35 themes: Dream
Author:
Carcinya (Isolde on Fanfiction(dot)net)
Author E-mail:
carcinya(at)aol(dot)com
Category: Angst
Rating:
G
Spoilers: Season 4.
Summary: It was high time
he stopped dreaming, and started living. Theme 31(Drabble, slash,
Post TsBs)
Disclaimer: This story is based on situations
and characters created and owned by Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo,
various publishers including but not limited to Pet Fly Productions,
UPN, and Paramount. No money is being made and no copyright
infringement intended.
Author's notes: I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistake there might be in this story. I am French, and still only learning the beautiful language that is English. Any comments are welcome, but obviously flames will be used to roast marshmallows. Or flamers.
It hurts to find out that what you wanted doesn't match what you dreamed it would be.
-- Randy Milholland
Theme 31: "Dream"(485 words)
When Blair Sandburg exited the room after his press conference and made his way through the empty corridors of Rainier, his face a blank mask of quiet humiliation, he never once looked back.
He did not flinch at the chancellor's sharp, venomous rebuke, nor did he even turn to her. His hands clenched into fists, he gazed straight ahead and held his head up, weathering the storm, the way he had seem Jim face adversity, raving lunatics, and Simon.
His eyes kept finding reasonable goals – the doorknob, the elevator, the glass doors. It was surprisingly easy to get into his car parked outside the university building, turn on the engine and drive back home.
Once at the loft, he sat down on the couch with contained, precise motions, and finally, finally caved in, sobs wracking his short, sturdy frame. Dark brown curls stuck to his wet cheeks. His tears at first seemed to run in endless supply, but after a while they dried up, leaving Blair folded upon himself in the quickly darkening room, wishing absurdly for Jim's presence.
He drew himself up with a shaky laugh, amused at his own neediness.
For once, Jim was not there.
Blair dragged himself into the bathroom and for a long minute simply stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes puffy and red-lined, his hair a tangled mess, he had the wild, harrowed look of a runaway.
Ironically, nothing could have been farther from the truth. Blair had just stopped running, and started facing. He had walked through the fire of his pride, and came out stripped to the bone, shedding his fears and hopes and expectations behind him.
Jim had told him to go for the brass ring. Blair had followed his advice, though he knew Ellison had not meant it quite that way. Money, fame, the Nobel Prize – Blair had had it all dangling in front of his nose. He could have reached out and taken it; objectively, he had earned it.
Three years ago, Sid's offer would have been a dream come true. But Blair was not the person he had been then, and he had made his choice. He had let go of his most treasured dream.
Things happened. People changed.
Blair splashed cold water on his pale, dirty face, knowing Jim would smell the salt of his tears the moment he saw him. He tied his hair back into a neat ponytail, generally trying to make himself somewhat presentable.
Jim was difficult, frightening, incredible.
Blair bit back a sharp laugh. Definitely not a dream.
The young man grabbed his keys on the kitchen counter, shrugged on his leather jacket and made for the door, slamming it behind him.
Jim was real.
As he drove to the hospital, he could not help the savage, painful sense of exhilaration that suddenly filled him.
It was high time he stopped dreaming, and started living.
-- end --
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