Author: Daydreamer
Posted: March 11, 2003

Ego Surfing

"Hey, Jim," Blair called from his place at the table. Despite the fact that the game was halfway over -- and it was a playoff game at that -- he hadn't moved to join Jim on the couch. Whatever he was working on had him totally engrossed. "You ever done any ego surfing?"

Jim looked up, focusing on Blair, then cursed as cheering broke out on the television. He turned back quickly, only to find he'd missed the last play -- the one that tied the score again. "Geez, Sandburg, I'm trying to watch the game here," he groused. "What the hell is ego surfing?" He kept his eyes firmly on the game this time.

"Ego surfing," his partner replied. "You go to a search engine, punch in your name, see what comes up on the 'net."

"Don't you think your ego's big enough already, Einstein?" Jim teased.

"Nah, man, that's not the ego you're thinking of -- that's the IQ," Blair replied cheekily and they both laughed. "No, seriously, Jim, you should see some of this stuff. It's -- weird."

The pause drew Jim's attention more quickly than Blair's words had. He scanned his partner, listening to the slightly increased heartbeat, scenting -- something -- different in the air. Not exactly fear. Jim knew Blair's fearscent well by now. But something the younger man had seen or read had mildly disturbed him and he rose immediately, moving to stand behind his partner. "What did you find?" he asked as he stared at the screen before him. It was just the Yahoo search engine now.

"Let me show you," Blair replied. "You wanna go first, or should I?"

Jim grunted a question.

"Your name or mine?" Blair clarified.

"Yours," Jim requested, genuinely interested in spite of himself. Behind them, the crowd cheered again as another basket was made, but the game had been forgotten.

Blair obediently entered 'Blair Jacob Sandburg' and a listing of hits popped up promptly. He scanned the display, pointing to a specific entry. "That's an article I did when I was nineteen -- the first thing I had published."

"You were published as an undergrad, Chief?" Jim ruffled his hair affectionately. "I am impressed."

"It was after this expedition I'd gone on with Eli, down to Paraguay. I wrote about the cultural significance of male role models in a primitive society. It was incredible, Jim! I mean, I'd read about it before, but to see it, to live with it, well, I was just overwhelmed. See, the women were the warriors, the men the nurturers. It was a complete turnabout of everything I'd been raised with, even with Naomi's fairly unconventional lifestyle. After a baby was born, it became completely the father's responsibility -- the mother was too busy with hunting and protecting the tribe."

"Paraguay? Protecting the tribe?" Jim smiled. "Were you looking for your sentinel then?"

"Always, man. From the time I was a little kid. You know that."

Jim laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I know that." He rested his hand on his guide's shoulder.

"Anyway, there was this baby, the mother died in childbirth. It was so sad. The father had died some time before from a disease -- I'm not sure what it was -- but that meant there was no one to take care of the baby."

"So you did," Jim said knowingly.

"Well, they were going to just carry him out into the jungle and leave him there." Blair raised his hands helplessly. "What else was I going to do?"

"Nothing," Jim said, squeezing the shoulder beneath his hand before crossing his arms over his chest. "What happened to the baby?"

"Another mother at least fed him for me, and I was there for four more months, long enough to get the little guy to start eating some thin oatmeal stuff they had. When it was time to go, I took him with me."

"You what?" Jim asked in shock.

"I took him with me. What else could I do? The tribe had completely rejected him."

"Let me get this straight, Chief. When you were nineteen ..."

"Eighteen, really. I just didn't publish until I was nineteen."

"O - kaaaay. When you were eighteen, you lived in the jungle of Paraguay for six months and adopted an orphan baby boy."

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

"Where is this child, Blair?"

"Oh, uh, well there was a lot of hassle about bringing him back to the country so I found this lovely couple at the university down there. They'd always wanted a child but hadn't had any luck, so they adopted him."

Jim looked at him in astonishment. "You amaze me, Chief," he said quietly. "Bookmark that one. I want to read it later."

Blair blushed, but nodded and bookmarked the paper. He seemed a little uncomfortable under Jim's continued scrutiny. "The, uh, rest of these," he pointed to the remainder of the list on display, "are other papers and things I have published. Nothing really remarkable."

"Yeah, right." Jim looked at the screen, then at his partner. "Bookmark them all. I think I better see what you were up to before I found you."

"You found me? Ha! That's rich! I found you, big guy. Remember?" He finished saving the search results, then turned and looked up. "Hospital? Doctor? Ring any bells?"

"Phony doctor," Jim snorted with a smile. "Yeah, I remember, Sandburg."

"Anyway, Jim, we've really gotten off topic. Look," he said, paging through the display as he pointed out certain entries. "This is what I really wanted to show you."

Jim narrowed his eyes as he studied the screen. "They look like -- stories?"

"Yeah -- fiction stories."

"Why's your name bring up all these stories, Chief?"

"That's what's really weird, Jim. It's not just my name. I would have ignored it, assumed that someone had just happened to choose my name for a recurring character in a series of stories, but -- well, the same stories come up when I search your name, too."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." Blair went back to the entry window and typed, 'James Ellison.'

"Hey," Jim interrupted, "You put in your middle name."

Blair shrugged. "Doesn't matter." He corrected his entry to read 'James Joseph Ellison' then hit 'search.' "I've searched all different ways: Blair Jacob Sandburg, Blair Sandburg, Chief Sandburg ..."

"Chief Sandburg?" Jim asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah." Blair's eyes were frankly worried now as he stared up at his partner. "I told you it was weird."

"What else did you use?"

"Anthropologist Sandburg, James Joseph Ellison, James Ellison, Jim Ellison, Detective Ellison, Ranger Ellison." Blair paused a moment, taking a deep breath. "Jim -- I even put in Simon's name, and it still brings up most of these stories."

Jim stared down at his anthropologist, then turned and went back into the living room. He switched off the game, missing yet another critical play, then picked up his beer and emptied it in one long swallow. He went to the fridge, pulled out two more and passed one to Blair, then dragged a chair around to sit beside the younger man. "You've read some of these, haven't you, Chief?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah. Over the last week or so, since I found them."

"And what are they about?"

"Well, they could almost be about us -- I mean, if every single case we ran into turned into a life or death situation. There's a lotta drama here, Jim," he said, taking a long pull on the beer.

"How much do they know?"

"They know you're a Sentinel."

"Fuck."

"Hey, Jim, it's okay. I mean, some of these stories have been around here for years and nothing's happened. You being a Sentinel seems to be the impetus for most of these people to want to write."

"What about my background? Chief, so much of my past is still classified." Jim's eyes were haunted. "If someone's gotten into the records, spread it around the internet -- they, the Army -- they're gonna think I leaked it."

Blair ran a hand along Jim's arms, soothing him with words so quietly spoken, no one else could hear them. When the Sentinel had settled somewhat, he went on in a normal tone. "You'll have to read them, Jim. I wouldn't know if they were true or not."

"Bookmark them," Jim ordered.

"Jim, there are thousands of them -- entire web sites set up just to house these stories. It would take months, maybe years to read them all."

Jim just shrugged. "It's gotta be done, Chief. I need to know what's going on, and what we're up against." He narrowed his eyes as he looked at his guide. "You say it's pretty accurate -- just dramatic?"

"Well, I mean, some of the stories parallel some of our cases fairly closely. Others are just complete, uh, fantasies."

"Fantasies, Sandburg?" Jim reached out and touched the younger man. "You mean like -- fantasies?"

"Yeah." Blair shrugged. "Sexual stuff. There's like, this whole sub-genre of stories called slash."

"Slash?"

"I don't know where the name came from. It's just what it's called. It's sex -- you and me." Blair seemed acutely uncomfortable with the whole topic.

"Hey, Chief, relax," Jim said quietly, as he rubbed the younger man's back. "Take a deep breath."

Blair complied and Jim could feel the tension seep from his partner as his heart rate slowed. "Sorry -- it's just ... Some of those particular stories are very weird."

"It doesn't matter to me," Jim said. "Half the station already thinks we're sleeping together."

Blair raised an eyebrow archly. "But Jim -- we do sleep together," he said innocently.

Jim snorted. "Yeah -- when you're having nightmares or we're in the middle of some horrific case and we need a little closeness. We sleep together. Big deal." He continued to rub small circles on the other man's back, even as his attention refocused on the monitor. "Anything else you can tell me about this? Overall accuracy, tenor of the stories, hints as to who these people are -- how they've found out so much about us? I mean, they know I call you 'Chief,' Chief."

"Yeah, well a lot of it is right on target, like the nicknames. I've seen 'you' call 'me' everything from 'Chief' to 'Einstein' to 'Frosty' to 'my little guppy.'"

"That's really weird, Blair." Jim stopped his soothing motion on Blair's back and raised his hand to run it over his head. "I think I've probably called you all those things at one time or another."

Blair nodded. "Yeah, man, that was what I thought, too, big guy. There are other nicknames in there as well. And I, uh, he, uh, the Blair in the stories, well, he calls you, uh, that Jim, he calls him 'big guy,' as well.

Jim scrubbed at his face. "Shit. This is too strange. What about inaccuracies?"

"Some. Stupid stuff. Things you'd think that people who devote this much time to you and me would know."

"Such as?"

"Well, they're constantly talking about you enlisting in the Army when you left home."

Jim looked confused. "I didn't enlist. I was an officer. Officers are commissioned. And I didn't go straight in at eighteen, either. I had to finish college to get my commission."

"Yeah, I know. You'd think if they know our nicknames, they could get that right. That's not even particularly personal info -- a little research on the military would have turned that up."

"What else?" Jim asked as he took another sip from his beer.

"They talk a lot about you being a medic. As a matter of fact, I'd call it a plot device to get me out of the hospital."

"Hospital? They put you in the hospital?" Jim's protective Sentinel urges were stirring. "What the fuck did they do to you?"

"Calm down, big guy," Blair soothed as he stroked the older man's arm. "It's just fiction, remember? I'm right here, and I'm all right. Your guide is safe, Sentinel."

Jim settled slowly, leaning into the comforting touch of the one person who was most important to him. "Sorry, Sandburg," he muttered.

"'s all right, Jim. You can't help it." Blair continued to stroke the other man, almost petting him to calm him down, and then reluctantly broke contact as Jim rose and began to pace.

"Keep going," Jim ordered, and Blair turned back to the monitor.

"Well, the whole medic thing -- it seems to be tied into you being enlisted."

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Jim smacked his hand on the counter. "Only enlisted people are medics. I had a little bit more advanced medical training, because of my assignments. Everyone in my unit did. It was standard, because the kinds of things we did weren't exactly conducive to good health." He began to pace again. "An Army Captain who was a medic -- yeah, right."

"The stories imply that you've referred to your training that way, Jim."

"Well, maybe ..." He paused, thinking. "I might have. It's easier than trying to explain the kind of training I did have. But I sure as hell don't remember saying it." He looked at Blair. "What about you? They get everything right about you?"

Blair snorted. "Not hardly. I'm constantly talking about the 'digs' I've been on." He snorted again. "Archaeologists go on digs. Anthropologists go on expeditions."

"Tomato, tomahto," Jim replied.

"No, seriously Jim, there's a big difference between a dig, where you do actually dig in the dirt to bring the past to life, and a study where you go and live with the people you're studying, embrace their way of life. It's like saying there's no difference between the past and the present."

"Okay, Sandburg, they screwed with your chosen field. What else?"

Blair laughed. "You wouldn't believe what they've got going on with my dis, man."

"Your dissertation? How the hell would they know about that?"

Blair cocked an eyebrow. "How the hell do they know any of this?"

"Oh. Yeah. Right." Jim paused, finishing the beer and dropping the bottle in the trash. "What happens?"

"Different things, depending on which story you read. A common theme seems to be that I'm doing my dissertation on your sentinel abilities ..."

"What?" The older man was outraged. "We settled that years ago. You were the one who told me you'd never be able to publish."

"Yeah, well, I am a fairly bright lad. It didn't take me long to see that I'd never be able to publish that dis without destroying you." He shrugged. "Anyway, in these stories, Naomi steals my dis and gets it published by a friend of hers, and I'm up for millions of dollars and a Nobel Prize." He watched as Jim's face grew increasingly shocked and then burst into laughter. "I know, I know! Can you believe it? I mean, Naomi is a fruitcake at times, but really? Do you think my own mother would do something like that to me -- no matter how good her intentions?"

Jim was shaking his head. "So what does happen, Chief? You're a millionaire and I'm Government Lab Rat Alpha?"

Blair shook his head. "Nah. I'm a fucking martyr. I hold this big press conference and announce to the world that my work was fraudulent. It destroys my career and Ranier fires me."

"Aw, Chief, I'm sorry." Jim dropped his arms around his friend's shoulders and hugged.

"'s not real, Jim. It's okay."

"Must have hurt to see though." Jim tightened his hold. "And that was an incredible sacrifice you made for me."

Blair shrugged. "It's not real, Jim," he repeated.

"But you would have, wouldn't you, if it had been real?" Jim leaned in, breathing in the scent of his guide, feeling his distress through their bond. "It's the kind of man you are. You always put me first."

"It's what guides do, man. The sentinel, you're our world."

Jim pulled the other man up, wrapping his arms around him for more contact as he buried his head in the smaller man's neck. Murmuring quietly against the soft skin, he said, "You're my world, Blair. You keep me sane, you keep me grounded. You make it possible for me to have a life."

Blair's hand patted the sentinel's back, as he whispered soothing words into the broad chest. "It's not real, Jim. You just have to remember, it's not real."

The two men stood there for a long moment, drawing strength and support from each other. When Jim finally released his guide, Blair sat again before the computer. "What are we going to do about this, Jim?"

"What we always do. Investigate. Find out what the hell is going on." He took one look at the still worried expression on his guide's face. "I don't care what this is all about. I have two things I want to do, but only one of them is really critical."

"What's that?" Blair asked.

"I need to know if my past has leaked, and then let the Army loose on these -- people -- if it has." He looked at the younger man, and smiled, softening his words as he said, "But that's not the critical one."

"What's critical?" Blair asked curiously.

"I have to protect the guide." He reached out and brushed Blair's hair from his face. "Finding this has upset you. You don't feel secure anymore." Jim's face hardened. "Nobody is going to do that to you."

Blair took a deep breath and grabbed the hand that still hovered by his face. "You protect me, Sentinel," he said softly. "Within your care, I am safe." He again rested his head against Jim's shoulder, basking in the feelings of safety and security he had when he was with his sentinel. "So, big guy, how are we going to proceed?"

"I'll read some of these stories, get a feel for it myself, then we'll get Simon involved. Maybe it's a cult of some kind. Some sort of underground obsessive group that's just fixated on us."

"I know what I'd like to do," Blair said, suddenly becoming animated.

"What's that, Sandburg?" Jim asked cautiously. Animation in his guide was not always a good thing.

"I'd like to hook into their infrastructure. Study them. It's almost like its own little closed society. Think about it. I mean, it's almost all women. How many are married? How many have kids? How many work and what do they do?" He gestured wildly at the screen and Jim had to grab one hand to keep him from knocking the laptop to the floor. Blair stopped and looked oddly at Jim who was silently holding his hand. The older man just nodded at the computer and Blair realized what he had done and said, "Oh, thanks man," as he took a few deep breaths and continued. "How many own cats? And how many cats? And where the hell do any of them find the time to write in the volume that they do?"

"Hold it, Chief," Jim said, again reaching out to grab a flailing arm. "Do not be thinking about taking on a new project. Never mind where they find the time -- I guarantee you don't have it." He frowned as he stared at the pages and pages of story titles the search had returned. It was -- unsettling -- to be the focus of so many people. "And besides, Sandburg, I'm not so sure it would be all that safe to have anything to do with these people. Some of them seem -- obsessive. Pure stalker material."

Blair's eyes widened as the idea seemed to sink in. "You think we're in danger?"

Jim shrugged. "You said some of this stuff has been around for years, right? And we haven't had any problems so far -- at least none that we know of." He ran his hand over his head, then began pacing. "I don't think it's a problem right now. But now that we know about it, we need to be careful."

"Jim?" Blair's voice was quiet, almost timid. "There's one other thing I didn't mention."

"What's that?"

"Well, when I was searching names, I punched in another one. A guy I used to know. An archaeologist -- he specialized in Ancient Egypt."

"How is this pertinent, Sandburg?"

"Well, my friend, Daniel, his name came up too. Some of it was publications, like mine, though nothing recent. But there were a whole slew of stories about him as well. Him and some guy named Jack O'Neill."

"O'Neill?" Jim furrowed his brow in thought. "I ran across an O'Neill a couple of times when I was still active. He was an Air Force flyboy."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what the stories say. He's a colonel now."

"So you think these people are stalking them too?"

Blair shrugged. "I don't know. I'm more interested in what the stories are about."

"What are they about?"

"Aliens and other planets and something called a Stargate."

Jim fixed him with a withering look. "You've got to be kidding, Sandburg."

Blair shrugged then shook his head. "No, really. From what I've read, Daniel was brought in to help translate some ancient writings and he figured out how to make this artifact work. And it's a -- portal -- to other planets."

"Give me a break, Chief. Portals to other planets? Aliens? Sounds like the Sci-Fi channel to me. Maybe we should bring in that weird FBI guy -- what was his name?"

"Mulder?" Blair supplied helpfully.

"Yeah. Him. The X-File guy." Jim snorted. "Now there was a nutcase."

"Uh, Jim? Guess what else I found ..."