THE MEETING
by Jamie Ritchey
Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Pet Fly, UPN,
Paramount, and The SciFi Channel.
Blair Sandburg stood outside in the hallway for a few minutes, bouncing
nervously as people entered the classroom. He had seen the flyer on the staff
bulletin board for years without really noticing it. He wasn't like 'those'
people. But the longer he worked with Jim, the more he came to realize that...
yes, he was just like them. He needed help, and he was finally desperate
enough to try anything, even baring his soul to a bunch of strangers. After
all, putting himself through that kind of pain was part of the problem.
Gathering up his courage, Blair took a deep, cleansing breath, let it out
slowly, and walked through the door. He had a vague idea of what he would find
inside and he wasn't surprised. There were small groups scattered throughout
the room, talking in low tones. A table along the wall by the windows had a
large coffee urn surrounded by cups, cream and sugar. Next to that were a
couple of large boxes of a varied selection of donuts. They were already half
empty. Well, considering the addiction that was the focus of these meetings, a
sweet tooth was probably a comforting necessity. Blair helped himself to a cup
of coffee and sat down in a chair midway down the room, as close to the door
as he could get. He really didn't need the caffeine, but it gave him something
to do with his hands. He was pleasantly surprised to find they weren't
shaking.
The seats were rapidly filling as the time for the meeting to begin was
approaching. Blair saw two men who were vaguely familiar move into the row in
front of him. The tall blond followed his shorter, dark curly-haired
companion, badgering him in a self-superior tone, "I'm telling you, Starsk.
Jelly donuts are not your friends." His partner just waved a derogatory hand
at him as he took his seat. I know these guys. They're COPS, Blair realized
with a start. Blair grinned and began to feel more comfortable. He knew this
kind of addiction was common among law enforcement types. Those two had a
reputation for being almost as tough as Jim, and if they were brave enough to
come the these meetings, then Blair had no reason to be ashamed.
A young long-haired blond woman followed by a statuesque brunette goddess
strode up to the podium. The blonde's attitude seemed to exude 'perky,' while
the anthropologist in Blair could only describe the brunette as a warrior,
though neither was lacking in any of the feminine attributes Blair held dear
to his heart. Sitting up straighter in his seat to get a better view, Blair
decided that maybe attending this meeting wouldn't be as grueling as he'd
expected.
The brunette claimed a seat in the front row as the blond waved her arms and
cleared her throat, making sure she had everyone's attention before she began
speaking.
"Hello. My name is Gabrielle."
"Hello, Gabrielle," the audience responded enthusiastically.
Gabrielle's face lit up with a huge grin. "We all know why we're here, so why
don't we get started. Are there any new attendees out there who would like to
speak tonight?" She glanced back and forth across the rows of people, an
encouraging smile on her face.
Blair waited a few minutes, but as the silence dragged on, he swallowed the
lump that had formed in his throat and stood up, giving a tentative little
wave with his hand. Might as well get this over with.
"Hello. My name is Blair, and I'm a hurt/comfort-a-holic," he said, amazed
that his voice didn't waver from the fear that was vibrating down his spine.
"Hello, Blair," the audience replied in unison.
Blair paused, uncertain how to proceed. Gabrielle seemed to sense his
apprehension, because she walked over and placed a soft hand on his shoulder.
"Why don't you tell us how it started for you?" she said with a supportive
smile.
"Well, it started the very first day of my position as a police observer,"
Blair began, returning Gabrielle's smile gratefully. "I'd been following
Detective Jim Ellison around while he was trying to catch a serial bomber
called the Switchman. I ended up hitting her. Man! Did that ever make my hand
hurt. I was sitting in the ambulance while the paramedic bandaged me up when
Jim came over and called me his new partner in front of one of the other cops.
It was like the sun came out and lit me up from the inside, it felt so good to
hear that." Blair could see some of the others in the audience nodding their
heads as if remembering similar instances in their lives.
"It's continued to escalate ever since," Blair continued, shoving a stray lock
of his long curly hair behind an ear. "I've been kidnapped, beaten, drugged,
shot. You name it, I've had it done to me, and I just keep coming back for
more! My friends at Major Crimes have started calling me a trouble- magnet.
They think it's just something that happens. But my deep, dark, dirty secret
is that I'm doing it on purpose!" Blair cringed, expecting to hear a shocked
gasp from the people listening to his sordid confession, but there was only a
calm silence around him. He looked up and found only sympathetic smiles and
knowing looks in everyone eyes.
Gabrielle stretched her arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle
squeeze. "It might help you to understand your addiction if you could tell us
why you persist in inflicting such pain on yourself," she said patiently.
Blair glanced up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes, fighting not to let the
tears that were threatening to form run free. Heaving a heavy sigh, he
continued. "I guess it's because I want... no, I NEED the attention that I get
from everybody when I get hurt." Blair stopped abruptly, startled where his
confession was leading his troubled thoughts. "No! It's not everybody... It's
Jim. Getting Mr. Hard-Ass, Army Ranger, Supercop to show a little brotherly
concern is like pulling teeth, which is probably the only thing I haven't done
yet to get him to comfort me."
A chorus of "We hear you, brother" resounded from scattered areas of the room.
Gabrielle patted his arm, then pulled his head down next to hers, freely
sharing her love and sympathy. "We've all been where you are, Blair," she
said, holding him tightly. Blair was beginning to wonder how he was supposed
to recover from hurt/comfort addiction when all he could feel right now was
the warm tingle Gabrielle's soothing embrace was engendering in his being.
Wasn't that what he came here to fight?
Gently disentangling himself from her comforting caress, he turned to her with
a pleading look in his eyes. "I have to get over this. It's messing up my
life. One more trip to the ER and my health insurance is gonna be canceled,"
he cried.
Gabrielle shrugged. "We'll help you all we can, won't we, everybody," she
said, gesturing to encompass everyone in the room. Blair could see all his
fellow sufferers nodding, some murmuring words of encouragement. "But for our
program to really be effective, it's going to take more than just you." She
touched his arm for emphasis. "Jim should really be here with you for this to
be a successful recovery."
Blair stepped back in defeat. "Oh, man! I'm doomed. Jim's never gonna agree to
do this." He covered his face with his hands, trying not to lose his composure
in the face of this heart-breaking disappointment.
Suddenly, from the back of the room, a voice rang out, clear and strong, like
a church bell reaching into his soul. "It's okay, little buddy. I'm here for
you."
Startled, Blair looked up. Standing like a mighty oak in the back of the room
was Jim. His Sentinel, his rock, his friend was there, staring at him
intently, with not a trace of disgust or embarrassment in his face. Jim slowly
walked up beside him and said, "I followed you here, Blair, because I've been
worried about you. You've been kinda down lately and I wanted to know why."
Blair could only blink in astonishment. "You... you were worried about me?" he
stammered.
"Of course I was," Jim said. He gently cupped Blair's face with his hands. "I
have my own confession to make. I've known all along what you were doing, and
I let it go on, because it was the only way I could let myself comfort you.
You see, I have my own cross to bear. It's called Mr. Spock's Facade Syndrome.
People like me can only show emotional concern in the face of overwhelming
pain and suffering in those we care about." Jim's eyes burned into Blair's,
full of apologetic sorrow. "Can you ever forgive me for putting you through
all that torment for the past few years?"
"Oh, Jim. You know I can," Blair said, grabbing his friend in a bear-hug.
"I've loved every minute."
Grinning sheepishly, Blair released his stranglehold on Jim to the sound of
thunderous applause from everyone in the room. Gabrielle grabbed each of them
by the hand and led them to the front of the room. A delighted grin splitting
her face, she said, "This is so great. You two have made a great start. The
first step in curing your addictions is to admit them out loud to yourself and
the people who love you."
Blair couldn't stop smiling as Gabrielle led them over to seats next to her
statuesque friend. Sitting between his best friend and a gorgeous amazon of a
woman was his idea of heaven, until he caught Jim and the brunette eyeing each
other over his head. Sighing, he turned his attention back to Gabrielle.
"Okay, everybody. I think this has been a most productive meeting," Gabrielle
said as she brought out a poster that she propped up on a stand. Turning back
to the group, she prompted, "Let's all recite our Hurt/Comfort-a-holics
motto." Using a pointer she led them in a rousing shout. "Being a friend does
NOT mean being in pain."
End
Info
Click here for Yahoo! Companion
by Jamie Ritchey
Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Pet Fly, UPN,
Paramount, and The SciFi Channel.
Blair Sandburg stood outside in the hallway for a few minutes, bouncing
nervously as people entered the classroom. He had seen the flyer on the staff
bulletin board for years without really noticing it. He wasn't like 'those'
people. But the longer he worked with Jim, the more he came to realize that...
yes, he was just like them. He needed help, and he was finally desperate
enough to try anything, even baring his soul to a bunch of strangers. After
all, putting himself through that kind of pain was part of the problem.
Gathering up his courage, Blair took a deep, cleansing breath, let it out
slowly, and walked through the door. He had a vague idea of what he would find
inside and he wasn't surprised. There were small groups scattered throughout
the room, talking in low tones. A table along the wall by the windows had a
large coffee urn surrounded by cups, cream and sugar. Next to that were a
couple of large boxes of a varied selection of donuts. They were already half
empty. Well, considering the addiction that was the focus of these meetings, a
sweet tooth was probably a comforting necessity. Blair helped himself to a cup
of coffee and sat down in a chair midway down the room, as close to the door
as he could get. He really didn't need the caffeine, but it gave him something
to do with his hands. He was pleasantly surprised to find they weren't
shaking.
The seats were rapidly filling as the time for the meeting to begin was
approaching. Blair saw two men who were vaguely familiar move into the row in
front of him. The tall blond followed his shorter, dark curly-haired
companion, badgering him in a self-superior tone, "I'm telling you, Starsk.
Jelly donuts are not your friends." His partner just waved a derogatory hand
at him as he took his seat. I know these guys. They're COPS, Blair realized
with a start. Blair grinned and began to feel more comfortable. He knew this
kind of addiction was common among law enforcement types. Those two had a
reputation for being almost as tough as Jim, and if they were brave enough to
come the these meetings, then Blair had no reason to be ashamed.
A young long-haired blond woman followed by a statuesque brunette goddess
strode up to the podium. The blonde's attitude seemed to exude 'perky,' while
the anthropologist in Blair could only describe the brunette as a warrior,
though neither was lacking in any of the feminine attributes Blair held dear
to his heart. Sitting up straighter in his seat to get a better view, Blair
decided that maybe attending this meeting wouldn't be as grueling as he'd
expected.
The brunette claimed a seat in the front row as the blond waved her arms and
cleared her throat, making sure she had everyone's attention before she began
speaking.
"Hello. My name is Gabrielle."
"Hello, Gabrielle," the audience responded enthusiastically.
Gabrielle's face lit up with a huge grin. "We all know why we're here, so why
don't we get started. Are there any new attendees out there who would like to
speak tonight?" She glanced back and forth across the rows of people, an
encouraging smile on her face.
Blair waited a few minutes, but as the silence dragged on, he swallowed the
lump that had formed in his throat and stood up, giving a tentative little
wave with his hand. Might as well get this over with.
"Hello. My name is Blair, and I'm a hurt/comfort-a-holic," he said, amazed
that his voice didn't waver from the fear that was vibrating down his spine.
"Hello, Blair," the audience replied in unison.
Blair paused, uncertain how to proceed. Gabrielle seemed to sense his
apprehension, because she walked over and placed a soft hand on his shoulder.
"Why don't you tell us how it started for you?" she said with a supportive
smile.
"Well, it started the very first day of my position as a police observer,"
Blair began, returning Gabrielle's smile gratefully. "I'd been following
Detective Jim Ellison around while he was trying to catch a serial bomber
called the Switchman. I ended up hitting her. Man! Did that ever make my hand
hurt. I was sitting in the ambulance while the paramedic bandaged me up when
Jim came over and called me his new partner in front of one of the other cops.
It was like the sun came out and lit me up from the inside, it felt so good to
hear that." Blair could see some of the others in the audience nodding their
heads as if remembering similar instances in their lives.
"It's continued to escalate ever since," Blair continued, shoving a stray lock
of his long curly hair behind an ear. "I've been kidnapped, beaten, drugged,
shot. You name it, I've had it done to me, and I just keep coming back for
more! My friends at Major Crimes have started calling me a trouble- magnet.
They think it's just something that happens. But my deep, dark, dirty secret
is that I'm doing it on purpose!" Blair cringed, expecting to hear a shocked
gasp from the people listening to his sordid confession, but there was only a
calm silence around him. He looked up and found only sympathetic smiles and
knowing looks in everyone eyes.
Gabrielle stretched her arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle
squeeze. "It might help you to understand your addiction if you could tell us
why you persist in inflicting such pain on yourself," she said patiently.
Blair glanced up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes, fighting not to let the
tears that were threatening to form run free. Heaving a heavy sigh, he
continued. "I guess it's because I want... no, I NEED the attention that I get
from everybody when I get hurt." Blair stopped abruptly, startled where his
confession was leading his troubled thoughts. "No! It's not everybody... It's
Jim. Getting Mr. Hard-Ass, Army Ranger, Supercop to show a little brotherly
concern is like pulling teeth, which is probably the only thing I haven't done
yet to get him to comfort me."
A chorus of "We hear you, brother" resounded from scattered areas of the room.
Gabrielle patted his arm, then pulled his head down next to hers, freely
sharing her love and sympathy. "We've all been where you are, Blair," she
said, holding him tightly. Blair was beginning to wonder how he was supposed
to recover from hurt/comfort addiction when all he could feel right now was
the warm tingle Gabrielle's soothing embrace was engendering in his being.
Wasn't that what he came here to fight?
Gently disentangling himself from her comforting caress, he turned to her with
a pleading look in his eyes. "I have to get over this. It's messing up my
life. One more trip to the ER and my health insurance is gonna be canceled,"
he cried.
Gabrielle shrugged. "We'll help you all we can, won't we, everybody," she
said, gesturing to encompass everyone in the room. Blair could see all his
fellow sufferers nodding, some murmuring words of encouragement. "But for our
program to really be effective, it's going to take more than just you." She
touched his arm for emphasis. "Jim should really be here with you for this to
be a successful recovery."
Blair stepped back in defeat. "Oh, man! I'm doomed. Jim's never gonna agree to
do this." He covered his face with his hands, trying not to lose his composure
in the face of this heart-breaking disappointment.
Suddenly, from the back of the room, a voice rang out, clear and strong, like
a church bell reaching into his soul. "It's okay, little buddy. I'm here for
you."
Startled, Blair looked up. Standing like a mighty oak in the back of the room
was Jim. His Sentinel, his rock, his friend was there, staring at him
intently, with not a trace of disgust or embarrassment in his face. Jim slowly
walked up beside him and said, "I followed you here, Blair, because I've been
worried about you. You've been kinda down lately and I wanted to know why."
Blair could only blink in astonishment. "You... you were worried about me?" he
stammered.
"Of course I was," Jim said. He gently cupped Blair's face with his hands. "I
have my own confession to make. I've known all along what you were doing, and
I let it go on, because it was the only way I could let myself comfort you.
You see, I have my own cross to bear. It's called Mr. Spock's Facade Syndrome.
People like me can only show emotional concern in the face of overwhelming
pain and suffering in those we care about." Jim's eyes burned into Blair's,
full of apologetic sorrow. "Can you ever forgive me for putting you through
all that torment for the past few years?"
"Oh, Jim. You know I can," Blair said, grabbing his friend in a bear-hug.
"I've loved every minute."
Grinning sheepishly, Blair released his stranglehold on Jim to the sound of
thunderous applause from everyone in the room. Gabrielle grabbed each of them
by the hand and led them to the front of the room. A delighted grin splitting
her face, she said, "This is so great. You two have made a great start. The
first step in curing your addictions is to admit them out loud to yourself and
the people who love you."
Blair couldn't stop smiling as Gabrielle led them over to seats next to her
statuesque friend. Sitting between his best friend and a gorgeous amazon of a
woman was his idea of heaven, until he caught Jim and the brunette eyeing each
other over his head. Sighing, he turned his attention back to Gabrielle.
"Okay, everybody. I think this has been a most productive meeting," Gabrielle
said as she brought out a poster that she propped up on a stand. Turning back
to the group, she prompted, "Let's all recite our Hurt/Comfort-a-holics
motto." Using a pointer she led them in a rousing shout. "Being a friend does
NOT mean being in pain."
End
Info
Click here for Yahoo! Companion
