Author's Notes: Hey guys, I'm baaaaaaaaaaccck!! Whew, sorry for the hiatus but RL has been a killer lately, college classes and all. This isn't the Shakari continuation that some are expecting. Sorry. :) Well, this story was inspired by the archive elves challenge of writing missing scenes. True, 'The Rig' already has plenty of missing scenes written for it but this one stuck in my head and refused to leave until it was on the computer. Hope you like it and feel free to email me with comments/criticisms at storm31@jhu.edu or storm63@hotmail.com. Now on with the show! Disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly Production and Paramount. I'm just taking them for a little ride and I'll put them back where I found them. Really.
Storm
Eyes as blue as the sea stared into the darkness, searching for a solution. Any solution to the problem that had kept him awake for the past five hours. Those eyes focused on the digital display next to the bed. Damn, three am. With a frustrated sigh, the figure rolled onto his back, a hand reaching up to push a stray lock of brown curly hair back out of his face. Wound up with tension, he swung his feet over the side. Gently he opened the french doors and strode into the kitchen. Slowly, he opened one of the cupboards wincing as one of the hinges squeaked. A stray glance to the bedroom upstairs revealed that his roommate hadn't budged, further evidence that all wasn't right in their world.
Blair Sandburg had a serious problem. More specifically, his partner, Detective James Ellison, had a problem and he didn't know how to solve it. As a sentinel, Jim's enhanced hearing should have detected the sound. Blair had at least expected to hear Jim's bed creak as he shifted position. The silence in the loft was almost oppressive.
Inadvertently, Blair flashed back to the events of the day. He could feel a throb surfacing in the back of his skull, signaling the beginning of a migraine. Leaning against the counter, Blair massaged his forehead. Damn it, Jim, why can't you open up to me? Even after all of this time and you still shut me out. I'm your Guide. I'm supposed to help you but nooooo. I ask you what's wrong but you clam up and that 'my face is now made of stone' expression comes up!
That afternoon, some psycho - one seemed to pop up everyday in Cascade - had taken the owner of a repair shop and a few customers hostage because he wasn't happy with the paint job that they had given his car. While the negotiators had kept him busy, Jim, Blair, Rafe and Brown had snuck around the back of the adjoining business, entering through a back door. With three cops, one of them a sentinel, the operation was supposed to have gone smoothly. Wrong. The perp had somehow spotted them in a reflection in a stray hubcap. Jim and the guy had ended up in a struggle, crashing into a pile of open oil cans. Rafe and Brown had slapped the cuffs on the psycho and pulled the slippery criminal from Jim. With Blair present to help his partner they didn't see the look in Jim's eyes that had frozen the blood in the guide's veins.
Blair watched Rafe and Brown dragging the raving man between them. He rolled his eyes and said, "Geez, Jim. What is it with this city? Is there some secret Psychos R Us that we don't know about?" He gingerly stepped through the pools of oil. "Damn. I just got these boots last week. You think Simon could let me make a claim for clothes damage or something? Yeah right..." The words stopped flowing from his mouth as he looked into Jim's face for the first time. "Oh, crap."
Jim wasn't zoning. Not exactly. He didn't have that spaced out look that showed the sentinel was disconnected from the outside world. What Blair Sandburg saw on his face was infinitely more frightening.
Ice blue eyes were fixed on an oil covered hand, staring at the slick jet-black liquid, watching the light reflecting on the surface. It wasn't detachment that Blair saw but fear.
Without hesitation, Blair knelt in front of his friend, heedless of the black liquid soaking through his jeans and grabbed Jim's shoulders. "Jim. Jim, buddy, talk to me. You're scaring me here, man," he said quietly, his voice shaking slightly. No response. Drawing a deep breath, Blair began to talk to Jim softly, his voice shifting in the tones that Jim had referred to as Blair's 'Guide mode'. Grasping Jim's head gently, he forced Jim's gaze to lock onto his face.
Sure I got him to come back to the land of the living pretty quickly but he clamed up after that and I couldn't get him to tell me what had happened. I don't know what to do. Blair felt an uncharacteristic surge of anger flow through him and barely restrained himself from punching the cabinet. Ok, big guy. I'm going to give you until this evening to spill the beans. After that, one way or another, I'm going to find out what went on in that hard head of yours.
Deciding to try and get some sleep before his nine a.m. class, Blair was walking back to his room when a soft sound reached his ears. What the...? He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Some part of him was screaming to run up the stairs but he didn't want to disturb Jim, considering the foul mood that the detective had been in earlier. "Jim? Jim, you okay up there?" Suddenly, the noise came again. Like someone choking... Brown curls bounced as he rushed up the stairs, his heart hammering in his chest. Jim's form entered his view and Blair's breath seemed to freeze in his windpipe. Oh god!
Blair was greeted by one of the most frightening sights that he had ever seen in his twenty-eight years. His partner, his best friend, his sentinel lay on the bed. In the dim moonlight, Blair could see Jim's hands flailing, his mouth wide open. "Jim!" he screamed.
Rushing over to Jim's side, Blair fell to his knees next to the bed. He grabbed Jim's arms, trying to get the man to stop flailing. "Jim! Jim!" What the hell is wrong with him? Could he be choking on something? But he didn't get up all night! Trying to stop panic from entering his voice he said loudly, "Jim! Jim, it's going to be all right!" His eyes darted frantically around the darkened room, trying to spot the cellular phone. Damn it, Blair, think! Where does he put...? The dresser! Frightened blue eyes, flickered back to Jim. "Jim! Just hold on for a couple of seconds, ok? I'm going to call for help." Every instinct in his body told him not to leave his sentinel but he had to call an ambulance.
As soon as Blair rose to reach for the phone, Jim's hoarse voice pierced the darkness. "Blair...Help...me."
Instantly, Blair clasped one of his hands into Jim's own, his other hand flicking the lamp on. His eyes widened as he realized that Jim's eyes had rolled back into his head so far that only the whites showed. Wait a minute! He spoke. He can't be choking... then what? A dream!
Swallowing to get past the lump that had developed in his throat, he reached up and placed his free hand onto the side of Jim's face. "Jim, I'm right here. It's just a dream. It can't hurt you. Listen to my voice and come back to reality, man," he said, his voice cracking. Blair's grip on Jim's hand tightened as he realized that Jim's breathing was become even shallower. Can someone die if they think a dream is real enough? With his senses, I just don't know. "Jim, listen to me. I'm your Guide. I'm responsible for you and you have to listen to me. It's just a dream. Wake up!"
Suddenly, Jim tensed, his hand squeezing Blair with almost bone crushing force. A few seconds later, the sentinel's body melted into the mattress and his eyes focused on Blair's worried features. "Blair?" he asked hoarsely.
"Thank God," Blair whispered. The breath that he had not even been aware that he had been holding rushed out of his lungs and he rested his head on Jim's sweat covered chest.
One of Jim's arms came up and touched Blair's hair, stroking quietly as he tried to regain his own composure. The pair remained that way for almost ten minutes --- Blair trying to work up the courage to ask Jim what the nightmare had been about and Jim trying to put his emotions into words.
Finally, Blair straightened, extricating himself from Jim's grip. Jim pulled back, sitting up in the bed and drawing his knees to his chest. Blair sat on the floor and stared at Jim, waiting expectantly for an explanation.
"Sorry, Chief," Jim said, his voice muffled. "Go back to sleep. I'm all right now."
Blair's jaw dropped incredulously. "Say what? Have you lost your mind? Go back to sleep? You expect me to forget what just happened here? Damn it, Jim, don't you dare lock me out now! This has something to do with the arrest today, doesn't it? When you zoned on the oil!" Blair's tirade ceased abruptly as he saw Jim flinch when he mentioned the word oil. Taking a deep breath, Blair sat on the edge of the bed. "Jim, I'm your friend. Remember, what I said a couple of months ago when I turned down the trip to Borneo. It's about friendship."
Jim sighed and his head touched his knees. Blair's right. I have to tell him. "It was about the rig." He said quietly.
"The rig? Are you talking about the rig we were on a month ago?" His question was answered with a slight nod. "Is this about your fear of water?"
"No. I was...I was...back in the vat. That creep had pushed me in. I was trying to swim through it, Chief, but it was too thick. It would have been bad enough if I didn't have enhanced senses. It was on my skin, burning everywhere that it touched. My eyes, burning. It was going into my ears and my mouth. The taste. How can I forget that," he said in low tones.
Blair stared at his friend, stunned. Jim had never given him any indication that his experience in the vat had affected him like this. How did I miss this? He saw the tension that was still in Jim's shoulders and a nagging suspicion surfaced in his mind. "That isn't all, is it?"
Jim raised his head to look at his guide. He swallowed hard and said softly, "No. I...I called out to you for help. I saw you standing over me but you weren't doing anything. You looked down at me and said, 'Whatever happened to Mr. Independent?' You said that I had gotten along just fine without your help for years and that I could get myself out of the vat on my own. I started to sink again. The oil…it was pulling me down, I could hardly move my legs. I reached up for help. You stared at my hand. Then...you just walked away."
Blair couldn't talk. He stared at his friend in shock. Then he quickly looked away and said quietly, "What are you trying to say, Jim? That you don't want me around any more?" I knew it had to happen sooner or later. Naomi was right. Don't settle down, don't get attached.
"God, no, Blair!" He saw the unshed tears shining at the corner of Blair's eyes. Jim leaned forward and touched Blair's shoulder, feeling the tense muscles beneath his hands. "Blair, look at me."
Reluctantly, Blair turned his head to face Jim.
"Listen to me, this is not about you. It's about me. It's about my damn stubborn nature and my foolish pride. I should've told you about this from the beginning but I kept it inside. Then, today when I had that fight with the perp, when that oil touched my skin and the scent, it all came flooding back." Jim's expression softened and he clasped Blair's face in his hands. "Before I sank in the vat, you morphed into my spirit guide. I think that he was trying to get me to understand that I need you. You know that old expression, 'A drowning man clutches at a straw'?"
Blair laughed wryly and said a little bitterly, "Are you saying that I'm your last resort, Jim?"
"No. I'm saying that you're more like a life raft. I would've ended up in an institution or pasted across the sidewalk if it weren't for you. You keep my sanity, Blair and I wouldn't have it any other way. I never thanked you for saving my life that day on the rig and I'm sorry."
Blair stared into the ice-blue eyes across from his own. This was one of the few times that Jim Ellison had bared his soul to his friend and for that he was grateful beyond words. He clasped one of Jim's forearms and said quietly, "Thanks. I needed to hear that." Blair smiled as he saw Jim's eyes begin to droop a little. He pushed Jim down back to the mattress. He got up and pulled the blanket over the sentinel's body and flicked the light off. "Sleep," he said quietly, entwining one of Jim's hands in his own, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
Comforted by his Guide's voice, the sentinel relaxed, letting the gentle beating of Blair's heart lull him into a dreamless sleep.