Title: One Reason
Author/pseudonym: Aimee
Email address: aimee_2@hotmail.com
Rating: G
Pairings: J/B

Status: Complete
Date: 11/04/00
Archive: Yes, for the SXF Archive and The Complete Kingdom of Slash. Anyone else, please ask first!
Archive author: Yes
Archive email address: Yes
Series/Sequel:
Category: Drama
Author's website: http://www.internetdump.com/users/aimee

Disclaimer: Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg, and all things Sentinel-related belong to Pet Fly Productions. I have rather blatantly infringed on their copyright by writing this story; however, I don't really care.

Notes: "One Reason" was originally published in the zine 852 Prospect #1. It appears here courtesy of the editors of that zine.

Summary: Blair decides to move out of the loft, unless Jim can give him a reason to stay.

Warnings: m/m, angst

Blair gave his room one last, sweeping glance. "Well," he said. "I guess that's everything." He shut his suitcase with a decisive click -- or he tried to, at least. It was filled to overflowing, stuffed full of various articles of clothing and the accumulated debris of several years worth of living in the same place. He frowned at the lid that stubbornly refused to latch. Getting soft, Blair. You never used to have so many things. You've been tied down too long, stuck under one roof. He sighed ruefully. When did moving become such a big deal? I need to be on my own again; I've forgotten how to travel light.

Just then, two strong hands entered his field of vision, pressing down on the lid of the suitcase, lowering it just enough to enable Blair to fasten the catches. He glanced up. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem." Jim looked tired, Blair thought. His eyes had dark purple circles underneath them and a look of utter weariness and -- was it hopelessness? -- inside them.

He picked up his suitcase with a grunt. "Uhn, this is heavy!" he said as he started lugging it towards the door. "If it turns out I forgot something, I can always run back here and get it. I mean, it's not like I'm going very far. Just down a few blocks, that's all." He gestured expressively, then noticed his empty hands. Sometime during his little speech, Jim had quietly removed the cumbersome item from his grip, carrying it for him. Blair looked away, blinking hard.

"So." They were at the door to the loft. Blair stopped and turned toward Jim. "So." There was a moment of awkward, pregnant silence between them, when the two of them just looked at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. The silence stretched, filling the loft. Jim put the suitcase down. The sudden thunk of it hitting the ground startled Blair, who jerked, then began to talk, words spilling from his mouth almost at random. "It's not like you need me around every second of the day. You haven't zoned for months now; and anyway, I'll still be working at the station with you, helping you on cases, but I just need my own place, you know? My own space. And this whole arrangement was supposed to be temporary from the start, right? From two weeks to three years -- that's a long time to put up with a roommate you never really wanted in the first place. And you can call if you need me, call me any time, day or night; you have my new number, right? So I'll still be around, I'll still be your partner, your guide, I just won't be underfoot all the time, messing up the loft, loud music in the middle of the night -- you're happy, I'm happy, everybody wins! And it's not like I have any reason to stick around here, right? Right?"

"Sandburg." A single word from Jim and Blair cut off midstream. He watched in fascination as the older man groped visibly for words, an internal struggle playing itself out on his face. What finally emerged was: "Please. Stay."

After a moment, Blair had recovered himself enough to ask, softly, "Why, Jim? Why should I stay?" His voice made it plain that this was not a hypothetical question; Blair really wanted an answer, would perhaps allow himself to be persuaded by it.

Jim clutched at the proffered chance like a drowning man clings to a life preserver, although all he could come up with at first was, "Because. Because..."

"Because why? Tell me, Jim."

"Because. It'll be easier for you to gather data for your dissertation if you're living in the same house as your research subject." Jim smiled winningly.

Blair refused to be distracted. "True, except I already have enough data for ten dissertations. I told you that already, Jim. Sorry." Blair bent to pick up his suitcase, but Jim grabbed his arm in a panic and refused to let go.

"Wait! Just wait a minute, Blair."

"OK. OK, Jim, I'm waiting."

"You can't go. I need you; you can't go."

Blair held his breath. Yes, Jim, yes, that's it.... "Need me?" he asked.

"I need you," Jim repeated. "I need you because...I need you to...to...help me with my senses. You're my guide; you can't abandon me like this!"

No! Blair dropped his head to chest, breathing heavily. So close.... "Sorry, Jim, but you can't guilt-trip me into staying. I can help you with your senses without living with you." He looked up again, eyes stony. "So, unless you have a real reason why I should stay, I'm leaving now." He inched toward the door.

"No!" Ellison bellowed frantically, arms shooting out to grab Blair's shoulders in a death grip. His eyes were wide and distressed and he seemed to be having trouble breathing, the grad student noted with an odd, clinical detachment. "No, don't leave! Don't leave me, Blair, please don't leave me!" His hands tightened even more. Blair grunted in pain. Jim's hands immediately loosened their hold, and began to stroke his shoulders in mute apology. "Don't leave me," he whispered again.

"Why?" Blair whispered back, Sentinel-soft. "Let me in, Jim. Tell me what you're feeling. Why should I stay?"

"Because." Jim's voice was rough, uneven -- almost sobbing.

Blair felt Jim's hands begin to shake where they rested on his arms, but continued relentlessly even so. "Why, Jim?"

"Because."

"Why?"

"Because..."

"Why?"

"Because...I..."

Blair's voice rose suddenly, lashing out like a whip. "Why?"

"Because I love you!" Jim's knees collapsed, and he crumpled into a heap at Blair's feet. Blair knelt, putting his arms around him as he shook with the abrupt absence of tension. "I love you. Oh, god, I love you."

Blair smiled tearfully and pressed a kiss to Jim's head. "I love you, too. Don't worry; I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving ever again." It was going to be all right, now.

After a moment, Jim stopped shaking. His arms crept around Blair's waist, pulling him closer. "Good." He sighed noisily, gathering himself. He raised his face and looked into Blair's eyes. "That was a dirty trick to pull."

"I know," Blair said. "But it wasn't really a trick. If you hadn't confessed, I really would have walked."

Jim nodded. "That's what made it so scary."

Blair looked guilty. "Well, I wouldn't have needed to do it if you weren't so stubborn! I mean, I told you I loved you weeks ago, man. And what did you do? Absolutely nothing! You pretended like it never happened. I felt so shut out. Frozen." He looked down. "I just couldn't live like that."

Jim raised a hand to stroke Blair's hair. "I didn't know what to do, how to react. Relationships scare me, Blair, especially when they're important. Love scares me. I was afraid I'd do something wrong, so I just...didn't do anything. I shut that part of myself down, built a wall around it, locked it away." His caressing hand moved to Blair's cheek. He hesitated a moment, then said, "I'm glad you broke the wall down."

Blair smiled in response, tremulously, brilliantly.

Yes. Oh, yes.

Everything was all right now.

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