COLD AND WET by Alberte

DISCLAIMER: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Paramount Television and Pet Fly Productions. No money has or will be made from the use of these characters or stories. This story belongs to the author. Permission is given to archive. A shorter version was previously posted to the Sentinelangst List.

Blair smiled softly in pleasure as the Volvo rumbled and splashed along the quiet county road, the windshield wipers beating in a smooth counterpoint to the music pouring from the stereo. It had been great getting together with an old friend that he hadn't seen since undergraduate days, sharing stories and dinner. Just a few days ago he’d run into her at the grocery store and she gave him a warm hug, immediately inviting him out to the farm for dinner. Between school and working with Jim, long relaxing evenings like this had been few and far between for almost as long as he could remember.

He still couldn't believe that Ronnie was married and had five children, but then she had loved being from a large family herself. Many an entertaining hour had been spent during study breaks, sharing stories of their childhoods, and Blair remembered how envious he had been as she talked about her brothers and sisters. As much as he loved his mom and having her all to himself, as the only child, he remembered fantasizing about being part of a larger family often when younger.

Before he had known it the evening had slipped by and it was already 11:30. He had to get home in order to catch a few winks before joining Jim on an early morning stakeout. Fortunately the roads were deserted at that time of the night and he was making good time, even if he did hit some deep puddles.

Suddenly, as he rounded a corner, he ran head on into a raging stream that covered the road. He vaguely remembered hearing on the radio that the recent combination of heavy winter rains and higher than usual tides could cause flooding problems, but he wasn't that familiar with the roads out to Ronnie's and didn’t really think about it at the time. He didn't know how deep the water was, but the impact of the car hitting the water felt as if he had struck a brick wall.

His chest crashed into the steering wheel, his head snapping forward and then back as he rebounded against the driver's seat. Dazed, he automatically grabbed the wheel and fruitlessly attempted to steer as the water picked up the Volvo and carried it off of the road surface. Moments later, before he could fully recover, he found the world tilting as the rushing water deposited the car in a mud bank, pinned at an angle against some trees.

Shaking his head to clear it, he finally noticed that the car had stopped moving. And had stopped running as well, the engine flooded into quiescence. The glow of the headlights revealed that the water was rapidly rising, the brightness dimming as the water rose higher over the lights. He suddenly realized that he could drown, sitting in his own car.

The pressure of the rising water made it impossible to open the driver's side door, so he slid across the seat to try the passenger door. No luck, it was jammed firmly against the trunk of a tree. He tried not to panic as he slid back to the driver’s side and grabbed the window handle with both hands. Knowing that the windows of his classic car frequently jammed, he pulled at it with all of his strength. It finally moved and he cranked the window down, shuddering as the icy water poured into the car. Taking a deep breath, he climbed out of the window, attempting to hold onto the car so as not to get swept away in the current.

Despite his best efforts, he was unable to get his feet under him and the rushing water swept him away from the Volvo. He went under, arms and legs flailing, and was able to resurface moments later, choking and gasping at the lungful of cold water that he had gulped. The current smashed him against hidden underwater barriers, knocking his breath from him when his back or chest slammed painfully into a rock or stump, and sweeping him away each time that he thought he had a grip on something to stop his headlong flight. His limbs quickly became stiff and heavy as the cold soaked into him from the raging waters, fingers numbing, less and less able to grab on to anything.

After what seemed like hours of crashing and tumbling downstream, sometimes on top of the water, sometimes under the surface, he struck yet another unseen barrier. He lost much of his breath again in the process, but was glad that it no longer seemed to hurt as much. As a matter of fact, he hardly felt anything at all anymore except a distant cold ache. This time he stayed in place, the force of the current pressing him against the large rough surface that he finally dimly realized had to be the trunk of a fallen tree.

A barely functioning part of his mind told him that he was too cold and wet, and that he had to get out of the water if he was to survive. With his little remaining strength he found a branch that he could pull on, and the combination of his feeble effort and the force of the raging water against his back pushed him most of the way up onto the broad trunk. Sliding on his stomach, trying to ignore the awakened pain in his chest from the numerous blows he had suffered, he slowly pulled his legs up as well. Laying his head down on his arms, he finally gave in to exhaustion and awareness faded to gray.

Sounds brushed against the edge of his consciousness, breaking through his mental haze and the roaring of the water beneath him.

"Oh, my God, we got one! Over there, on that tree trunk. Hey, you all right over there?"

He opened leaden eyes and squinted as the bright beam of a flashlight focused on his face. His mouth refused to cooperate, as did the rest of his body, as he tried without success to respond or raise his head. Finally one arm did move, only enough to flop off the side of the trunk and trail limply in the water.

"You see that? Looks like a guy, and he's still alive. Hold on, mister! We'll be right there to get you."

Blair closed his eyes, confused and disoriented, wondering if it was a dream. Neither of the voices sounded much like Jim. Were there strangers in the loft? Why was he so cold and wet? Had Jim left the windows open? His muddled mind couldn’t make sense of what he could barely hear and feel.

Strong but gentle hands grabbed on to his left arm and leg.

"All right, mister. We're just gonna pull you right into the boat. You're gonna be all right."

Unable to marshal enough strength to reply, much less to help, he felt himself rolling over and falling a short distance, landing with a thump. He moaned as his head hit a hard surface.

"Sorry about that, buddy."

He felt strong hands wrapping something around him, lifting his head to place something soft beneath it. The boat rocked as Blair drifted, the faint sensation of movement almost the only thing he could still feel. The last thing that he heard was the sound of someone calling for emergency assistance as he lost his focus and was swept away again, this time into blackness.

---------------

"I think he's coming around, Simon."

The sound of a familiar voice penetrated the darkness, and he struggled to open his eyes. A painful brightness stabbed into his brain and he closed them again with a groan.

"Come on, Chief, wake up. You're worrying me here."

A firm hand grasped his shoulder and gave it a little shake. He tried to shrug away from the movement and found himself barely able to move. Panicking a bit as he became more awake, he finally opened his eyes and found a grinning, blurry face hanging over him.

"Jim..."

"Hey, buddy, welcome back. You had us worried there for a while. How are you feeling?"

"Hmmm..." He recognized Simon's smiling face nearby as well as the world began to come more into focus. "Tired. Hey, Simon."

"I bet you are. Do you remember what happened?"

It took a moment of thought as he struggled for the last thing that he could remember. "Road flooded...washed away..." he frowned.

"They found you early this morning, hanging onto a tree trunk. You were hypothermic, they've been working on warming you up all day."

"All day...?"

"Yeah, they brought you in almost 14 hours ago. How do you feel?"

He had a hard time coordinating his thoughts and sensations, but was pretty certain that he ached all over. His head pounded, his chest felt tight, and his arms and legs felt leaden. A burning sensation on his hands and fingers was matched, in patches, by similarly scraped areas of his chest. All in all, he felt too heavy and too tired to move, even if he could free himself from the snugly wrapped sheets and blankets.

"Sore? Kinda like a mummy?"

Jim grinned again and patted him on the arm. "Well, they've wanted to be sure that you could keep your body heat once they got it up again, so you are pretty well wrapped up. You look a lot better than when they brought you in, though."

Blair felt himself beginning to drift again, but this time it was into warmth and comfort. He struggled against it.

"When can I go home?" he whispered out, his voice rough.

"The doctor said that he wanted to keep you overnight, so you should be able to go home in the morning..."

Despite his best efforts to stay awake and listen to his partner, Blair let himself drift. Jim was there and on the job, and Blair knew that he'd be there when he awakened.