Worse Than Death
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Sentinel, its characters, and its situations are owned by Pet Fly
UPN, and Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended. All other rights
available under the law belong to the author.
Many thanks to Iris Gray, Chance, and Beth who betaed this drabble.
Archive: TRIS, 852 Prospect, WWOMB; all others, please ask before
Fandom: The Sentinel
Warning: slash, no spoilers, First-Time.
Summary: A trip into the woods proves to be a big mistake for Jim
and Blair. Will Jim use these last moments to declare his love for his
Worse Than Death
"Man, I don't think this could get any worse."
Privately, Jim Ellison had to agree with his partner. Things couldn't
get much worse. Out in the middle of nowhere, not expected back
home for another week, and captured by some militaristic yahoos
who naturally weren't planning to leave any witnesses. They'd been
captured because he'd taken a day off from being the Sentinel of
the Great City, just taken his guard down and relaxed. He had the
right to do that, didn't he? Every once in a while?
This was where that attitude had gotten them. They'd even been
sleeping when the bastards invaded their camp. Sure, Jim remembered
hearing something walking around but he'd disregarded it as probably
deer or raccoons or some other form of wildlife. Only when the business
end of a hunting rifle had poked him in the back had he realized what
was going on.
He still wasn't sure what the bad guys were doing to, well, make them
bad guys, but it had to be a doozy if they were willing to go to such
extremes. As far as he could tell, they weren't doing anything, really.
Just a small separatist paramilitary style group that he'd never heard
of and, if the snatches of conversation were any indication, these
morons were extreme right-wing members of the Flat Earth Society.
Thinking about that made Jim want to groan. When he heard about
this, Simon would never let him live it down. Assuming, of course,
that both he and Blair survived for Simon to tease unmercifully.
That wasn't proving to be a very likely thing. After all, he'd practically
threatened Simon into not calling for that whole week. Now, Jim regretted
that. By the time anyone thought to look for them, he and Blair would
probably be dead.
That realization didn't exactly ease his mind.
The only good thing about this whole fiasco was that their captors had
seen fit to tie them together. Not only were they bound at the ankles
and wrists, but bound face to face. Of course, this meant that Blair's
feet dangled somewhere around his own shins and left Blair sprawled
on top of him, but hey, who was complaining? After all, Blair was smaller
and it was only fair and reasonable that he was on top. He could do
reasonable. Besides, laying on their sides was no good because their
respective weights and heights left their collective asses lopsided.
In a manner of speaking.
Blair's voice faded into his musing. "... Hey, Jim, come on back.
Jim, man, follow my voice. Jim?"
"I haven't zoned, Sandburg, I was just ... thinking."
"I hope you were thinking about a way out of here."
"Haven't thought of a good plan yet." Which was true, Jim hadn't been
thinking about plans. He'd been thinking about why having his partner
lay on top of him was such a good thing. He'd been thinking about
ways to get the words out of what he really felt. He'd been thinking
about Blair, and how little time appeared to be left to them.
Now or never, and this was the end of the line. The train labeled 'Ellison
and Sandburg' would derail any time now. How could he let this go?
How could he not say what was on his mind? It wasn't like Sandburg
could punch his lights out or leave in a huff. Still, he didn't want to die
with such a pain -- if that's what would happen -- between them.
"What is wrong with you?"
"We're tied up and probably going to die here and you're off in la-la-land.
What is so fascinating that it's turned your mind into oatmeal?"
No, he wasn't going to have this conversation with Blair. Not now, not
ever. Not even if things were going great, which they weren't, by the
way, thanks so much. Jim knew that tone of voice Blair was using, that
seriously-pissed-off-Guide voice that made the Sentinel leap up from
under his skin and take notice.
"I think I'm in love with you." Where the hell did that come from? Why
the fuck did I say that? Jesus Christ....
There was silence from his companion for several minutes, during
which Jim wondered whether his runaway mouth had just doomed
the best friendship he'd ever had in his life. What the hell was I
More importantly, what the hell was Sandburg thinking? He'd not
moved nor said a word yet. Jim reached his hearing out, just to check,
and, yes, he was still breathing. His pulse was a bit fast; Jim could
feel it pounding in an ancient beat next to his own skin ....
"James Joseph Ellison, don't you fucking dare go out on me now!"
That voice in that tone he couldn't ignore snapped him out of his near-zone
in a half-second. Shit, Jim thought ruefully, I zoned on his heartbeat.
A snort from above him came in reply. "Now that I sincerely doubt."
Before the sentinel could respond to the insult, Blair continued. "I just
can't believe you hid this from me. What, did you think I would leave
in disgust and renounce you to the world as --"
"A freak?" Jim stared straight ahead, slightly off to one side in an
effort to avoid Blair's eyes. He turned his face away then, resolutely
ignoring his partner's harsh breath on his face, avoiding the hateful
words certain to follow.
"Goddammit, Jim, that's not what I was going to say!"
"Then what were you going to say?"
He felt Blair's eyes on him, could nearly hear his pupils opening up
like a shadow-dark rose, lined with blue, precious for its color,
esteemed for its fragility. This bloom, though, was no hothouse flower;
it grew scraggly, in-between rocks and in poor soil on a cliff face,
and determined. Blair's voice, softly, panting in time with his heart,
came through the static fogging his brain. Actually, Jim was fairly certain
of brain-fog; he'd never waxed so poetic before in his life.
"As a man ... I could fall in love with ..."
"What?" Jim wasn't certain what he'd just heard. He could fall in love
with me? My Blair? Really? "What did you say?"
"A man I'm in love with."
He is in love with me? Jim could feel his own pulse speed up in
a joy he almost couldn't believe. "That's not what you said."
"That's what I meant!"
"Then why didn't you say it the first time?"
"I thought you said you couldn't hear me the first time!"
"I couldn't believe that you said ..." Jim's voice trailed off as he saw
the exasperated expression on Blair's face. Sandburg sighed and began
rocking them against the nearest wall, knocking his head into the side.
A moan erupted with each slam.
A moan that was making Jim uncomfortable, and, in their current position,
was a very bad idea. Who knew that pain and suffering could be so sexy?
"Stop that!" He knew any reproach came a bit late, and hoped Sandburg
Now that was a challenge if he'd ever heard one. Jim rolled them, so
he was on top, before leaning in, pressing his body against his smaller
partner's, trapping his curly head against the dirt. He attacked those soft
full lips with a vengeance, and was delighted to take some hits of his own.
Neither wanted -- or was sufficiently able -- to leave the field of battle
his opponent fell in supplication to him. Somehow, the bindings wrapped
around their bodies made the contest more intense. Tongues searched,
mouths fought, lips demanded. No mercy expected, and no quarter was
given. A war of passion was fallen upon two foes, the irresistible force
had met its immovable object.
The resulting collision created an explosion of heat, a lust meltdown of
Call the Coast Guard for a wetdown.
When the blessed relief came, all hostilities faded. Cease fire, and let
the bells of peace ring.
Several minutes later Jim raised his head from where it rested on his
lover's shoulder, near the breastbone and practically in the dirt, and
considered the damage. There was plenty -- love bites scattered
everywhere their mouths could reach, their faces flushed by exertion,
and come coating the insides of their jeans -- and neither of them could
do a damned thing about it.
Blair moaned softly just as Jim realized the meaning of the sounds in the
back of his mind. Before he could speak, the door slammed open and
bright light streamed copiously into the small room. The light was followed
by a stream of Major Crimes personnel, streaming inside, their guns drawn,
led by Simon.
"Oh god," Jim groaned, allowing his head to drop back down onto Blair's
body. He knew it was fairly obvious what had happened here and it was
only a matter of time before Simon -- or someone else -- figured out what
they'd been doing. Whether or not he wanted his captain to make that
connection, Jim knew they'd never live this down either. 'When captured by
the enemy, did you attempt to escape?' 'No, Blair and I decided it would
be a good time to fuck each other silly.'
Yeah, that would go over well.
"We got them, guys. Don't worry --" Jim could hear Simon stop and
consider what had been going on before they arrived, could almost hear their
captain ticking over the possibilities and consequences. "-- But I see you
haven't been." Jim risked a glimpse to see that the room was empty again
and Simon was closing the door with a big smile on his face.
Jim silenced Blair with a kiss to that wonderful mouth. "It just got
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