Three Slice of Life ficlets:

Trust: (category: Friendship) It's not just about friendship. It's about trust. Not even a runaway truck could rob Jim of that realization.

Franken-Ficlet: (category: Humor) Thump, clack ... thump, clack ... thump, clack ... It sounded like every horror movie ever made, with zombies or Frankensteins or mask-wearing chainsaw ax murderers closing in.

Blair-the-Okay: (category: Friendship) When Blair is not pleased with how he handled – or failed to handle – a problem in class, Jim helps him to realize it's not a problem at all.

TRUST

by Freya-Kendra

Jim and Blair's latest attempt at a quiet fishing trip in the mountains had turned out to be exactly that. Quiet. Peaceful. Restful. Jim hadn't felt so utterly relaxed in... Well, he couldn't really remember ever feeling quite this way before. It was ... nice.

Closing his eyes, he sank into the passenger seat in his truck, confident that Blair could handle the drive home and pleased to have the degree of confidence in his partner he'd been able to establish. After so many years together, Jim had finally and fully come to recognize that his trust was well placed in Blair Sandburg.

Although the road was not exactly smooth, Jim felt lulled by the truck's passage down the mountain path, easing seamlessly around curves and rolling along at a steady, comfortable pace. But at some point something changed. Deep within him, he began to notice an equally steady increase in speed. When they rounded the next curve, Jim felt the force of the turn move him gently toward his friend.

"Chief?" He said sleepily. "You might want to slow it down a little."

"Sorry, Jim." Blair's tone was calm but breathy. "No can do."

Jim's eyes flashing open, he came to full alert. "What's wrong?" He looked at his partner and saw Blair's own gaze focused intermittently on the rearview mirror and the road ahead.

"It's either a runaway truck," Blair replied, "or a trucker in a hurry to end up at the bottom of this mountain."

Jim looked behind them to see the familiar words "MACK" clearly marked on the grill of the truck moving closer and closer to their bumper. He felt a slight jerk as Blair pressed more firmly on the gas pedal. At this speed, Sandburg didn't stand a chance pulling over onto the small shoulder. They'd end up smashed against the rocks beside them. Since traffic was light but steady in the opposite lane, pulling over to the opposite shoulder would be equally risky; and if they overshot that maneuver, they would find themselves reaching the bottom of the mountain in an even greater hurry than the trucker.

"Just hang in there, Chief," Jim said as he pulled out his cell phone. "You're doing great."

"Yeah," Blair said softly, his tone part sarcastic and part frantic.

"Great."

Jim dialed 911 as he felt another increase in acceleration, but the call never went through. The cellular service in the area was touch and go; at the moment, it was nonexistent.

"Hold on, Jim," Blair called out an instant before the next turn pulled Jim toward Blair, tires squealing beneath them.

The truck did not make the turn as easily. Jim watched its trailer zig-zag from their lane into oncoming traffic and back again. It barely missed clipping a black SUV.

"Shit!" Blair shouted. "Jim. I've got to stop. I have to stop, man."

There was a line of cars at a dead stop ahead of them. They had no choice but to stop as well. Jim braced himself, aware that Blair was doing the same as Jim's truck squealed into a sudden, desperate stop.

Then he stared at the truck, watching as the driver chose the only option available. He swerved into the currently -- miraculously? -- empty lane of oncoming traffic, the truck's horn blaring a solid warning all the way. When it rounded the next bend, Jim focused his sense of hearing, waiting for the sound of impact; it never came.

* * *

They never did find out what happened to the truck. Somehow, the driver must have regained control. It did not end up at the bottom of the mountain. It did not end up smashed against the rocky wall. In fact, for the remainder of the drive back to the loft, the partners did not encounter a single accident.

When Jim finally climbed out of his truck, Blair made a point of handing him the keys.

"Hang onto them," Jim said, already moving toward the building.

"What?" Blair stopped dead in his tracks.

Turning, Jim casually said, "I figure it's time we start taking turns driving. You're up tomorrow."

"Yeah?" Blair asked, clearly suspicious.

"Yeah." Jim shrugged and then started once more toward the loft.

"Where'd this come from?" Blair's voice called from behind him.

"You stayed one step ahead of a runaway truck," Jim said without taking a backward glance, "careening down a mountain and didn't get a scratch. I think you can handle the Cascade city streets."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jim smiled. It's not just about friendship, he realized finally. It's about trust. And frankly, there's no better tonic in the world. It had already taken every last ounce of tension from his muscles. Now he was looking forward to a long, restful and perfect night's sleep.

end

This was another example of real-life experiences making their way into fic. Years ago I was driving down a mountain in Pennsylvania. Granted, the mountains in Pennsylvania are like giant rolling hills compared with the snow capped peaks in the Cascades, but they're still mountains, and definitely treacherous under the wrong conditions. My sister warned me that I was going a little too fast, because that section of roadway was a speed trap. "Good!" I replied. "I'd love to see a cop right now!" I had a good reason to be speeding. There was a truck behind me that just kept going faster and faster, forcing me to go faster and faster. By the time I realized it was happening, I was already going too fast to safely pull over. There was virtually no shoulder beside me, just a rocky wall. And the road was just a 2-lane rural highway: one lane for me, the other for oncoming traffic. Eventually, I had no choice but to stop behind a line of cars at a traffic light. The truck could not stop. It ended up swerving into the lane for oncoming traffic, which, by some miracle, was devoid of traffic at the time. Somehow, the truck made it uneventfully through the red light. Where it ended up from there, I have no idea. I never saw it again. But the incident stayed in my mind; and now it's finally become fodder for a ficlet.