Notes: This was inspired by the film The Sixth Sense. There be angst and darkness here.
Thanks to WoD for encouragement and and a speedy beta.
The Undiscovered
Country
Blair Sandburg wanted to kick himself. For someone who was supposed to be brilliant, this was beyond boneheaded. He hadn't thought this through, and Jim was paying the price.
He and Jim had been conducting their own "courtship ritual" for the last few weeks. Neither man wanted to rush into anything and risk damaging their friendship. They'd started with admitting their mutual attraction, moved cautiously into "dating", adding in kissing and cuddling to their relationship. Blair felt confident that they were ready to progress to a more physical level.
Tonight's plans seemed harmless enough, dinner and a movie. The film was supposed to be good - suspenseful, well acted, well written, and without a lot of bright and noisy explosions to irritate sentinel senses. But the storyline about a freaked out kid who saw dead people had been a disaster.
Almost from the beginning, Jim had been so still and quiet, Blair had to check and make sure he hadn't zoned. Throughout the film, Jim's only motions had been the occasional convulsive grip on the armrest. By the end of the film, he was so tense and rigid, he could have been carved from stone.
When Jim handed him the keys to the truck, Blair knew Jim wasn't himself. He gave him a quick glance. Jim was still too pale. The muscle twitching in his jaw betrayed his tension. He recognized the pained expression on Jim's face as the one he wore when he had one of his blinding headaches.
"Jim, man, I'm sorry," Blair said softly, his expressive voice colored with regret.
"S'okay, Chief. It was just a movie." Jim's quiet, pain-filled reply didn't ease Blair's guilt any.
The drive to the loft was completed in silence. Jim didn't protest when Blair half supported him up the stairs into the loft, and just collapsed onto the sofa. Blair quickly brought him aspirin and a glass of water, and a cool cloth to put over his eyes.
The loft was a bit chilly, so Blair started a fire. Soon, the warm glow of firelight danced on the walls. The cozy crackles from the fireplace were the only sound in the loft. Blair watched as Jim began to relax.
After a while, Blair broke the silence. "I should have been thinking, Jim. After Molly, this probably wasn't the best film to pick."
Jim took the cloth off his eyes and sat up. "It was a good movie, Chief. I just - have some issues." His lips quirked in a half smile. "I suppose most of the audience haven't really communicated with dead people."
Blair began to relax, too. Jim seemed better. The silence between them was no longer tense, but companionable. Blair leaned back in the chair, and allowed more tension to drain away into the warmth and quiet. He started, just a bit, when Jim began to speak.
"When I was five, I had an imaginary friend. Her name was Nell. She was lovely. She wore a pretty green dress, and she had a matching ribbon that tied back her long red hair. She seemed to be a little older than me."
"There was a little grove of trees at the park near our house. I would ask my mother every day to take me to the park to play with her there. I remember the first time I saw her. She told me she was looking for her pony, he'd run off. I played with her almost every day for a whole summer. Then one day, she said she had to go, and I couldn't find her anymore. I cried. My mother told me imaginary friends only stay for a little while."
"Funny thing was, Chief, I only ever saw her in that grove of trees. And her clothes weren't like other kids, her dress looked like the dress my great-grandmother wore in a picture from when she was a little girl. I'd forgotten her until today."
Blair closed his mouth with an audible snap. "Jesus, Jim."
"Yeah, well, it was long time ago." He stood and stretched. "It's late Chief, I'm gonna turn in." With brief press of his lips to Blair's, he headed upstairs.
"'Night, Jim."
Blair went to his room, grabbed his laptop, and hurried back to the warm sofa. He had wondered, with Molly, if this was some sort of sensory aberration, or a normal development of sentinel senses. If Jim had seen and interacted with a ghost as a child, maybe it was an enhanced "sense" as well. Or maybe it was just Jim.
Blair went to work, making a list of sources to check for information on paranormal abilities, and ways to see if he could identify Nell. His curiosity fired by Jim's revelation, Blair worked away, oblivious to the passing hours.
He noticed the chill first. The fire had gone out, it's warmth long dissipated. He heard the moan, next. He sat up straight, his research forgotten. Jim must be having a nightmare.
When Jim cried out again, it was a sound filled with such aching loneliness that Blair found himself halfway up the stairs before he consciously decided to move.
It was colder up in Jim's bedroom. Blair shivered and quickly closed the window that was slightly ajar. Jim was tangled up in his sheets, the blanket tossed to the floor. He was reaching out to wake Jim when he cried out "Don't leave me," and sat up.
"Blair?" There was such desolation in Jim's voice Blair wanted to weep. He quickly pulled Jim close.
"Shh. I'm here, I've got you." Jim buried his face against him, and clung tightly.
"Oh god. You were dead. I was too late, and you were dead. You were so cold, and I couldn't hear you. I was so alone."
Blair shuddered. "I'm here, Jim." He gently rocked the shivering man in his arms. "I'm here. Feel my arms around you, listen to my heat beating. You're not alone, Jim. I'm here."
Jim's shivers gradually subsided, and he pulled out of Blair's embrace. Moonlight silvered the tear tracks on Jim's face. He reached out and gently wiped off the matching tracks on Blair's cheeks. Cradling his face, he leaned in and kissed Blair so sweetly it brought fresh moisture to his eyes.
The kiss deepened, sweetness spiraling into passion. Jim threaded his hands into his hair and pulled him closer, stroking and exploring as they kissed.
Jim tore his lips from Blair's. "Let me feel you," he gasped, "all of you."
Blair leaned in for another kiss while he fumbled with his shirt, his fingers clumsy on the buttons. Jim growled, and yanked, and as buttons went flying, Jim quickly divested him of his outer shirt.
Jim growled again when his questing fingers once more met fabric. This time, Blair was able to shuck off his T-shirt before Jim tore it off him. As Jim nuzzled his neck, he was able to shimmy out of his jeans and boxers. Somewhere along the way, Jim had shed his boxers, too. Nothing met Blair's exploring hands but glorious Jim-skin.
"Jim," he gasped. "Jim, wait." Blair moaned, and pushed slightly against his chest. Jim froze.
"I want to see you," Blair whispered. "Lie back." In the moonlight, Jim was a study of light and shadow, looking more like a work of art than a flesh and blood man. "So beautiful," he breathed. "Let me touch you."
Jim nodded. Blair reached out and ran his hands along the smooth expanse of his chest. He scooted closer, then climbed across Jim and straddled him. He took advantage of his new position by first tweaking Jim's nipples, then running his hands down his chest and over the magnificent ridges of his abdomen.
Jim's cock, already hard and leaking, twitched as Blair brought his hands closer, He paused, and looked up at Jim. Even in the moonlight, Blair could see the hunger in Jim's eyes. It beat between them like a living thing. Blair abandoned his exploring and leaned forward to capture Jim's lips.
Jim pulled him closer, and slid his hands down to cup his ass. Jim moaned as this brought their cocks into alignment. He pulled Blair closer still, and thrust upward. Blair moaned too, as their cocks rubbed together. Pleasure sizzled across his nerves. Jim thrust again, and Blair rocked his hips, and soon they were rocking and thrusting in pleasurable rhythm.
Blair gazed down at Jim. His expression was ecstatic. Blair suspected his face bore the same expression. Here, now, making love with Jim, was everything he wanted. He wished this feeling could last forever.
His orgasm caught him by surprise. Pleasure crested over him, and he came with a shout. Jim followed immediately, crying out "Blair" as he came, as though the name were a prayer.
Blair collapsed on to Jim's chest, panting. He draped across his lover, and just lay there a while, sated and sticky. Gradually, as his scattered thoughts returned to coherency, he had the odd sense that he was missing something, something important. He shivered suddenly, the sweat on his body cooling uncomfortably quickly. He snuggled closer to Jim for warmth, but that didn't help any, because Jim wasn't warm. In fact he was downright cold.
Awareness hit Blair like ice water. The chest he was draped across wasn't moving. There was no heartbeat drumming beneath his ear. Blear jerked upright and off of Jim. He stared at his lover, and Jim looked back at him, and smiled sadly. "No," Blair cried out. "This isn't happening. No. NO!"
Blair sat up, the cry still echoing on his lips. His dazed eyes took in his surroundings. Moonlight poured in through the skylight, outlining the furnishings in silvery light. He was in Jim's bed, in Jim's room. He drew in a shaky breath. It had been a horrible nightmare.
A motion caught his eye, as Jim stepped from the shadows by the stairs. He ignored Blair as he sat down on the opposite side of the bed. Blair was confused. Jim hadn't asked what had upset him or anything, just acted like he wasn't here. He wondered if he was having second thoughts about being lovers. Jim's next words made him certain.
"Oh, god, Blair, I can't do this anymore."
"Jim, don't freak out on me here, okay? Whatever is wrong, we'll figure out a way to fix it. But I need you to tell me what's wrong first."
Jim didn't reply right away. "It's all so fucked up now. My senses are all over the place. Simon won't let me out in the field. The brass is pushing to put me on disability."
"Jim, what in the hell are you talking about?" Blair interjected. Jim went on speaking like he hadn't heard him.
"They think I'm a head case. Maybe they're right, Chief. I don't know. Nothing means anything anymore. I can't eat, I don't sleep...I'm so tired. I miss you so bad, Blair...It hurts all the time, I can't...I can't live like this anymore."
Jim reached over and picked up something from the nightstand. Blued steel glinted in the moonlight. "I love you, Blair. I should have told you before... I'm sorry, so sorry."
"Please, no, Jim. Don't do this man. Don't do this!" Blair frantically tried to make Jim listen. He tried to grab Jim's arm, but somehow, he couldn't touch him. He watched in horror as Jim put the gun in his mouth. "Please, please don't, I'm right here, Jim. I love you, please listen to me!" Jim slowly tightened his finger on the trigger. "Jim!"
"Dammmit, Blair, wake up!" The sharp sting on his cheek jolted Blair into awareness.
"Jim!" Blair flung himself at Jim, wrapping his arms around the startled man and knocking them both off the sofa onto the floor.
Jim let out an "Oof" as Blair landed solidly on his chest. Keeping his arms wrapped around Jim, Blair wiggled around so his head was lying on Jim's chest. He just lay there, listening to the thump of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.
Jim gently wrapped his arms around the man lying on his chest, and gently stroked his back. He listened as Blair's frantic heartrate slowed to a more normal rhythm. "Hey, you okay now?" Blair nodded. "You want to move back up to the sofa?" This time Blair shook his head. Jim continued his soothing strokes on his back. "Some nightmare, huh? Scared the hell out of me, and it wasn't even my dream." He could feel the smile against his chest. "Do you need to talk about it?" Even as he asked, Jim thought how strange it was. Usually, Blair was urging Jim to talk.
Blair thought so too. "Isn't that supposed to be my line?" he quipped. "Just 'Monsters from the Id' coming out to play. I think I'm gonna skip the scary movies for a while, though."
Jim chuckled, and gave him a slight squeeze. "That's okay with me."
They lay on the floor together, arms wrapped around each other, a while longer. Jim quietly reveled in the feel of Blair in his arms. He could feel Blair relax, and his breathing become slower and deeper. "Don't fall asleep here, Chief. I'm too old to sleep on the floor." Blair mumbled something unintelligible into his chest. "Come on, up we go."
"But I liked sleeping on your chest."
"I didn't say you couldn't sleep on me, just not on the floor."
Blair raised startled eyes to Jim.
"Would you like to sleep with me, Blair? No pressure, just sleep."
He smiled and nodded.
"Let's go to bed, Chief."
Snuggled in Jim's arms, his head pillowed on his chest, Blair felt warm and cherished and gloriously alive. "Jim?"
"Mmmhmm?"
"What if I want more than sleep?" He felt the sudden hitch in breathing in the chest he was laying on.
"You sure?"
"Oh, yeah. But, there's something you need to know first." He could feel Jim holding his breath. "I really love you, but, Jim, I can't give you children." Blair held on as his 'chest pillow' rocked up and down with laughter. Finally, the shaking subsided.
"Come here," Jim growled. Blair wriggled up Jim until they were face to face. "You're crazy, you know that?"
Blair grinned down at Jim. "Probably. But you love me anyway."
Jim quickly flipped them over. "Yeah, I do." With a cocky grin of his own, he leaned down and captured Blair's lips in a kiss.
Sticky and sated, Blair lay on his lover's chest, riding the gentle rise and fall as he breathed. Beneath his ear was the steady thump of his heartbeat. He shivered suddenly, the sweat on his body cooling uncomfortably quickly. He snuggled closer to Jim for warmth.
Jim reached out and snagged the covers, pulling them up around them. "Sorry, babe," he mumbled. "window latch's broken... fixit t'morrow."
"'kay. " Love you."
"Love you."
Epilogue
The warm glow of the firelight danced on the walls of the loft. Soothing strains of jazz intermixed with crackling from the fireplace to fill the loft with a comforting ambience.
Blair was sprawled on the sofa, laptop in his lap, his legs pulled across Jim's lap. Jim was using Blair's legs as a prop for the Forensics Journal he was reading. He powered down the laptop and carefully set it on the coffee table so he didn't disturb Jim.
Jim looked up from his article to find Blair staring intently at him. "What?"
Blair took in a deep breath. "I found Nell."
Jim flinched, ever so slightly. He closed his Journal and set it carefully on the coffee table. He pulled Blair closer, into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. "Who was she?"
"Helene Marie Stansfield."
"As in Stansfield Lumber?"
"Yeah. And Stansfield Center for Performing
Arts and Stansfield Athletic
Center, those Stansfields."
"What's the story?"
"She was born in 1901, youngest child of George and Nora Stansfield. She died in 1908, two weeks after her seventh birthday, Cause of death was listed as broken neck, believed to have been sustained in a fall from her pony."
"According to the police reports, her pony returned to the family stables without her. An intensive search was mounted, and after several hours, her body was found near a small glade of saplings located in an area that is now known as Jasper Park."
Jim sat quietly for a while. "Chief, why was it so different with Molly? I talked to Nell, we played together, it was like she was real."
"Hey man, you were a child. Traditionally, children are supposed to be closer to the spirit world. You didn't know you weren't supposed to be able to see her, and hear her, so you were open to her. By the time Molly came along, you had a whole lifetime of conditioning to overcome. It's pretty miraculous that you were able to contact her at all."
"It didn't feel miraculous. It was damn weird." Jim cuddled Blair closer. "Do you think it will happen again?"
"I don't know. But if it does, I'll be there with you."
"Gee, thanks, Egon. Nice to know I can depend on you."
"Anytime, Venkman, anytime."
The warm glow of the firelight danced on the walls. The sound of jazz faded into silence as the CD ended. The loft filled with gentle silence, broken only by the comforting crackle of the fire, and the soft moans and quiet murmurs of lovers.
