Title: Walking Away

Author: Debby (entlzha@yahoo.com)

Category: Missing Scene/Tag for “Sentinel Too Part 2” and “The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg”

Summary: On life, loss, and the Sentinel experience

Rating: PG for minor language

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Walking Away

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~~Sierra Verde, January~~

Contemplative.

Blair knew there were people who wouldn’t think that word applied to Jim Ellison. But those were the kind of people who would never see anything more than what Jim chose to show them. Blair saw more, saw deeper, saw the things Jim didn’t even want himself to see. Saw the things that really mattered.

And right now, as he watched Jim sitting silently and alone near the entrance of the temple as they carried Alex away, he saw a man who would never be exactly the same again. A man contemplating the string of unimaginable things he’d experienced this week, which had culminated in a truly cosmic moment in that grotto above them.

Even with what little Blair had seen today – hell, this whole week, really – he knew he would never be the same, either. Blair had caught a glimpse of a world that was larger than any of them thought, was more important than any of the crap they dealt with on a daily basis. And he knew that he’d never really be able to look at the world around him and not remember this place and what had happened here.

How much worse it must be for Jim. To come face-to-face with all the possibilities – with the wonders Alex had obviously seen and experienced. God, the temptation Jim must have felt. Blair could see it well, in Jim’s face – see how much it cost him to make the choice he had made. And yet he could still so desperately and earnestly try to help Alex to make that choice, too. And Blair was left speechless, for one of the few times in his life.

After all, what do you say to the man who has gazed into the face of God and walked away?

He’d never be able to understand what Jim had seen, never be able to share it, let alone offer commiseration. He could walk in the shadow of such a great thing as a Sentinel, but he could never truly be a part of it. It was both tormenting and exhilarating.

But one thing was certain -- he’d never been more proud to stand next to his partner than he was right at this very moment. He’d worried about Jim so much lately, even been scared by what was going on, but inside that grotto, he watched Jim struggle with his nature and win. He’d been able to see James Ellison stand up and take control over generations, maybe centuries of Sentinel legacy. And the result was that he was damn proud to call this man his best friend.

Typically, though, Jim hadn’t said a thing about what happened in there. He’d simply held his fellow Sentinel until the local authorities had arrived. Megan had called him a living memorial to what Alex had lost in that moment. She was right, but only partially. What Megan could not understand was that he was a living memorial to what Jim had lost, too.

Because he had lost the one person who could truly – wholly – understand him.

For all the bad choices Alex had made, for all her wrongs, she was a Sentinel. She and Jim were family – linked not in the traditional sense, but in ways that modern society could never understand, in ways that mattered more, ways that were deeper and defied explanation.

That was the loss Blair mourned on this beautiful, soggy morning. He mourned it for Jim’s sake. He knew how alone Jim felt sometimes. As much as Blair could do and be for his partner, he could never be a Sentinel, could never share that with him. He came pretty damn close sometimes, but it would never be the same. Not that Blair wasn’t glad to play his part, but it was just so sad, sometimes, to know that Jim was so tragically alone in being who he was. Everyone deserved to have someone who understood them completely. Jim was the last of his kind. Or the first, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, though, he was alone. Except for one brief moment when Alex had shown up. For that little while, despite all the crap that got in the way, Jim wasn’t alone. He had someone who completely, unequivocally understood. Someone who could have filled needs that Blair and the rest of the average world could never fill.

Gone, now, along with a beautiful blonde woman being carried out of the forest.

And so Jim was alone again. Like he’d been at the beginning; like he’d been throughout his life. Alone in his experiences, alone in his feelings, alone in the way the world worked for him. And Blair would grieve for what he had lost today – for what Alex had walked away from, and what Jim had walked away from – even if Jim never would do so himself.

And Blair would do more than that. He would do what he could. What he did. The one thing – sometimes the only thing – he had to offer the man. Blair would be there for him. He would be his friend.

He walked casually over to stand just behind Jim. Blair had left him alone since they’d come to take Alex because Jim had radiated a need to be left alone. He knew sometimes that Jim just needed to be; and when he could, Blair respected that. But now, the need had changed. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, he just did. So he stood, trying to keep a comfortable distance, and asked the only question that really mattered to him.

“You okay?”

Jim absently responded an affirmative, continuing to look out at the jungle ahead of him. It was just such a Jim-ism – as though if he looked you in the eyes, he’d give away more of himself than he could afford to.

From his new vantage point, Blair could no longer see the look on Jim’s face, but he could see all the other things that went along with it. The tilt of his head, the way his hands moved of their own volition, the tone of wonder – all the things that spoke of a man who wasn’t sure what to make of it all. But who was amazed at things he’d never imagined. Blair wondered for one tiny, brief moment if Jim was reconsidering what he had turned down inside.

Still contemplative, although – strangely enough -- almost comfortable with it, Jim started to talk. Fumbling over his words as he did, he spoke of wonders he’d passed up, of revelations, of the things he’d wanted so badly to go back and experience.

“But you didn’t.”

Jim agreed casually, almost dismissing it. Self-deprecating, as though it hadn’t been the horrendous choice that Blair knew it must have been. And it all came down to one thing.

“See, that’s the difference between you two. She lost her way.”

Blair had been thinking about it since she came to him in his office. Alex never understood. It was her greatest failing that she’d never come to appreciate the gift she’d been given. It was something Jim fought with every day, too, Blair knew. But, then again, who wouldn’t have trouble valuing something that turned every inch of your life upside down, that made you both vulnerable and powerful in ways you can’t even describe? Something that scared you every waking moment and invaded your dreams?

Alex had seen it as a game. Jim saw it as a curse. Blair knew that – knew why Jim fought him tooth and nail sometimes – which was why he was still around. The truth was that the Sentinel thing was neither of those things. And at the very least, Jim understood – perhaps only subconsciously – more than Alex ever had about what they’d been given. He understood the ‘why’ of this thing, in his own unique Jim Ellison way. And that was why he could walk away and she couldn’t. Why he could walk back to his world and keep fighting to come to terms with who he was even though it scared the crap out of him.

Jim didn’t respond to Blair’s statement. Instead just worked that jaw of his, the energy of the experience coursing through him. Sat and watched the jungle. Or looked through the jungle, which was more likely. Blair waited him out, standing behind him – literally and figuratively.

Then, abruptly, the moment flickered and changed. The air of contemplation and reflection – the otherworldliness of this place – was gone. Jim stood up to his full six plus feet and surveyed the landscape with a practiced eye. Took in everything, Blair was sure, from the tracks Megan and Simon had just made to the tiny jungle insects flitting around making nuisances of themselves. Finally, Jim’s eyes flicked briefly on Blair himself, still standing expectantly. And back one more time to the temple.

“We need to go.”

It wasn’t really said to Blair, and he was sure Jim was talking to himself more than anything. But Blair definitely heard the undercurrent in the simple statement. Not that ‘we’ needed to go, as much as that Jim needed to go. He’d walked away from whatever had pulled him here, but hanging around any longer was just tempting fate. He needed to go, far way, back to a place where things were as they had always been and where there were no mysterious forces whispering to him in the dead of night. No one to tempt him into betraying the gift he had in a foolish quest to become more than he should. Where there were only blaring traffic and neon lights and greasy hamburgers to keep him up in the night.

He needed to go home.

And that, Blair could do.

He gave one last look at the temple and then followed Jim as he wound his way down the muddy slope toward the bottom of the hill where Simon and Megan waited for them. Watched the back of Jim’s shirt tweak and ripple as he navigated their way, being careful to follow the narrow path Jim was forging. Followed a man who was walking away.

And Blair couldn’t help but wonder if he could have walked away. If he were looking at all the lures Jim had been faced with, or that Alex had been faced with, would he have made that same choice? Stood up to the pull of temptation and walked away?

He wondered if he’d ever be in the position to have to walk away from the possibilities because of something greater than himself. Wondered if he would be able to? To make the choice that Jim had, or would he choose as Alex had?

Maybe he’d find out one day.

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~~Five Months Later~~

Sid had sent back Blair’s diss, complete with red scribbled notes in the margins. Blair held it in his hands, flipping idly through it in the quiet loft. His precious notes, the lab test Jim hated, journals of late nights and revelations, documentation carefully copied and recopied – three years of shared history with Jim. And Sid had reduced it all to sound bites and chapters. Had outlined it nicely for Blair, complete with notes about what portions would be good in a movie. Even one section he’d labeled as ‘book jacket material’. Relegated the incredible of experience of being partnered with a Sentinel to so much morning talk-show chatter.

And offered Blair the world for it.

But in that, he’d made it meaningless. The data was worthless without the man it represented – empty and hollow. This was not the point of the Sentinel stuff – to quantify and entertain. The diss was not the prize. The research wasn’t the prize. But no one understood that. Not Sid with his book deal. Not the men who had offered him a million dollars. Not the ones who had offered him fame and prestige and awards. Not the university, or the reporters, or even the copy at the precinct. No one got it.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. One person did get it.

Jim got it.

Jim had understood so well. He’d made the commitment – given himself – to this Sentinel thing. They both knew that Jim could have shut it off at any time if he really, really wanted to. He’d done it before, and he could do it again. But he didn’t, no matter how much it cost him. Because, deep down, he really did understand. And he’d made the choice.

Blair felt vaguely foolish sitting there in the streaming afternoon sunlight. Here he’d been lecturing Jim for three years about accepting the gift, and it turns out that Jim had already known that. Turns out Blair was the one who hadn’t gotten it after all. He’d thought that none of this Sentinel stuff was about him, but only now when it might be too late did he start to understand that maybe some of it was after all. He had the chance to share Jim’s gift with him, or he could have everything he ever wanted. Realities or fantasies. But he couldn’t have both.

Three years in and he still hadn’t figured that out. He’d still been trying to have it all. So the universe had conspired to force him to make that choice. It was offering him everything he’d ever wanted, but it would cost him everything he’d come to believe in.

He sensed Naomi hovering nearby. When she spoke, it was hesitant and nervous, for just about the first time he could remember. Because she was afraid she’d messed up the really important things in their lives. Maybe this, then, was what the Sentinel thing was really about. About family. And friends. About people. About bigger things than one Blair Sandburg and his plans. About figuring out what the really important things were.

Three years ago, he wouldn’t have understood that. Three years ago, what they were offering him for his research would have been enough. But not any more. Not after living the Sentinel thing. Not after Jim and the Cascade PD. Not after Alex, even. Childish dreams of fame and fortune could never hold up to the reality of being able to share this incredible Sentinel experience he’d had.

He looked up. Naomi needed a hug. Needed reassurance that it would be okay. And he needed to give it.

Then he had a bridge to burn.

Without a second thought, Blair tossed Sid’s package on the seat and walked away from it permanently.

~~finis~~

Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Email me at entlzha@yahoo.com