Author's webpage: http://www.wn.com.au/firefrog

Author's notes: Thankyou Kelly, for tussling into submission the errors, and knowing what I ment by 'bonnet'.

The Sentinel is the property of Pet Fly. All rights reserved. No infringement of copyright is intended. No money changed hands.

The Word.

By Fire Frog.

Around two years ago, we had a major case involving children and some sort of blood cult. Sandburg was pretty broken up about it and I wound up sleeping on the couch, just so I could wake him up when the nightmare's came. I always do that when he hits a rough patch, still do that, it wouldn't feel right if I didn't. I'm the one he follows into these hellish situations. It's the least I can do.

So I get up around 4am to shake his shoulder and bring him out of where-ever his dreams had taken him this time. He was curled on his side, bed clothes pushed askew, hair a tumbled mess. The dream had progressed further this time, I could feel his tremors as the nightmare took him. I began to pat the shoulder I was shaking, offering what comfort human contact could give. Well, ok, it was more like I was stroking him. To calm his nerves. It's no wonder he got the wrong idea.

He clamed down pretty quickly from the nightmare, and as I went to take my hand back, he turns those big baby blues my way. Ever notice how some people's eyes... uh, never mind. Sandburg has nice eyes, you can see his soul in them. It's something else, I can tell you. Anyway, he's looking up at me, when he says,

"You know Jim," and his voice is still husky from sleep, "if you ever want to go in that direction," he hesitates, uncertain, " just say the word, and I am, like, so there man."

He's laying there, all vulnerable and trusting. What do I do? Yeah, ok, first of all I have to figure out what he meant, though the look in his eyes and the zing in the air were big hints. It was 4 o'clock in the morning for Christ's sake, give a guy a break. Ok, I sort it out in my head.

Next, I take a minute to wonder how long he's been waiting for the right moment to spring this on me. I figure, not long. Blairs a 'live for the moment' kinda guy, and I love him for it.

Yeah, I love him. Not afraid to admit it. Proclaimed it before witnesses even, though in a jokey sort of way. He understood, just like I understood, now, what he was offering. I'm in love with him, but I'm not ready to hit the sack with the guy. So I lean over, and regretfully, in the softest voice I can manage round the sudden lump in my throat I tell him,

"I'll think about it Sandburg. Now, go to sleep." With a squeeze and a pat, I leave him. Next morning, things go on as usual. Two friends, going about their daily routine.

I did think about it, off and on, over the years. Whether to climb aboard the Sandburg rollercoaster, or not. The going would be tough, but boy, what a ride! Still wasn't ready for it yet. I mean, I was just getting a handle on Jim Ellison, Sentinel - to add the whole gay thing on top seemed more than I was capable of.

Let me put it this way - as the man himself pointed out - I have a tendency for fear based responses, often-aggressive ones, and often not entirely logical ones. I didn't want to be aiming that at a potential lover, certainly not one I cared about as much as I did Sandburg.

So, I sublimated it all. Truth be told, I know a lot of married couples that touch less than Sandburg and I did when we first met. Now, well, off the top of my head I can't think of anyone who does. We're touchy feely kind of guys. No harm in that.

We've been putting a lot of time into our trust issues, both his, and mine. Had some pretty hard thinking, and even harder sharing, to do. Not sure we've covered everything, but we're getting there.

And yeah - I have spent a lot of time at the gym, thanks for noticing. But I am a cop, and the fitness thing is part of our...you know the rest. Strange how the urge to work out comes up just after Blairs has a close call with a bullet, or I glimpse the guy coming out of the shower (hey, I'm a Sentinel, I can't help but see through cracks in the door...) or when we've spent a day together in close proximity, working on a case. After a night on stakeout, just let me at them bar bells baby, I can press all day.

So - we're in the forest, just handed over some criminal types at a border exchange, and me and Sandburg are parked in a pull-over, admiring the view after our sodas and sandwiches lunch. Blair's sitting on the hood of the car, he's got sunglasses on to cut down the glare of the brilliant mid summer day. The brown denim shirt he's wearing is open at the top, the latest collection of colorful necklaces on display. The top goes with the brown jeans I've been admiring all day, and the brown hiking boots.

It all works to enhance the golden tan of his skin, the rich auburn highlights in his hair. I've been meaning to ask him where he gets his clothes from, they look so good, yetdurable. I've been meaning to ask him a lot of things. Yeah, and tell him a couple of things as well. The guy is leaning there, glowing, soaking up the sunlight and reflecting it back.

Sure, I'm rambling. And yeah, I got it bad. Thoughts all over the place, skipping from one point to another, till I can't keep them straight in my own head anymore.

I like his hands, but his eyelashes keep drawing me back as well. Every now and then I get a peek at his teeth that gets me going, but it's currently his hair that's got my attention. I could spend hours lost in the colour tones alone. Infact, I have.

Which is why, today, years after he asked, I lean over and whisper in his ear.

"The word."

And I can see he gets it. No, 'what are you talking about man?' He knows. Blairs been waiting for me.

I've been fighting my way towards him all my life, it seems. And he's been there. Patient. Watchful.

Did I say he was reflecting the sun? He's smiling at me now - and he 'is' the sun. I think I'm going to warm myself in his rays forever.

Ends.

The man who goes alone can start today, but he who travels with another must wait until that man is ready.