The Sentinel Recs and Recs Request
okay, I've been reorganzing my delicious bookmarks and it has come to my attention that the neglect for my second! fandom! ever! is bordering on obscene. I mean, I have 3,000+ bookmarks and only a few of these are for The Sentinel. Problem is, there was no delicious back in '98 and I've gone through a lot of computers since then.
And so I am asking that if you are reading this and can think of any excellent Jim/Blair fics I really should have bookmarked, please share? Basically, I like anything lengthy with a Jim&Blair who resemble the characters on the show and that avoids sap and too much melodrama. Because it is better to give than recieve, below are recs for those TS pieces that I love desperately and do have saved.
Set During The Series
Permanent Record by Francesa aka Speranza
16,000 words. Kicks off around when Blair first moves in. Basically: Jim and Blair start buddy-fucking, Jim does a bit of research into Blair's past, and then they fall in love. What makes this piece one of my favorites is the stuff about Blair's file at the university.
M E M O R A N D U M
TO: Margaret Addison, Dean of Students
FROM: Dr. Samuel Steinberg, Department of English
RE: Blair Sandburg
DATE: May 12, 1986
This is to inform you that I am dropping the plagiarism charges that I brought against Blair Sandburg (SS: 087-45-1990), a student in Section 02 of my American Poetry class, on 5/2/86. After a conversation with Mr. Sandburg, I have become convinced that he did in fact write the paper in question. Please let this Memorandum serve as my official notification of the withdrawn charges.
Yours,
Samuel Steinberg
Assistant Professor, Department of English, Rainier University
Unofficially, Maggie - the kid is a hoot. I asked him a few simple questions about the genesis of the paper and he talked my ear off for an hour and a half. I can see why his high school let him graduate at 15 - clearly they wanted to get rid of him. Which frankly isn't a bad idea. The strategy I'd pursue is to get Sandburg through the B.A. as quickly as possible. Petition APC and let the kid do an overload - he can handle the work and the sooner he graduates the better. There's a place for freaks like him - it's called graduate school. He'll be great at it, presuming he survives his undergraduate years, which he might not - word on the street is that the Alpha Tao Delts have it in for him for wanting to start a student Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Queer and Transgender student organization on campus. If I were you, I'd put Campus Safety on alert to patrol his building, and notify his R.A. to keep his/her eyes peeled. Side note: I mentioned to him that his Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Queer and Transgender group would have the not very attractive abbreviation of GLBQT. He says he doesn't care. He says he won't let his life be ruled by acronyms. You should hear Smithson rail against this kid in the faculty lounge - B.S. (apropos, no?) has gotten under his skin pretty badly. Of course, Smithson hasn't revised his lecture notes since the invention of the steam engine, so the kid has a point. You might want to call BS in for another talk though - I don't think your first one really sunk in. The bad news is that he's still immortalizing Smithson in poetry. The good news, I suppose, is that he's now experimenting with the sonnet form.
An Unexamined Life by Helen
11,000 words. Jim and Blair fuck with each other's heads a bit, then Jim gets a boyfriend and stops worrying. And then Blair makes him worry a lot. No matter what fandom she's in, Helen always churns out really fabulous & interesting things, and though she wrote Jim/Blair with a different flavor that you see in the average TS fic, it reflected back to me something I personally saw in their relationship on the show.
"Jim. hey, Jim, is that a hickey? hey, hey, very classy. Whadja do last weekend?" It was a measure of how much Blair had been gone that Jim didn't even think about his answer,
"Just hung out with Matt," to which Blair said,
"oh," and about thirty seconds later, "oh. fuck. Really?" He got up abruptly and went in the kitchen and began to chop some things. Then he turned back around, knife in hand and said,
"Just so I have this, just so I know I'm not overreacting-that hickey is from the application of someone's mouth, someone who isn't a woman like usual, I mean, not that you're exactly covered with hickeys at all times, but." He stopped and blew his breath out and said. "Matt gave you that hickey. with your participation. [because, Blair,] a part of him sneered, [there are so many sexual assaulters who go around giving people hickeys.]
"yeah," said Jim. [He looks blithe,] Blair thought. [He looks fucking blithe. I'm Jim and I have some major mouth marks on my neck, but I'm fucking fine.] So he turned back to the onions and he was so annoyed by Jim's total security in his masculinity that he cut himself and in the ensuing blood and confusion and Jim's,
"will you just sit still, it's deep and I want to get a butterfly strip on it, stop it." Blair started to feel a little better. Enough so that he felt he could say, with the correct inflection,
"So, you sleeping with him?"
"I'm not sure. Not yet."
"oh. Jim, I'm sorry I flipped out. Are you-look, were you sleeping with men before and was I just being, like, the most unobservant observer ever, or is this a new development?"
"new."
"okay. all right."
He hadn't been paying attention. He had been chasing after a woman, of course, a beautiful woman, a fun woman, fun in bed, and perhaps a little too serious, but interesting enough until she said,
"Look, Blair, it's been nice but I have a lot of work and I can't really afford to be distracted."
[In the future,] Blair noted, [I have really got to stay away from these science types.] Because it wasn't pleasant to wake up and find out you were just a fucking distraction. Sure, he wasn't devastated, he'd only known her three weeks anyway, and he had gotten to the point where he hardly expected anything to work out.
But now he was back and Jim was sleeping with some guy. Jim looked happy. Blair couldn't decide which of these things astonished him more.
Eating At Home by Helen
10,000 words. Yes, this is another Helen piece. But it's my favorite fic in the "Get Together After Pretending To Be Gay While Undercover" genre. The back and forth dialogue is just great, and I love how they bitch at each other.
"um. tonight."
"oh boy," Blair said.
"you were, uh. I felt you," Jim continued, wincing to himself, thinking he should have thought this through a little more
"Oh boy," Blair repeated. "Um. Jim. I just. look. it was. okay. This is embarrassing," he announced as the doors slid open. He walked swiftly along the hall and had the door open before Jim managed to catch up and said,
"What, that it sorta looked like you wanted to jump my bones in public?" He thought [perhaps I ought to be angry about this.] But he didn't feel angry, so he just waited while Blair scrubbed at his chin and said,
"I didn't particularly. I mean, that's not what got me going."
"It isn't," Jim said, skeptically.
"No. It's just," and Blair finally turned to look at him, eyes bright. "Jim, you know how you're the paradigm of alpha male sexual prowess?"
"what? No, Sandburg, actually," and Blair sighed, looking at Jim as if he were some student who had failed to do the required reading for that week.
"Look in a fucking mirror Jim." And when Jim continued to stare at him blankly, said "It's, you're this muscle-y guy with, you know, the piercing gaze and. Okay. I'm going about this badly," He exhaled loudly and then tried again. "Jim. did you know that Martha in records has a recurring fantasy where you toss her over the counter and take her with, just, uh, animal lust? Her words, not mine. Her words," he cautioned as Jim looked at him incredulously, finally saying,
"And you know this because."
"Because, I was, sort of. Listening in. one day."
"Listening in," Jim repeated. "Why were you-Sandburg. Sandburg Tell me this isn't going in your dissertation."
"It's. Oh. Jim, look. come on. It's like a classic case of, you know, someone picking up on a certain. Primal. Quality. Which you so exude," he grinned persuasively at Jim, whose ears had achieved an interesting shade of red.
"It's a classic example of me being unable to look anyone in the eye ever again. I think you're making this shit up just to torture me," he said, suspiciously, "I mean, Martha? I mean. She works on Wednesdays and Fridays, right?"
"Right."
"okay, then," Jim said, wondering if he could get away with ending the conversation right then.
"Oh, you're not going to avoid her now are you?" Blair asked.
"of course I'm going to avoid her. It's embarrassing. I don't like people. fantasizing. Like that. it's too weird."
"Fine. Leech her life of any small pleasure. Go ahead."
A Quiet War by Merry
40,000 words. What it says on the tin: as Blair hunkers down to finish his dissertation, he and Jim participate in a quiet war - chapter by finished chapter, the men engage in an emotionally brutal series of stand offs. This is a great story for when you really feel like some biting angst, but you're picky about characterization and don't like it when things get too overblown and silly. This one bites at you because it feel so real. This is exactly how they stupidly misunderstand and hurt each other again and again.
He brought his breakfast over and sat down across from me. I watched him over the rim of my glasses, trying not to make a big deal of it, but he saw me watching and he watched me back, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. He had his blue robe wrapped tight around him like a security blanket, and it occurred to me then that I hadn't turned the heat on yet, and it was warmer up there in Jim's bedroom than it was down here. It always was.
"Sorry." I waved my hand at the cold room. "I got going, and...."
"Forgot you were cold."
"Hey, I was cold, but chapter one was smokin'."
"You really stayed up all night working on that thing?"
Something in his voice made me take a closer look at him. His smile was still in place, but it hung wrong on his mouth.
"I didn't set out to. I couldn't sleep."
"Did you try?"
I closed the lid of the laptop and pushed it aside. He watched me from across the table, his hands wrapped around each other in front of him. White-knuckled.
"Jim, what's going on?"
"What... I mean, what were you writing? You just came downstairs, and I'm up there sleeping like a baby while you're out here dissecting my brain?"
I blinked, and leaned back in my chair. "You really think I'm a total asshole, don't you."
"I don't think you're an asshole. I'm just asking a God damn question, Sandburg--"
"We've been through this. I thought you understood--"
"I do understand. I understand you have to write it, I just don't see how you can come down here and do it right after--"
"Right after what, Jim?"
His face went white, then red. He looked away, his lips pressed together all thin and pale. He didn't say anything because there were rules to this thing that had happened between us, and that was the first rule.
Post-Series
Lexicon by Betty Plotnick
~8,300 words. Set a few years after series end. Hurt/Comfort. Jim has a near-fatal injury on the job and loses his ability to speak.
Jim tried to heave himself up, because he had to, he just fucking had to get out of here no matter what, but there were needles like carpenter’s nails in his arms and arms across his shoulders and someone shouting his name in his ear, not to mention morphine like a whitewater river through his veins. Let me go, he tried to say. Get me out of here, I’m dying, I don’t want to die like this, don’t let me die! His heart was pounding with the force of all the fear he hadn’t felt during the raid, during his struggle with Starcevic, when he felt the knife at his throat, when he felt it drawn bright-shock-fast-deep through his skin, while he was bleeding on the floor. It had seemed easy then, pretty close to the death Jim had always expected; he had the Sentinel within him then, the thrill of battle, the utter comprehension of nature and inevitability. Now he was just Jim Ellison again, and he wasn’t ready to cash it in just yet.
No sound came out, though. Just the agonizing, slow sawing of air through his throat as his mouth worked stupidly.
Nuance by Resonant and Livia
34,000 words. An excellent example of "case fic", in which Jim becomes practically psychic once he gets full control of his senses. This not only helps him to start getting his hands on a murder mystery that's dropped into their laps but (of course!) also unearths something hidden between him and Blair. I really fell in love with this idea--how it was introduced into the story, how it plays out.
"What did you hear exactly?" Sandburg was saying.
"At first I thought a branch had broken on the sycamore tree, but then I realized it was coming from inside the house." Jim focused in on his hearing. Her nasal passages were swollen-- pretty standard in a pregnant woman. Heart rate slightly elevated-- that could be a pregnancy thing too, or she could be nervous.
"So you went to investigate right away?"
"N-no. I-- I stood up too fast, so it-- so my stomach--" Sudden heat in her face. No, wait, that was a blush.
"You threw up, yeah." Sandburg became even more soothing. "It's all right. It's perfectly normal." He patted her hand. "And then what?"
"I called for Josefina over the intercom, I think I told you. I didn't-- didn't want to go alone," she said. "It took her a few minutes to come back up from the kitchen, and she said she heard it too and it was coming from Barrett's office."
Blair made a sympathetic little "Mm" noise, but she hardly seemed to hear it. Now that they had gotten her talking, the whole story came spilling out again. Jim could almost feel her muscles relaxing.
"The door was open, and-- and I called out to him, but no one answered. And Josefina went on ahead of me, and she said, 'Senora, don't, don't,' but I came in anyway, and he-- and he--" She pressed her knuckles hard against her mouth and pushed the other hand against her belly.
"Deep breaths." Blair was right there. "Deep breaths through your mouth." He pushed a plastic wastebasket between her feet. "Use this if you need it."
For a few moments there was no sound in the room but Mrs. Clay's carefully controlled breathing. "I'm all right. I'm all right," she said, sighing.
"Mrs. Clay, I'm afraid not everything we've heard about your husband has been good." Blair leaned an elbow on the table to put his face on the level with hers. "Would you say he was a faithful husband?"
She looked up, face brimming with misery. "I never tried to tie him down," she said very quietly. "Sometimes-- sometimes people just need different things. It's nobody's fault." She looked down into her lap at her ringed left hand and her bare right one. "But he always took care of me. He-- he looked after me in his own way."
It was nothing Jim hadn't heard before, the pathetic litany of the cheated defending the cheater. There was nothing overtly off about her behavior, but some inner voice was screaming wrong wrong wrong.
Distant Journey, Unknown Lands by Lemon Drop and Martha
100,000 words. Set only a short time after series end, when the rebuilding begins. This is a slow paced but deliberate post-TSbyBS piece that has Blair continuing to research, which brings them to rent a house together in Indiana for a few weeks. The way this story moves, and watching them come together... it all feels so flawless. Just a beautiful story.
Sandburg's usual smokescreen, too much information rattled out in a rush, as though that could keep Jim from noticing that he hadn't answered the question. Usually Jim obliged and pretended he really hadn't noticed, but tonight he just wasn't in the mood. Maybe because his leg was aching so badly, maybe just because Blair was standing next to him and supporting Jim's weight while refusing to allow Jim to share any of his own burdens.
"C'mon," Blair was saying. He shifted around in front of Jim, holding his forearms in a fierce, gentle grip. "Sit down before you really do hurt yourself."
Jim locked his knees. "I don't get you," he said, and even though the coldness in his own voice startled him, he went ahead and said the rest anyway. He was more afraid of letting Blair slip any further away than he was of hurting his feelings. "Don't you think the secret life of Blair Sandburg has already caused us both enough trouble?"
Blair's head came up fast, and Jim wouldn't have been surprised if Blair had belted him one. The words hung in the air between them, ugly and unanswerable, and Jim found himself hoping Sandburg *would* throw a punch, anything to break the moment.
Blair didn't, of course. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
"Yeah, I know." He sighed heavily. "It's really no big deal, but it's like I'm having trouble keeping stuff in perspective these days." Blair shook his head and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was looking away from Jim. "I ran into Rick Feldman at the grocery store, and he's kind of freaked out by the stuff about my dissertation. That's all."
The name didn't mean anything to Jim, but it was easy enough to figure out who Rick probably was and what he might have said to Sandburg. Jim had gotten an earful the few hours he had spent on campus since Blair's news conference. "Sandburg, the opinion of people like that -- you can't let it get to you. They don't know. They don't have any idea."
Blair nodded, his eyes fixed on Jim. "I know," he said, his voice breaking under the weight of all the bewildered, frustrated rage he'd brought home with him. "None of the rest of it matters," he announced decisively, and suddenly both his arms were around Jim, and he was holding on tight. He didn't say anything more, but Jim felt it in the desperation of that fierce embrace, Blair straining up a little so he could fit his chin over Jim's shoulder, still clutching the cane he had taken from Jim, the rubber tip hitting the back of Jim's calf. Blair's breaths were quick and hot at the side of neck, and Jim held his hands above Blair's shoulders, uncertain as he had never been around Blair before. He finally put his hands on Blair's shoulders, intending to ease him away, but Blair sensed his intent and released Jim first, bringing his arms around to grip Jim's forearm again, telling Jim with his eyes averted, "How does this sound? I'll go ahead and take my run tonight, pick up a roll of TP from Ye Olde Quickie Mart on the way back, then fix us some dinner. Maybe I'll even be able to act like a human being by then."
Before Sunrise by Mab
11,000 words. A Post-TSbyBS piece, in which Jim and Blair have been estranged, living separate lives for 2 years, but are drawn back together through a murder case.
"So. Of all the Resource Centres in the all the world, huh." Blair grinned. "I presume that I'm a suspect."
Jim shrugged. "Only on the basis that at this point everybody's a suspect. Williams seems to have been a nice guy - good son, good student. Makes it harder. But I don't think it likely you'll move onto the list of people needing closer investigation."
"That's a relief," Blair said, before his face slipped into an expression of gustatory ecstasy with the first forkful of food. Jim acknowledged it wasn't bad, and savoured the honey-soaked pastry.
"I think I have a reasonable idea of what you are and aren't capable of." Jim immediately castigated himself as a moron, a complete idiot.
Blair's head was down, as his hands chased crumbs across his plate. "You reckon, do you? I dunno, Jim. People can surprise you."
There was an awkward pause before Jim asked, "Got your cell phone?" Watching Blair's familiar face across the table, Jim had decided to fuck right back with the universe.
Blair looked a little startled. "Yeah."
"Fine. Put my number in it then." Jim reeled it off, took note of Blair's number in return. Not that he couldn't get it from the database. He thumbed through the files Blair had given him and asked a couple of questions. The files were as complete and concise as he might have expected.
"I'd better get back to work," Blair said.
"Yeah. I'll give you a call. After all this time we should hang out, catch up a little." Jim watched as Blair stood, brushed at the few flakes of pastry that had landed across his shirtfront. Blair looked at him for a moment, his expression blankly unreadable. Then he smiled and nodded, and Jim felt a surge of relief.
"Yeah, that'd be good. There's a - uh - a Jags game being televised later this week. We could get all nostalgic. Have beer and popcorn. I could flick popcorn at the tv when the ref makes a bad call."
Jim had also stood by now. "This would mean we'd be at your place, then."
Blair laughed. "Some things truly do not change."
"You bet they don't. If I can, I will. Depends on how the case goes."
"Let me know. And if you need anything else for the case, too. Like you said, Doug was a nice guy."
"Yeah." Jim indicated that he'd parked further back, and Blair lifted his hand in one of his doofusy half waves, before he turned to head back to his building. Jim stopped to look in a realtor's window, just for an excuse to look back. He could make Blair out among other pedestrians. Blair also turned, just for a second, but Jim couldn't make out his expression. He wondered if Blair expected that Jim could see his face, and sighed. He flexed the envelope of Blair's notes in his hands. The good old days. Yeah, right.
Limbo by Julad
6,000 words. The one where they're on the run! Hiding from The Man! It actually all makes a whole lot of sense, and is probably what would realistically happen post-series. Plus, Julad's narrative voice is just perfection.
Sandburg's mother's psychic's ex-girlfriend's beach house on Taboga Isle was less a house and more of a-- even 'hut' was too kind. Jim stared at the five sheets of corrugated iron, held in approximate box-shape by the enormous number of vines wrapped around them, and scowled. It was a lean-to at best. He zoomed in a little, wondering if it improved on closer inspection. Up close, it was covered in rust, and the roof had holes in it with tendrils of vine poking through.
"Wow, this is perfect!" Blair cried, leaping over the edge of the boat and wading through the shallow surf to the beach. "Have you ever seen anything so great?"
Jim cut the outboard motor and waited until the dinghy wedged itself into the sand. He wondered if it was too soon to take more ibuprofen.
Mexico by Lemon Drop
14,500 words. Author Summary: "Blair makes a discovery about his past while on vacation in Mexico with Jim." I like how not everthing is explained, and getting vivid glimpses into a piece of Blair's rather bittersweet childhood. Beautifully written.
He woke up when he heard voices. He was only in his underwear, the white briefs he hated, so he didn't go out to see who was there. But he did climb off the bed and stand by the half-open bedroom door, so he could better hear what was said.
It was the red-haired man's voice. "I'm sorry, Naomi, but you need to face facts. You try to live in this imaginary world, but all you do is hurt yourself. And your son."
"My son is fine," mama said fiercely, and Blair clung to the door. He could feel tears at the back of his throat. He'd overheard conversations like this before. His mama's daddy wanted them to Come Home. Blair didn't really understand what that meant, or where this Home was. It scared him. He could tell it scared Naomi, too.
"Now, Naomi," the man said, but she interrupted him.
"Get out of my house. Get out!" There was a long silence and Blair thought maybe the man had obeyed her.
"Naomi," he said finally, "this is not your house. You're living off friends. You mooch off people, sometimes perfect strangers. You carry your little boy all over creation. Why are you depriving him of the chance to know his family? To know a real home? I have a court order right here, Naomi. The courts say you're not a fit mother."
Mama was crying, Blair could hear, and he started to cry, too. He heard something crash and then a big bang. He sat on the floor and cried harder, not even trying to be a big boy.
Suddenly he was swept up into his mama's arms. He sobbed into her neck, scarcely aware that she was crying, too. She sat on the bed and tucked his feet behind her and they rocked back and forth while they cried. He stopped thinking and simply fell into the wash of emotions: fear, mostly, a little anger, and a little desperation.
Finally, mama pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped his face. "Blow, sweetie," and he did. She wiped his nose thoroughly and then cuddled him back to her. "I'm sorry, Blair. I'm so sorry. But we need to pack and go, okay? Can you help me find everything?" He nodded, still miserable. "You are such a good boy. I love you so much. You're my life, Blair; you know that, don't you?" He nodded again, not really understanding, but happy for her attention and affection. She kissed his cheek noisily and tried to smile. "Okay. Let's get you dressed and then you pack your room."
She helped him choose some shorts and a tee shirt, and then set out socks and shoes. "Aw, mama," he complained, but she just tapped his nose and pointed at the offensive items. So he pulled on the socks and velcroed the sandals onto his feet and then set about packing his things. He'd done this before; he really was a big boy at some things.
He could hear his mama out in the main room moving something. The screen door to the courtyard opened and slammed shut with its peculiar squeak, and then he heard something else. He went to the window and climbed up into the wide sill. He couldn't see her very well because of all the plants and trees and flowers, but his mama was bent over and walking backwards. He watched her for a minute, but then went back to backing.
He knew they'd be leaving right away.
And so I am asking that if you are reading this and can think of any excellent Jim/Blair fics I really should have bookmarked, please share? Basically, I like anything lengthy with a Jim&Blair who resemble the characters on the show and that avoids sap and too much melodrama. Because it is better to give than recieve, below are recs for those TS pieces that I love desperately and do have saved.
Set During The Series
Permanent Record by Francesa aka Speranza
16,000 words. Kicks off around when Blair first moves in. Basically: Jim and Blair start buddy-fucking, Jim does a bit of research into Blair's past, and then they fall in love. What makes this piece one of my favorites is the stuff about Blair's file at the university.
M E M O R A N D U M
TO: Margaret Addison, Dean of Students
FROM: Dr. Samuel Steinberg, Department of English
RE: Blair Sandburg
DATE: May 12, 1986
This is to inform you that I am dropping the plagiarism charges that I brought against Blair Sandburg (SS: 087-45-1990), a student in Section 02 of my American Poetry class, on 5/2/86. After a conversation with Mr. Sandburg, I have become convinced that he did in fact write the paper in question. Please let this Memorandum serve as my official notification of the withdrawn charges.
Yours,
Samuel Steinberg
Assistant Professor, Department of English, Rainier University
Unofficially, Maggie - the kid is a hoot. I asked him a few simple questions about the genesis of the paper and he talked my ear off for an hour and a half. I can see why his high school let him graduate at 15 - clearly they wanted to get rid of him. Which frankly isn't a bad idea. The strategy I'd pursue is to get Sandburg through the B.A. as quickly as possible. Petition APC and let the kid do an overload - he can handle the work and the sooner he graduates the better. There's a place for freaks like him - it's called graduate school. He'll be great at it, presuming he survives his undergraduate years, which he might not - word on the street is that the Alpha Tao Delts have it in for him for wanting to start a student Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Queer and Transgender student organization on campus. If I were you, I'd put Campus Safety on alert to patrol his building, and notify his R.A. to keep his/her eyes peeled. Side note: I mentioned to him that his Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Queer and Transgender group would have the not very attractive abbreviation of GLBQT. He says he doesn't care. He says he won't let his life be ruled by acronyms. You should hear Smithson rail against this kid in the faculty lounge - B.S. (apropos, no?) has gotten under his skin pretty badly. Of course, Smithson hasn't revised his lecture notes since the invention of the steam engine, so the kid has a point. You might want to call BS in for another talk though - I don't think your first one really sunk in. The bad news is that he's still immortalizing Smithson in poetry. The good news, I suppose, is that he's now experimenting with the sonnet form.
An Unexamined Life by Helen
11,000 words. Jim and Blair fuck with each other's heads a bit, then Jim gets a boyfriend and stops worrying. And then Blair makes him worry a lot. No matter what fandom she's in, Helen always churns out really fabulous & interesting things, and though she wrote Jim/Blair with a different flavor that you see in the average TS fic, it reflected back to me something I personally saw in their relationship on the show.
"Jim. hey, Jim, is that a hickey? hey, hey, very classy. Whadja do last weekend?" It was a measure of how much Blair had been gone that Jim didn't even think about his answer,
"Just hung out with Matt," to which Blair said,
"oh," and about thirty seconds later, "oh. fuck. Really?" He got up abruptly and went in the kitchen and began to chop some things. Then he turned back around, knife in hand and said,
"Just so I have this, just so I know I'm not overreacting-that hickey is from the application of someone's mouth, someone who isn't a woman like usual, I mean, not that you're exactly covered with hickeys at all times, but." He stopped and blew his breath out and said. "Matt gave you that hickey. with your participation. [because, Blair,] a part of him sneered, [there are so many sexual assaulters who go around giving people hickeys.]
"yeah," said Jim. [He looks blithe,] Blair thought. [He looks fucking blithe. I'm Jim and I have some major mouth marks on my neck, but I'm fucking fine.] So he turned back to the onions and he was so annoyed by Jim's total security in his masculinity that he cut himself and in the ensuing blood and confusion and Jim's,
"will you just sit still, it's deep and I want to get a butterfly strip on it, stop it." Blair started to feel a little better. Enough so that he felt he could say, with the correct inflection,
"So, you sleeping with him?"
"I'm not sure. Not yet."
"oh. Jim, I'm sorry I flipped out. Are you-look, were you sleeping with men before and was I just being, like, the most unobservant observer ever, or is this a new development?"
"new."
"okay. all right."
He hadn't been paying attention. He had been chasing after a woman, of course, a beautiful woman, a fun woman, fun in bed, and perhaps a little too serious, but interesting enough until she said,
"Look, Blair, it's been nice but I have a lot of work and I can't really afford to be distracted."
[In the future,] Blair noted, [I have really got to stay away from these science types.] Because it wasn't pleasant to wake up and find out you were just a fucking distraction. Sure, he wasn't devastated, he'd only known her three weeks anyway, and he had gotten to the point where he hardly expected anything to work out.
But now he was back and Jim was sleeping with some guy. Jim looked happy. Blair couldn't decide which of these things astonished him more.
Eating At Home by Helen
10,000 words. Yes, this is another Helen piece. But it's my favorite fic in the "Get Together After Pretending To Be Gay While Undercover" genre. The back and forth dialogue is just great, and I love how they bitch at each other.
"um. tonight."
"oh boy," Blair said.
"you were, uh. I felt you," Jim continued, wincing to himself, thinking he should have thought this through a little more
"Oh boy," Blair repeated. "Um. Jim. I just. look. it was. okay. This is embarrassing," he announced as the doors slid open. He walked swiftly along the hall and had the door open before Jim managed to catch up and said,
"What, that it sorta looked like you wanted to jump my bones in public?" He thought [perhaps I ought to be angry about this.] But he didn't feel angry, so he just waited while Blair scrubbed at his chin and said,
"I didn't particularly. I mean, that's not what got me going."
"It isn't," Jim said, skeptically.
"No. It's just," and Blair finally turned to look at him, eyes bright. "Jim, you know how you're the paradigm of alpha male sexual prowess?"
"what? No, Sandburg, actually," and Blair sighed, looking at Jim as if he were some student who had failed to do the required reading for that week.
"Look in a fucking mirror Jim." And when Jim continued to stare at him blankly, said "It's, you're this muscle-y guy with, you know, the piercing gaze and. Okay. I'm going about this badly," He exhaled loudly and then tried again. "Jim. did you know that Martha in records has a recurring fantasy where you toss her over the counter and take her with, just, uh, animal lust? Her words, not mine. Her words," he cautioned as Jim looked at him incredulously, finally saying,
"And you know this because."
"Because, I was, sort of. Listening in. one day."
"Listening in," Jim repeated. "Why were you-Sandburg. Sandburg Tell me this isn't going in your dissertation."
"It's. Oh. Jim, look. come on. It's like a classic case of, you know, someone picking up on a certain. Primal. Quality. Which you so exude," he grinned persuasively at Jim, whose ears had achieved an interesting shade of red.
"It's a classic example of me being unable to look anyone in the eye ever again. I think you're making this shit up just to torture me," he said, suspiciously, "I mean, Martha? I mean. She works on Wednesdays and Fridays, right?"
"Right."
"okay, then," Jim said, wondering if he could get away with ending the conversation right then.
"Oh, you're not going to avoid her now are you?" Blair asked.
"of course I'm going to avoid her. It's embarrassing. I don't like people. fantasizing. Like that. it's too weird."
"Fine. Leech her life of any small pleasure. Go ahead."
A Quiet War by Merry
40,000 words. What it says on the tin: as Blair hunkers down to finish his dissertation, he and Jim participate in a quiet war - chapter by finished chapter, the men engage in an emotionally brutal series of stand offs. This is a great story for when you really feel like some biting angst, but you're picky about characterization and don't like it when things get too overblown and silly. This one bites at you because it feel so real. This is exactly how they stupidly misunderstand and hurt each other again and again.
He brought his breakfast over and sat down across from me. I watched him over the rim of my glasses, trying not to make a big deal of it, but he saw me watching and he watched me back, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. He had his blue robe wrapped tight around him like a security blanket, and it occurred to me then that I hadn't turned the heat on yet, and it was warmer up there in Jim's bedroom than it was down here. It always was.
"Sorry." I waved my hand at the cold room. "I got going, and...."
"Forgot you were cold."
"Hey, I was cold, but chapter one was smokin'."
"You really stayed up all night working on that thing?"
Something in his voice made me take a closer look at him. His smile was still in place, but it hung wrong on his mouth.
"I didn't set out to. I couldn't sleep."
"Did you try?"
I closed the lid of the laptop and pushed it aside. He watched me from across the table, his hands wrapped around each other in front of him. White-knuckled.
"Jim, what's going on?"
"What... I mean, what were you writing? You just came downstairs, and I'm up there sleeping like a baby while you're out here dissecting my brain?"
I blinked, and leaned back in my chair. "You really think I'm a total asshole, don't you."
"I don't think you're an asshole. I'm just asking a God damn question, Sandburg--"
"We've been through this. I thought you understood--"
"I do understand. I understand you have to write it, I just don't see how you can come down here and do it right after--"
"Right after what, Jim?"
His face went white, then red. He looked away, his lips pressed together all thin and pale. He didn't say anything because there were rules to this thing that had happened between us, and that was the first rule.
Post-Series
Lexicon by Betty Plotnick
~8,300 words. Set a few years after series end. Hurt/Comfort. Jim has a near-fatal injury on the job and loses his ability to speak.
Jim tried to heave himself up, because he had to, he just fucking had to get out of here no matter what, but there were needles like carpenter’s nails in his arms and arms across his shoulders and someone shouting his name in his ear, not to mention morphine like a whitewater river through his veins. Let me go, he tried to say. Get me out of here, I’m dying, I don’t want to die like this, don’t let me die! His heart was pounding with the force of all the fear he hadn’t felt during the raid, during his struggle with Starcevic, when he felt the knife at his throat, when he felt it drawn bright-shock-fast-deep through his skin, while he was bleeding on the floor. It had seemed easy then, pretty close to the death Jim had always expected; he had the Sentinel within him then, the thrill of battle, the utter comprehension of nature and inevitability. Now he was just Jim Ellison again, and he wasn’t ready to cash it in just yet.
No sound came out, though. Just the agonizing, slow sawing of air through his throat as his mouth worked stupidly.
Nuance by Resonant and Livia
34,000 words. An excellent example of "case fic", in which Jim becomes practically psychic once he gets full control of his senses. This not only helps him to start getting his hands on a murder mystery that's dropped into their laps but (of course!) also unearths something hidden between him and Blair. I really fell in love with this idea--how it was introduced into the story, how it plays out.
"What did you hear exactly?" Sandburg was saying.
"At first I thought a branch had broken on the sycamore tree, but then I realized it was coming from inside the house." Jim focused in on his hearing. Her nasal passages were swollen-- pretty standard in a pregnant woman. Heart rate slightly elevated-- that could be a pregnancy thing too, or she could be nervous.
"So you went to investigate right away?"
"N-no. I-- I stood up too fast, so it-- so my stomach--" Sudden heat in her face. No, wait, that was a blush.
"You threw up, yeah." Sandburg became even more soothing. "It's all right. It's perfectly normal." He patted her hand. "And then what?"
"I called for Josefina over the intercom, I think I told you. I didn't-- didn't want to go alone," she said. "It took her a few minutes to come back up from the kitchen, and she said she heard it too and it was coming from Barrett's office."
Blair made a sympathetic little "Mm" noise, but she hardly seemed to hear it. Now that they had gotten her talking, the whole story came spilling out again. Jim could almost feel her muscles relaxing.
"The door was open, and-- and I called out to him, but no one answered. And Josefina went on ahead of me, and she said, 'Senora, don't, don't,' but I came in anyway, and he-- and he--" She pressed her knuckles hard against her mouth and pushed the other hand against her belly.
"Deep breaths." Blair was right there. "Deep breaths through your mouth." He pushed a plastic wastebasket between her feet. "Use this if you need it."
For a few moments there was no sound in the room but Mrs. Clay's carefully controlled breathing. "I'm all right. I'm all right," she said, sighing.
"Mrs. Clay, I'm afraid not everything we've heard about your husband has been good." Blair leaned an elbow on the table to put his face on the level with hers. "Would you say he was a faithful husband?"
She looked up, face brimming with misery. "I never tried to tie him down," she said very quietly. "Sometimes-- sometimes people just need different things. It's nobody's fault." She looked down into her lap at her ringed left hand and her bare right one. "But he always took care of me. He-- he looked after me in his own way."
It was nothing Jim hadn't heard before, the pathetic litany of the cheated defending the cheater. There was nothing overtly off about her behavior, but some inner voice was screaming wrong wrong wrong.
Distant Journey, Unknown Lands by Lemon Drop and Martha
100,000 words. Set only a short time after series end, when the rebuilding begins. This is a slow paced but deliberate post-TSbyBS piece that has Blair continuing to research, which brings them to rent a house together in Indiana for a few weeks. The way this story moves, and watching them come together... it all feels so flawless. Just a beautiful story.
Sandburg's usual smokescreen, too much information rattled out in a rush, as though that could keep Jim from noticing that he hadn't answered the question. Usually Jim obliged and pretended he really hadn't noticed, but tonight he just wasn't in the mood. Maybe because his leg was aching so badly, maybe just because Blair was standing next to him and supporting Jim's weight while refusing to allow Jim to share any of his own burdens.
"C'mon," Blair was saying. He shifted around in front of Jim, holding his forearms in a fierce, gentle grip. "Sit down before you really do hurt yourself."
Jim locked his knees. "I don't get you," he said, and even though the coldness in his own voice startled him, he went ahead and said the rest anyway. He was more afraid of letting Blair slip any further away than he was of hurting his feelings. "Don't you think the secret life of Blair Sandburg has already caused us both enough trouble?"
Blair's head came up fast, and Jim wouldn't have been surprised if Blair had belted him one. The words hung in the air between them, ugly and unanswerable, and Jim found himself hoping Sandburg *would* throw a punch, anything to break the moment.
Blair didn't, of course. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
"Yeah, I know." He sighed heavily. "It's really no big deal, but it's like I'm having trouble keeping stuff in perspective these days." Blair shook his head and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was looking away from Jim. "I ran into Rick Feldman at the grocery store, and he's kind of freaked out by the stuff about my dissertation. That's all."
The name didn't mean anything to Jim, but it was easy enough to figure out who Rick probably was and what he might have said to Sandburg. Jim had gotten an earful the few hours he had spent on campus since Blair's news conference. "Sandburg, the opinion of people like that -- you can't let it get to you. They don't know. They don't have any idea."
Blair nodded, his eyes fixed on Jim. "I know," he said, his voice breaking under the weight of all the bewildered, frustrated rage he'd brought home with him. "None of the rest of it matters," he announced decisively, and suddenly both his arms were around Jim, and he was holding on tight. He didn't say anything more, but Jim felt it in the desperation of that fierce embrace, Blair straining up a little so he could fit his chin over Jim's shoulder, still clutching the cane he had taken from Jim, the rubber tip hitting the back of Jim's calf. Blair's breaths were quick and hot at the side of neck, and Jim held his hands above Blair's shoulders, uncertain as he had never been around Blair before. He finally put his hands on Blair's shoulders, intending to ease him away, but Blair sensed his intent and released Jim first, bringing his arms around to grip Jim's forearm again, telling Jim with his eyes averted, "How does this sound? I'll go ahead and take my run tonight, pick up a roll of TP from Ye Olde Quickie Mart on the way back, then fix us some dinner. Maybe I'll even be able to act like a human being by then."
Before Sunrise by Mab
11,000 words. A Post-TSbyBS piece, in which Jim and Blair have been estranged, living separate lives for 2 years, but are drawn back together through a murder case.
"So. Of all the Resource Centres in the all the world, huh." Blair grinned. "I presume that I'm a suspect."
Jim shrugged. "Only on the basis that at this point everybody's a suspect. Williams seems to have been a nice guy - good son, good student. Makes it harder. But I don't think it likely you'll move onto the list of people needing closer investigation."
"That's a relief," Blair said, before his face slipped into an expression of gustatory ecstasy with the first forkful of food. Jim acknowledged it wasn't bad, and savoured the honey-soaked pastry.
"I think I have a reasonable idea of what you are and aren't capable of." Jim immediately castigated himself as a moron, a complete idiot.
Blair's head was down, as his hands chased crumbs across his plate. "You reckon, do you? I dunno, Jim. People can surprise you."
There was an awkward pause before Jim asked, "Got your cell phone?" Watching Blair's familiar face across the table, Jim had decided to fuck right back with the universe.
Blair looked a little startled. "Yeah."
"Fine. Put my number in it then." Jim reeled it off, took note of Blair's number in return. Not that he couldn't get it from the database. He thumbed through the files Blair had given him and asked a couple of questions. The files were as complete and concise as he might have expected.
"I'd better get back to work," Blair said.
"Yeah. I'll give you a call. After all this time we should hang out, catch up a little." Jim watched as Blair stood, brushed at the few flakes of pastry that had landed across his shirtfront. Blair looked at him for a moment, his expression blankly unreadable. Then he smiled and nodded, and Jim felt a surge of relief.
"Yeah, that'd be good. There's a - uh - a Jags game being televised later this week. We could get all nostalgic. Have beer and popcorn. I could flick popcorn at the tv when the ref makes a bad call."
Jim had also stood by now. "This would mean we'd be at your place, then."
Blair laughed. "Some things truly do not change."
"You bet they don't. If I can, I will. Depends on how the case goes."
"Let me know. And if you need anything else for the case, too. Like you said, Doug was a nice guy."
"Yeah." Jim indicated that he'd parked further back, and Blair lifted his hand in one of his doofusy half waves, before he turned to head back to his building. Jim stopped to look in a realtor's window, just for an excuse to look back. He could make Blair out among other pedestrians. Blair also turned, just for a second, but Jim couldn't make out his expression. He wondered if Blair expected that Jim could see his face, and sighed. He flexed the envelope of Blair's notes in his hands. The good old days. Yeah, right.
Limbo by Julad
6,000 words. The one where they're on the run! Hiding from The Man! It actually all makes a whole lot of sense, and is probably what would realistically happen post-series. Plus, Julad's narrative voice is just perfection.
Sandburg's mother's psychic's ex-girlfriend's beach house on Taboga Isle was less a house and more of a-- even 'hut' was too kind. Jim stared at the five sheets of corrugated iron, held in approximate box-shape by the enormous number of vines wrapped around them, and scowled. It was a lean-to at best. He zoomed in a little, wondering if it improved on closer inspection. Up close, it was covered in rust, and the roof had holes in it with tendrils of vine poking through.
"Wow, this is perfect!" Blair cried, leaping over the edge of the boat and wading through the shallow surf to the beach. "Have you ever seen anything so great?"
Jim cut the outboard motor and waited until the dinghy wedged itself into the sand. He wondered if it was too soon to take more ibuprofen.
Mexico by Lemon Drop
14,500 words. Author Summary: "Blair makes a discovery about his past while on vacation in Mexico with Jim." I like how not everthing is explained, and getting vivid glimpses into a piece of Blair's rather bittersweet childhood. Beautifully written.
He woke up when he heard voices. He was only in his underwear, the white briefs he hated, so he didn't go out to see who was there. But he did climb off the bed and stand by the half-open bedroom door, so he could better hear what was said.
It was the red-haired man's voice. "I'm sorry, Naomi, but you need to face facts. You try to live in this imaginary world, but all you do is hurt yourself. And your son."
"My son is fine," mama said fiercely, and Blair clung to the door. He could feel tears at the back of his throat. He'd overheard conversations like this before. His mama's daddy wanted them to Come Home. Blair didn't really understand what that meant, or where this Home was. It scared him. He could tell it scared Naomi, too.
"Now, Naomi," the man said, but she interrupted him.
"Get out of my house. Get out!" There was a long silence and Blair thought maybe the man had obeyed her.
"Naomi," he said finally, "this is not your house. You're living off friends. You mooch off people, sometimes perfect strangers. You carry your little boy all over creation. Why are you depriving him of the chance to know his family? To know a real home? I have a court order right here, Naomi. The courts say you're not a fit mother."
Mama was crying, Blair could hear, and he started to cry, too. He heard something crash and then a big bang. He sat on the floor and cried harder, not even trying to be a big boy.
Suddenly he was swept up into his mama's arms. He sobbed into her neck, scarcely aware that she was crying, too. She sat on the bed and tucked his feet behind her and they rocked back and forth while they cried. He stopped thinking and simply fell into the wash of emotions: fear, mostly, a little anger, and a little desperation.
Finally, mama pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped his face. "Blow, sweetie," and he did. She wiped his nose thoroughly and then cuddled him back to her. "I'm sorry, Blair. I'm so sorry. But we need to pack and go, okay? Can you help me find everything?" He nodded, still miserable. "You are such a good boy. I love you so much. You're my life, Blair; you know that, don't you?" He nodded again, not really understanding, but happy for her attention and affection. She kissed his cheek noisily and tried to smile. "Okay. Let's get you dressed and then you pack your room."
She helped him choose some shorts and a tee shirt, and then set out socks and shoes. "Aw, mama," he complained, but she just tapped his nose and pointed at the offensive items. So he pulled on the socks and velcroed the sandals onto his feet and then set about packing his things. He'd done this before; he really was a big boy at some things.
He could hear his mama out in the main room moving something. The screen door to the courtyard opened and slammed shut with its peculiar squeak, and then he heard something else. He went to the window and climbed up into the wide sill. He couldn't see her very well because of all the plants and trees and flowers, but his mama was bent over and walking backwards. He watched her for a minute, but then went back to backing.
He knew they'd be leaving right away.