Title: Epiphany

By Victoria May

Fandom: The Sentinel

Disclaimer: Um, PetFly, SciFi, and a bunch of other people own these guys. There's no money or profit involved in this fic.

Rated: PG-13 Angst

Warnings: swearing, mention of sexual encounters and child abuse

Feedback: Yes-on or off list. Lay it on me. =)

Archive: You want it, you got it. Just tell me where.

Author's Notes: This fic comes with a companion piece, 'Interloper' which precedes this story. Please read that first.

Epiphany

By Victoria May

Simon paused outside the faded green door as the sound of muffled voices and laughter tickled his ears. Chuckling softly to himself he raised his hand and rapped on the splintering wood. The sound of a chair scraping across the floor was followed by the thud of the deadbolt sliding open.

"Simon, come on in. We were starting to give up on you coming. Something going down we should know about?" Jim asked as he took Simon's coat and hung it on a hook beside the door.

"Naw," Simon replied as he inhaled deeply. "Barbecue?" he asked hopefully as he licked his lips.

"Hole in one Simon. Barbecued pork sandwiches actually. Help yourself. Beer's in the fridge."

"I don't mind if I do." Simon greeted the cluster of detectives as he ducked into the kitchenette to make himself a plate-loading his bread with heaping mounds of the steaming meat. Picking up his plate and stopping only long enough to grab a cold beer, he settled into the only remaining chair at the dining table.

"So, who's ahead? Conner? Rafe? No, wait-let me guess. Sandburg?" Simon grinned and looked around the table, noting for the first time his opponents. Rafe. Brown. Conner. Taggert. Ellison. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at Jim.

"Where's the kid Jim?"

Jim jerked his head towards the closed patio doors. "Been out there all night. Doesn't want to play."

Simon studied his best detective's face, wondering if he should be concerned. "Problems in paradise Jim?" he teased.

"He gets like this sometimes. Moody-quiet. It'll pass. I just leave him alone and he snaps out of it." Shrugging his shoulders to indicate he wasn't worried, Jim shuffled the cards and began to deal.

"Huh." Simon pulled a cigar out of his breast pocket and ran it under his nose. As Jim's eyes narrowed, he tucked the cigar into his mouth and grinned around it. "Don't worry. Just need a good luck charm. I'm feeling lucky."

Over an hour had slipped by, with Rafe and Conner sharing the winnings. Simon stretched and glanced towards the dark glass doors of the patio.

"Excuse me gentleman, and lady," he added, nodding to Megan, "but I've got to visit the little boy's room." He pushed away from the table and disappeared down the short hallway. A few moments later, he reappeared. Grabbing two fresh beers from the fridge, he headed towards the patio.

"Hey, Captain! Where you going? I haven't taken all your money yet!" chided Rafe.

Simon waved his hand dismissively at his crew. "Just getting a bit of fresh air. I'm sure Sandburg won't mind the company." Simon rattled the door quickly, a warning that he was coming out and pulled the door open. He quickly stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him. He stood still for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

"Hey Simon," came a weak greeting off to his left. Simon stepped forward blindly and held out one of the beers. As his eyes grew used to the shadows, he had to contain his laugh as he caught sight of the young observer. He'd heard about it, but he'd never seen it. Hell, he hadn't even believed in its existence until now. Just thought it was story Jim made up to entertain the troops. But here it was, in all its glory. `The hat'. Blair sat, swathed in a cocoon of blankets, the fur cap perched on top of his curly head.

"Guess you're not cold, huh?" Simon asked as he settled into a battered lawn chair.

Blair only shrugged and began to play with the glass bottle in his lap.

"Is there a reason you're sitting out here auditioning for frosty the snowman instead of in there, kicking our butts at poker?" Simon pressed.

"Naw. Just didn't feel much like playing. Didn't want to ruin the fun though, so I came out here. It's kind of nice actually. Fresh." As if to prove his point, he inhaled deeply.

"Is that all? I mean, you've been out here for a long time." Simon quieted for a moment, and then went on, "Is something wrong?"

Blair twisted the cap off his beer and raised the bottle to his lips, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat. Finally, he lowered the bottle and fingered the label. "Just one of those days."

Taking a drink from his own bottle, Simon peered over at his friend. "More like one of those months, don't you think?"

Sighing quietly, Blair agreed, "Yeah, I guess so."

Remembering how tired and withdrawn Blair had been over the past month, Simon's throat constricted in fear as a suspicion began to form in his mind. Blair just hadn't been acting much like himself the past few weeks, and nothing anyone said or did made much of a difference. To be honest, Simon found himself worrying more and more about the younger man as the weeks went by.

"Are you sick?" he heard himself blurt out.

Blair choked on his beer and spluttered, "What? No! Yes. No. It's nothing-don't worry about it. It's nothing I can't handle," he finally stammered.

Damn. The kid was sick, and here he was freezing his butt off when he should be inside where it was warm. `Please, don't let it be serious,' he prayed silently.

"Does Jim know?" Silence was his only answer. "You know, whatever it is, you don't have to go through it alone."

"It's not a big deal," came the muffled reply. Blair had buried his face in the blanket.

Leaning towards Blair, Simon spoke gently and quietly. "You don't have to pretend everything's always all right. Not if it isn't. No one expects you to be perfect."

"No one expects me to be anything Simon." The quiet voice was tinged with bitterness. "Have I been acting like I've been hiding something? Do I act like I'm perfect? Jeez Simon, I bit Henry's head off yesterday, chewed it up and spit it out before he could even blink. You know what he did Simon? He laughed. Then he slapped me on the back and told me I had spunk." The voice that had steadily risen in volume dropped to a near whisper, "I guess people just see what they want to see."

The pile of blankets shifted and Blair's head popped out. "Shit Simon, I'm just being cranky. Never mind me."

"No Blair. You're right. I've noticed that something wasn't right. But I never asked about it. I just assumed it was problems at school." Simon stopped as Blair's snigger caught his attention.

"Guess university problems don't count, huh Simon? I'll try and remember not to have them anymore. You know, just so I don't bother anyone down at the station. You guys have got enough on your minds without my shit to add to it. Hell, I'll just steer clear `till I get my act together. That should do it."

Simon ran his hands over his face and sighed. "Shit Blair. Why don't you turn the knife a little more? I'm sorry."

"No Simon, I'm sorry. I told you, I'm just blowing off steam. Why don't you go back inside? I'm not much for company tonight."

"I know you're not mad at me Blair, so what's this really about? How sick are you?"

Tipping his bottle again, Blair drained it and set it beside his chair. "Like I said, it's nothing I can't handle."

The two men sat in silence, each contemplating the other. As if realizing that Simon wasn't going to get up and leave, Blair turned his body so he was facing the older man.

"Have you ever had a life defining moment-an epiphany-when it all just comes together? When you see yourself for what you truly are? Or, should I say, how others truly see you?"

"Can't say I have," Simon replied cautiously, afraid Blair would stop talking as quickly as he had begun.

As if Simon has never spoken, Blair continued. "I was informed today, that I am, how did she put it?" Blair paused, pretending to think. "Oh yeah, a `cheap fuck'. Apparently, I have a reputation. An easy lay. It's in the contract-comes with the package."

Simon stifled the urge to ask why that surprised him, but thought better of it.

"Yeah, I sleep with the women I go out with, but doesn't everyone? But shit-I have a reputation! That reminds me of the girls I knew growing up-the ones who wore their skirts too short, their makeup too thick. They had reputations. I knew one girl who had the word `slut' spray painted on her locker. The janitor painted over it and the world kept spinning. She was my first real girlfriend. We had a lot in common back then."

Simon wearily listened and wondered where Blair was going with his trip down memory lane.

"Is that what I am Simon? A slut? I mean, I never thought so. But this woman . . .."

"Amy?" Simon guessed, remembering to the pretty Asian who had caught Blair's eye at his graduate awards banquet a few months back.

"No, Jailyn," Blair said sharply, sending an irritated look Simon's way. "Anyway, Jailyn like expected me to sleep with her. Not that I didn't want to, actually I didn't, but that's beside the point. Since when is it expected? I mean, jeez Simon! She looked at me like I was an alien and then told me that it wasn't the time to start acting like a blushing virgin."

Blair slumped back into his chair and pulled the blankets back up around his shoulders.

"You know, sex does mean something to me. I guess, yeah, I am an easy lay-a cheap fuck, or whatever the ladies are calling me. But it's not about sex Simon. It's never been about sex. I never wanted it be like that." The voice rising from the blankets was tired-worn down.

Simon could feel the hard metal rods of his chair digging into his back as he sat and listened. But he would not leave. Blair obviously needed to get this out of his system-whatever `this' was.

Blair peeked out of his blanket, as if checking to see that yes, Simon really was still there. "You can go back inside. You don't need to baby sit. I'm fine out here." While he was obviously trying to sound like he didn't care and didn't want Simon there, he also sounded more relaxed and not a little relieved that Simon hadn't ordered him to quit whining and suck it up. `You made your bed, now lie in it,' came Simon's voice, tiny and mocking in his head.

"I'm fine right here Sandburg," Simon replied as he finally lit his cigar and settled back in his torture device-cum-chair. The air was growing steadily cooler, but Simon barely noticed as his concern grew for the obviously hurting grad student. Simon bristled unconsciously as irritation at one Jim Ellison, star detective and sentinal extraordinaire, grew steadily in leaps and bounds.

`He gets like this sometimes." "I just leave him alone and he snaps out of it." What was the man thinking? What was wrong with these two? How is it that two grown men can be so blind? Was it fear? Or maybe the friendship that he had thought the two shared was nothing more than a farce. After all, Jim needed Blair. But did Blair need Jim? Shaking his head to clear it of the intrusive and disturbing thoughts, he turned his attention back to Blair.

"How old were you when you lost your virginity Simon?"

The sudden question startled him and he stammered, "Uh, I was fifteen. Back of my old man's pickup. Over before I even knew it had started. Gotta be a record for quick shots."

"I was eleven." Blair's face was buried in the blankets again and Simon strained to make out his quiet words. "Best thing that ever happened to me. It was like I was finally free. Like, I was finally in control of me. Of what happened to me-to my body."

Simon leaned forward, his voice sharp. "Are you saying you were abused? Sexually? Did Naomi know?"

Blair guffawed into his blanket. "You are talking about Naomi Sandburg, flower child and gypsy, aren't you? It was the seventies man-she wasn't done free loving yet. Let's just say I was an easy target for the stoners she brought home. After that first time though, that was it. I realized I was on my own and I loved it. I gave freely what had been taken from me. And I started to work-odd jobs here and there. Some of it under the table, but most of it was legit. Hell, I even babysat. I was darn good at it too! I guess that was when I realized Naomi just wouldn't be there like I needed her to be. That if I wanted love, I had to go out and find it."

"You don't think Naomi loved you?" Simon's gut twisted as his anger flared again.

"No, I know she did-does. It just would have been nice to be put first. Just one in a while, you know?" Blair lapsed into silence and Simon thought he heard a quiet snuffle come from under the blanket.

Suddenly the blanket surged upwards and a furry head popped out. Turning his face towards Simon, Blair blurted out, "I didn't realize how fucked up I was until recently. Do I look fucked up to you Simon? Cuz I really feel fucked up."

Simon felt his eyes begin to sting as he beheld the sight in front of him. There was no way that boy even looked remotely `fucked up'. Adorable, pathetic, and needy came to mind. Simon was tempted to wrap him in a bear hug. His musings were interrupted as Blair continued.

"What the hell am I doing pretending to know how to help Jim when I can't even help myself? When I never realized how pathetic I truly am?"

Tired of listening to Blair berate himself, Simon interrupted. "Blair, listen to me. I don't know what all happened to get you into this state, but it isn't healthy."

"No, it's not healthy! I put Jim's health in jeopardy and for what? For a good fuck? For a few hours in fantasy land-pretending I'm worth loving? Pretending that the body wrapped around mind will be there when I wake up? That she sees me as more than just an `easy lay'?

"Is that what this is about, your love life?" Simon asked, struggling to understand why Blair was so upset.

"Sex Simon. Not love. It's never love."

"Help me out here Blair. You're losing me. Where exactly are we here?"

Blair sighed heavily. "Well, I guess I'm at the point where I pick a new direction. I just wish . . .."

"What?" Simon prompted.

Blair blinked, confusion clouding his eyes. "What what?"

Rolling his eyes, Simon took a last puff on his cigar and ground it out on the floor of the patio. "What do you wish?"

"Oh. Well, you remember back to those sex talks you had with your father?"

Wearily, Simon replied "Yeah?"

"I never had those." It was a statement, but it was so much more.

"What are you saying? Sandburg! Don't tell me you got some girl pregnant!"

His voice thick with sarcasm, Blair retorted, "And what, raise the kid on my grant money? I think there's space in my room for a crib. Or better yet, maybe I'd just ditch the kid. Like father like son, right?"

"You know I didn't mean that."

Just as suddenly, the sarcasm was gone, replaced with the sound of defeat. "Yeah, I know Simon. Sorry. I'm just really tired. No, I didn't knock up any coeds." Blair paused, then dropped his face into his blanket yet again.

"I'm so stupid! I know better!" His voice dropped so low Simon had to lean over to hear him. "I caught Syphilis. That's why I've been so tired."

"Syphilis. Is that serious?" Jeez, he's freaking out over an STD. Is this really his first? Is that possible? With the sheer number of women he's slept with, what are those odds?

"It can be. I'm so dumb! I ignored all the symptoms. Blew them off as stress and an allergic reaction. I'm being treated. I'm not contagious-but I was! Do you know how vulnerable Jim is?"

Whoa! Simon sat back in surprise. Choosing his words carefully, he questioned, "Are you saying what I think you're saying"

Without looking up, Blair retorted, "You can close your mouth Simon. That's not what I'm saying. I had a rash that could have infected others, if it had come in contact with broken skin. What if Jim had gotten hurt, even a minor wound and I tried to help and infected him instead?"

"It didn't happen," Simon reasoned, trying to calm the younger man.

"No, it didn't. But it could have."

"It didn't." Simon's voice was one of finality. "Don't beat yourself up over this." After a long pause, Simon continued, "You're lucky, you know."

Blair's head peaked out of the blanket and two tired eyes blinked at him. "How's that?"

"You see what you've been doing. Now change it."

"Easier said than done my friend," Blair sighed.

"Can I make a suggestion Sandburg?"

Blair waved his hand. "Sure."

"See a therapist."

"Been there, done that."

"Have you dealt with this? About the fact that you only feel loved when you hop in the sack with near strangers? That you escaped years of abuse by making yourself more of a victim? That you feel so worthless you thought that you had to go through all of this alone? Have you done that?"

Blair smiled, the first real smile Simon could recall seeing in weeks. "Damn. How'd you get so smart Simon?"

"Hey, they don't call me `Captain' for nothing." Simon smiled back and laughed quietly. His face grew somber as he looked at Blair, and finally, Blair looked away.

"So-you gonna go?"

"I'll think about it Simon," came the quiet reply.

"Will you at least talk to Jim?" Simon coaxed.

Blair turned his head until he could see through the glass doors behind him. The poker game was still in full swing and he could see Jim laughing and tossing chips onto the pile. The loft was brightly lit-precariously welcoming. He didn't want to lose this small amount of stability-the first he had ever known. And he wasn't sure he was ready to share control of his happiness-to give up his means of self-preservation by admitting weakness.

"I don't think I'm there yet Simon. Why don't you go on in and rejoin the game? I'm going to stay out here a bit longer."

Slowly working his sore muscles, Simon pushed out of his chair and stood. Grasping Blair's shoulder quickly, he disappeared into the loft.

As he settled into his seat next to Jim, Jim jerked his head towards the patio and asked, "He coming in yet?"

"Naw. He needs some time to process. He'll be fine." At what cost, Simon thought sadly as he turned his attention to the game.

Jim nodded distractedly as he said, "Ante up gentleman!"

-end