Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Set/4824
DISCLAIMER: Jim, Blair, and all things Sentinel belong to Pet Fly Productions and UPN. I am shameless infringing on their copyright by writing this story. Can't say that I care, though.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I feel like I should apologize for this story. I don't know where this came from! I guess I dreamed it, because I woke up with it in my head this morning. This is, like, an angst overdose. Very depressing. If you're at all sensitive about anything, I urge you to check the spoiler warning in part 0!
And I am working on the next part of "House," I swear! I should get it out soon!
The shot rang out.
Blair crumpled to the ground, a red flower suddenly blossoming on his chest.
"No..." Jim moaned
The anthropologist's eyes, glassy with shock and surprise, sought Jim's, the light behind them slowly fading. His chest heaved, once, twice.
"No!"
The dying man on the ground managed to choke out one last, barely-audible word: "sorry...." Then his breath stopped altogether. Straining Sentinel ears could no longer hear a heartbeat. The body lay in the street, unnaturally still.
He was dead.
"NO!"
Not again, this could not be happening again. But it was, and he knew it. Blair's recovery from drowning in the fountain had been a miracle, a once-in-a-lifetime gift. Blair would stay dead this time.
No one could be that lucky, that blessed, twice.
Jim dropped the head he was cradling and lurched to his feet (when had he fallen to his knees? Never mind, it didn't matter now), pointing his gun wildly at Alex Barnes. She looked a little wild herself, crouched slightly, eyes darting frantically from side to side, cradling her wounded hand. Jim had shot her gun out of that hand, earlier. Even so, he had been too late.
"You killed him." His voice seethed with hatred.
"Look, Ellison, I'll go quietly," Alex said uneasily. "Just arrest me and get it over with."
"You killed him!" The hand holding his gun began to shake.
Alex began to panic. "You're a cop! You can't kill me!"
"Shut up!" he roared. "YOU KILLED HIM! Oh god!"
She played her trump card. "Blair wouldn't want you to shoot me! It won't bring him back!"
Strangely, that seemed to calm him. "No," he agreed. "Not like last time. Nothing will bring him back."
And, slowly, hands no longer trembling, he moved the barrel of his gun away from Alex and brought it to rest against his own temple.
The shot rang out.
THE END