DOWN IN THE ZERO

By: Jo Ann Thompson

Warning major angst ahead. And this is a POV/stream of conscious thing too. Also this is my virgin slash story tho there ain't no sex in this part. I am also gonna warn you that I switch perspectives and gears without warning. Readers tend to find my style strange and difficult to read, however this seems to be the only way I can write a serious and decent story. I also feel that the TS fandom as a whole is one of the most intelligent and I refuse to talk down to you all.

This is being beta read by our dear beloved, talented, beautiful, vivacious, intelligent Sexmom Kira.

Inspired a bit by my feelings when I read Alyjude's "Go the Distance" I love her fic and this story just started the wheels turning when I read it. If you haven't read it I suggest you do so. Actually I suggest you read ALL her TS slash fic.

The title is also the title of an Andrew Vachss novel. This was a book that when I read it, really hit me hard. On top of all this, it is the gen story that wouldn't be. Maybe one day I will write a similar plot only gen. But then I said I was gonna write more of my Madness Series too :-}

DOWN IN THE ZERO
By Jo Ann Thompson

Since I first went to school, it has been my barometer as to just how worthy I was. I measured myself by my successes there. For every class I aced, my self-esteem would be buoyed that much more.

I can't remember what the first strike on my self-worth was. Maybe it was growing up thinking I was unworthy of a father's love and attention. And knowing there were people and places more important than me out there for Naomi.

And those places I stayed when I was without my Mother... they only measured my worth on how little trouble I was while she was gone. Never loud, never fighting, helpful, these were the things those people looked at.

But then I went away to school. And I suddenly felt, here is my place, here I am worthy to be.

Academically, anyway.

So if nothing else, I knew I was smart. At Rainier, I felt worthy of the air I was breathing because I was smart. Oh I was still the geeky kid and I didn't have any friends.

Then I started tutoring. And found that therein lay another talent. I was a good teacher. Even the slowest kid got better grades after I was done with them. But only a few ever thanked me. But I would know. Jocks, who had been suspended from the team, would suddenly be back on. And they would come back when they started to have problems again.

And so my life went... Till I met Jim Ellison.

As usual, he didn't like me. He accused me of doing drugs. Like where would I get the money, huh? And just because of my hair and clothes. Well the hair was long because I couldn't afford to keep getting it cut. Pure and simple. Hey, ten bucks is ten bucks, man, the difference between water and coffee.

I'm with him on the hair thing...I saved oodles in university not cutting my hair <g Once again...I like this. Great explanation for why its long :)

But then he kind of said I could be his "back up, his partner."

And I said yes.

I know I helped him get control and I know he let me stay, but not once did he say, thank you or good job. At least not that I can remember.

The dials, the white noise generators, and even those damn tests. I would maybe get, "Not now Chief, your not a cop," and jokes about table legs.

And the table leg issue. Yes I like women, a lot. I can really appreciate them, in a completely esthetic way too. I can actually count my affairs on one hand. Naomi Sandburg's child was raised with a respect for women almost beaten into him. Big surprise, huh? I also know better then to sleep with any woman. I never slept with Maya, just heavy petted with Chris, and we won't even talk about Iris. But once again my willingness to help, backfired.

I like to help people. Yes, even strangers. I love to help people I care about. But I really love to help Jim, cause I really love Jim.

But if you notice, no one helps me. No one ever has. Willingly, without begging, without wheedling, without bartering, without being asked.

Jim never has to ask. I ask him.

Okay sure, you say that Jim sat by my bedside when I got dosed with golden. But hey the man was legally blind, and I was the only person who could help him. So he was stuck. But once I was back in the loft, he couldn't wait to leave. And go out with someone else.

Another example of what always happens

You know that saying, "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride." Well that is me. Only it is called "Always an observer, never a participant."

I will have to admit that this period of introspection came after that little incident where I died. As I lay there in the hospital and Jim came for his first (and only) visit, his denial of our bond hit me really hard. What did the man expect, for me to jump his bones, well okay, in a heartbeat, but still I knew he wasn't interested. Hey, he had had three years to be interested.

Part of me mostly figured he was het. So was I, till I met him. Now I am Jimogomous. I don't get erections unless he is around and as soon as he leaves, I go soft immediately.

But Jim still does it with every dangerous woman in the Cascade area (okay the Western Hemisphere). Veronica, Lila, and worst of all Alex. I don't want to scratch open old sores, but this scab never closed over. It has been a weeping, pus filled wound since the day Jim accused me of betraying him regarding my dissertation. It started as a small wound, but each hurt that has happened since, Alex, Ventriss, my diss, have all just made the wound deeper and caused it to ulcerate.

So now I am the cop they tried to tell me I wasn't. But I know I am really a tool. Pick me up, keep me near, use me, but unlike Craftsman Tools, when they break me, I can't be replaced. And I am now really worn out, and there are stress fractures throughout my psyche. And my body isn't to healthy either.

Oh I am not gonna start drinking or taking drugs, but I am now very quiet, unless I am being called upon to do Sentinel stuff. I keep my hair bound at work and home. Earrings and nipple ring out, I clean up after myself. Hell I clean up after Jim. He goes out, I stay in. I don't make any messes, I don't leave hair in the shower drain, all I do is sit in my room. I don't even watch the game with Jim anymore.

You wanna know why that happened...

After the whole diss-aster went down, every time I would ask Jim if he wanted to watch the game or have the guys over for poker, he would say he had to go out somewhere, he had something he had to do. If I said I would cook, he would come up with the same lines. I figured it out. I have a 200+ IQ remember.

Oh wait, my belt, I gotta put another hole in it. I wanted to do that when I got back tonight, but I can never remember anything anymore. I take the belt out of my pants, and sit on the bed. Grabbing my Swiss Army knife, I pull out the awl and start putting another hole in the belt an inch in from the last one I made.

I bought this belt when my last one got lost at the hospital after my swim. At that time I was using the third hole in. Since then I have added three holes to the belt, all one inch apart. But hey, when you don't eat, especially when food just turns you off, you do tend to lose a few inches. My appetite has been getting progressively worse since my NDE, and now it is almost non-existent.

So now, when I get dressed for work, I cinch my belt up tight and cover it with either a baggy, oversized sweater or, a sport coat. Since I am known to always be cold, no one notices my strange attire.

That is another thing, people used to think I was always cold, but actually I was just chilled or cool. Now though, I am freezing. So cold that nothing warms me up. Like my body is on the slab in the morgue. Well I better get used to it, cause the day I get replaced, is the day this life is over.

*

I just don't get it. Something is different about Sandburg

He dresses pretty much the same, drives the same car, has the same long hair that he wears in a tight braid or ponytail. Maybe it's that I never see him drink one of those disgusting algae shakes, boogie to that tribal music, or even meditate.

Of course to see any of that stuff I would have to be home more often.

But then again, I am never home now unless I can't help it. I go out with other cops to drink, or play poker or pool, hell we even go bowling. They tell me they don't want him along but I still go out anyway. I mean come on, he is a big boy, and he can find some fun of his own. Do we have to spend every waking moment together???

It was not so bad when Blair was still at Rainier. He would be there most of the day, and then we would spend a few hours at the PD before he would go out on a date.

Now he has a good paycheck to entertain the ladies with, so I am sure he spends most evenings out on dates.

At least that is what I thought. Now, I am not so sure.

Why?

Last night the guys and I were driving around looking for some action, and we passed by the loft. I immediately let my senses check it over. And there was Sandburg's heartbeat. It sounded a little fast and his breathing was a little ragged. I looked at the windows and they were dark. Huh, didn't he have a date tonight? He best not have brought her home. No Sex in the loft, means no sex in the loft! As we continued past I realized there were no other noises. No rustling, no other heartbeat, no music... nothing except sobs.

Sobs, what the... but then Harrison asked me how I thought I would do at pool that night.

@@@@@@@

I sat there in the corner of the dark loft, under the stairs, my arms wrapped around my knees, trying to keep myself from flying apart, and sobbing out my fears of abandonment, and failure.

I just knew that I should move. Get up and get out, before Jim kicks me out again. But I have nowhere to go, and nothing to go there with.

Oh yeah I draw a regular paycheck now, but you know where it goes. Let's see...

I draw two K every month, and as soon as I drew my first paycheck Jim immediately hit me with rent again, five large man, right off the top. And a buck towards back rent. Yeah, back rent. He didn't ask, but I figured why give him more ammo. Okay next is groceries, Jim said one of my contributions to the deal would be keeping us fed, and another was cable.

Did I mention, I haven't bought any new clothes...

So anyway groceries cost about two to three hundred a month. Then there is my inhalers. Ever since the drowning, I need to use two inhalers. One is just your average Albuterol and the other is steriods. I get generics and the municipal workers bennies pick up most of the rest, but they're not cheap. That is another one hundred bucks.

Last but definitely not least is my student loans, grants, and scholarships. They want every penny. Like yesterday. But I send them all most of my take home. I give myself twenty-five dollars every two weeks. This money covers my gas for the Volvo, fancy unscented bath products for my absent Sentinel, and savings.

Okay it was gas for the Volvo, but did I mention that it blew a head gasket? That is kind of why I am hiding in a corner. I am afraid that if I come out, I will get hit with more bad news. I guess I am riding the bus though. So now I have to make sure that Jim leaves before me in the morning, and I leave work before him at night, and I ride the bus. So anyway the bottom line is... Jim throws me out.

*