Fannish ramblings (TSFF included)
I've really grown to like "The French Mistake" quite a lot. I wish I could have loved it on first viewing, especially now that I've heard the guys' stories about it, and knowing that it was one of their faves.
Now that we've got a new treadmill, and now that I'm done watching Jensen's storyline on SV while I work out (it only takes a few days), I've pulled out my Sentinel DVDs. Trip down memory lane? Uh, yeah.
The Sentinel was not my first on-line fandom, but it is the fandom in which I spent a huge, HUGE amount of time writing, analyzing, and socializing. It wasn't my first convention, but I attended several small cons (and even helped organize one for a different project of one of the actors--which was a mixed experience and a totally separate story) that I wouldn't have otherwise. I had a huge thespic crush on one of the actors, whom I met upon a few occasions.
Pulling out my DVDs and watching them now, two fandoms and several years removed, is interesting. Pre-Y2K, pre-9/11. No Department of Homeland Security. Cell phones the size of bricks.
I've lost track of the actors' careers from my other fandoms--Michael Hurst (H:TLJ, is in NZ, so not surprising I haven't been able to keep up easily), Garett Maggart (has sort of disappeared off the radar), Rob Morrow (since The Whole Truth was cancelled, I haven't heard of any new projects from him yet). Jensen, though, I think I'll be able to follow for a good long while. His work is (currently, for the most part) easily accessible.
But going back and watching TS has been interesting. Nostalgic. And makes me appreciate my other fandoms.
Today I watched "Killers," that that brought to mind a missing scene that I wrote. It can be found at my defunct zombie site, or below. In true fanfic style, if you're not familiar with the show and characters in general, and the episode specifically, it might not make sense. But maybe it will give you a feel?
Requiem With a Friend
(Missing scene from "Killers")
Sandburg came to the funeral. I didn't even notice him until the crowd started breaking up. He was standing toward the back with the casual acquaintances and the local press. I heard people ask him how he knew Danny, did he know him well, were they friends.
"No," came the quiet, heartfelt reply, "but he was the friend of a friend."
And to people who looked like they would accept a hug from a complete stranger, he readily obliged.
We looked directly at each other only once, and we didn't speak at all. He was there when Danny died. He knew what I was feeling.
" . . . the friend of a friend . . . "
Then it was just me and Sandburg. For three hours he didn't say a word. For three hours he stayed with me. When the tears came, he stood close, a hand on my shoulder when he somehow knew I needed it. Otherwise, just close enough for me to know he was there. When the tears stopped, he stood several yards away, under a tree, looking for all the world like he was the sentinel, guarding this section of the cemetery from any unwanted intruders.
Then he was by my side again. His quiet voice brought me back to the present.
"Hey, you wanna go grab something to eat?"
I shook my head.
Silence.
"You gonna be okay, man?"
A deep breath, and I nodded.
A hand on my back, then the touch was gone.
". . . the friend of a friend . . ."
And in silence, we walked back to our cars and went our separate ways.
~finis~