Road Trip with Guide

Author: Bluesky

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: J/B

Wonder why Jim always insists on leaving at 2 AM? I found out this weekend on the way to a convention.

PG.

Jim and Blair are not mine. I have gotten past this point. No infringe or poaching meant.

OK to Archive on WWOMB or any place. Just ask rest.

By Bluesky
****

It is now 3 AM. For once we had a plan come together and left not long after 2 AM. I am relieved. After all the screw ups and shoot outs and things that have prevented this trip, it is hard to believe that it is at last going off.

Predictably, Blair did his from 60 to crash in 20 minutes. His soft breathing filled the cab of the truck. He was in a light sleep. I took effort to drive missing potholes and exercising my vision to avoid any bumps in the road. I was enjoying his breathing as he was sleeping.

The blanket around him slipped, and I tugged it back into place, and tucked it under his hip. There is something dear about him, sleeping.At this moment he is totally mine, not distracted by any of a number of things, victim of his short attention span, or the object of one of his test, or worse, a scrutiny of what I am up to, how he can use any information in his thesis.

He is just Blair. I am content in the almost quiet, with just the sound of his heart and breathing, the tone of tires on road, the well tuned sound of the Ford, wind whispering in the crack of the wind, a hundred and more sounds. One by one I tune them out, till sound is just a heart beat and breathing of my sleeping guide. I have to be careful not to zone, and after finding myself pulled out by the wake up ridges on the side of the road jarring noise, I turn on the radio. It is old and crackle, and the speaker on the right needs to be replaced, but I turn it on low and direct the sound to the left side of the truck. Blair is still sleeping, I glance to check, His head is back, mouth open, in a silly but relaxed way. I re tuck the blanket, and he is awake.

"Don't wreck the truck." He opens one eye, "Were are we?"

"It's OK. Rout 1. Be will be there in 2 hr. Only 4 AM."

He rolls over on his side, exposing his back. I wait till he is back asleep, and tuck it back under him.

Black top, a clear night, 2 hr of driving with my sleeping Guide. We should be hitting the Mountains soon. And he will be back to the Hyperactive puppy on speed. I feel such love for him. Too bad that I can't show it, he just would not understand.

I look at him now. I can't do that with out him noticing during the day. The urge to wipe the spot of drool off of his cheek is stoped by the knowlage that it would wake him. He needs his sleep.

And when he sleeps, he is all mine.

Road trip with Guide 2

Blair's POV

He needs this trip so much. And so do I.

Don't get me wrong. I love camping. The trees, the sun, bathing in ice-cold MT streams, well perhaps not that not as much, but man, the getting away from it all is important to Jim. I am not sure if we just could not affect the same thing if we checked into a hotel, and turned off the cell phones.

There are closer places that we could go camping, but we always head well outside of his City. Leave all of his responsibilities behind. All of mine too. Man. I do understand his need to just chill. It was hard for me at first. The driving need to be doing something, Studying research, ext, Well he taught me something. To just be. Not thinking not meditation, just relaxing mindless being. Knee deep in water, fly fishing, sitting staring at a burning fire, watching loges oxidize, to ash and heat, tongs of orange red and blue speaking a language of desire, death and night. Dam.

I wake up and he is fussing with my blanket, tucking me in. I know that he protective of me, just hope that he doesn't wreck the truck making sure that I don't get a chill. I should stay awake, but it is hard, I want to talk to him, but that will have to wait. The best time is after the trip, the drive home in the dark, after all of his walls are striped and relaxed, The pressure cooker that is his emotional state defused, that I can at last get some strait answers about things.

Relaxed but weary, stated with trees and green and peace and sunlight, soaked in solitude, shored up agents the buffets of the job, the weekend of bonding of stillness, shared visions of blue jays and bear tracks, deer and rabbits, outwitting the elements and surviving the best that she can toss at us, Then will be the time that I can truly call him mine, relaxed and open, receptive and calm.

I am looking forward to this. Jim is humming a bit. I can tell by the glow of the radio tuner that he is listening to the radio, turned down sentinel soft, that he can just hear. Silly Jim. He has it low so not to disturb me, but is humming to it. I hate to do this but the biological imperative is coming home.

"Hay man, close to time for a pit stop?"

"Yep. A Dunken Donut in about 3 minutes." He is cheerful. I stifle a groan. Donuts. Figures. Oh well. Coffee and a beagle would be nice. And a bathroom. I know that camping is all about roughing it, but I would like one last look at civilization before heading into the camp ground and dealing with digging latrines, and bonding with nature in that most intimate of ways.

He smiles at me. For a moment I forget that it is just that he is happy about the though of buttermilk donuts, and a weekend away from desk and reports and being the Sentinel of the Great City. Blue eyes to die for. I hide my yearning with a yawn.

This time we are going to use just one tent. It is late in the year, this trip postponed too many times to just forget, but it will be cold at night, It makes sense to use just Jim's bigger better tent and leave my relative cheep and small one behind. By some remarkable flux of the universe we have the same style and brand of sleeping bags. I propose that we zip them together, to make it warmer. I offer this suggestion in an off hand way, He just nods and agrees. It is that easy.

The coffee shop is deep in early AM customers. I hit the bathroom, coming out to find that Jim has got donuts and coffee for himself, but not for me. I want to grouse about it, but hold my peace as he hits the bathroom and I stand in line for coffee and a bagel.

He is out before I am done and heads to the truck. Once more He has made it that I am holding him back. He sort of looks condescending at me as I hand him my coffee and strap in. He has that superior look on his face. What ever. I am not going to let him do this to me. What ever it is. I cheerfully munch my bagel and cream cheese, wishing for a moment that I had taken the extra minutes and let them toast it for me.

"It's OK Chief. I got a dozen of mixed bagels. We can toast them over the fire. Got cream cheese too." He is smug with his forethought, pleased that he has done something that I would like but did not think of.

Jim can read my mind. It is scary some times I swear. Why can he do it about the unimportant things?

I am coming awake. Jim is as fresh as or fresher then when we started. I don't know were he gets this endurance. It must be a Sentinel thing. He can go for days without sleep, not losing his edge, Just his sense of humor. Pit bull mode.

The day is starting to wax gray pre dawn. We are rounding the MT and the sun rise is being reflected on the water, ruddy light kissing the surface and teasing it to a warm glow. I start to ask Jim what he sees in the lake, but am stopped by the memory that I promised him no tests, and that he was driving, and I had no urge to go flying off the MT as Jim zoned on the lake's trout content.

We hit the camping spot. Jim insists that we shep all of our gear over the stream and leave the truck behind. Oh well. If he needs one more separation, so be it. I change into my waders and start the process of shelping.

It was the third trip over that I slipped. I had no excuse, was heading back to the truck to get one last thing. I forget what it was. Oh yes. My Towel. Arg. My shout was mostly shock at the cold water, but the rapid water grabbed me and took me down stream about a hundred feet before I could make it to the bank.

Jim was there to help me out, a smirk on his face. He knew that I was not hurt or endanger. A moment of unreasonable anger. I almost tried to pull him into the water with me, but that would be so not a good Idea. I am chilled. Agents my will my teeth start chattering.

And what dose my Blessed protector do? He laughs at me. No lets get you out of the wet clothing, I make a fire for you. Let me warm you up chief.No. He laughs.

OK. It was pretty funny. And it is not that cold. Jim has the tent up and camp is well underway. I strip and towel off, hanging my wet clothing on limbs of a near tree, wishing it was warmer, thinking that the sun felt good on my skin, that the air was sweet and nice ... for about 5 minutes.

Suddenly, I was aware of Jim standing behind me. I turned quickly. I wish I could say for sure that the look on his face was more thank fascination with my stupidity, that there was something more.. but ..

Jim handed me a change of clothing, and wordlessly walked away. Dam. He looked like he wanted to say something ... wonder what.

END PART 2