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First, of course, thanks to my alpha reader, Kathy Ring, and my beta readers, Sandra, Laura, and Joanne. They all made it a better piece of writing!
Second, explanation about the story - Flight was my first Sentinel episode - which I loved, btw! But after rewatching it, I found myself wondering just what had gone through Blair's mind to make the decision to stay with Jim. Truthfully I couldn't see anything that might have really done so. The result is this story (written before First Instincts, btw!)
Usual disclaimers hold. The concept, premise, names, etc... all belong to UPN, Paramount, Pet Fly and the rest of the folks out that way. I only use them once in a while for a little fun! And as this is a fill-in type story, I have obviously used parts of the actual script as transcribed from a tape of the episode. I have, however, changed a single word that bothered me from the moment I heard it and still can't handle. Can you spot the change? ;-) Enough preliminaries! Read the durned thing!
FRIENDSHIP - MISSING MOMENTS FROM FLIGHT
By Shelagh Collins
The plane's engine constantly threatened his thoughts - thoughts like: What am I doing here?, What the hell was I thinking? and the ever-popular I must be out of my friggin' mind!
He brushed a stray piece of hair from his face and contemplated his current existence, still torn between an anthropological expedition to Borneo and a rescue mission to Peru. He selfishly admitted that there was an underlying attraction in going to Peru - the possibility of seeing the area that originally awoke Jim's genetic heritage. But that, of course, he assured himself, was secondary. Daryl's and Simon's safety came first.
But that niggling little three letter combination kept rising into his thoughts - Ph.D.
The scientist in him couldn't help it - the possibilities were too tempting. The human being in him was repulsed - two people he knew and cared about were in trouble. That had to take precedence over any research project -
Borneo or Sentinel.
Borneo -
Jim had told him to go, had assured him he didn't mind. Yeah - Jim didn't mind and there was this great stretch of swampland in Florida that he just couldn't pass up.
Borneo or Sentinel?
Blair sighed and swept an impatient hand through his unruly hair as Jim's voice talking to Captain Sandoval interrupted his thoughts. The internal debate could wait.
* * * * * * *
Guerrillas, Captain Sandoval had said. Guerrillas! At least Larry had been easy to negotiate with. Give him the TV remote and a bowl of popcorn and he was relatively happy. This kind of guerilla carried guns - big guns - guns with lots and lots of bullets. Blair tried to engage Jim in useful conversation to take his mind off the alternately grim and comical picture - men in combat gear with deadly weapons and large simians with remote controls.
"So, Jim, how's it feel to be back in the jungle again?"
"I got other things on my mind, Chief."
Right - "Well, it's just that we're gonna be near the area where you developed your heightened senses, right?"
Jim withered the smaller man with a look. "I got other things on my mind."
The pilot interrupted and Blair was left carrying a large chunk of guilt about his neglect of those "other things."
* * * * * * *
There was time to contemplate his self-preservation instinct, or lack of one, while he waited below the shredded parachute for Jim to collect him. The three thoughts manifested themselves again as he pulled twigs, leaves, and whatever from his hair.
I am nuts, he decided. No research project could be worth this! I could have been killed! Never mind that no one had thrown him out of the plane. Never mind that Jim had given him every conceivable way out of this fiasco.
Simon's my friend, too, Blair had argued. He remembered it distinctly and assured himself that was his primary motivation. So why was he fixating on everything but that now?
Something scratching at his leg from inside his pants drove the three thoughts from his head again.
* * * * * * *
Blair scribbled furiously in his journal, squinting by the light of the campfire, not that much of what he wrote made any sense. He was beginning to feel like a third nostril. With Jim's Sentinel abilities short-circuiting and every attempt to explain the problem blocked, his presence seemed somehow superfluous. Everything was speculation and guess-work anyway. Sort of like the first astronauts and all the absurd testing they were put through because no one knew what else to do.
Take a deep breath - Just let it happen. He snorted at his own suggestions. What good was he really doing there? Simon and Daryl could very well be dead or dying and no brilliant ideas from Blair Sandburg would save them.
He was only slightly surprised and more than a bit relieved to realize that his focus seemed to be switching to a more human and humane one. Give it time, he thought, it'll pass, he chided himself.
But there was still the question of what had gone wrong with Jim's abilities. He jotted a few more thoughts in his journal and contemplated his part in this whole thing. Not just the rescue expedition, but the police work, the Sentinel "thing," all of it. He was a scientist. He was also Jim's and Simon's - what? observer? teammate? partner? What was he to them really? And why had Jim seemed so upset - though he'd denied it - at the news of the invitation to Borneo and the possibility of suspension of the study? This was just a research project, after all.
And he was just a scientist, a teaching fellow working on his doctorate, right? Maybe, maybe not...
All right then, scientist. Speculate! What could be blocking Jim's heightened senses? Or were they still? Jim's focus was all on his two missing friends, maybe things were back to normal and he just hadn't noticed or mentioned.
Of course, he would have mentioned! Dumb thought, Teach! He hesitated to bring up the subject. If things were status quo, he had no foundation for a reasonable hypothesis on why the Sentinel phenomenon was blocked or how to restore Jim's senses to normal. He found himself using brainstorming and train of thought - his usual methods of breaking through a tough problem.
Start with a supposition - If the Sentinel abilities could be linked to a man's - prowess, then the concept of the ability being nullified could be likened to impotence. And the harder one tried to restore the nullified ability, the greater the anxiety, the less likely that ability would be restored, the problem becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Not bad. Not great, but not bad.....
He opened his mouth to formulate an appropriate question for Jim --- then clamped his mouth tightly shut.
What the hell was he gonna ask!?
He hastily scribbled the thought for future - extreme future - reference and finally came up with the lamest version of what he really wanted to say -
"How are your senses doing, man?"
* * * * * * *
Jim was staring sightlessly at the rushing water - even with normal senses Blair could see the man was in turmoil. Something else was happening that Jim wasn't telling him. It was so frustrating! How could he hypothesize if he didn't have all the data?
The anthropologist blinked at the words his mind had chosen. He had wondered what he was to Jim and Simon. But what were they to him? People bandied the word "friend" so casually that it ceased to have real meaning most times. Jim's friends were in trouble. Blair had called Simon his friend - and they were both on this trip to help their friend.
The young man rethought things a bit more - how could he help his friends if Jim wouldn't tell him what was wrong?
He approached his friend tentatively and with a slightly different mind-set.
"Hey, Jim - you okay, man?"
* * * * * * *
Blair watched as the Sentinel melted into the woods.
{"I'm glad you came."
"Me too."}
And he was. He hadn't had to think twice about it and hadn't hesitated as he said it. Since the phone call from Dr. Stoddard's office, he'd felt in turn enthused, angry, determined, terrified, intrigued, infuriated, confused, and useless.
And he wouldn't have missed it for anything.
He fingered the gun hanging from his shoulder gingerly. He really hated these things, hated their feel and what they caused, but especially hated their occasional necessity - something he'd only been learning since working with Jim. He still wasn't sure if he could bring himself to fire one of the damned things even if it came down to him or someone else.
Behind him, Kimberly was calming the children again. Jim's presence seemed to have given the kids a feeling of confidence that they now missed since he had gone on the scouting expedition.
He could hear Daryl's halting voice trying out some of the local language and wondered at the boy's bravery - to escape alone through a jungle in a foreign country leaving his father behind without knowing what was ahead. He made a mental note to praise Daryl to Simon later - parents appreciated that kind of thing - along with saying something to the boy himself. Afterwards, of course - when they were all safe back home.
Safe back home. The loft he now shared with Jim seemed almost a distant memory, yet they hadn't been gone that long. And when they got back? When he got back - Sentinel or Borneo?
His mind wandered back to the talk he and Jim had had by the riverside and he wondered if his insights had been of any help at all. Was Jim the type to buy into the animal spirit concept? Come to think of it, was he? Or was it just a tribal belief based on superstition grounded in ignorance? What kind of beliefs had been passed on to him from his new age mom? Naomi would eat up the idea of her own animal spirit. It was her kind of thing. Was it her son's? And his Sentinel theory was grounded in genetics - or was it something more? Every Sentinel needed a partner - a Guide, Brackett called me. That sounds right. Or was it more than that? He thought about the odds on him and Ellison meeting under normal circumstances. A Vegas bookie wouldn't have given much. He had pondered the situation that led to their association briefly, but hadn't given it more than a passing thought. It had happened and at the time that was good enough for him.
He thought about it now. A nurse he just happened to be dating just happened to be on shift the day a man with the very abilities Blair had been searching for just happened to come in to be tested for those abilities. Sure, that kind of thing happens every day - in a Dickens story, maybe! Add to that the fact of his research to begin with. How many others had read that same monograph by Sir Richard Burton over the decades with not one of them ever pursuing the subject any farther? A theory that had been dismissed, rejected by the anthropological community at large. Or at the very least, none of those who had ever read it happening upon a research subject - a man - to study with those abilities.
Blair was beginning to recognize the infinitesimal odds of his and Jim's unique partnership. He hesitated to think about it on a cosmic scale, but knew that Naomi would really appreciate it, if he could ever bring himself to tell her the whole story.
Quiet giggling from the circle of children caught his attention. What on earth could these kids have to laugh at? he wondered. He looked over and saw them looking back. Smiling self-consciously, he ran a hand through his hair and continued "patrolling" the village. What was that all about? Probably how stupid I look hauling around this thing! He was kind of glad for the mental interruption. The subject on his mind was getting a little too deep and things were complicated enough already.
Under normal circumstances he would have jumped into the group and played off their good mood, probably tried to make them laugh some more. He wondered when normal circumstances would ever return. Not just getting out of the jungle, but getting back to his nice quiet - well, relatively quiet - academic existence. That seemed a long way off, farther than he could see. He sighed. Too much introspection and self-contemplation. Things would return to normalcy eventually, but for now.... He shouldered the gun and paced.
A rustling in the brush caught his attention. "Jim? Is that you, man?"
No answer. He lifted the gun menacingly, wishing he could muster the appropriate accompanying look on his face. "Who's there?"
A hush fell on the group in the center of the village at Blair's shout and defensive stance. He could feel tension in the air but couldn't be sure if it was just his own nervousness or some basic instinct prodding him. Dammit, Jim! Where are you!? One of the smaller children began to cry.
"Blair?" Kimberly called out. "What's happening?"
The bushes whispered again. "Nothing," Blair lied without looking at her. "Just my imagination." He moved cautiously forward trying to appear confident, wishing he could manufacture the attitude Jim seemed to have naturally. He was beginning to believe his own lie to Kimberly as the sounds of the jungle started to convince him the noise really was nothing at all.
He turned back to the others. "It was just the wi---" A sharp pain on the back of his head cut off his reassurance.
* * * * * * *
Blair's head ached from the blow, but the situation at hand mostly kept that in the background. He had come to as the mercenaries were tying him and Daryl together back to back and he was faced, not for the first time in the past few months, with a grim predicament. He didn't have to be a Sentinel to hear Daryl's breathing catch as the boy fought down his own fright. What should I say? What would Jim or Simon say?
He remembered his own terror while being held by that psycho Lash. He'd been alone then, with no one to reassure him, but he'd found the strength somehow to fight back the only way he could -- with words.
Somewhere inside him were the right words for his friend's son. And if there was any way, Jim would find and free them.
The Sentinel would find his Guide - somehow he knew that. It wasn't scientific, but it was true nonetheless.
"Blair, man," Daryl's shaky voice interrupted his thoughts. "Think they're gonna let us go?"
With a guilty start he realized the boy had been waiting for him to speak, to reassure him. While he knew in his heart that Jim would get them out, his head wouldn't allow him to make that kind of promise. "I don't know, Daryl."
"I'm afraid my dad might be already dead."
So am I, he thought, but said, "You've gotta stay strong. It's what your father would want."
It sounded lame in his ears, but he felt the boy nodding his affirmation so they must have been the right words. That said, he contemplated the ropes that held them to the chairs and how he might free himself and Daryl if necessary.
The tent flap opened just then. He snapped his gaze to the light spilling in and the shadow in the doorway - and though Blair was startled, he was not surprised.
"Jim!"
* * * * * * *
The rest of the trip was a blur. Stealing the truck - rescuing Simon, the villagers, and Kimberly - escaping into the jungle while behind them Jim singlehandedly destroyed the mercenaries' camp and drug lab - returning Kimberly and the villagers to where they belonged -
- and going home.
* * * * * * *
"This is Janet from Dr. Stoddard's office. Dr. Stoddard needs a final answer about Borneo. If you're still interested, please call us at 555-4678."
Blair listened to the answering machine tape for the umpteenth time since he and Jim had gotten home. He should have been more torn on the decision, should have cared more about his answer to Dr. Stoddard. But the truth was, for possibly the first time in his life, he felt he was where he belonged and was content with that.
The knot on his head throbbed a bit, but dully; the cuts on his face were only noticeable when he looked in the mirror, and the exhaustion from the experience had been rectified with a long sleep. Odd that he should even consider the physical toll. There were other, far more significant things that had occurred during the "trip."
The voice on the tape finished, sounding very impatient. He hit the save button again. Totally unnecessary. His decision was made - yet......
Borneo - the kind of opportunity that came along once in a great while, working with someone he liked and admired. Working with a team that had a common purpose, sharing insights and knowledge, the excitement of discovery, goals to be reached together, and friendships that would last a lifetime once the project was completed.
Blair smiled a little wistfully - he could be describing his life now....
He played the tape again knowing he wouldn't be saving the message anymore.
Only marginally aware of Jim's presence, the two of them stared at the answering machine as the voice petered out. Blair gratefully accepted the beer the Sentinel was offering.
"Guess you should call them back," he suggested, a touch of regret in his voice.
Blair hesitated a moment, then said, "Well, actually, I've already decided not to go." He chose his words carefully once again. "This Sentinel thing, it's more than just a research project. It's about friendship." Jim's face showed the same confusion Blair had felt so many times while they were in Peru. "I just didn't get it before," he added with a smile.
Ellison nodded after a moment, still looking a bit puzzled, but smiled back and said, "Okay," and didn't press the issue. For which the young anthropologist was very grateful.
They adjourned to the balcony, Blair hanging back a bit, leaning on the door frame. He still had a lot of questions, but was only in the process of formulating them.
"You know, you were really something in the jungle out there, man." Approaching a question from the side wasn't always the best way, but what the hell? "I've never seen you so focussed, so in control. It was pretty amazing!" He paused a moment before making a statement that was also the question. "You never did tell me how you got your senses back."
"They just came back," he answered simply.
Blair laughed. So much for the sideways approach. "Why do I get the feeling like you're not telling me everything?"
"Cause I just don't have the energy to talk about it right now. We're home. Let's enjoy it."
As a scientist Blair railed at the delay of new information, new data to enter into his journal, the potential for new tests to run on the Sentinel abilities.
As a friend, he could wait until Jim was ready to share that information. They had plenty of time.
"Welcome home, partner." They clinked bottles and Blair relaxed with the words.
THE END
EmailShelagh Collins