Author’s Note: I don’t own these guys, I just noticed the parallels.

“All right, man, give it up. What did you see?”

Johnny glanced up at Bruce, back towards the ticket counter and the young woman who’d handed him his plane ticket, then back at Bruce. “Just now? She just found out her fiance’s been cheating on her and is trying to decide what to do about it.”

Well, that would explain why he’d told the young woman “he doesn’t deserve you” before they’d walked away from the desk.

Bruce shook his head. “Nah, man. I’m talking about whatever it is you saw that made you up and decide you and me needed to take a trip to Washington State. I know you, man–if there’s one thing you don’t like, it’s big cities with lots of people.”

As if to emphasize his point, a man in a long coat and a hurry promptly bumped into the psychic, then continued on without even a backwards glance or an apology. Johnny winced, then shrugged. “There’s someone there you need to meet.”

“Someone I need to meet?”

“All right, someone we both need to meet, but primarily you.”

Bruce blinked, confused. “Who?”

“That–” Smirking mischievously, Johnny air-poked his friend with a finger, being careful not to make actual contact with his chest. “–is for me to know and you to find out.”

* * * * *

“A cop? This person you and I desperately need to meet is a cop?”

Johnny shook his head with a little grimace. “Persons, actually, and I’m not sure…”

Bruce gave him a sideways look. “What are you sure about?”

“That I’ll know when I see them.”

Right on cue, the glass front door of the station opened to let two men step out into the sunlight. The taller one’s dress was casual, but neat, with a gold badge gleaming on his belt and brown hair cropped close to his skull like he’d spent time in the military. He had a commanding stride, an air of power and controlled violence like a jungle cat, but the genuine smile on his face hinted that he was definitely one of the good guys.

The shorter man at his side was also smiling with genuine joy, the baggy flannel shirt he wore pushed halfway up arms that were animatedly contributing to whatever it was he said. His hair, though longer than that of his companion, was a close cap of curls that seemed as unfamiliar to him as Bruce’s newly re-shorn pate was to him, since he kept reaching up one hand or the other to tuck back locks that weren’t there.

A smile crossed Johnny’s face and he started to walk towards the two men, Bruce almost hurrying to keep up despite his friend’s continued dependence of the silver-headed cane.

“Detective Ellison?”

The two men stopped, the shorter one mid-story, and stared at them. “That would be me,” the taller one stated, his voice and eyes sharp, wary.

Much to Bruce’s surprise, Johnny stuck out a hand. “My name’s John Smith–”

The second Ellison’s hand clasped his, the vision hit, as he’d known it would. It was the same wooded clearing he’d seen a week ago, when he’d first glimpsed the necessity of this meeting as Bruce handed him his cane getting out of the car. As before, he stood beside Bruce at the foot of a particularly tall fir, watching as a salt-and-pepper gray wolf and a midnight black jaguar stalked towards them on padded paws, only to shape-shift upon reaching them into the two men who now stood before them in reality.

When the image released him, Johnny met Ellison’s eyes and knew by the startled look in them that he’d shared the vision. He also knew that it wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened to the man.

The psychic smiled, and continued the introductions. “This is my friend, Bruce Lewis. Bruce, meet Detective Jim Ellison and Detective Blair Sandburg, Cascade PD.”

With a worried glance at Ellison, Sandburg tentatively shook hands with Bruce. Johnny didn’t offer his hand again.

“Mind if I have a word with you, Detective?” the psychic again addressed his words to Ellison. “I think your partner here and Bruce have a few things to discuss.”

Still shaken and a bit leery, Ellison nodded. “Sure…Chief? What do you say we meet you guys back at the truck?”

“Ah…okay,” Sandburg agreed, confused. He glanced at Bruce as the other two men turned away. “What exactly do we have to discuss?”

Bruce sighed. “Beats me–Johnny didn’t exactly fill me in on the details.”

“Oh, Detective Sandburg? One last thing…” Johnny stumped back towards them a few steps, smiling like a man with a secret too good to keep to himself. “An acquaintance of yours, Incacha, asked me to give you a message. ‘Not every sentinel sees with his eyes, but every sentinel needs a guide.'”

Before Blair or Bruce could do more than gape, he walked away again.

End Note: If Johnny can communicate with a centuries-dead shaman via his visions, I figured he should be able to talk to a recently-dead one like Incacha too. *g*