Disclaimer: As always; not mine, no money.
Notes, timeline, warning: A short epilog to Prisoner X. No warnings, rated G.
Outside Man
By Mele
"I think I'm going to take a little walk,
sit out in the open somewhere,
any place without walls, huh?"
Jim Ellison - Prisoner X
It was still dark outside when Jim carefully extricated himself from his down sleeping bag. Moving with well-trained stealth, the Sentinel pulled on warm clothing and let himself out of the two-man tent, leaving Blair still peacefully snoring.
It had been just last week that Jim went undercover at Starkville Prison to investigate the death of his high school friend, Matty Temple, and he still felt as if the poisonous atmosphere of that facility was clinging to his skin. Blair had suggested this weekend campout after observing Jim's still lingering discomfort at being enclosed.
There was just the barest hint of light in the eastern sky as Ellison made his quiet way down to the river. Perching on a boulder ten feet from the bank, the tall man folded his legs comfortably and closed his eyes, letting his senses reach out.
Inside Starkville Jim had stretched out his senses to help determine what was happening; hearing men like Fraser and Camacho taken to their deaths. Seeing the shadowy crowd in the distant gym during the fights. Smelling the stench of blood as he knelt over Liotta's body. Feeling the pain from the blows Vinson had dealt him. Tasting the fear and hatred that permeated the whole place. There was no relief from the unpleasantness of that facility; nothing light or innocent or good could exist within those walls. Even Blair had seemed muted and tarnished in that environment.
As flashes of memories played out behind his closed eyelids, Jim focused on letting the memories go. Deepening his breathing, he envisioned the clean mountain air swirling into his lungs, driving out the stagnant residue from the prison. Blair had 'taught' him a relaxation technique, having no idea that Jim had already been well educated in meditation, courtesy of his covert ops training. It made the younger man happy to help his friend and dissertation subject, so who was Jim to disillusion him?
Feeling his muscles gradually relax and the memories of the inside fade, Jim turned his attention outward, letting all his senses have free rein. The rush of the river could be separated into dozens of individual sounds; the whisper of the plants along the shore, the rattle of rocks underneath the surface, the individual tones from each swirl and eddy mingling into a complex natural symphony.
Smell checked in with the faint perfume of a morning blooming flower, a whiff of the noxiously wild scent of a far off bear, the crisp cleanliness of the river, and just the barest hint of bacon being cooked in a distant cabin. Ellison's stomach rumbled in jealousy at that last smell, knowing full well his health conscious companion would never have packed such unhealthy fare. But….damn….it sure smelled good.
He could almost taste the breakfast meat, a childhood indulgence on the weekends only - forever associated with days of freedom and fun. Sally would pile the serving plates high, knowing that two growing boys needed a lot of fuel to keep going in their active play. Whether it was organized sports like soccer and football, or just a group of kids exploring the world around them, weekends were always filled with outdoor activities. On rare occasions even William would join them for a quick breakfast, asking after the boys' plans, even if he didn't seem to really listen to the answers. Still, those times were special in the Sentinel's memories, a taste of what he'd always imagined 'real' families were like, and secretly treasured for that association.
The soft breeze that wasn't even enough to ruffle his hair took on a new quality as dawn drew ever closer. The cool caress was interspersed with diffuse warmth, as the sun-warmed higher air mingled with the river-cooled lower air. The faint movement of the breeze wasn't quite enough to thoroughly mix the currents, and Jim delighted in the variance of sensation that only occurs on the cusp of a new day such as this.
Finally opening his eyes, he looked at the mountain beyond the river, seeing the sunlight was just touching the highest points. Honing in his sight, he marveled at the flash of drying morning dew on the needles of the distant pine trees. Birds moved amongst the branches with early morning vigor, sending dancing points of sparkling liquid airborne when they landed on fragile perches. Contentment filled the detective as he watched the slow, inexorable movement of the sunlight as it inched its way down the mountain side, moving steadily closer to his position. His entire being seemed to be poised, anticipating the first touch of that golden warmth, and when at last it came, he once again closed his eyes, sighing in perfect contentment as he felt the last of the pall of Starkville fall from him.
A soft sound caught the Sentinel's attention, and he reluctantly opened his eyes, turning to find his Guide watching him from beneath a nearby tree.
"You okay?" Blair asked quietly.
Ellison considered the question seriously, tilting his head as if listening to an internal debate, before turning to his friend.
"Yeah, I am. You didn't happen to pack any bacon, did you?" His expression was innocently hopeful.
And he knew everything would be okay when his best friend just grinned and nodded.
The End.