"A New Day Begins" The Sentinel, episode tag, Jim/Blair, rated PG-13
This is an episode tag for The Sentinel episode "Night Shift".
Background: Blair is writing his dissertation about Jim's enhanced senses, aka Sentinel abilities. Jim sneaks a peek at the introductory chapter and freaks out. By the end of the episode, they seem to have worked things out, partly due to a bizarre conversation Jim had with a strange man called Gabe, who may or may not have been *ahem* an angel. My story starts after they get home in the morning.
A NEW DAY BEGINS
"I think we need to talk, Jim."
"Nah, we're good, Chief."
"'A violation of friendship and trust'?"
Jim sank down on the couch and rubbed one hand over his face. "What are you looking for here, Sandburg, an apology? I've admitted I overreacted."
Blair sat in a nearby chair and said, "You don't owe me an apology for saying what you honestly felt at the time."
Jim looked at him wearily. "Then what's this about?"
"Well, you know," Blair said, gesturing with his entire upper body, "I just need to make sure that you're not still feeling some of that. Because, if you are, we've got a real problem, man, and we need to deal with it."
Jim stared at him in surprise. "You've explained what you wrote, and I believe you."
"You're buying the whole explanation?" Blair pressed.
"Are you selling it?" Jim said, feeling both frustrated and amused. "Because if you're selling, I'm buying." Blair frowned at him, and Jim burst out, "What? Now I'm not supposed to trust you?"
"No, no!" Blair held his hands up. "You are. You can. That's not what I mean."
"It's been a long night, Chief. Can't this wait a while? Whatever this is?"
"No, now, just give me a couple of minutes here, Jim. This is really important." Blair's face was intense.
"Yeah, sure. All right, talk." Jim waved a hand in resignation.
"Thank you," Blair said, making a face.
Jim softened. "I'm listening."
"Okay, good." Blair leaned forward. "It's like this. Suppose that you went to a therapist?"
"What?" Jim exclaimed.
"I'm not saying that you should," Blair said hastily. "It could be anybody. Suppose...suppose Megan went to a therapist."
"Now there's a concept," Jim said more calmly.
"Okay, so she sees this therapist a few times, and she's really starting to feel good about herself. She sees herself making progress, she's really bonded with this guy, she's got total confidence in him. Right?"
Jim shrugged. "Fine."
"Yes, but see, if she ever saw this guy's notes, his file on her, whoa, things would be different then. She'd have all these doubts about herself, she'd really resent this guy, saying all those things about her..."
"What things? You lost me a little." Jim blinked.
"Doesn't matter what things," Blair said. "The language that he would use, the standard phrases that he'd use, it would all look really negative and hurtful to Megan."
"Ah!" Jim's face flushed a bit.
"Therapists use very specific language in their case files, and they follow a scientific methodology to discover the roots of the problems that their patients are presenting."
"I get you, I do," Jim said uncomfortably. "The language in your dissertation means something different to a scientist than it does to a layman, and I...I misinterpreted the things I was reading."
"It isn't just the language. It's a formal presentation, and the whole thing has a...a certain aspect of distance to it. A required distance between the writer and his subject." Blair looked at Jim anxiously. "You must have felt that. It's not exactly how one friend talks about another."
Jim was silent and still, looking Blair in the eyes. "Yeah, I felt it," he finally answered.
"You've got to know that that isn't any reflection of how I feel," Blair said with a note of pleading in his voice. "That was just me being a scientist, and following the rules for how my paper needs to be written. That's all that was."
Jim licked his lips. "It isn't how I've thought of you. As a scientist, I mean. You're all...all passionate about everything. Like it's all really cool and exciting."
"Oh, it is, man. It totally is," Blair agreed.
"What I read, it was cold and clinical. It didn't sound like you." Jim looked away. "I thought maybe I'd been wrong. About you, about us. Everything."
"Are you still feeling some of that?" Blair asked quietly.
"I suppose I may be," Jim answered slowly. "I don't like picturing myself as a lab rat."
"Oh, Jim! No!" Blair got up and came towards Jim, sinking down onto one knee on the couch. He gripped Jim's bicep. "You could never be that." He grinned ruefully. "I actually gave up on the whole concept of objectivity a long time ago. You know, like, the second week after we met, man."
Jim looked down at the hand on his arm, and then back up at Blair's face. "Yeah?"
Blair made a face, shrugged, and grinned again. "Yeah."
"Okay," Jim said simply, his eyes clear and his face relaxed. Blair slumped forward in relief, burying his face in Jim's shoulder. Jim's hand came up to ruffle his curls.
"I would have done it, you know," Blair spoke into Jim's sleeve.
"Done what, Chief?" Jim asked idly, his hand still stroking Blair's hair.
"Torn up all my notes and thrown them away." Blair could feel Jim tense. "I would have done it," he repeated earnestly.
"Our friendship means that much to you," Jim said, not asking a question; knowing the answer.
"You mean that much to me," Blair whispered.
You should begin by listening to the hearts of others.
Gabe's words echoed inside Jim's head. His mouth dropped open. Was Blair saying...? Warmth ran through Jim’s body, but fear spread just as quickly. Yeah, Sandburg had been right about that, and the language that he had used had been hurtful and easily misconstrued, but Jim had never thought of himself as a coward before now.
And now was no time to start.
“Please, don’t let me be wrong about this,” he blurted out.
Blair raised his head and looked at Jim with concern. “I thought...” He shook his head. “You still have doubts?”
Jim slowly raised his hand to cup Blair’s face. He saw Blair’s pupils dilate; he heard his heart beat a little faster. “No,” Jim said roughly, “not anymore.” He felt the increasing heat of Blair’s flushed cheek against the palm of his hand, and smelled his growing arousal. Sight, sound, touch, smell. “No doubts,” he repeated softly. “You?”
Blair licked his lips, and Jim’s eyes watched avidly. “No, Jim,” he said solemnly. “No doubts.”
Jim pulled Blair towards him and leaned forward, seeking out his mouth.
Taste.
THE END
Background: Blair is writing his dissertation about Jim's enhanced senses, aka Sentinel abilities. Jim sneaks a peek at the introductory chapter and freaks out. By the end of the episode, they seem to have worked things out, partly due to a bizarre conversation Jim had with a strange man called Gabe, who may or may not have been *ahem* an angel. My story starts after they get home in the morning.
A NEW DAY BEGINS
"I think we need to talk, Jim."
"Nah, we're good, Chief."
"'A violation of friendship and trust'?"
Jim sank down on the couch and rubbed one hand over his face. "What are you looking for here, Sandburg, an apology? I've admitted I overreacted."
Blair sat in a nearby chair and said, "You don't owe me an apology for saying what you honestly felt at the time."
Jim looked at him wearily. "Then what's this about?"
"Well, you know," Blair said, gesturing with his entire upper body, "I just need to make sure that you're not still feeling some of that. Because, if you are, we've got a real problem, man, and we need to deal with it."
Jim stared at him in surprise. "You've explained what you wrote, and I believe you."
"You're buying the whole explanation?" Blair pressed.
"Are you selling it?" Jim said, feeling both frustrated and amused. "Because if you're selling, I'm buying." Blair frowned at him, and Jim burst out, "What? Now I'm not supposed to trust you?"
"No, no!" Blair held his hands up. "You are. You can. That's not what I mean."
"It's been a long night, Chief. Can't this wait a while? Whatever this is?"
"No, now, just give me a couple of minutes here, Jim. This is really important." Blair's face was intense.
"Yeah, sure. All right, talk." Jim waved a hand in resignation.
"Thank you," Blair said, making a face.
Jim softened. "I'm listening."
"Okay, good." Blair leaned forward. "It's like this. Suppose that you went to a therapist?"
"What?" Jim exclaimed.
"I'm not saying that you should," Blair said hastily. "It could be anybody. Suppose...suppose Megan went to a therapist."
"Now there's a concept," Jim said more calmly.
"Okay, so she sees this therapist a few times, and she's really starting to feel good about herself. She sees herself making progress, she's really bonded with this guy, she's got total confidence in him. Right?"
Jim shrugged. "Fine."
"Yes, but see, if she ever saw this guy's notes, his file on her, whoa, things would be different then. She'd have all these doubts about herself, she'd really resent this guy, saying all those things about her..."
"What things? You lost me a little." Jim blinked.
"Doesn't matter what things," Blair said. "The language that he would use, the standard phrases that he'd use, it would all look really negative and hurtful to Megan."
"Ah!" Jim's face flushed a bit.
"Therapists use very specific language in their case files, and they follow a scientific methodology to discover the roots of the problems that their patients are presenting."
"I get you, I do," Jim said uncomfortably. "The language in your dissertation means something different to a scientist than it does to a layman, and I...I misinterpreted the things I was reading."
"It isn't just the language. It's a formal presentation, and the whole thing has a...a certain aspect of distance to it. A required distance between the writer and his subject." Blair looked at Jim anxiously. "You must have felt that. It's not exactly how one friend talks about another."
Jim was silent and still, looking Blair in the eyes. "Yeah, I felt it," he finally answered.
"You've got to know that that isn't any reflection of how I feel," Blair said with a note of pleading in his voice. "That was just me being a scientist, and following the rules for how my paper needs to be written. That's all that was."
Jim licked his lips. "It isn't how I've thought of you. As a scientist, I mean. You're all...all passionate about everything. Like it's all really cool and exciting."
"Oh, it is, man. It totally is," Blair agreed.
"What I read, it was cold and clinical. It didn't sound like you." Jim looked away. "I thought maybe I'd been wrong. About you, about us. Everything."
"Are you still feeling some of that?" Blair asked quietly.
"I suppose I may be," Jim answered slowly. "I don't like picturing myself as a lab rat."
"Oh, Jim! No!" Blair got up and came towards Jim, sinking down onto one knee on the couch. He gripped Jim's bicep. "You could never be that." He grinned ruefully. "I actually gave up on the whole concept of objectivity a long time ago. You know, like, the second week after we met, man."
Jim looked down at the hand on his arm, and then back up at Blair's face. "Yeah?"
Blair made a face, shrugged, and grinned again. "Yeah."
"Okay," Jim said simply, his eyes clear and his face relaxed. Blair slumped forward in relief, burying his face in Jim's shoulder. Jim's hand came up to ruffle his curls.
"I would have done it, you know," Blair spoke into Jim's sleeve.
"Done what, Chief?" Jim asked idly, his hand still stroking Blair's hair.
"Torn up all my notes and thrown them away." Blair could feel Jim tense. "I would have done it," he repeated earnestly.
"Our friendship means that much to you," Jim said, not asking a question; knowing the answer.
"You mean that much to me," Blair whispered.
You should begin by listening to the hearts of others.
Gabe's words echoed inside Jim's head. His mouth dropped open. Was Blair saying...? Warmth ran through Jim’s body, but fear spread just as quickly. Yeah, Sandburg had been right about that, and the language that he had used had been hurtful and easily misconstrued, but Jim had never thought of himself as a coward before now.
And now was no time to start.
“Please, don’t let me be wrong about this,” he blurted out.
Blair raised his head and looked at Jim with concern. “I thought...” He shook his head. “You still have doubts?”
Jim slowly raised his hand to cup Blair’s face. He saw Blair’s pupils dilate; he heard his heart beat a little faster. “No,” Jim said roughly, “not anymore.” He felt the increasing heat of Blair’s flushed cheek against the palm of his hand, and smelled his growing arousal. Sight, sound, touch, smell. “No doubts,” he repeated softly. “You?”
Blair licked his lips, and Jim’s eyes watched avidly. “No, Jim,” he said solemnly. “No doubts.”
Jim pulled Blair towards him and leaned forward, seeking out his mouth.
Taste.
THE END