's Donnelly doing?"

Gabelle smiled. "He's awake. He was asking about his bullet. Wants to keep it as a souvenir to show his grandkids someday."

"Sounds like he's going to be fine."

"He's a strong kid," Gabelle said. "He has a good heart. Can't wait to get back to work."

Blair chuckled. "Too bad he'll be recuperating for the next few months. And thank you for all your help."

Gabelle nodded and shook Blair's hand. "Take care of your partner."

"You, too," Blair said, returning the handshake. "If you're ever in Cascade, look me up."

"Will do." Gabelle turned and took a few steps down the hall before stopping. He looked back, a teasing smile on his face. "Hey, Detective. Keep your criminals in your own city."

"Deal," Blair replied, watching his new friend walk away. Blair sighed and continued toward Jim's room.