Afterlife

by Zadi

zadislash@comcast.net

Rating: R (maybe PG-13; you be the judge)

Fandom/Pairing: The Sentinel (Jim/Blair)

Category: Very Schmaltzy; a little angst; pre-slash

Spoilers: TSbyBS

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to "The Sentinel" - Paramount and Pet Fly do. It's a shame really. The things I could do with Jim and Blair! All original characters and the story idea are mine.

Garett, if you're reading this - I'm single!

Archive: If you want it, sure thing. Just let me know where it's going.

Summary: What happens when two people come to the same conclusion at the same time?


Afterlife
by Zadi

Blair Sandburg stared out the windshield, the hypnotic back and forth motion of the wipers helping to steady his nerves. He waited for the traffic light to turn green, then eased through the intersection slowly.

"Feels like monsoon season," he said out loud to himself. The rainy season - Blair chuckled as he realized what an insane phrase that was, considering he lived in the rainiest part of the good old USofA - had hit with a vengeance. The temperature, cool but comfortable only this morning, had dropped at least twenty degrees since lunch. Now, the young man could feel the chill down to the very marrow in his bones. And according to the very perky weather forecaster on the local news, the weather was not inclined to be changing anytime in the foreseeable future. He couldn't help but wonder if Mother Nature, fickle woman that she was, had a grudge against Cascade.

Blair offered up a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening, begging that his poor vehicle would make it the mile and a half or so to the loft he shared with his partner, Detective James Ellison. What had started out as merely research for his dissertation on a phenomenon he called 'Sentinels,' had turned into a friendship and partnership. That was, until last week. The accidental release of a draft copy of said dissertation had netted disastrous results, ending with Blair Sandburg, Ph.D candidate, Guide to Sentinel Jim Ellison, and Shaman of Cascade, exposing himself as a fraud.

This, of course, was simply not true. Blair had chosen to end his academic career rather than subject his friend and partner to the scrutiny of the world, scrutiny that would have undoubtedly ended up as a media circus. Never mind the fact that every government agency in the country, probably the world, would have wanted Ellison for their own purposes, subversive or otherwise. By exposing himself as a fraud and, therefore, claming that his dissertation was merely a work of fiction, Blair had chosen to protect his friend.

His friend. His partner. The man he loved. And therein lied the crux of the situation. Blair had lost all objectivity when he had realized he had fallen in love with his subject. One James Joseph Ellison.

Of course, THAT love would be forever unrequited. Boy howdy, would it ever. Jim Ellison, terminally heterosexual. Straight to the core. Definite eye candy, but ONLY for the ladies.

Blair sighed. *When did my life get so freaking complicated?* he asked himself silently. *All I ever wanted was to finish the diss and then teach. Huh. What's the line from that song? Life is what happens when you're making other plans.*

Pulling his car into a parking space that was relatively close to the loft (thank the gods for small miracles), Blair let the engine idle for a few moments as he tried to collect his thoughts. He turned and looked at the few boxes that sat in the back seat, the last of his books and artifacts from his office - no, his OLD office - at Rainier. His entire academic career, boxed up and ready to be stored away, never to be looked at again. He sighed, decided to take the boxes up to the loft when it was less wet outside, pulled his coat tightly around himself, opened the door, and quickly braved the onslaught of rain.

As he made his way up the stairs (the elevator was once again out of commission, thank you very much; there HAD to be slum lord laws in Cascade, didn't there? tHADHAD), Blair once again battled with his nerves. So much had changed in seven days, and the fear that more would change niggled in the back of his mind. Although he was no longer employed at the university, would the Ph.D program welcome him back if you were to petition with a new dissertation topic? Was his position as Jim's partner and observer in jeopardy with the police department? And most of all - would Jim throw him out of the loft?

Truth be told, Jim really did not need his Guide's assistance twenty-four/seven any longer. In fact, he probably never HAD needed it. Blair wondered if, subconsciously, he'd convinced not only Jim, but also himself, that the Sentinel needed Blair. Now that the research project had ended, would Jim realize he could make it on his own, the Sentinel of the Great City, without the help of his Guide? Ellison had not zoned in months, and Blair himself began to doubt the necessity of his presence.

As he stood in front of the door to the loft, Blair took a calming, cleansing breath. He called upon all the meditative techniques his mother had taught him since childhood, steeled himself, and opened the door.

What he found completely flummoxed the young man. Every candle in the house had been lit, providing the only light, save for the overhead light above the stove. Soft music played - something classical. Blair closed the door, hung his coat on the wall hook reserved solely for his use, gently placed his keys in the basket on the small table by the door, and slowly walked into the loft.

The table was set for two. *Jim has a date,* Blair thought, his disappointment mirrored in his eyes. *Well, why shouldn't he, Sandburg? I mean, he's a good looking man, and there are always skirts chasing after him. I'll just get out of his way, go see a movie or something.*

Blair started to turn around and head right back out into the rain.

"Hey Chief," Jim's voice called out from his bedroom on the second floor.

Startled, Blair stopped and turned around. "Uh, hey, Jim. I'll be out of your way in just a few, 'kay?"

Jim came down the stairs, buttoning up a silk shirt. "Where ya going?"

Blair fumbled to get his coat back on. His free hand indicated the dinner table, and he said, "Looks like you're. expecting company, so I'll just."

Jim's eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled and walked toward his partner. "Company's already here, Chief," he said as he helped Blair back out of the coat.

Blair's eyes widened. "Huh? Oh! Oh, man, I'm so sorry," he stole a quick glance at the stairs, expecting a beautiful and statuesque redhead to be standing at the top, clad in only a sheet. He started to back up. "I'll just. be. going."

"You'd better not, Chief," Jim responded as he took Blair by the shoulders and steered him into the living room and onto the sofa. "I'd be pretty ticked off if you left before dinner. I mean, I did slave all afternoon over a hot stove and all."

Blair stared at his roommate, his face wide open with wonder. "Oh. Okay. Huh?"

Jim laughed as he poured his Guide a glass of wine. "I just figured, what with all hell breaking loose, you might like a quiet evening at home, just you and me, some Puccini, some good pasta, et cetera." He gave Blair the glass, who absently took a sip. "What's the matter, you don't like Puccini?"

"No, man, it's not that," Blair stumbled. "I just thought. I figured you had a hot date or something."

Jim made his way to the kitchen. "Naw, Chief, just us bachelors tonight." He put on an oven mitt and opened the oven door. "Hope you're in the mood for baked ziti."

Blair blinked owlishly.

"I even made a vegetable and pasta salad," Jim added, as he closed the oven door. "Remember, Rhonda made it for the last department luncheon? The warm one with squash and fresh herbs?"

Blair blinked again. He took a sip of the wine, then carefully set the stemware down on the coffee table. "Okay, who are you, and what have you done with the REAL Jim Ellison?"

Jim laughed. It was a beautiful sound, musical to Blair's ears. The detective's entire face lit up when he smiled and laughed, something he did not do nearly enough in Blair's opinion. *Gods, you are so beautiful, Jim.*

"What, I can't be domestic now and then?" Jim asked. "Sandburg, you wound me!" He came back into the living area and sat next to Blair on the sofa. "I just wanted to. ya know. let you know how much I appreciate what you did, Blair." Suddenly, Jim's mouth was dry and his hands cold. "I mean. what you did. last week. I know it was tough for you."

Blair blushed at his friends words. " Big guy, I couldn't let them turn your life into a science experiment."

Jim put two fingers on Blair's lips. It was an intimate and gentle gesture, and something so out of character. It caught the anthropologist off guard.

"Let me finish, Blair," Jim whispered.

Blair nodded.

Jim stood and paced for a moment. "No one has ever done something like that for me, Chief. I mean, that was the most unselfish thing I've ever seen. You thought nothing of yourself, nothing about what it could mean to you, your career, your LIFE, but you did it anyway. No one's ever given me such a beautiful gift." The detective turned to the patio doors. "I won't forget it."

The two men stayed silent for a few moments, Blair still seated on the sofa, his folded hands in his lap, and Jim staring out into the rainstorm. Finally, it was the younger man who broke the silence.

"I had to do it, man," he whispered, Sentinel soft. "I had to. I didn't have a choice." He swallowed, his resolve firm. "You're my best friend. I love you, man. Too much to let my mistake cost you your life, your privacy."

Jim closed his eyes and sighed. He knew, beyond any doubt, that if he did not change the topic, he was going to break down. *Not now,* he thought. *Not now, not yet. You'll just scare the kid.* There were so many things he wanted to tell his friend, but the timing was not right. *I love you, too, Blair. More than I should.* Quickly, he turned around and clasped his hands together.

"What's say we eat, Chief?"

* * * * *

"Man, that was outstanding," Blair exclaimed as he wiped his lips with the linen napkin. "Where did you learn to cook like that, Jim?"

Jim smiled at his friend as he started clearing away the dishes. "Guy's gotta have his secrets, Chief." He quickly scraped the food scraps down the disposal. "Why don't you see if there's a movie on cable or something, let me finish up in here."

Blair shook his head as he chuckled. "You never cease to amaze me, Jim." Making his way into the living room, he reached for the TV Guide and started looking through it. "Anything in particular you want to watch, big guy?"

"Naw, you pick something out."

After perusing the TV Guide for a moment, Blair set it down and turned to watch his friend work. His fears came crashing back down, and he knew he had to face them. *It's now or never, Sandburg.*

Jim made quick work of cleaning up the kitchen. The dishes washed and dried, he plucked two beers from the refrigerator and brought them into the living room.

"So, what did ya pick?" he asked as he handed one beer to his partner.

Blair took the beer and set it on the coffee table without opening the bottle. "Actually, Jim, I need to talk to you."

Jim took a long drink from his own beer. "Okay. Fire away."

The anthropologist took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how to say this, so I'm just gonna jump in." He looked Jim in the eyes and held his gaze for a moment. "Do you want me to move?"

"Huh?!"

Instantly, Blair was on his feet and pacing the floor. "I mean, the diss, well, it's all over with, you know that, and, well, the research is over, and I know you never really intended to have a roommate but you were nice enough to let me stay here after the explosion and all, and that was supposed to be a temporary thing, I know, but it just got so comfortable, ya know, you and me living together, and I know you probably want your privacy again, and you can't wait for me to get out."

Jim stared at his friend, his partner, his Guide. *He wants to leave. Oh god, what am I going to do without him?* "What? Where did this all come from, Chief? And give a guy a clue next time, huh? And don't you ever breathe?"

A rosy blush creeped up the younger man's face. "I. I just figured you'd want me out of here. ya know, now that."

"Now that what, Chief? Now that you can't use me for your work?" Jim was now standing, moving into Blair's space, his body tense with an odd combination of anger and hurt. "Is that what you mean? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Chief, that's what it looks like!" *Geez, Ellison, don't yell at the kid. He's scared as it is. Look at him!*

"God no, Jim," Blair answered quickly. "It's not that. I just figured. you'd want your life back."

The two men stared at each other for long moments, two feral animals sizing each other up. Confusion, fear, fury, pain - a myriad of emotions colored the faces of them both. Finally, it was Blair who turned away. He moved toward his small room.

"I'll. I'll just be packed up and moved out by tomorrow night, Jim."

The seconds it took for the younger man to walk to the door to his room seemed to stretch for an eternity. As he stepped into the room, he heard a small whisper.

"Please, no."

Blair stopped and turned slowly to look at his friend. Even in the dim candlelight, he could see a single tear trail down Jim's cheek. It didn't take Sentinel senses to see that the older man was shaking.

Blair was at his friend's side almost instantly. "Jim, what's wrong?"

"Please don't leave me."

"What?"

"Please don't leave me, Blair," Jim repeated, his voice still barely a whisper. "I need you."

"Man, you don't need me," Blair said, thinking he understood why the Sentinel was reacting as he was. "Your senses have been in check for months now, and all you have to do is remember to keep the dials turned down. And I'll be just a phone call away if something goes wrong. You know that Jim."

The detective shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean, Blair."

Blair took a step back. "What then? I don't understand."

Jim breathed deeply in an attempt to settle his nerves. He closed the distance between them and took Blair's hands into his own. The younger man's eyes widened as he looked at their hands, and then back into his friend's pain-stricken eyes.

"Jim, man, you're scaring me," Blair said. "What's wrong?"

"I need YOU, Blair," Jim said.

With slow realization, Blair pulled his hands away from Jim's. "Oh. Oh! Oh?"

Not able to help himself, Jim laughed. "You know, Chief, there are four other vowels in the English language. Sometimes five." He took his Guide's hands back into his own. "I. I love you. I need you, Blair. Please stay."

Blair's thoughts were a jumbled mess. He suddenly found that his voice no longer worked, so he just stood there, gaping at his Sentinel.

"Please, Chief, say something," Jim pleaded. "You're killing me here."

Blair subconsciously licked his lips. Time once again slowed, and Blair Sandburg found himself leaning in towards his friend. Blue eyes held blue eyes, and as Jim Ellison realized what was about to happen, he closed the gap between them. The two men were nose to nose, warm breath melding with warm breath.

"What do you want, Jim?" Blair asked in a whisper.

Jim leaned in, ever so slightly, and feathered his Guide's lips with his own. A gentle kiss, chaste almost, but a kiss filled with a thousand promises. Finally, after an eternity, Jim answered.

"I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning for the rest of my life."

* * * * *

Early the next morning, Blair lay spooned with Jim, the older man's chest pressed up to his back, one strong arm wrapped around his waist, another arm thrown haphazardly over his head on the pillow, the phone rang. Jim stirred as Blair reached for the cordless on the nightstand.

"I'll get it, baby," Blair whispered. Jim's lips ghosted a kiss on his neck, and the older man stilled, still in deep sleep. Blair punched the 'talk' button on the phone. "Hello?"

"Blair?" the voice on the other end tentatively asked.

A smile played at the corners of the curly haired man's lips. "Hi Mom."

"I. I hope it's not too early to call?" Naomi asked. "I wouldn't want to wake Jim."

Blair turned slightly to look over his shoulder at his lover. In his sleep, the detective pulled Blair's body closer, his morning erection poking the younger man's backside. "It's okay, Naomi, he's sound asleep. Don't worry about it."

There was a few moments of strained silence. Blair heard his mother sigh deeply.

"Blair, darling," she started. "I'm so sorry."

He heard the catch in her voice, and knew his mother was doing something she rarely did. Naomi Sandburg was crying. "I know, Mom."

"Oh, my baby, I love you so much. I never meant to hurt you."

"It's okay Mom, really it is."

Blair turned over to face his lover. Jim looked so peaceful in sleep. He snaked his legs through the older man's and pulled himself even closer to the Sentinel who had stolen his heart. His decision made, he kissed lips that he'd never imagined to be as soft as they were, then sat up in bed, propping a pillow behind his back.

"Mom, we have a lot to talk about."

"I know, sweetheart," Naomi responded.

Blair laughed. "No, I don't think you do. How soon can you be in Cascade?"



The End