Simon's Say

kungfunurse@visi.com

This was inspired by several conversations I had with PJ about her story, In Deepest Consequence, which can be found on the 852 archive.
J/B pre-slash
Warning:  Simon angst ahead.


It was, Simon thought, almost as though the past four years hadn't happened.   Had un-happened.  In a strange twilight zone moment Jim's life had been de-Blaired for this quiet office visit, and so they were back at the beginning.  Back where it had all started.

 "Simon, I need to take some time off."

And now, now Simon could do it right.  Say it right.  Instead of blowing off his soon to be best friend Simon could say with casual ease, "Hey Jimbo, you're not going crazy.  It's just that Sentinel stuff getting to you.  Take a week off.  Hell, we'll both take a week off, go fishing, and figure these senses of yours together.  Just two friends, two cops, two guys, together."  No need for bouncy anthro-geeks to muddy the waters.  No need to let some long haired hippy steal the bronze ring out from under him.

But the twilight zone was kid's stuff, and Simon lived in a world of harsh reality and twisting disappointment.  So he knew that his friendship with Jim was a creature initially born of Sandburg's imagination, one that Blair so vividly believed in that it had grown wings and breath of it's own.

You could hate a man, for that.

"Simon.  Simon, are you listening?  I said-"

"I heard you the first time."  cranked Simon.  "What's so important this time?  Something even Sandburg the Great can't solve?"

"Very funny, Simon,"  Jim smiled quietly back.  "No, it's not really a problem.  I mean, yes, it's problematic, but it's not exactly trouble.  We just...just need a few days to clear up some...things."

"Things."  Simon repeated doubtfully, the full weight of his deep voice expressing his thoughts on the matter.  "I'm going to need more than that Jim."  Then he leaned forward, trying to believe in a fantastic creature of his own, one that had no roots or conception in Blair's curly head.  "We've been friends for a long time, Jim.  Since day one when you walked in here with that Seventies porn star mustache we had that respect, that vibe.  Talk to me, Jimbo."

And it seemed to work.  Jim smiled more broadly and leaned closer to Simon, including him in his impossibly won confidence.

"You see, Simon," Jim whispered conspiratorially, "it's actually pretty funny.  Don't tell Blair that, though.  The poor kid practically had a panic attack right on top of me."  Jim chuckled wickedly at the thought, and Simon chuckled too, delighted to be part of Jim's secret.

"Well, go on!"  He demanded, ready to be drawn in.

"It's really, my God it's too incredible Simon," Jim enthused, large graceful hands carving shapes in Simon's air.  "Blair...."

Simon waited for it, knowing it would be good.

"He zoned."

Simon's mind was still waiting.  He could feel the curser blinking at the top of the page, waiting for the necessary input to finish the command.  Slowly it dawned on him that he was running an old program.

"Sandburg...zoned."

"Yes."  Jim replied, brimming with pleased satisfaction.

"But, how...."

"Oh, I know," Jim continued, too pleased and excited to keep quiet.  "The Guide's not supposed to zone.  Blair just about committed seppuku when he realized that he'd somehow managed to render himself 'useless' to his Sentinel."

Jim chuckled as though this were some great joke, and Simon was still flipping through floppies in his head, trying to find the current Operating System to boot up.

"But that's not the best part."  Jim continued.  "Blair did some research after his zone, well, our zone," and Jim sounded so smug, so possessive of that particular moment, "and it turns out we've been going about this all wrong."

"Wrong?"  Simon parroted, wondering if the Sandburg zone supplied visitor pamphlets for the chronically realistic.

"Yes."  Jim hissed triumphantly.  "We can control it.  All of it.  The Sentinel stuff.  The Shaman stuff.  The spirit animals and seeing ghosts and vague premonitions.  All of it!  See, we've been so focused on getting my senses under control that we've completely neglected Blair's side of things.  He hasn't had the chance to really, uh, connect with me.  I mean, I can just smell him across the room or hear him anywhere in the building, but, you know his senses are…"

"Normal."  Simon finished for him.  "But I still don't see what-"

"He was overcompensating!"  Jim interrupted impatiently.  "You know, using one skill too much, to the point that he forgot about his others and that's what finally tripped him up.  We just need some time to give him access to me so he can, um, play around a little.  Explore."

Jim's grin just couldn't get any bigger, and he was glowing, absolutely beaming with his joy.

"And that's why we need some time off,"  Jim concluded, as though this made perfect sense to anyone at all.  "We need time, to, well, you know."

"No, no I don't."  Simon managed to grate out.

"We need to make it good for each other."  Jim explained, joyful shyness coloring his finely sculpted features.  "And if I'm lucky, and God it looks like I'm going to be the luckiest man on Earth, this is going to be a frequent thing."

"As in...lucky lucky?"  Simon ventured, finally cottoning on as a churning, horrified feeling made itself known in his gut.

"Frequent."

"You and....and Sandburg."

"Exclusive."  Jim formed the word, savoring each vowel and consonant on his lips and tongue.  Savoring them the way he'd soon be savoring Sandburg.....

And this was why Simon had always known that he didn't want to know about this Sentinel stuff.  No more than it took to get the best work out of his best detective.  Because now he knew too much, too much and it would never be enough.  He'd never be close enough because Sandburg, Blair, had gotten there first.

"You can take the weekend off.  That's it.  I expect you bright and early Monday morning..."

The blustering words fell out of Simon's mouth by rote.  Some pre-taped and pre-played version of a police captain rattled off the expected party line.  And Jim just smiled as though he'd expected nothing else.  Then he rose and turned to hug his long haired partner who was even now bouncing in unannounced into Simon's domain.

"Time, Chief, it's time,"  Jim murmured gently into Sandburg's hair.

And Simon sat behind his desk, watching his best friend and his friend's best friend leave, with a pile of ashes and broken dreams in his lap.


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