Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Set/4824

DISCLAIMER: Jim, Blair, and all things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly Productions and UPN, not to me. However, I do own the text of this particular story.

This is the first Sentinel story I ever wrote. It's more of a fragment than an entire story, actually; it begins very much in media res. I was trying to write a ST:Voy story and getting nowhere. Staring blankly at the computer screen, listening to the noise from the TV as my sister watched The Last of the Mohicans in the next room, this scene popped into my head. So I wrote it down. Hope you like it!

No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a long, long time
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a thousand years

-- Clannad, "I Will Find You."

The door slammed violently behind him as Blair stormed out of the loft, causing Jim to wince in momentary pain. His footsteps faltered for a second as he paused outside the doorway -- Jim felt hope rise through his hurt and anger -- but then they resumed as he stomped away. "Damn!" Jim stood still in the middle of the now-empty room, breathing heavily, trying to calm down. Then he turned and threw the glass in his hand as hard as he could against the wall and watched it shatter. Just like my life, he thought wearily. He sank to the floor, suddenly too weary to hold himself up. Oh, Blair.

Blair sat in his car, hands trembling. He fumbled with his keys, then dropped them. He picked them up and tried again, but couldn't seem to get them into the ignition. Oh, wait, that's my house key. Fingers shaking, he grabbed for the car key, but only managed to drop the ring again. Blair closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held it for a moment, then exhaled. It came out sounding like a sob.

What a stupid, pointless fight that had been! It was all his fault, too. Jim had done nothing to provoke it. One minute they had been sharing a quiet evening at home, companionably washing dishes together, and the next minute he had been in a panic, lashing out wildly, saying the most rude and cutting thing he could think of. Most of that fight was a blur, details lost to a haze of emotional pain and confusion, but he knew he would never forget the moment that followed as long as he lived. Time froze as Jim turned from the sink, hands dripping soapy water, clutching the glass he had been washing, shock on his face and a deep, bewildered pain in his eyes. Then Jim had asked him what was wrong and time resumed its flow.

Why did I do that? Blair wondered miserably. What's wrong with me? His mind sheered away from that thought abruptly. He knew what was wrong.

For the second time that night, anger exploded from him, but this time it was focused on himself. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, hard. Then again. Then again and again and again -- he hit the steering wheel in a steady, self-destructive rhythm, striking with such force that he bruised his fist. Without realizing it, he was chanting under his breath in time to his blows: "Stupid, stupid, stupid," a steady stream of self-directed vituperation.

He lowered his fist yet again, but this time it landed on soft flesh, not unyielding plastic. Startled, he looked up, and saw the car door standing wide open and Jim kneeling on the ground next to him, holding his hand in a firm but gentle grip. "I suddenly realized I never heard the car pull away, so I came out here to check on you," he said, concern and...something else...evident in his voice. Unable to meet Jim's eyes, Blair stared at their joined hands for a long moment.

Then, slowly, achingly, he began to cry.

He wept in huge, sobbing gasps, choking on his tears. He didn't cry easily or prettily: his eyes swelled up, his nose turned red, and his face was wet with mucus as well as tears. But Jim didn't care. He pulled Blair close and held him tight, rocking him slowly back and forth. Blair's arms found their way around Jim's shoulders and he held on for dear life, fingers clutching the fabric of Jim's shirt with a white-knuckled grip, afraid to let go, afraid to lose this anchor and be lost again in darkness.

After a while, the storm passed, and Blair became aware of his surroundings again. He looked around in weary bemusement. He was sprawled half-in, half-out of his car, caught in Jim's embrace, having an emotional breakdown outside, in front of God and everyone. He chuckled weakly, surprised and amazed that he was able to. At the sound, Jim's eyes, which had remained dry throughout this whole horrible night, dimmed a little with unshed tears. Softly, he touched Blair's face. "That's the first time I've heard you laugh in...in...well, in far too long."

Blair looked down and said equally quietly, "I know."

There was a pause.

Blair sighed and said, "Jim, I'm really sorry. No, Jim, shut up and let me finish," he continued over Jim's protests. "I need to say it. I said some unforgivable things tonight, and I really hurt you. I'm sorry. I've...just...been pretty messed up lately. Ever since...since...you know." This last was so soft even Jim could barely hear it. "I've been trying to act like nothing happened, like I was fine, like...if I could just ignore it, then it would just go away. It wouldn't have happened. I mean, it was over, it was done with, I'm safe now -- why dwell on it? So I put it out of my mind. Except I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was always there, you know? Lurking. Like my mind had this hidden trap, and the most ordinary, innocent thing would set it off. I felt --" He stopped, and took a breath. "I feel -- lost. Like I don't know where I'm at anymore. But, wherever it is, it's someplace I really don't want to be. And I'm all alone."

Jim couldn't take it anymore. "No," he said. "Not alone." Blair looked confused. Jim went on. "You're not alone. You have me. Wherever you are, I'm there with you. No matter where you go, no matter how lost you get, I'll find you." His partner still looked confused, and slightly dubious. Jim gave him a little shake, and cried, "Blair, don't you know I love you?"

Blair hissed and turned his head away sharply, as if he'd been struck. After a moment, he said in a strained and shaky voice, "I guess I did. But I can't...I don't...I..." His voice broke. He took a breath. "You love me?" He sounded incredulous. "Why? How could you possibly...after...?" He trailed off.

Jim closed his eyes briefly in pain. Gently, lovingly, he brushed Blair's lank hair back off his forehead, out of his eyes. His hands shook with rage, but their touch on his beloved was soft. "Blair Sandburg. I love you because you are worthy of love. It's as simple as that." His hands continued to stroke his hair while he paused, considering his next words. "I know you don't believe me, so I'll leave it alone for now. But it's true anyway." Blair's mouth twisted into something that looked like a smile, but had nothing to do with happiness. Jim's heart bled at the sight.

"Blair," Jim went on. "You can't go on like this. Will you promise me that you'll go see Dr. Peters tomorrow?"

Blair looked away, then back again. Silently, he nodded, then managed to croak out, "I promise."

Jim breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," he said. "Good."

The two men rose, arms around each other. Together, they went back into the house.

End