Money? What money? I am doing this for my love of the Sentinel and his Guide.
Here is my very first fanfic for The Sentinel.
FIRST TIME
by
Crazy
He is not in the Den.
Disappeared.
Gone.
Lost.
Padding through the jungle I search again.
I smell his fear, taste it.
I chuff.
He is gone.
But his fear still lingers.
Fear
And
Blood.
A growl rumbles through my chest.
Ears swivel.
A noise.
Stalk.
Pause.
Listen.
My wolf.
My guide.
He is here.
An out-cry and I run.
Dodging tree limbs and underbrush.
There.
By the tree.
Purring nervously I inch closer.
Blood.
Someone else's.
Fear.
I nuzzle his gray fur.
He whimpers.
Afraid.
I look around.
Blood
And
Death.
I understand.
My purr gets louder as I lay by him.
Jim sat up as the last memories of his dream drift away. Frowning, he listened into the night, wondering what had awakened him.
There was a whimper from below that nearly brought his dream back to the forefront.
Quietly he pushed himself from his bed and made his way to the stairs, searching for the maker of the noise.
There, he spied Blair, seated at the table, face in his hand.
Hurrying his steps, Jim made his way to his housemate. "Blair?" He called softly.
Startled, the ex-anthropologist raised red rimmed eyes to his partner.
Again, the larger man was reminded of his dream. He could see the same apathy in his young friend and the wolf; suddenly the vision made sense.
Jim placed his hands on the edge of the table and leaned heavily. "Care to talk Chief?" He ventured while eyeing the gun that lay like a cold reminder just inches from his Guide's face.
Dull blue eyes were pulled up to meet his own concerned ones, but nothing was said.
Jim sucked on his upper lip as he tried to find a way to crack the shell Blair had built. He knew it was hard. Hell, his first had been hard too.
Back then the initial counseling sessions hadn't seemed to work for him either. Many nights he had been plagued by nightmares. All because of a split second decision he had been forced to make by some punk kid with an ego and a gun.
Sighing in resignation, he dropped his gaze to his own hands. It had taken months for him to get over it. Even now, years later, it easily brought a pain to his chest if he dwelled too long.
"I told him to stop." Blair said, breaking his reverie.
Looking up, Jim caught the other's gaze, and conveyed all the understanding and support he could. "I know you did, Chief. You did all you could."
"But it was not enough, was it?" Running a hand through his curly hair, Blair's eyes squinted against the bitter feel in his heart.
"You can think that all you want," his housemate reasoned, "But you need to remember he was going to kill YOU."
Blair shrugged indifferently.
A growl built up in the Sentinel's chest. Narrowing his eyes he glared down at his friend. "He was going to KILL you Blair. Listen, if I had been the one in your place I would have pulled the trigger, same as you."
He watched his Guide's head dip further towards the table, in self depreciation. It only made him white hot. "Don't you EVER feel like your life doesn't matter! Because it does!" Reigning in his emotions he finished with a soft whisper. "It matters to me."
Closing his eyes, he remembered the fear he had felt when he could not find Blair. The noise in the train yard had made it near impossible to hear his guide's heart beat, so he'd tracked him by his other senses. The smell of fear had had him worried, while the smell of blood had him running.
He took in a shuddering breath, the helplessness washing over him again. He couldn't do anything then, and it seemed he couldn't do anything for Blair now. Rubbing his face roughly with his hands, he pushed back from the table.
"When you took up that gun and badge, you knew this would happen. Yet you felt you could handle it. I know you will get through this Blair, but you don't have to go it alone." He clamped a strong hand on his young friend's shoulder before moving towards the stairs. "I will always be here for you, Chief."
Alone.
The word hung in the air a moment as Blair mentally studied it's meaning. Was he ready to be alone again? With the dark that conjured the scene as well as any theater might produce a movie? The younger man swallowed heavily, his eyes darting to the retreating back. "Jim?"
The call was strangled, but effective. Slowly the Sentinel turned to his Guide.
"Jim, Please. I don't want to be alone." His eyes danced and shimmered with tears. "Just…just for now."
It was all the invitation the Sentinel needed. In two strides he was back at the table. "You won't ever be alone." He assured.
Well that is it.
My little contribution.
This was my first Sentinel Fic. I remember being worried about the characterization. Huh, I think it turned out rather well!
Crazy