Notes: This was inspired by the film The Sixth Sense.
There be angst and darkness here.
Thanks to WoD for encouragement and and a speedy beta.
The Undiscovered
Country
Blair Sandburg wanted to kick himself. For
someone who was supposed to be brilliant, this was beyond boneheaded.
He hadn't thought this through, and Jim was paying the price.
He and Jim had been conducting their own "courtship
ritual" for the last few weeks. Neither man wanted to rush
into anything and risk damaging their friendship. They'd started
with admitting their mutual attraction, moved cautiously into
"dating", adding in kissing and cuddling to their relationship.
Blair felt confident that they were ready to progress to a more
physical level.
Tonight's plans seemed harmless enough, dinner
and a movie. The film was supposed to be good - suspenseful,
well acted, well written, and without a lot of bright and noisy
explosions to irritate sentinel senses. But the storyline about
a freaked out kid who saw dead people had been a disaster.
Almost from the beginning, Jim had been so
still and quiet, Blair had to check and make sure he hadn't zoned.
Throughout the film, Jim's only motions had been the occasional
convulsive grip on the armrest. By the end of the film, he was
so tense and rigid, he could have been carved from stone.
When Jim handed him the keys to the truck,
Blair knew Jim wasn't himself. He gave him a quick glance. Jim
was still too pale. The muscle twitching in his jaw betrayed
his tension. He recognized the pained expression on Jim's face
as the one he wore when he had one of his blinding headaches.
"Jim, man, I'm sorry," Blair said
softly, his expressive voice colored with regret.
"S'okay, Chief. It was just a movie."
Jim's quiet, pain-filled reply didn't ease Blair's guilt any.
The drive to the loft was completed in silence.
Jim didn't protest when Blair half supported him up the stairs
into the loft, and just collapsed onto the sofa. Blair quickly
brought him aspirin and a glass of water, and a cool cloth to
put over his eyes.
The loft was a bit chilly, so Blair started
a fire. Soon, the warm glow of firelight danced on the walls.
The cozy crackles from the fireplace were the only sound in the
loft. Blair watched as Jim began to relax.
After a while, Blair broke the silence. "I
should have been thinking, Jim. After Molly, this probably wasn't
the best film to pick."
Jim took the cloth off his eyes and sat up.
"It was a good movie, Chief. I just - have some issues."
His lips quirked in a half smile. "I suppose most of the
audience haven't really communicated with dead people."
Blair began to relax, too. Jim seemed better.
The silence between them was no longer tense, but companionable.
Blair leaned back in the chair, and allowed more tension to drain
away into the warmth and quiet. He started, just a bit, when
Jim began to speak.
"When I was five, I had an imaginary
friend. Her name was Nell. She was lovely. She wore a pretty
green dress, and she had a matching ribbon that tied back her
long red hair. She seemed to be a little older than me."
"There was a little grove of trees at
the park near our house. I would ask my mother every day to take
me to the park to play with her there. I remember the first time
I saw her. She told me she was looking for her pony, he'd run
off. I played with her almost every day for a whole summer. Then
one day, she said she had to go, and I couldn't find her anymore.
I cried. My mother told me imaginary friends only stay for a
little while."
"Funny thing was, Chief, I only ever
saw her in that grove of trees. And her clothes weren't like
other kids, her dress looked like the dress my great-grandmother
wore in a picture from when she was a little girl. I'd forgotten
her until today."
Blair closed his mouth with an audible snap.
"Jesus, Jim."
"Yeah, well, it was long time ago."
He stood and stretched. "It's late Chief, I'm gonna turn
in." With brief press of his lips to Blair's, he headed
upstairs.
"'Night, Jim."
Blair went to his room, grabbed his laptop,
and hurried back to the warm sofa. He had wondered, with Molly,
if this was some sort of sensory aberration, or a normal development
of sentinel senses. If Jim had seen and interacted with a ghost
as a child, maybe it was an enhanced "sense" as well.
Or maybe it was just Jim.
Blair went to work, making a list of sources
to check for information on paranormal abilities, and ways to
see if he could identify Nell. His curiosity fired by Jim's revelation,
Blair worked away, oblivious to the passing hours.
He noticed the chill first. The fire had gone
out, it's warmth long dissipated. He heard the moan, next. He
sat up straight, his research forgotten. Jim must be having a
nightmare.
When Jim cried out again, it was a sound filled
with such aching loneliness that Blair found himself halfway
up the stairs before he consciously decided to move.
It was colder up in Jim's bedroom. Blair shivered
and quickly closed the window that was slightly ajar. Jim was
tangled up in his sheets, the blanket tossed to the floor. He
was reaching out to wake Jim when he cried out "Don't leave
me," and sat up.
"Blair?" There was such desolation
in Jim's voice Blair wanted to weep. He quickly pulled Jim close.
"Shh. I'm here, I've got you." Jim
buried his face against him, and clung tightly.
"Oh god. You were dead. I was too late,
and you were dead. You were so cold, and I couldn't hear you.
I was so alone."
Blair shuddered. "I'm here, Jim."
He gently rocked the shivering man in his arms. "I'm here.
Feel my arms around you, listen to my heat beating. You're not
alone, Jim. I'm here."
Jim's shivers gradually subsided, and he pulled
out of Blair's embrace. Moonlight silvered the tear tracks on
Jim's face. He reached out and gently wiped off the matching
tracks on Blair's cheeks. Cradling his face, he leaned in and
kissed Blair so sweetly it brought fresh moisture to his eyes.
The kiss deepened, sweetness spiraling into
passion. Jim threaded his hands into his hair and pulled him
closer, stroking and exploring as they kissed.
Jim tore his lips from Blair's. "Let
me feel you," he gasped, "all of you."
Blair leaned in for another kiss while he
fumbled with his shirt, his fingers clumsy on the buttons. Jim
growled, and yanked, and as buttons went flying, Jim quickly
divested him of his outer shirt.
Jim growled again when his questing fingers
once more met fabric. This time, Blair was able to shuck off
his T-shirt before Jim tore it off him. As Jim nuzzled his neck,
he was able to shimmy out of his jeans and boxers. Somewhere
along the way, Jim had shed his boxers, too. Nothing met Blair's
exploring hands but glorious Jim-skin.
"Jim," he gasped. "Jim, wait."
Blair moaned, and pushed slightly against his chest. Jim froze.
"I want to see you," Blair whispered.
"Lie back." In the moonlight, Jim was a study of light
and shadow, looking more like a work of art than a flesh and
blood man. "So beautiful," he breathed. "Let me
touch you."
Jim nodded. Blair reached out and ran his
hands along the smooth expanse of his chest. He scooted closer,
then climbed across Jim and straddled him. He took advantage
of his new position by first tweaking Jim's nipples, then running
his hands down his chest and over the magnificent ridges of his
abdomen.
Jim's cock, already hard and leaking, twitched
as Blair brought his hands closer, He paused, and looked up at
Jim. Even in the moonlight, Blair could see the hunger in Jim's
eyes. It beat between them like a living thing. Blair abandoned
his exploring and leaned forward to capture Jim's lips.
Jim pulled him closer, and slid his hands
down to cup his ass. Jim moaned as this brought their cocks into
alignment. He pulled Blair closer still, and thrust upward. Blair
moaned too, as their cocks rubbed together. Pleasure sizzled
across his nerves. Jim thrust again, and Blair rocked his hips,
and soon they were rocking and thrusting in pleasurable rhythm.
Blair gazed down at Jim. His expression was
ecstatic. Blair suspected his face bore the same expression.
Here, now, making love with Jim, was everything he wanted. He
wished this feeling could last forever.
His orgasm caught him by surprise. Pleasure
crested over him, and he came with a shout. Jim followed immediately,
crying out "Blair" as he came, as though the name were
a prayer.
Blair collapsed on to Jim's chest, panting.
He draped across his lover, and just lay there a while, sated
and sticky. Gradually, as his scattered thoughts returned to
coherency, he had the odd sense that he was missing something,
something important. He shivered suddenly, the sweat on his body
cooling uncomfortably quickly. He snuggled closer to Jim for
warmth, but that didn't help any, because Jim wasn't warm. In
fact he was downright cold.
Awareness hit Blair like ice water. The chest
he was draped across wasn't moving. There was no heartbeat drumming
beneath his ear. Blear jerked upright and off of Jim. He stared
at his lover, and Jim looked back at him, and smiled sadly. "No,"
Blair cried out. "This isn't happening. No. NO!"
Blair sat up, the cry still echoing on his
lips. His dazed eyes took in his surroundings. Moonlight poured
in through the skylight, outlining the furnishings in silvery
light. He was in Jim's bed, in Jim's room. He drew in a shaky
breath. It had been a horrible nightmare.
A motion caught his eye, as Jim stepped from
the shadows by the stairs. He ignored Blair as he sat down on
the opposite side of the bed. Blair was confused. Jim hadn't
asked what had upset him or anything, just acted like he wasn't
here. He wondered if he was having second thoughts about being
lovers. Jim's next words made him certain.
"Oh, god, Blair, I can't do this anymore."
"Jim, don't freak out on me here, okay?
Whatever is wrong, we'll figure out a way to fix it. But I need
you to tell me what's wrong first."
Jim didn't reply right away. "It's all
so fucked up now. My senses are all over the place. Simon won't
let me out in the field. The brass is pushing to put me on disability."
"Jim, what in the hell are you talking
about?" Blair interjected. Jim went on speaking like he
hadn't heard him.
"They think I'm a head case. Maybe they're
right, Chief. I don't know. Nothing means anything anymore. I
can't eat, I don't sleep...I'm so tired. I miss you so bad, Blair...It
hurts all the time, I can't...I can't live like this anymore."
Jim reached over and picked up something from
the nightstand. Blued steel glinted in the moonlight. "I
love you, Blair. I should have told you before... I'm sorry,
so sorry."
"Please, no, Jim. Don't do this man.
Don't do this!" Blair frantically tried to make Jim listen.
He tried to grab Jim's arm, but somehow, he couldn't touch him.
He watched in horror as Jim put the gun in his mouth. "Please,
please don't, I'm right here, Jim. I love you, please listen
to me!" Jim slowly tightened his finger on the trigger.
"Jim!"
"Dammmit, Blair, wake up!" The sharp
sting on his cheek jolted Blair into awareness.
"Jim!" Blair flung himself at Jim,
wrapping his arms around the startled man and knocking them both
off the sofa onto the floor.
Jim let out an "Oof" as Blair landed
solidly on his chest. Keeping his arms wrapped around Jim, Blair
wiggled around so his head was lying on Jim's chest. He just
lay there, listening to the thump of his heartbeat, feeling the
rise and fall of his chest.
Jim gently wrapped his arms around the man
lying on his chest, and gently stroked his back. He listened
as Blair's frantic heartrate slowed to a more normal rhythm.
"Hey, you okay now?" Blair nodded. "You want to
move back up to the sofa?" This time Blair shook his head.
Jim continued his soothing strokes on his back. "Some nightmare,
huh? Scared the hell out of me, and it wasn't even my dream."
He could feel the smile against his chest. "Do you need
to talk about it?" Even as he asked, Jim thought how strange
it was. Usually, Blair was urging Jim to talk.
Blair thought so too. "Isn't that supposed
to be my line?" he quipped. "Just 'Monsters from the
Id' coming out to play. I think I'm gonna skip the scary movies
for a while, though."
Jim chuckled, and gave him a slight squeeze.
"That's okay with me."
They lay on the floor together, arms wrapped
around each other, a while longer. Jim quietly reveled in the
feel of Blair in his arms. He could feel Blair relax, and his
breathing become slower and deeper. "Don't fall asleep here,
Chief. I'm too old to sleep on the floor." Blair mumbled
something unintelligible into his chest. "Come on, up we
go."
"But I liked sleeping on your chest."
"I didn't say you couldn't sleep on me,
just not on the floor."
Blair raised startled eyes to Jim.
"Would you like to sleep with me, Blair?
No pressure, just sleep."
He smiled and nodded.
"Let's go to bed, Chief."
Snuggled in Jim's arms, his head pillowed
on his chest, Blair felt warm and cherished and gloriously alive.
"Jim?"
"Mmmhmm?"
"What if I want more than sleep?"
He felt the sudden hitch in breathing in the chest he was laying
on.
"You sure?"
"Oh, yeah. But, there's something you
need to know first." He could feel Jim holding his breath.
"I really love you, but, Jim, I can't give you children."
Blair held on as his 'chest pillow' rocked up and down with laughter.
Finally, the shaking subsided.
"Come here," Jim growled. Blair
wriggled up Jim until they were face to face. "You're crazy,
you know that?"
Blair grinned down at Jim. "Probably.
But you love me anyway."
Jim quickly flipped them over. "Yeah,
I do." With a cocky grin of his own, he leaned down and
captured Blair's lips in a kiss.
Sticky and sated, Blair lay on his lover's
chest, riding the gentle rise and fall as he breathed. Beneath
his ear was the steady thump of his heartbeat. He shivered suddenly,
the sweat on his body cooling uncomfortably quickly. He snuggled
closer to Jim for warmth.
Jim reached out and snagged the covers, pulling
them up around them. "Sorry, babe," he mumbled. "window
latch's broken... fixit t'morrow."
"'kay. " Love you."
"Love you."
Epilogue
The warm glow of the firelight danced on the
walls of the loft. Soothing strains of jazz intermixed with crackling
from the fireplace to fill the loft with a comforting ambience.
Blair was sprawled on the sofa, laptop in
his lap, his legs pulled across Jim's lap. Jim was using Blair's
legs as a prop for the Forensics Journal he was reading. He powered
down the laptop and carefully set it on the coffee table so he
didn't disturb Jim.
Jim looked up from his article to find Blair
staring intently at him. "What?"
Blair took in a deep breath. "I found
Nell."
Jim flinched, ever so slightly. He closed
his Journal and set it carefully on the coffee table. He pulled
Blair closer, into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. "Who
was she?"
"Helene Marie Stansfield."
"As in Stansfield Lumber?"
"Yeah. And Stansfield Center for Performing
Arts and Stansfield Athletic
Center, those Stansfields."
"What's the story?"
"She was born in 1901, youngest child
of George and Nora Stansfield. She died in 1908, two weeks after
her seventh birthday, Cause of death was listed as broken neck,
believed to have been sustained in a fall from her pony."
"According to the police reports, her
pony returned to the family stables without her. An intensive
search was mounted, and after several hours, her body was found
near a small glade of saplings located in an area that is now
known as Jasper Park."
Jim sat quietly for a while. "Chief,
why was it so different with Molly? I talked to Nell, we played
together, it was like she was real."
"Hey man, you were a child. Traditionally,
children are supposed to be closer to the spirit world. You didn't
know you weren't supposed to be able to see her, and hear her,
so you were open to her. By the time Molly came along, you had
a whole lifetime of conditioning to overcome. It's pretty miraculous
that you were able to contact her at all."
"It didn't feel miraculous. It was damn
weird." Jim cuddled Blair closer. "Do you think it
will happen again?"
"I don't know. But if it does, I'll be
there with you."
"Gee, thanks, Egon. Nice to know I can
depend on you."
"Anytime, Venkman, anytime."
The warm glow of the firelight danced on the
walls. The sound of jazz faded into silence as the CD ended.
The loft filled with gentle silence, broken only by the comforting
crackle of the fire, and the soft moans and quiet murmurs of
lovers.
End
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