Epilogue
(Sweet Science)
Ellison hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes, yawning. Sandburg was in some sort of trouble, and he had just agreed to go down and see what the problem was. He looked at his watch again, shaking his head at the early hour of morning.
So why'd I immediately agree to come and get you without more details? Because I'm a sentimental sentinel, that's why. What happened to my tough guy image, Chief? If word of this type of behavior gets out...
He shook his head, amazed that he had actually stayed up waiting for his roommate. He hadn't planned it, but it had happened anyway. One minute he had been sitting thinking about how Sandburg came to be part of his life, then suddenly the phone was ringing and said roommate was asking for a favor.
The static snow from the television prompted him to move aside the pillow he was still holding on to and cross over to the television set and flick it off. I can't even remember what I was watching on TV. He looked down at what he was wearing, deciding he didn't look that rumpled for having fallen asleep on the couch; the clothes would do for the Federal Building.
Sandburg, what now? Now you've got me sleeping with my feet on the couch, clutching a pillow, waiting for you to come home at night. How the mighty have fallen...
Jim smiled ruefully as he got the pillow and returned it to Blair's bedroom. He shrugged into his jacket, glancing around the loft to make sure the candles were out and everything else would be safe until he got Blair back home.
Home.
That's what you did, kid. You made this home. Your presence in my life took a spartan, utilitarian apartment and made it somewhere warm and comfortable and safe. A place to laugh, and yell, and, yes, even to sit up at night with my feet on the couch, waiting for you to come home. You made me worry about someone -- not because I think you're incompetent, but because I care. Because sometimes I don't know how to help you when you're hurting like this. I don't know how to make you feel better, and that eats at me. I wish I did.
Jim picked up his keys, still looking back at the empty couch.
The words aren't always there any more, but if this display of sentimentality doesn't prove I care about you, I don't know what will. It certainly proved it to me.
He turned off the lights, shut the door behind him, and went out into the night.
The End