Author's webpage: http://internetdump.com/users/slashgirl/

Author's disclaimer: The Sentinel Universe and it's inhabitants belong to Pet Fly Productions, UPN/Paramount/Viacom, and not to me. I'm lettin' 'em outta their closets to have some fun, and will put 'em back when I'm done. No infringement intended, no money being made. I don't own any of the angels from "Touched by an angel" they belong to other people, (I know not whom), not me, I again make no claim on them, just borrowing them for plot purposes. All else belongs to me.

Author's notes: Yes, I've borrowed Dickens' idea. (As have many others through the years ). I've never actually read the book, just seen various movies. Jack Pendergrast (Jim's old partner)--I can't remember from the ep if he smoked, but he seemed like the type who would, and I'm not sure of the spelling of his last name, so...forgive these and any other errors. Small crossover with Touched by an angel. (No slash with Angelboy--yet ).

WARNING: Rated PG for mild m/m stuff. If you don't like this or are underage where you live, go 'way, read somethin' else, please. Features a grave site, but everybody is alive at the end.

SUMMARY: Jim has an interesting experience on Christmas Eve.

A Sentinel Christmas carol
by Stacy L.A. Stronach, December 1997

"Goddamnit, Jim! I can't stay here if you're going to be like this!" Blair yelled, grabbing his bags and heading out the door, slamming it behind him.

Jim stood there, staring at the door, feeling as if the only good thing in his life had just walked out. It had been such a stupid argument, over something small. Jim sighed, maybe the house rules weren't that important. He heard Blair's car start, and knew it was useless to go after the younger man, Jim could only hope he'd come home.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, Jim sat down on the couch, staring at the snow that was falling outside. Jim didn't realize he'd drifted off to sleep, until he felt somebody shaking his shoulder. "Blair?" he asked anxiously, but somehow knew it wasn't his Guide.

"Hey, Jimmy, how're ya doin'?"

Jim opened his eyes to find himself staring at his former partner, Jack Pendergrast. A man who had died almost six years ago. Shaking his head, scared that now he was seeing things with his heightened vision, Jim looked again. Yep, still there. God, he must be going crazy.

"C'mon, Jim. Talk to me!" the figure said, taking a long drag off it's cigarette.

"What the hell is going on. Jack Pendergrast is dead--what are you?" Jim asked sourly, not interested in pranks.

"It's me, Jack. And I'm dead alright, Jimmy. By the way, good work solving my murder, I really appreciate it. I'm here to give you a message, my friend. Your going to be visited by three "ghosts" or, as they now prefer, non-corporeal beings. Me? I prefer ghost, it has a nice, old fashioned ring to it. Anyway, three of them will visit you before tonight is over. And, my friend, I'd listen to 'em. You need to."

"What is this, Dickens' "A Christmas carol"? So, why are you here, Jack?" Jim asked, not believing that this was happening.

"To let you know you shouldn't throw away the people you love. Like I threw Emily away. I did that for a good part of my life, Jimmy. Now, I'm over here and all alone. It really sucks being alone, man. Whether you're dead or alive, it sucks. And we both know that you let the most important person in your life walk out of here tonight. Over what? One of your "house rules"? Jimmy boy, ya gotta lighten up a little--you were never this bad when I was alive. Now, stop trying to disagree with me--you love that Blair and you know it. Not my cuppa, but then there always was some question about you, wasn't there?" Jack smirked at his still-living partner.

"Jack..."

"Look, Jimmy, I gotta go. Just remember what's important in your life, my friend," Jack's ghost finished before fading into thin air.

Jim pinched himself, to make sure he was awake and not dreaming this whole thing. He was most certainly awake. Getting off the couch, he thought about having another beer, but then thought that maybe he should stick to non-alcoholic beverages, and grabbed a coffee. He was still sure that he dreamed the entire exchange with Jack.

"Jim," said a quiet voice from behind him. Turning around he saw a beautiful young woman, with long red hear, wearing a flowing white gown. He gasped when he realized it was his own mother, who had died when Jim was nine years old.

"Mom...what are you doing here?" he asked, figuring he was dreaming again.

"You're not dreaming, Jimmy. Give me your hand, we're going on a little trip. Into the past," she said.

Jim stood up and walked over to the apparition. It scared him a little bit--this entity in front of him, while having none of the typical physical signs of life (heartbeat, pulse), did have a certain energy to it. He reached to take her hand and as soon as they touched, there was a bright flash of light, then Jim was standing in the back of a room, beside his mother, watching a happy Christmas scene unfold.

Jim looked around--this was the house he'd grown up in. Then he heard two little boy voices as they came into the living room, followed by Jim's parents. The boys ran over and started by opening their stockings, then their presents. "The Christmases before I went away were so happy, weren't they, Jim? You and Stevie loved everything about it, so much. The snow, the decorations, the presents from Santa. Then, I left you boys," the image of his mother said, and the scene switched to one Jim remembered well. It was in his ninth year, the day after Christmas. The scene showed his mother, laid out on her bed, eyes closed, not breathing, her husband and two sons standing beside her. Steve stood with his face pressed against Jim's side, trying not to cry--their father didn't like boys who cried. Jim stood, his arm around his brother, trying to comfort the little six year old. Jim's face showed no emotion, but it hurt so bad that his mother had left them alone.

"Mom, what does this have--" Jim tried to ask.

"Shh, wait just a minute, Jim," she replied, and the images started going by a little faster, of Christmases after she'd died, when their father would barely tolerate decorations or the tree or gift giving. Finally to the time when Jim was 16, and his father banned any celebration of Christmas at all. He and Stephen had secretly bought their gifts for one another, and exchanged them while at school, something they'd done every year afterward, until Jim had gone into the Army and they'd lost track of one another.

Jim's mother turned to face her son. "You were always so stoic, my son. Always trying to be like Daddy. You know something? You've succeeded. Joe always kept himself closed off emotionally, even from me, most of the time. I'd have no idea what he was thinking or feeling, I'd have to guess, and most times I'd guess wrong. I'm so sorry that I had to leave you so soon, James, but it was my time. Maybe if I hadn't died, you'd've been a different person, more able to express yourself," she said.

"So, what? I'm a failure?" Jim asked angrily.

"No, Jim, I never said that, and I certainly didn't mean to imply it. What I meant is that if your father had been so angry at my dying or I had lived, you would have learned a different way of dealing with things. You close yourself off so much of the time Jim, it's no wonder Blair gets upset with you. He cares for you, very much. In fact, I'd say he was in love with you, but you're always shutting him out. Jim, you should know by now, you can trust Blair, he won't leave you. Being with him would do you a lot of good, my son. Give it a chance, I know you love him. Oh, I've got to go now, Jim. Remember, I love you, I always will," she said, and then she and the Christmas scenes faded into the background.

Jim looked around the living suspiciously, turning up hearing and sight, trying to make sure someone wasn't putting on some elaborate show for him. He almost zoned when he heard Simon yell, "ELLISON!!"

Quickly turning his hearing down, Jim turned to see his boss standing before him. "Simon, I know you're not dead. You're not dead are you?" Jim asked, worried something might have happened to his friend.

"No, no, Jim. Just a little astral travelling. Ask Sandburg about it, he'll know. That's why we prefer the term, non-corporeal entity--you see, Jack's a ghost, so he doesn't mind people thinking he's dead. I do. Well, Jimbo, let's go!" Simon said, and with another flash of light, Jim found himself standing next to Simon in an unfamiliar living room, cheerily decorated for the Christmas holidays. He looked at his Captain--"Um, sir, where the hell are we?"

Simon didn't answer, just pointed with his cigar, indicating what Jim should be paying attention to. Jim looked and saw Blair and a woman, sitting on the couch talking. He felt his jealousy rising, until he listened to what Blair was saying.

"Oh, Storm, I don't know what to do. I mean, I love Jim so much, but I'm terrified of telling him. I'm scared he'll reject me. That he'll hate me."

"Blair, you can't let fear rule your life, man. You have to be brave--the worst Jim can say is "No, I'm not interested." From what you've told me of him, cop that he is, I don't think he'd turn you out on the street, would he?" she asked.

"I don't know, I don't think so. He's a pretty honourable guy. You know, I've come close to telling him, a couple of times, but whenever I start to talk about how I feel, he just seems to close himself off. I guess I have a decision to make..."

The scene suddenly switched to Jim's loft, which was dark, and barren of decorations. Jim saw himself sitting on the couch, sipping at a beer, a look of abject sadness on his face.

Jim looked at himself, not liking what he was seeing. "Simon..."

"Yeah, Jim, pretty bad isn't it? You've spent so much of your life closing people out, it's made you a lonely man. I've know you for what, 6, 7 years, and hell, I know less about you than Sandburg does! You know, I was glad, after you hooked up with Sandburg, you seemed to be happier, more relaxed. I don't think you can afford to lose that, do you?"

"But Simon, I don't know if I can do it. I mean, I've screwed up so badly before, you know, with Carolyn and ... well, I'm scared," Jim said.

"Jim, that's what life is about taking chances. You're willing to do it everyday, with your body--you're a cop, and every time you answer a call--it could be your last. Yeah, I know, it's harder when you're risking your emotions and your heart. But the risk is no greater, my friend," Simon said.

Jim turned to ask his friend another question, but the man was gone, and Jim was alone again in the loft. He was starting to get apprehensive, because if he remembered correctly, the next "visitor" should be death. While he wasn't scared of death, Jim figured he could wait a few more years before meeting him.

Jim noticed a golden light fill the room, and suddenly, there was a handsome young man standing in front of him. He had dirty blond hair, and kind green eyes. "Hello, Jim, my name is Andrew," he said.

"Are you a ghost or what? I know I've never met you before. Who are you?" Jim demanded.

"I'm not a ghost. I'm the angel of death. I help people cross to the other side. Not to worry, Jim, I'm not here to take you, not yet, but I am going to take you into the future," Andrew explained.

"But I thought Death was a guy with a black cape and a scythe?" Jim asked.

"Well, we only use him for the really tough cases and we don't feel that you're far enough gone to need him. Let's go, Jim," Andrew replied, and with a flash of light, they were transported to a medium sized home office, one that had books lining every wall, and a heavy oak desk. Jim gasped as he recognized the man sitting at that desk--it was Blair, about 40 years from now. His hair was still long, but almost entirely white, and his face was heavily lined, he looked much older than what he was, as if life had been cruel to him.

"Blair?" Jim said, pretty sure his friend couldn't hear him.

Then Jim heard the sound of carollers, obviously outside. "Ring Christmas bells, merrily ring, tell all the world Jesus is king." Blair stood and went to the front door, Andrew and Jim following him. Grabbing a basket of candy from the table by the door, Blair opened the door and there was a group of about 6 children and a couple of adult chaperons. "Merry Christmas, Uncle Blair," they cried in unison.

Blair smiled a sad smile, "Merry Christmas, kids. Here, help yourself to some candy. You're doing a wonderful job, thank you for stopping by."

One little girl stepped forward, giving Blair a hug, which he returned. "Uncle Blair, why are you always so sad at Christmas. Most everybody is happy this time of year," she asked.

Leaning down close to her, he spoke. "Oh, Sera, Christmas makes me sad, because one time, at Christmas, I lost someth--someone very important to me. I always think of him at this time of year, and it makes me sad. But hearing you kids sing always cheers me up. Do you guys know "We wish you a Merry Christmas"?" Blair asked, and the group started to sing it as they moved to the next house. As he turned to go into his own house, Blair's smile fell, as he wearily climbed the stairs to his house.

"Andrew, what...what's he talking about?" Jim asked.

Andrew regarded Jim for a moment. "Well, in this time line, you rejected Blair, and kicked him out of your house and your life, once he told you how he felt about you. He was never able to find anyone else he loved as much as he loved you. So, he's spent all of his days alone, not going out much, with anyone, never finding another love. And that's a sad way to live a life," Andrew explained.

The scene shifted again, and this time, they were standing in front of a grave. Jim honed his vision in on the name: "James Joseph Ellison". He didn't say anything, just watched, as his coffin was lowered into the ground. Two men were standing beside his grave and Jim realized it was his brother and Blair. He could hear them talking.

"Thanks for coming, Blair. So many people turned their backs on Jim the last few years, he just turned into such a mean man. It was a shame..." Stephen said.

"It was the least I could do. After all, he was the only person I've ever loved. Even though he hadn't talked to me for the past 40 years. I had to come, pay my last respects. I missed him so much, Stephen," Blair said.

"Blair, I never realized, I'm sorry," Stephen replied, hugging the younger man.

Jim looked at Andrew. "Is this what will happen to me? Is this how my life will play out?" he asked.

"It's one of a multitude of possibilities, Jim. The future is not carved in stone, you can change it, if you really want to, that is," Andrew replied.

"I do want to change, I do..." Jim sat up, totally awake and just a little bit confused. *What happened? That didn't really happen, did it? If it did, I've got to find Blair, tell him how I feel. Even if that was a dream, I can't risk having what happened in that future, happen in mine,* he thought, as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

It wasn't until he was in the truck that he realized he didn't know where this Storm lived. Then he became aware that he did know, somehow, even though he'd never met this friend of Blair's.

He pulled up in front of the house, and saw the Volvo parked outside. Jim parked the car, got out and ran up the front steps, then rang the doorbell. He could hear voices inside, one of them was Blair's. The door was opened by the same young woman he'd seen in his...vision. "I need to talk to Blair, please," he said.

She looked him up and down, "C'mon in, man. He's in the living room, through there," she answered, pointing Jim in the right direction but not following him.

Jim walked in to see Blair standing by the window, gazing out at the snow that was falling. "Hey, Chief. You gonna come home or not?" he asked, quietly.

Blair whirled around, surprise on his face. "Jim!! What are you doing here? How did you even find me?" he asked.

"I don't want to go into it now. Blair, I'm sorry about earlier. I was acting like an ass. I'm really sorry, I need you to come home with me. Please," Jim said, hardly able to bear looking at the other man.

Blair grinned, "Yeah, you were. It's okay, man, but things have got to change, okay? A little compromise or something, right?" Blair asked.

"You're right. Look, something happened to me to tonight, and I don't want to go into it right now, but it made me own up to something I've known for a while now. Blair, I love you," Jim said, watching the emotions as they flitted across his friend's face: shock, surprise, happiness and joy.

Blair smiled, reaching out to pull Jim into an embrace, laying his head on Jim's shoulder. "Oh, god, Jim, you don't know how long I've wanted to hear that! I love you, too, for a long while now," he said, tilting his head back to look Jim in the eyes. "Kiss me?"

Jim answered with actions instead of words, claiming Blair's mouth in a hot passionate kiss, each tasting the other's mouth. When they finally pulled apart for oxygen, Storm spoke. "Uh, guys, I really don't mind the floorshow, as long as you know you've got an audience..." she teased.

The two men laughed, "Yeah. Chief, let's go home," Jim said.

"Sounds like a wonderful idea, Big Guy," Blair replied.