Title: I Need Him To Know

Author/pseudonym: Silk

Email address: silkn1@worldnet.att.net

Rating: R

Pairings: J/B

Status: Complete

Date: 5/12/01

Series/Sequel: Part 2 of a still-unnamed trilogy.

Category: Drama

Author's website: https://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/

Disclaimer: All things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. Not me. Not making any money off this either.

Notes: This is a companion piece to Lost Promise, which was from Jim's perspective. This is from Blair's perspective. If anything, this is angrier and angstier than the first story. Once more, the R rating is for language, not sex.

Summary: Blair ponders the futility of love.

Warnings: m/m, angst

*****

I Need Him To Know

By Silk

I need him to know how I feel when I wake up in the morning. He walks past me on his way to the bathroom, dressed only in a towel that threatens to slip off his hips, and I look.

I think he knows I look. But he doesn't show any sign at all-not of knowing that I'm there, not of being interested in exploring what we could be to each other, not of knowing that I look.

But if you think the big draw for me is sex, you'd be wrong. I've done everything I can, short of living my fucking life for him, to prove how much I love him. But he doesn't see it.

What does it take, man? Blood? Been there, done that. I fucking *died* for him-and he can't see that it's not about *friendship*. It's *never* been about friendship.

It's about love and longing and desperation.

It's about confronting the cold indifference of the face he shows the world. It's about wanting to strip away that mask and scream bloody murder. Because he's killing the man I love. Slowly but surely. And when he's gone, so am I.

I don't want to die again. Maybe he doesn't give a shit what happens to him anymore. But know this: we are bound together, heart and soul, whether he likes it or not. If he can't understand anything else, he has to understand that. When he leaves this Earth, he'll take me with him.

Because I can't live without him.

God, in so many ways I've tried to tell him. I went to the Academy for him. Not me. Did I want to be a cop? More than anything. Because it gave me the right to be his permanent and official partner.

I cut my hair for him. Oh, I know he liked it long. All those surreptitious glances when he thought no one was looking told me that. It wasn't a sacrifice to cut it. It was penance to a vengeful god. If I do this, please, please, please grant me my most fervent wish.

But he never came to my bed. He stopped touching me. He stopped rubbing my head like I was his favorite good luck charm. He treated me like I was fucking invisible, man.

I could stand anything but that.

So he can go ahead and act like I'm not there. One day...it'll be true.

Yeah, I know. He can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he's seen me cry. I mean, come on, what's my problem, right? How can I mourn something that never was?

He never even gave me a fucking chance, man. How fair is that? He fought harder to have a fucking relationship with any *one* of several women who were unbelievably wrong for him. He even wanted to fuck the bitch who drowned me.

I got past that. I fucking forgave him. You see? I even let him get away with murder.

But...he's doing it again.

He's killing me.

A bullet would be kinder.

End