Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel 
and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely 
for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. 
No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

Acknowledgments: Orphan plot bunny courtesy of Patt Rose--thanks,
Patt, for the inspiration. Many thanks to my talented betas, Mary and
KimberlyFDR, who help keep me in line and fix my mistakes.

Summary:  Jim forgets the unforgettable after receiving a blow to the
head, and in the aftermath, forges a new relationship with Blair.

Warnings: Song lyrics--"Unforgettable", sung by Nat King Cole

Category: Romance, First Times


UNFORGETTABLE
By Natalie L
nat1228@comcast.net

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Unforgettable, that's what you are
Unforgettable, though near or far
Like a song of love that clings to me
How the thought of you does things to me
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His head felt like Thor was hammering away on his skull. Lifting a
hand, he felt the bandages encircling his temples. A hand grazed his,
and he opened his eyes. A concerned young man looked down on him with
the widest blue eyes he had ever seen. Chestnut curls hung around the
square jaw, softening the hard lines. Full lips pouted in a worried
frown.

"It's about time, Jim! You had me scared witless! The doctor said it
was just a mild concussion, but when you didn't wake up..."

The voice was melodious, and deeper than he expected. He reached up a
hand to caress the man's cheek.

"What happened?" Jim asked, interrupting the spiel.

"You don't remember?" The frown returned. Jim shook his head. The
young man sighed and flopped into a chair next to the hospital bed.
"You were chasing Mattson along the second story balcony of the Comfy
Inn and he opened a door in your face. You stumbled against the
railing, which broke, and you landed on your truck. The fall knocked
you unconscious."

"That would explain the anvil chorus inside my skull," Jim said
thoughtfully. "Did Mattson get away?"

"Rafe cornered him as he was coming down the back stairs. We have him
in custody."

"Good. Good." Jim nodded, and then thought better of the activity as
the throbbing increased. "Think you could convince the doctors to give
me something for this headache?" he asked.

"They already have you shot to the gills," the man answered. Lowering
his voice, he leaned closer to Jim. "It's your Sentinel senses, man.
They're wreaking havoc with the pain killers again."

Jim blinked to clear his vision, which had begun to blur. He pinched
the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his eyes. "Well, doesn't that
beat all," he sighed. "And I could really use a hit of morphine right
now."

"No, really, Jim," the young man insisted, "you couldn't. I mean, I
know you're hurting, but we're going to have to find another way to
ease the pain. The doctors won't give you any more painkillers just
yet; maybe a relaxation exercise. Try closing your eyes and taking a
deep breath." The man demonstrated by closing his eyes and drawing a
deep breath, raising exquisite hands from his waist to his shoulders
as he inhaled, then letting them drop as the air rushed from his
lungs.

Jim smiled. Whoever this young man was, he was a pleasure to watch and
listen to. He could almost forget the throbbing in his head as he
concentrated on every word, every motion made by his companion.
Finally, he had to know. "Who are you, anyway? My physical therapist?"

Startled blue eyes looked sharply at him. The young man sprang to his
feet and leaned over the bed. "You're joking, right? Jim, tell me
you're joking."

"Joking?" Confusion filled him. Joking about what?

"Come on, man. You're scaring me here. Don't do this."

"I-I'm sorry," Jim said softly. "Should I know you?"

"Damn straight, you should!" The words exploded from the man's full
lips. He suddenly turned solicitous, as though embarrassed by his
outburst. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't be yelling at you. What
can you tell me that you remember?"

Jim thought a moment. "My name is Jim Ellison, and I'm a detective
with the Major Crimes Unit of the Cascade PD," he began. "I was
working a case involving a major jewel heist. I remember tailing
Mattson to the motel, but I don't remember the accident."

"And me?"

Jim's face warmed with a smile, and he reached up to cup the man's
chin. "How could I ever forget you?" he asked. "You're the most
unforgettable man I've ever met." 

The young man breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. 

"But who are you?" Jim looked up into eyes now clouded with concern.
"I'm sorry, but I really don't know. If I had ever met you, I'm
certain I'd never forget."

"My name's Blair; Blair Sandburg," the young man introduced himself
softly. "I'm your friend, your partner, your Guide."

"Guide?"

"Yeah, for the Sentinel stuff," Blair spoke quietly. "It's kind of an
unofficial title." He allowed a soft chuckle to escape his throat. "I
help you with your senses, keep you from zoning on the job."

"Sentinel stuff?" Jim looked confused. "What Sentinel stuff?"

"Your heightened senses," Blair explained, his voice strangled with
concern. "You know..."

Jim shook his head and smiled, the words meaning little to him.
"You're my partner?" he asked, changing the subject back to something
he understood.

"We work together," Blair replied cautiously. "I'm an Anthropology
student at Rainier University working on my doctoral thesis. You're my
subject. I work as a consultant to the police department and ride
along with you on your cases."

The two men were interrupted when a doctor stepped through the door.
"It's good to see you awake, Mr. Ellison," the doctor said as he
approached the bed. "My name is Dr. Ochoa. I'm pleased to meet you."
He held out his hand and Jim took it to shake. "I take it Mr.
Sandburg, here, has filled you in on what happened?"

"Yeah," Jim said, deciding against nodding. "When can I go home?"

Dr. Ochoa checked the chart he held in his hand. "There's no serious
injury from your fall, except for the loss of consciousness. I'd like
to keep you overnight for observation. If everything checks out, I can
send you home tomorrow."

"I'd like to go home now," Jim insisted.

"That wouldn't be advisable," the doctor warned. "You were unconscious
for nearly an hour. The observation time will allow us to make certain
there's nothing more serious going on inside your head."

"What if Blair stays with me? He could call 911 if anything happened."
Jim turned to look up at the young man standing next to him. Blair was
frowning again.

The doctor shook his head. "Too dangerous. You need your rest, and you
need someone with medical experience to keep an eye on you for the
next twenty-four hours. So long as everything goes smoothly, I'll
release you tomorrow afternoon."

Jim sighed, resigned to the fact he wasn't going to talk this
particular doctor into letting him go home early.

"He's lost some of his memory," Blair spoke up.

The doctor looked up, surprise coloring his expression. "How much?"

"He doesn't remember the accident," Blair explained.

"That's not unusual for an injury of this type," the doctor told him.
"Memory usually returns within a few days."

"Or me," Blair interrupted. "He doesn't remember me, either."

"Oh. Well, that's a bit more unusual," Ochoa admitted. "How much do
you remember?" he asked, turning to Jim.

"Name, rank, and serial number," Jim quipped. Quickly assessing the
doctor's concern, he continued. "I remember the incident right up
until the time of the accident. Everything else is clear as day except
Blair, here. I don't know how I could ever forget him." The look of
confusion returned.

"I wouldn't be too concerned," the doctor assured him. Hanging the
chart at the foot of the bed, he turned back to his patient. "I think
you should try and get a little rest. Mr. Sandburg can return tomorrow
to take you home."

Jim turned his head to look at Blair. The young man averted his gaze,
pretending to look out the window at the traffic below. "Could he stay
a little longer?"

Blair turned back to cast an unsettled look at the Sentinel. "You
really ought to get some rest," he said quickly, edging around the bed
to stand next to the doctor. "Maybe we'd better do like the doctor
says. I'll go home and, um, I'll be by tomorrow to pick you up. Sleep
well. Bye, Jim."

Jim watched as the handsome young man turned toward the door.
"Good-bye... Blair." The name was spoken softly, moments after its
owner had disappeared into the hall. Jim sighed and closed his eyes,
listening as the doctor also walked out, leaving him alone.

~oO0Oo~

The aching in his head had subsided to a dull throb. He lay in his
darkened room with only his thoughts to keep him company. A face swam
into focus behind his closed eyelids: warm blue eyes, dark brown
ringlets of hair haloed in red, full lips, a square jaw and a pair of
silver earrings dangling from the left earlobe. Exquisite. Rare.
Beautiful. Unforgettable...

~oO0Oo~

"Hey, there, Jim!" Simon walked through the hospital room door the
next afternoon with a wide smile on his face. "You're looking much
better than you did yesterday. I would have stopped by last night, but
Blair said the doctor had left orders that you needed your sleep."

Jim nodded, looking around the big captain to the doorway. "Where's
Blair? He was supposed to take me home."

"He called and asked if I could do the honors," Simon explained.
"Seems he got caught in some meeting to do with his dissertation...
said he couldn't get out of it without risking his degree."

"Oh." Jim fought to hide his disappointment. He had thought of little
else besides the exceptional young man who had stood by his side when
he woke from his sleep. "Well, thanks, Simon. I appreciate it." He
slipped off the bed where he'd been sitting and gathered his
belongings. "It'll be good to get out of here."

~oO0Oo~

"All right, spit it out," Simon said later as they made their way
through the afternoon traffic, headed for Jim's loft. "You've been
brooding ever since I picked you up. I thought you *wanted* to get
home."

"I do. I do... I just..." Jim fell silent.

"You were expecting Blair, not me," Simon filled in, smiling at his
detective.

A pale blush highlighted Jim's cheeks. "Is it that obvious?" 

Simon hazarded a glance at Jim and chuckled.

"What can you tell me about him?"

Simon's look turned serious. "You really don't remember?" Jim shook
his head. "You dragged him into my office a little over two years ago,
and you've been unofficial partners ever since. Blair is studying your
heightened senses for his thesis and helping you to control them for
use on the job. You *really* don't remember?"

"No, sir. I don't remember a thing about him, and I can't understand
why." Jim's voice held a note of tension. "How could I forget someone
like him?"

"That's a hard one to figure out," Simon agreed, chuckling once more.
"The sun rises and sets on you in the kid's eyes. He adores you."

"Are we... do we..." Jim stuttered, trying to find a way to delicately
phrase his next question. "Sir, are we a couple?"

Simon nearly choked on his cigar. Once the coughing fit had passed, he
glanced again at the man seated next to him. "I don't know, Jim," he
answered honestly. "If I were to judge, I'd say Sandburg has an
industrial-sized crush on you, but if you two are 'doing it', you're
not talking about it at work."

"Have you ever seen him dating anyone?" Jim fidgeted in his seat,
staring out the passenger side window as he spoke. His jaw twitched
nervously.

"He's practically gone through every woman who works at the station,"
Simon said, grinning. "And quite a few from the university, too, I
understand."

"Then maybe he's not into men," Jim said softly, turning his attention
back to his captain.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Simon muttered, his
cigar still clenched between his teeth. Sighing, he answered the
implied question. "Rumors are always flying in the department, you
know that," he began. "There are some who are convinced Sandburg is
gay and the dating thing is just a cover-up. I mean, look at how he
dresses, his long hair, those earrings..."

"What do *you* think, sir?"

Simon shook his head. "They're just rumors. The kid has a hippie for a
mother. That could account for his lack of taste in hairstyle and
attire. I've never seen him with another man. He's as married to you
as if you two were joined at the hip."

The captain pulled his car into a parking space outside the loft
apartment building. "Need any help getting inside?"

"No, sir. I'll be fine," Jim answered, opening the car door. "Thanks
for the ride."

"I'll call you in an hour to see how you're doing," Simon told him.
"If I weren't so swamped at work, I'd stay with you for a while."

Jim leaned down to peer back into the car. "Don't worry about me,
Simon. I'm going to be fine. The doctor said so. Besides, Blair
promised to come check on me, didn't he?"

"I'm sure he will, as soon as he gets out of his meeting," Simon
agreed. "You take care. Make sure you get some rest."

Jim made his way up to his third floor apartment. Opening the door, he
looked around in shocked surprise. His spartan living space was
spotted with color: a tribal mask decorated the wall over the stereo,
carved figures and handmade dolls festooned the bookshelves. His mind
reeled. What were these things doing here?

There were pictures scattered around on various tabletops of him and
Blair enjoying a variety of activities from fishing to attending black
tie galas. He stooped to pick up one picture in particular. He and
Blair were standing in the middle of a stream wearing hip waders and
vests, and toting fly fishing rods. Blair was holding a net that
contained a large trout and grinning ear to ear. Jim stood behind him,
looking for all the world like a proud father. A memory he couldn't
quite grasp flashed quickly through his mind. He set the picture back
down and went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the
refrigerator. 

Taking his refreshment over to the couch, he sat down. Obviously,
Blair was an integral part of his life. *How* integral was still to be
seen, but it was clear to Jim that the young man was someone special.
He sipped at the water as he examined his feelings.

Even though he hadn't recognized his visitor when he had first
awakened, he still had had the distinct feeling that Blair *belonged*
there. He had wanted so badly to reach out and hold, to be held by,
the young man. His arms still ached with the desire. A part of him
prayed fervently that they were lovers, while another part was scared
senseless that they were not. He wanted the comfort of those arms,
needed the strong embrace. A sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed
absently at his groin, trying to massage away the ache.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Never before has someone been more
Unforgettable, in every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey, Jim!" 

The cheerful voice woke Jim from his unscheduled nap. Rubbing at his
right eye, he watched as the anthropology student made his way into
the kitchen to snag a cold beer from the refrigerator.

"Want one?"

"Better not," Jim answered regretfully. "I'm still on the pain meds."

Blair came over to perch on the edge of the couch. He took a sip of
his beer, and then turned to study the man sitting next to him.
"Feeling better?"

"Yeah, much." Jim wondered at the hesitancy in the young man's voice.
It was almost as if he was afraid to speak.

"Sorry about this afternoon. I should have been there to pick you up,"
Blair apologized, not looking at Jim, but instead studying the
condensation on the brown glass bottle he held.

"Simon said you had a meeting you couldn't get out of," Jim responded,
trying to ease the tension between them. "Is something wrong?" he
asked after a pause.

"No, nothing," Blair muttered. "It's just a little weird." He got up
to put his unfinished beer back in the fridge, and then walked over to
stand in front of the French doors to his room.

"What's a little weird?" Jim asked, coming to stand next to him.

The anthropologist turned to look at his friend. "This business about
you not remembering me. It makes me feel..." he paused, searching his
emotions for the right one.

"How does it make you feel?" Jim moved in closer, until he was but a
hair's breadth from the younger man.

"Freaky. It feels freaky," Blair said with a sigh. "I mean, we spend
all this time together, share the same space for two years, and now
I'm a stranger. How weird is that?"

"You live here." It was half statement, half question. Flashes of
memory flitted through Jim's mind as he backed off a step, glancing at
the French doors, then back at Blair.

Blair frowned. "You don't remember that, either?" Shaking his head, he
muttered, "Of course not. If you don't remember me, why should you
remember that I live here?" He opened the door and gestured inside.
"This is my room. When my warehouse apartment blew up two years ago, I
talked you into letting me stay here for a week."

"Looks like it turned out to be longer than a week," Jim said with a
smirk. He peeked into the cramped room, not surprised to see an
eclectic clutter decorating walls, tables, and floor. "We must get
along pretty well."

"Most of the time," Blair said with a grunt that was almost a chuckle.

"You sleep in there, too?" Jim asked softly, looking at the unkempt
futon.

Blair's eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. "Where else?"

Jim took Blair by the elbow and pulled him back out into the dining
area, where he could look up at the loft bedroom. "I thought maybe...
I mean, it's a king-sized bed..."

Blair's eyes softened and he began to tremble slightly. "N-no, Jim.
I-I've never slept up there."

Jim pulled Blair back over to the couch and handed the stricken man
the bottle of water he had been drinking earlier. "Why not? Aren't you
interested?"

"I-I..." Blair was at a total loss. "I-I didn't think y-you were," he
admitted.

"Then I must be a clueless fool." Jim reached out to stroke a hand
down the soft curls. "How could I not be attracted to you? Or maybe I
was, but was too uptight to say anything?"

Blair took a deep breath, recovering his equilibrium somewhat. "I
always knew you felt things strongly and deeply," he began, "but you
always were a master of suppressing your emotions." He leaned into the
gentle touch, savoring the feel of Jim's fingers tangled in his hair.

"If you could see it, why didn't you say something?" Jim was puzzled
by the emotions he could sense lingering between them. There was
attraction, but it was tempered by a healthy dose of fear.

"I-I couldn't see it... in you," Blair answered. "That's the point. I
couldn't see it. If I could have seen it... if... maybe..."

"Maybe what, Chief?" He stopped the stroking and pulled Blair a little
closer. "What would you have done?"

"You probably don't remember," Blair began, "but my mom was one of the
original hippies. She raised me to be open to all kinds of love. I was
kind of a shy kid..."

"I find that hard to believe," Jim interrupted, smiling warmly at the
young man.

"Well, I was," Blair confirmed. "Guys seemed a whole lot safer than
girls when I first started experimenting."

"But then you discovered girls," Jim teased.

"Well, yeah. But I never completely lost interest in other men. I
dated a few in college."

"If it makes you feel any better," Jim interrupted again, "I dated a
few men myself back in my college days."

"Really?" Blair's eyes lit up at the morsel of information. "I didn't
think..."

"That's the problem with you, sometimes, Darwin," Jim said with a
chuckle. "You don't think. For someone as bright as you are, you'd
think you'd use that brainpower a little more."

Blair's eyes narrowed. "Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"You called me 'Darwin'."

"Is that a problem?" Jim's lips turned down slightly into a frown.

"You used to call me Darwin, occasionally. And Chief. You said that,
too."

"Maybe my memory is starting to come back?" Jim didn't relinquish his
hold on the younger man. Instead, he all but pulled Blair into his
lap.

"I dunno, Jim," Blair muttered, letting himself be pulled. "Maybe
we're better off this way."

"What do you mean?" Jim took the opportunity to gaze deeply into blue
eyes darkened by doubt.

"Well, uh, I mean..." Blair stammered, suddenly at a loss again. "It
feels like something's happening here, man, and I don't think I want
that to change."

"Why does it have to?" Jim let his thumb brush over the quivering
lips, feeling their incredible softness. "I think I was always
attracted to you. But, like you say, I've never been good at
expressing myself. I've been hurt too many times, Blair. Maybe I was
just afraid of being hurt again."

"I'd never hurt you," Blair said softly, letting his eyes close as he
leaned in closer to Jim.

Jim accepted the implied offer and pressed his lips against Blair's.
At first, there was only the softness of the velvety flesh, but then
Blair's mouth opened to him and Jim took a chance. Sweeping his tongue
inside, he tasted the man he held in his arms. When he met no
resistance, he continued to explore; tasting, touching, smelling. His
hearing picked up the rapid tattoo of Blair's heartbeat, the rush of
blood through his veins, the harsh, gasping breath when he finally
broke the kiss. The sight that met his eyes nearly sent him over the
edge.

Blair was flushed, a light sheen of perspiration coating his forehead.
His eyes were at half-mast, watching Jim. He still clung tightly to
the Sentinel, as if afraid to let go.

"Promise me," Jim whispered. "Promise that you'll never hurt me."

Blair opened his eyes a bit wider and looked intently into Jim's. "I
promise."

"Promise you'll never forget me."

"I could never forget you." Blair's words were like a benediction.

With that promise, Jim stood up, pulling Blair with him, and started
for the stairs to his bedroom. Unexpectedly, Blair stopped.

"Chief?"

"Jim, aren't we rushing this a bit?" the younger man asked. "I mean
you just got out of the hospital this afternoon. Don't you think you
ought to take it a little easy for a few days?"

"I've got sick leave coming," Jim countered. "And it's a holiday
weekend, so you don't have to be back at the university for three
days. I figure that three days of bed rest ought to just about do it."

"Do what? Kill us both?" Jim tugged at Blair's arm, but the
anthropologist refused to budge. "Jim, we can't go from best friends
to lovers just like that." He snapped his fingers. "Besides, your
memory is starting to come back. Maybe we should wait and see how you
feel when it does."

"I don't plan on it feeling any different," Jim said, smiling.
"*Besides*," he continued, echoing Blair's statement, "who said my
memory wasn't already back?"

"Is it?" This time Blair allowed himself to be led up the stairs as he
listened in fascination to the answer.

"Two years, three months and... six days ago, a geeky kid in glasses
and sneakers, wearing a lab coat, accosted me at the doctor's office,"
he began, pushing Blair toward the bed. "The next thing I knew, I was
in your office, being told I was a throwback to the cavemen."

"Pre-civilized man," Blair corrected as his knees connected with the
mattress and he sat down abruptly.

Jim began working the buttons on Blair's shirt. "Almost before I knew
what was happening, you had become my partner and observer, following
me everywhere. When your warehouse exploded, you even managed to
convince me to take you and your monkey into my home."

"Barbary Ape," Blair squeaked as Jim's thumbs brushed across his
nipples, hardening them to firm points.

"Whatever," Jim murmured, working at the buckle of Blair's belt. "You
did come in kind of handy, though," he admitted. "When I accidentally
dosed on the designer drug Golden and was blinded, you taught me how
to use my other senses to get around."

"You... y-you j-just had to g-get past concentrating on w-what you'd
l-lost," Blair gasped, panting shallowly as Jim pulled down his jeans
and boxers, exposing his hard, leaking penis to the cool air.

Jim stared at the bobbing organ, which waved proudly with each gasping
inhale of breath. "You also overcame your fear of heights to come with
me to Peru to rescue our captain," Jim said, leaning over the cock so
that his breath as he spoke whispered across the moist glans.

Blair shuddered, barely holding his climax at bay.

Abruptly, Jim stood and began to shed his own clothing as he looked
down on the naked body of his soon-to-be lover. "I remember every
detail, everything about you," he whispered. "And I remember how I
feel." He crawled onto the bed next to Blair, gathering the smaller
man into his arms and pressing his erection against its mate.

Blair ground himself against Jim, creating a friction that spiraled
them nearer and nearer to their mutual climax. Jim moaned as the
pressure built in his groin.

"Oh, God... JIM!" Blair cried as his orgasm swept through his body.
Jim nuzzled closer, pulling the sated man more tightly against him.
Whispered words sent blossoming warmth through Jim's soul. "You're
pretty unforgettable, too."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
That's why, darling, it's incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The End