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by
Things with Sandburg have gotten out of control. That sign behind the bar about troubles shared being halved - well, I never really believed it, but so many people here seem to be susceptible to his dubious charms and understand how that brilliant twisted mind works. Maybe if someone could just listen, really listen - no one seems willing to do that anymore. Maybe if someone could listen, I could talk about it.
He used to be a big kid, you know? Bounce and go and enthusiasm about anything and everything, especially me. Or at least my senses. But really he'd get worked up about anything, sort of like a baby when he figures out that those ten wiggly things at the end of his arms are under his control. Only trouble is that this baby did a bad bad thing with that newfound power.
Let me back up a bit. It started yesterday - no, it started - ah, fuck, the little shit left that crap he puts in his hair on the table again and the keys to his laptop are all slimy. Anyway, he hasn't been around much, what with the academy and all, and I thought I'd be a good guy and bring him dinner. I'll admit that I miss him - ever since the press conference we don't seem to connect. Literally and figuratively.
Anyway, he had a late self-defense class, so I swung by that deli he loves and got him a turkey and sprouts pocket with tahini - disgusting, huh? I had to dial WAY down to tolerate THAT crap in the truck. But it was time for another peace offering - he says that I feel guilty for the fucked-up-ness of the whole world, part of the Sentinel package. Or at least he used to say that. Before.
Well, when I walked through the halls to get to the gym, I could hear this soft choking noise. At first I couldn't identify it, but then I realized it was because it was out of context. 'Shit. Somebody's crying,' I thought as I picked up the pace. And then it got weird. I could hear Sandburg's voice, but it was this a Sandburg I'd never experienced. A Sandburg in his infancy, newly born in front of a microphone and some TV cameras.
"Shut up, you bitch - I didn't promise you anything. It's not like you're some blushing virgin. You had a good ride, that's all - hell, from what I've heard I expected more from you, and none of this emotional bullshit either. Don't drag this out through graduation day." Now that's not MY Chief. Especially since I saw that it was a pretty young girl that he was brow-beating. MY Chief would never enjoy making someone cry.
He'd gotten up close, right in her face, and she was shaking, tears streaming as she struggled for breath. Faint red splotches marred her pretty face. She wrapped thin arms around herself in comfort and protection as his face darkened. A small satisfied twist of his lips revealed his pleasure as he turned the figurative knife in her wounds, those expressive blue eyes of his focused on her as she cowered against the wall.
I dropped the sandwich bag and ran to them, yelling "Chief! What the fuck?" as I grabbed him and pulled him away from the girl. She bolted as he yanked his arm out of my grip.
"Jim." It - well, there's no other way to describe it. He snarled at me. ME. His ever-loving Blessed Protector. Alright, Jimbo, don't go walking down there. I blinked and looked down at this stranger before me.
"You want to clue me in here, Chief?' I struggled to keep my cool - we were WAY off the beaten path here and I didn't want to make matters worse. Although frankly, I don't see how they could be.
"Spying on me, Jim?" The cold voice, the rigid stance - who was this asshole and what had he done with Blair? "You need something ELSE from me man?" Stung, I stepped back as he thumbed the faint scar at the corner of his mouth from the tube they'd snaked down his throat when he died. Fuck.
"I don't have much left, you know," he said almost conversationally, the flat tone a mockery of his usual voice. He ran his fingers through the shorn curls, reminding me again of how quiet he'd been after the mandatory regulation haircut. He'd just come home, thrown his keys in the basket, gone into the bathroom and puked his guts up. And he knew I could hear it, feel it, taste and smell it like it was me clutching the porcelain. He'd waited until he got home on purpose. 'This is what I did for you, what I do for you...'
"Chief..." I stopped at the glare that almost hid his pain. Deep woods. I'd been lost out here ever since the press conference, and even though Sandburg had no more idea than I which way was out, my guide didn't even want to try to get us home. Jesus, Blair, please don't leave me on my own.
I deserved it - I'm used to the fact that no matter what happens with these damn senses, no matter how much I think I have them under control (that HE has them under HIS control), things go wrong. And this... lack of a compass, this abiding fear, this... silence, these were the price I had to pay for accepting his gift. Because everyone forgets that some things ARE forever. Blue eyes met mine to remind me again - my safety, HIS safety, my relief, had to be paid for. He'd paid by throwing away his honor; every day now he extracted payment from me. And yet it was worth it - god help me, I was glad for what he had done.
Motion caught my peripheral vision and I turned, grateful for the distraction. "There she goes, Jim - I wouldn't worry to much. She's just one of the sluts they let in to make the quota." The hard words floated Sentinel-soft across the gaping space between us. "Waste of a seat - she's goin' nowhere fast." I turned back slowly - too quickly and I might catch the pain, the despair in my guide's eyes. He knew I realized what he meant.
"Chief..." I don't know why I tried. "Look, if you've changed your mind, if you don't want..." A harsh laugh struck me, assaulted my ears as he turned and started walking back to the gym.
"Don't want what, Jim? It's not like there's much of a choice, is there? Even if I recant, who'd believe me? And that's not what you want, is it? C'mon, tell the truth. No, the academy will do. It's sort of vaguely - collegiate." His light voice drifted back, once more rendering me helpless.
I used to think that these senses were a curse. Blair taught me that they were a gift, like seeing face to face when everyone else could only see shadows in a mirror. And they were beautiful for a while. I believe they could have been beautiful forever, in a different world. Funny how time won't stop just because it's the end of everything.
So I keep on. And so does he. Because I can live with his pain more easily than with his death or my prison, and now he lives for my pain.
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