All in the way You Read It...

Angst

If - after dragging Sandberg back from death, he didn't know how - he sat in the hospital waiting room for six hours; if - for all that time he kept his eyes fixed on Sandburg's aging book full of words that didn't, couldn't explain; and if - when Sandburg later flipped through the pages - there were what looked suspiciously like faintly smeared teardrops... at least Sandburg knew not to ask why.

~oOo~

AU

"No one knows what the title of Doctor Sandburg's novel - TsbyBS, for chrissake - means, Jim, but it's been the literary sensation of the decade and he wants you to star in the film version... what do you say?"

~oOo~

Crackfic

It took but one look at the fluffy, blue-eyed bookwyrm sitting in the petshop window and eating the pages of its book as it read... and Jim just had to have him.

~oOo~

Crossover (with Alice Through the Looking Glass)

Blair watched the King writing in his enormous book, and was tempted to help out by taking the end of the pencil and writing for him, but as he read over the little chess piece's shoulder, he had to admit that the King's memorandum of feelings about what was happening and his own would really not (to coin a really bad pun) be on the same page... and he didn't know how to write backwards anyway.

~oOo~

Death

"It's not the same," Blaire said faintly, almost woodenly, "reading all about murder, all the books, the papers, the reports, the forensic...stuff, man... it's just nowhere near the same as the real thing, is it?"

~oOo~

Episode Related (Cypher)

Ellison's report, describing the kid drugged and chained to a dentist's chair with a madman looming over him, was terse, cold, succinct and as detached as all hell, and Simon could hear raw agony in every printed word.

~oOo~

First Time

Naomi's eyes were soft with unashamed, old-fashioned maternal pride, as her fingers brushed the old photo, caressing the image of her little boy's furrowed brow; she could not remember the name of that old second-hand book Blair had learned to read from, but the picture of his tiny, determined face, and the memory of his voice fumbling over, mispronouncing, and finally proudly getting words way too long and complicated for a five-year-old... that would stay with her always.

~oOo~

Fluff

Sandburg has finally fallen asleep, on top of the pile of old newspapers and handscrawled notes he calls 'research', and as I lift him to his wobbly feet, I can see the ink smudged on his nose and smeared words about love and loyalty across his cheek; I should wipe it off, but... not yet.

~oOo~

Humor

So okay, Blair admitted that being sick of proof-reading reports for half the bullpen - and being equally suspicious that no one actually read his revisions, not even Simon - was no excuse, but he couldn't help wondering when one of them would notice that the latest surveillance accounts made even less sense than usual... in Klingon...

~oOo~

H/C

Blair looked over at his injured, recovering and sound-asleep partner, mentally noting that, for the purposes of putting a Sentinel to sleep, "Toward a Critical Ethnohistory Of Techno-Shamanic Ritual, and The Appropriation Of Tribalism in the Modern SocioPsychological Paradigm" beat sleeping pills hollow.

~oOo~

Smut

"What a way to go, man," Sandburg, a weird mix of fear and fascination on his face, peered over the unimaginable piles of decades-old magazines with their trashy, flashy and incredibly unerotic covers, "buried alive in your own hoard of 1960s porn..."

~oOo~

UST

They're the first, the last and the greatest love of Blair's life, so how do actual people like, hell, me compete with the ones in his books?

~that's all~