#Naomi Sandburg

[chrissykp]

Naomi: Fuck the police.

Blair: I'm trying to.

[vielmouse]

Blair: Now you have to promise me, that you won't do anything, anymore, on this.

Naomi: Well, but suppose that I-

Blair:

[meeedeee]

[VID] Be Yourself

Fandoms: The Sentinel (TV)

No Archive Warnings Apply

Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg

Jim Ellison & Blair Sandburg

Jim Ellison

Blair Sandburg

Simon Banks

Naomi Sandburg

William Ellison

Joel Taggert

Cassie Welles

Megan Connor

Daryl Banks

Incacha (The Sentinel)

Steven Ellison

Henri Brown

Team tribute

Bittersweet

uplifting

Fanvids

Time: 4:58

It's all that you can do... A team tribute with some Jim/Blair lines. Set to "Be Yourself" by Audioslave.

(Feed generated with FetchRSS) source https://archiveofourown.org/works/45517294

[makinfreshtracks]

Ice cream for breakfast day with the Smith's, 7 miles of skiing with Naomi, laser fields of glory and Sandburgs Gaga ball pit being started! https://www.instagram.com/p/CoSG1B0LtYCOWuB5e8cYtczqxqwNmB0Mr5-la80/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[morwenlovespoems]

ORGANIZING TAGS

#samhain #yule #imbolc #ostara #beltane #litha #lughnasadh #mabon

#autumn #winter #spring #summer

#spiritual #Pagan #nature #transcedence #transformation #death & rebirth #mystery #mindfulness #solace #endurance #hearth #interconnectedness #awen #mythology

#sensory/visceral #everyday #rain & fog #Appalachia feels #social justice #ocean #forest

#cozy #peace #humor #mood #joy #love #gratitude #hope #grief #healing

📚📚📚📚📚

ENTITIES

#Artemis #Hestia #Hekate #Cailleach #Triple Goddess #Green Man #Horned God

📚📚📚📚📚

AUTHORS

#alla renee bozarth #anne sexton

#annie dillard #billy collins

#book of taliesin (medieval) #brian doyle

#caroline mellor #carl sandburg

#ceisiwr serith #clint smith

#diana di prima #e e cummings

#eloise klein healy #emily dickinson

#erica helm #ezra pound

#f douglas brown #frances hayes

#fred chappell #galen gilotte

#hafiz #jrr tolkien

#kahlil gibran #kvayn

#langston hughes #madisen kuhn

#matthew olzmann #marguerite kingman

#mary oliver #mary soon lee

#maya angelou #nancy wood

#naomi shihab nye #nicolette sowder

#nizar qabbani #nv bennett

#pablo neruda #rabindranath tagore

#ranier maria rilke #robert bly

#robert frost #rochelle wallace

#rose may dance #rumi

#stephanie kallos #susan griffin

#shawna lemay #shu ting

#solmaz sharif

#ted loder #thomas rain crowe

#tukaram #victor anderson

#violet #ws merwin

[shadow-of-a-whisper]

The Sentinel (series) Ficlet, Rated: M

Naomi waited until her son's mug of chamomile tea was half empty by her estimate, and most of the tense lines around his eyes had smoothed out. Then she pounced. "Blair sweetie, what's going on with you? And don't tell me it's nothing. Even Jim has noticed, and we both know how... unobservant he can be sometimes." That was rich, coming from her, but Blair didn't point that out. She was right, Jim had been side-eyeing him with concern for days. The man wasn't as subtle as he liked to think he was. Still, Blair just shook his head. "It's not something anyone can help with. I just need to figure some stuff out by myself. You wouldn't get it." Naomi huffed and drew herself up to her full height. Damn, he should've seen that coming. He really was slipping. "Try me. Even if I can't help, I can still listen. You need to get this off your chest, it's obviously eating you alive." Blair ran his fingers roughly through his wild curls in frustration. "I'm in love with someone, okay? I love him, and he's straight. I'm a fucking idiot, is that what you wanted to hear?" Naomi's jaw dropped, but Blair didn't stop. Now that it had started, it was all pouring out. "You never wanted to be tied down to one person or one place, and I get that. You never met anyone you wanted to stay for, despite it all. Someone who made staying feel like it was a gift, not a sacrifice. Good for you. But that's not what I want for my own life. I want stability, and connection, and happily ever after. I want that more than anything. So it doesn't matter if he doesn't love me the same way I love him, that he can't love me that way. Just being by his side is enough. It has to be." Naomi was already shaking her head, clearly flabbergasted. "What does Jim have to say about all of this? Does he know this guy?" Blair stared at her blank-faced, and waited for the penny to drop. After a few moments of honest bewilderment, her eyes slowly grew to the size of saucers. "Oh!" "Yeah Mom, 'Oh'. That pretty much sums it up. I haven't even dated any guys since before I met him." He didn't tell her that he'd figured Jim might be able to smell them on him or something. Turns out, he would've been right about that. "At first I just didn't know how he'd take it. By the time I realised that he'd be fine with me being bi, it felt like it was too late to bring it up. It's not like that would've made any difference. He's never looked at me like that. I don't think the idea has ever even crossed his mind." On the other side of the loft's front door, groceries in one hand and some mail in the other, Jim remembered the occasional whispers he'd overheard at the station. Uniforms gossiping about Blair, speculating about whether or not he was gay. Using words far less kind than that. Jim had glared them down when he could. He didn't care what Blair might or might not be, that was his own business, but those bigots didn't get to talk about his partner like that. Naomi's voice was achingly soft when she spoke again. "Baby, why would you do this to yourself? It just isn't healthy." Blair's smile didn't reach his watery eyes. "He's worth it. He's worth everything, every bit of pain and sacrifice, and so much more. He's strong, kind, beautiful. I'm not blind, I know he's an imperfect asshole, but that works out because I'm one too. We all make mistakes. He's suffered so much pain and loss, and he still lights up the world just by being in it. Sometimes I look at him, and I just want to tell him, show him how I see him, because I know he struggles to see that in himself. I want to make love to him, because he deserves to be loved. I don't know how anybody can fail to love him. I want to give him reasons to smile, to keep glowing like he does. I want to light him up every day for the rest of our lives. I can't walk away from that Naomi, I just can't. I'm strong enough to live with this pain, I'm not strong enough to live without him." Naomi set her jaw in a hard line, as outside the door Jim slid boneless down the wall, parcels forgotten. God, he'd been so blind. Blair's distress, something he'd been catching flashes of here and there for the last several weeks, was so visceral right now that he could feel it buffeting him all the way from the hall. A hummingbird heartbeat, accompanied by the rasps of harsh and shallow breaths, fulled his ears. The hint of salt from the beginnings of a cold sweat, along with the indefinable scents of misery and slight panic, flooded his nose. The cacophony of sensations washed over him with all the force of a crashing wave. Blair's emotions had always been a bit... louder, for lack of a better word, than other people's. To him, at least. But they'd never been anything quite like this. Distantly, his ears ringing a little, he heard Naomi start talking again. "Blair, you deserve that kind of love too. If you walk away now, you can always hold onto your golden memories of Jim, and pretend that he might have loved you back someday. If you stay and wait until he finds out, until he throws you out of the loft again, it'll break your heart. I honestly don't know if you would ever recover from that. Please baby, let me help you pack your things." The door slammed open, bouncing off the wall with a reverberating thud, as Jim stalked over to where they were sitting. Without saying a word, face expressionless, Jim pulled Naomi up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Before she could do more than let out a startled bleat, he'd dumped her on the threshold with the abandoned groceries and slammed the door in her face. Nobody was packing a goddamn thing. He slid the recently installed deadbolt home, just in case. He went back to the sofa where Blair had just made it to his feet, his face pale and drawn. Jim wanted to die for ever putting that look on his Guide's face. Naomi didn't have a Goddamn clue what she was talking about. Of course Jim was in love with Blair too, *of course* he was. Oh. Ooooooooooooooh. Huh. Well, that was a surprise. In hindsight, it really shouldn't be. Some Cop Of The Year he was. Actually, it probably explained a lot. It definitely explained the way his heart was pounding, his veins filled with adrenaline at the thought of Blair slipping through his fingers. Blair let out a small, uncertain "Jim...", eyes lowered in mortification. That wouldn't do at all. Jim lifted a gentle hand to Blair's jaw, his midday shadow barely perceptible even to his sensitive touch, and encouraged Blair's face to turn to him. He was shit with words, but he tried to let everything he was feeling shine from his eyes. Whatever he saw there, Blair slowly went slack and open with wonder. Jim's breath left him in a quiet rush, as he let go and followed his instincts the way he only ever did with Blair there to Guide him. His eyes fluttered nearly shut as he leaned close, brushing his nose to Blair's cheek as he breathed him in. His senses were flooded with Blair's unique scent, mingled with the faint hints of 'unscented' shampoo and soap, the mild herbal scent of chamomile tea and the honey Blair had sweetened it with. The combination was heady and soothing all at once, the headache Jim had been sporting for half the day fading almost instantly to a barely-there throb. That was nothing compared to the tightness he felt in his chest as his lips gave chase, Blair's rising timidly to meet them. He kept it soft and chaste to start with, a little hesitant himself, uncertain how he'd feel about this new thing he was trying. He needn't have worried. The taste of Blair, added to his enticing scent, and the somehow unexpected scratch of the hint of stubble, punched the remaining breath from him in a shocked groan. He pressed his mouth hard to Blair's as heat shot to his groin. Blair whimpered, his lips falling open in response without thought or hesitation, his body pressing as close as it could get from the knees up. As if that had broken the spell somehow, Blair jerked back. "Jim, man, you have to be sure. I can't do this if you're not totally sure." Jim rested his forehead against Blair's, not ready to lose that precious closeness yet. "I want this, Chief. I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I know that I want to be doing it with you." Blair trembled with temptation, but he had to be strong. He couldn't afford to be careless with this. "And when you wake up tomorrow, with me in your bed, both of us naked? When it hits you, what you've done, and what it could mean for you? What then, Jim? I need you to really think about this. Think about who we work with, about your family. If we do this, I'm not gonna be able to hide it anymore, I wouldn't want to either. You know what that'll mean? Forget discrimination and unreliable back-up, we'd be breaking fraternization rules. Simon would have no choice but to separate us. We can't ask him to risk his career and IA's wrath for us. How long do you think you'll last before you zone or spike at the wrong moment, and people get killed? Even if you somehow survived that, you'd never forgive yourself." It was true, every word of it, and it was a hell of a lot. It was obvious that Blair had been thinking about it for a long time, Jim had some serious catching up to do. But he knew one thing clearly. "We'll figure it out like we always do, together. If we can't stay on the force, then we'll both go. I know that you mostly only joined for my sake. Yeah, you enjoy the work, but you still hate the violence of it. You're never gonna be happy about pointing a gun at someone, even for me." Jim wasn't wrong about that, but it wasn't the whole story either. "Jim, I could've worked things out at Rainier if I'd really wanted to. Edwards didn't have a leg to stand on when she ran me off like that, and my friends there all knew it. Academia had been losing its shine for me for a long time by then, the politics of it all. It just wasn't fulfilling anymore, not the way working with you is. What you said to me at the hospital about being a good cop, and offering me that badge, it meant the world to me. That you trust me to watch your back as your permanent partner, just blows me away." Jim acknowledged those words with another soft kiss before responding. "I do trust you Chief. That's why I don't want you at my back for the rest of our lives." He held on tight when Blair tried to pull away. "I want you at my side instead, where you belong. Between my skills and your smarts, we've got options. We'll find one that works for both of us, where we can be the team we're supposed to be, and still help people. One that doesn't have us both dodging bullets every other day. It's not like I'm gonna be young enough to pull that off forever." Blair's knees went weak, Jim's firm grip on his lower back and the base of his skull the only thing keeping him standing. "You'd do that for me?" Jim shook his head once, slowly. "I'd do that for *us*. Just like you would, like you did with that press conference of yours. You're not the only one who can pull off a grand gesture, Chief. Maybe Eli can find a spot for you on his next expedition, and I can finally take a turn following you around for a bit. I could be their security detail." Blair searched his face, but found only honest sincerity there. His love for the man in front of him, always a warm flame in the hearth of his soul, blazed through him in a rush of desire. His mouth crashed hungrily against Jim's without conscious thought, almost reflexively. Jim's body welcomed him back, pulling them tightly together again, legs tangling with each other. Somehow, that still wasn't close enough. When he pulled back, this time he pulled Jim with him. Jim followed him without question, like he always did, not caring where they were going. As long as it had a flat surface, even if that was just a bare bit of floor, then it would do.

[theparadoxmachine]

I'm finally watching the rest of the Sentinel. The penultimate episode Most Wanted isn't bad, I actually enjoyed it, but I'm about a third of the way through the finale, The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg and it does not make a damn lick of sense to me at all.

Naomi doing something stupid like firing Blair's thesis off to a published I get, but the publisher going ahead with publishing it after being explicitly told not to by its author AND publishing it as nonfiction not having any basis for proving its claims, not to mention the press getting wind of it and going nuts about it, despite, again not knowing whether it's true or not, knowing its subject is a cop, I mean...what the hell. None of that makes sense unless literally everyone left their brain at home. No wonder so many fanfics have Blair suing a bunch of people after this.

Also Jim being angry with Blair despite this all obviously being his mother's doing is a dick move. But Jim's been a bit of a dick for a while now so it's less inconsistent and more upsetting

[scarletmanuka]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Sentinel (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison/Carolyn Plummer Characters: Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg, Carolyn Plummer, Naomi Sandburg Summary:

A few scenes comparing Jim and Carolyn in the loft with Jim and Blair in the loft.

[snycock]

Weekly chat reminder

Please join us for the weekly TS chat, Saturday, May 1st, at 7 pm Greenwich Mean Time (GMT)/19:00 UTC.  That could be as early as 12 noon if you’re on the west coast of North America, or 3 pm if you’re on the east coast, or 8 pm in the UK, or even early Sunday morning if you’re in Australia or New Zealand.  Check a time zone converter to be sure!

We’re in the usual place: http://us25.chatzy.com/81935648447483. Just pick a name and a color and click on “join chat”

It’s time for an episode watch!  We’re going in order, and we’re up to Private Eyes.  The second appearance of Naomi Sandburg, this is the one where she brings her “psychic” friend Charlie Spring along.  

And next week will be our concrit session.  The prompt is “the loft”, and pieces should be no longer than 600 words.  You can upload them here: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1OosrGkcqMCnFccQtB13n78AKBcAyJpox

See you there!

[nico-meridius]

Sylum Inspiration: Blair Sandburg

Sylum Inspiration: Blair Sandburg

Tallikut: Archivist/Librarian   Blair is the only child of Naomi Sandburg, an anti establishment hippy, who dreamed many improbable dreams. His childhood was spent moving from holy site to holy site, where people worked to find whatever inner peace they could. His mother, when she wasn’t able to have him along with her on her quests, would allow Blair to live with friends and family. This exposed…

[oneiriad]

Old school it is, then, and none of these so-called Sentinel AUs, that doesn’t really have a lot to do with the show.

1. During Blair’s childhood, Naomi Sandburg travelled a lot, carrying him along with her. They lived in hippie communes and alternative communities and some places that might charitably have been called cults, and they travelled abroad as well. They went to Europe and Naomi, being Naomi, proceeded to drag her small child along on the overland journey to India, along the so-called Hippie Trail - she was probably one of the last who got through before the wars closed that route.

2. So, they went to India and they went from India to China, despite China having its own turbulent period. Still, there were quiet places, and Naomi somehow wrangled a guest house for them for a few months at this lovely mountain religious retreat in an area called Gusu.

3. Blair’s actual memories of the Cloud Recesses are few and faint - he wasn’t even ten years old at the time. He remembers getting lost in the bamboo forest and being found as he sat crying and carried home by a strangely quiet man with cold hands. He remembers playing with the rabbits and eating food that was either too bland or way, way too spicy. He remembers a little Chinese. Oh, and he remembers Uncle Wei, who insisted on being Uncle, and his tall, scary, taciturn husband. He remembers Naomi insisting on giving him a one-on-one lecture on how that sort of thing was perfectly natural and modern Western society had destroyed many countries old cultures and replaced them with their own homophobia, and this was beautiful, and Blair didn’t get a word in sideways to point out that he was her son and she had definitely already raised him well, so that wasn’t what he had meant about Uncle Wei and Hangunag-Jun being weird.

4. He had been talking about sneaking out one night, because he couldn’t sleep, sneaking out, following the sound of a flute and found Uncle Wei at the end of the trail, eyes sparking red, and Hanguang-Jun with him, with a sword, and something that wasn’t properly alive fighting them. (Uncle Wei noticed him afterwards, and they carried him back and gave him tea and got him settled down, though the next morning he still asked his mom about Uncle Wei being weird.).

5. Now he’s an adult and an academic and a police observer, and if he once in a rare while dreams of that night, well, he dismisses it as clearly something was happening, something perfectly natural - probably a local traditional ceremony he wasn’t supposed to have seen in the first place and didn’t have the context for - and goes on with his life. After all, he’s got a busy life - he found a Sentinel and people keep trying to kill him.

6. Mind you, he still writes Uncle Wei and Hanguang-Jun, and they write him. Sometimes they travel - he gets letters with stamps from all sorts of places - and sometimes they don’t and the letters come covered in whatever official stamps and hold-ups the Chinese authorities enforce at any given moment. They write him when he is a teenager, when he starts college, when he finds his Sentinel - and when his academic career falls into ruins.

7. When he finishes at the Academy, they send him a gift that he’s pretty sure is some form of antique that probably shouldn’t have left China in the first place.

8. It’s a couple of years after he stopped being a police observer and formally became Jim Ellison’s partner that they finally come to Cascade to visit, looking no older than they do in his memories (and man, does Blair spends some time talking very sternly to himself about racism and exotizicing, because no, they are not mystically, ageless beings, they are just his weird Uncle Wei and Hanguang-Jun, in town for the cultural festival the Chinese Embassy is sponsoring, and his memory is playing tricks on him, that’s all.).

9. I suspect demonic cultivation has a scent.

10. So does everyday, which also has a lot of noise (especially the way WWX does it), so Jim doesn’t really notice that other scent, because he’s a good host and a good customer at the place that sells ear plugs and that mint stuff to put under your nose.

11. I am not saying somebody ends up in a hostage situation and somebody had a sword hidden in his sleeve all along (because no, LWJ, you can’t carry a bladed weapon around in a modern US city, they frown on that) and somebody might have conjured the very angry ghost of a murder victim to scare the bad guys half to death.

12. Jim: “Chief - do you have any normal friends? At all?”

[theblueharlequin]

Chapters: 13/? Fandom: Highlander: The Series, NCIS, Leverage, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, White Collar, Dark Angel, The Sentinel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The X-Files, Eureka, Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Pushing Daisies, The Losers - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Methos, Anthony DiNozzo, Eliot Spencer, Faith Lehane, Neal Caffrey, Parker (Leverage), Alec McDowell | X5-494, Ben | X5-493, Blair Sandburg, Naomi Sandburg, Clint Barton, Alex Krycek, Jo Lupo, Oz Osbourne, Steve McGarrett, Ned (Pushing Daisies), Jake Jensen, Jake's Sister Additional Tags: Crack Series: Part 1 of Wayward Youths Summary:

Methos keeps taking in children. He's not sure how, but somehow this is all MacLeod's fault.

[wheregayeldhidsthewips]

Descendants of Madness

Disclaimer: Nobody belongs to me. Which really sucks.

 Spoilers: TS - S2 (try to contain your shock); S&H – Bloodbath, Sweet Revenge

 Rating: PG-13

 Warnings: Don’t run with scissors.

  Descendants of Madness

By Gayle Smith

  May 30, 1998

Vacaville, CA

 “Si-mon.”

 “Si-mon.”

 “Si-mon.”

 “Si-mon.”

 Chanting filled the air as a shadowy figure stepped out of the prison transport and raised his shackled hands before him in triumph. “I dreamed this day and it has come to pass. I dreamed that my children would come for me, so that I might walk, unfettered once more, through the unclean cities of the fallen ones and gather the chosen before me.”

 His hand drifted down to touch the head of the supplicant kneeling before him, blank eyes reaching up to meet his. “I dreamed you’d come.”

 The young man, his guard’s uniform covered in the blood of a man he’d once called friend, dropped down to press a kiss to manacled foot in front of him. “Si-mon. Si-mon. Si-mon. Si-mon.”

* * *

 The harsh jangle of the phone disturbed the peaceful silence of the room, bringing a weary sigh from the lone occupant of the bed and seconds later a hand fumbled across the night stand until its fumbling fingers closed around the handset before disappearing beneath the blankets again.

 “‘lo?” A sleep-tinged voice answered, “‘s’it? Yeah. What?” The curly-haired figured shot up in bed, throwing back the covers and reaching for the crumbled pair of jeans on the floor. “How the hell did that happen? Damn it. When? Has anyone told Hutch? No, I’ll call him, then I’ll meet you down at the precinct. And I wanna see everything you’ve got on this. Everything.”

 * * *

 June 3, 1989

Boston, MA

 Laughter followed Debbie Foster as she crossed her office and called out to her companion. “Just give me five minutes to print that file and I’ll meet you in the board room.”

 Stepping across the room, she leaned over her computer and quickly brought up the document in question, sending it to the printer. Eyes still on the printer, she reached over idly to pick up the ringing phone and bring it to her ear, “Hello?”

 “Darkness falls, Simon calls.” A sibilant voice whispered in her ear.

 Papers drifted to the floor, falling from fingers gone slack. Every trace of emotion was wiped from her face.

 “Si-mon.”

 “The time of ascension draws near. Are you ready my child?”

 “Yes, father.”

 * * *

 June 10, 1998

Somewhere in California

 “Pick up the phone. Please, Gail, pick up the phone.” She clung desperately to the phone, her gaze moving nervously between it and the door. “Please, please.” A sigh of relief escaped her lips as the connection was made, “Gail, thank God I...”

 ... awfully busy, but if you leave a number, I’ll be sure to get back to you as soon as I return.” A light, breezy voice informed her.

 “Gail, oh please, you have to get this message. It’s very important. Simon is free. He’s coming for the children, you have to warn...”

 “I dreamed you’d betray me.”

 The soft voice froze the blood in her veins and she turned toward it in mute denial, shaking her head as she stumbled backward.

 “Yes, my child, I dreamed of this.” Simon Marcus reached out to touch her face, cupping it lovingly between his palms. “All of this. And then, I dreamed your death.”

 “No! Please, Simon, please, no.” She fell to her knees in front of him. “Please, I wasn’t betraying you. I swear. I was just trying to find him for you. I swear.”

 “There is no need for untruths between us.” He bent down before her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Simon knows the truth. He dreamed it.” With one swift motion, Simon snapped her neck, watching serenely as she fell bonelessly to the floor. “I dreamed your death.”

 * * *

 June 13, 1989

Cascade, WA

 “Get a move on, Chief.” Detective James Ellison bellowed at his partner as he checked his watch again. “Sandburg, what the hell’s taking so long?”

 “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Blair mumbled around the leather tie in his mouth as he smoothed his hair back into a ponytail, “Geez, Jim, what’s the hurry? Simon’s not expecting us to be at the station for another hour.”

 “I know, but I want to try and get some of the paperwork cleared off my desk before those bozos from the Federal Task force arrive.” Jim motioned toward the open door. “Which I’m not going to do if you don’t get the lead out.”

 “Get the lead out of what?” A cheery voice and the scent of sage brushed past Jim as Naomi Sandburg swept through the open doorway. “Blair, darling.” She enfolded her son in an embrace.

 “Mom? What are you doing here?” Blair’s arms tightened around her as he returned the hug. “When did you get here?”

 “I came straight from the airport, sweetie.” Naomi held Blair at arms length and ran a mother’s eye over him. “You look tired, are you getting enough rest?”

“I’m fine, Naomi.” Blair smiled indulgently at her, “And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

 “Oh, that’s quite simple, I’ve come to kidnap you,” Naomi responded brightly.

 “Kidnap?” Blair backed away warily. “Mom, what are you up to?”

 “Just trying to spend some quality time with my favorite son.” Naomi linked her arm though Blair’s and led him to the couch. “I thought it might be nice if we spent a little time together. I know the semester is over and I’m sure that Jim can spare you for a few days. Isn’t that right, Jim?” Naomi turned and fixed her bewitching gaze on Jim. “What do you say?”

 “I... ah...” Jim looked between the two figures on the couch, from Naomi’s steady gaze to Blair’s beseeching one. Noticing the slight shake of his partner’s head, a grin crept across his features. “You know, Naomi, I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Our little Blair’s been burning the candle at both ends trying to get through finals and help me out at the station. I think some time away to relax is just what the doctor ordered.”

 “But, Jim, man, don’t you need me down at the station?” Blair’s voice held a barely checked note of desperation. “What about that meeting with the Feds? Simon was expecting both of us for that.”

 “I’m sure Simon will understand, Chief,” Jim replied with a good-natured grin. “He knows how much extra time you’ve been putting in. Go on, go with your mom. Commune with nature, eat granola, meditate. I’ll be sure to save you all of the really exciting paperwork.”

 “Gee, thanks, man.” Blair frowned across the space at his roommate. “No, really, man, I mean that. Sincerely.”

 “Oh, come on, honey, is it really going to be so bad spending a few days alone with your mother?” Naomi reached out a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from his face.

 “No, mom, of course not.” Blair reached up to capture her hand and held it. “All right, I surrender. What should I pack?”

 “A little of everything,” Naomi replied mysteriously.

 Stopped in the doorway to take a final jab at his friend, Jim thought he saw something akin to relief cross Naomi’s face at Blair’s capitulation. He opened his mouth for a moment, intending to ask her if something was wrong just as she turned to him with a graceful smile and quietly waved him out the door.

 * * *

 “Ellison!”

 Jim winced as hot coffee splashed across his hand and turned to face his commanding officer. “Yes, sir?”

 “Where’s Sandburg?” Simon’s gaze traveled anxiously over Jim’s shoulder to the space usually occupied by his partner.

 “Probably still back at the loft, why?” Jim’s focus shifted to the two men waiting in Simon’s office. Both in their mid-50’s, neither had the look Jim had come to typically expect of Feds. The slight arrogance that seemed to surround most of their brethren was missing and both wore an air of weariness that Jim associated with cops who had spent too many years on the streets.

 “What do you mean ‘back at the loft’?” Simon snapped. “I told you both to be in my office at 8:00 to meet with the representatives from the task force.”

 “I know, sir, but Naomi turned up just as we were leaving.” Jim’s attention shifted back to Simon, a faint alarm going off in the back of his head over his captain’s reaction. Simon had said nothing to indicate that Blair’s presence was required at the meeting. “She wants spend a few days with Sandburg and with the way the kid’s been running himself ragged between school and working at the station, I figured he could use the down time. Why? Simon, what’s going on?”

  “Jim, you’d better come in here.” Simon motioned for Jim to join him in his office, closing his door on the curious glances of their co-workers.

 * * *

 “Blair, sweetie, you don’t have to pack everything you own,” Naomi chastised lovingly from the doorway of his room.

 “I’m not packing everything, I’m just... You know, this would be a lot easier if you told me where we were going.”

 “And ruin the surprise?” Naomi’s bright laughter filled the room. “Where’s that sense of adventure I always loved about you, my darling?”

 “Probably somewhere in this bag.” Blair gestured to the large duffel covering half his futon. “But if you tell me what the emergency is and why you’re in such a hurry to get me out of here, maybe I’ll be able to drag it out.” Shoving the duffel aside and plopping down on the bed, Blair reached a hand out to his mother and pulled her closer. “Naomi, what’s wrong? What are you running from?”

 “Nothing, sweetie, nothing at all.” Naomi drew him into her arms. “I’ve got everything I could ever need right here.”

 “Mom, please, I can tell you’re upset about something.” Blair rubbed soothing circles across his mother’s back as she clung to him. “What is it? Please, tell me. You’re not...” Naomi saw the sudden fear shining in Blair’s eyes. “Are you sick?”

 “No. No, Blair, love, I’m not sick. It’s nothing, nothing important.” Naomi stood and brushed away the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. “Let’s just take what you have and go, Blair. We can get whatever we need when we get there. Please.”

 “Okay, mom,” Blair hefted the bag over his shoulder, “but when we get there I expect you tell me what’s going on. Everything.”

 “Anything you want, Blair, just hurry.” Naomi started for the door, her eyes widening fearfully as the phone began to ring. “NO! Blair, leave it.”

 “Mom, it could be Jim.” Blair dropped the bag and reached for the phone.

 “Sweetie, no!” Naomi’s hand closed over Blair’s. “Jim knows we’re leaving, and I know you, if that’s one of your friends from the University we could be here all day. Just let the machine get it. Please. For me.”

 “All right,” Blair shouldered the bag again and followed Naomi out the door. “But you’re going to tell me what’s going on, mom.”

 “Of course, sweetie. Of course.”

 * * *

 Jim paid little attention to the phone ringing in his ear, instead fixing his attention on the files scattered across Simon's desk and the worried frowns surrounding him. The topmost folder was open, revealing bloody crime scene photos of a man in prison guard's uniform with half his face blown away and the inside of a prison transport drenched in blood.

 Fixated on the dark red patterns and the tension radiating off the other men in the room, Jim nearly jumped out of his skin as his own voice greeted him from inside the phone. 'Shit. Answering machine.' Jim silently berated himself and took a deep breath, trying to push aside his feeling of impending doom. "Sandburg, are you there? Chief, if you're there pick up the phone. Okay, listen, I want you to call me as soon as you get this. If you come back to the loft don't leave before you call me, got that?"

 Hanging up the phone, he looked up to find three pairs of eyes watching him. "He must've left with Naomi already."

 "Who's Naomi?" One of the Feds, the angry looking blond one Simon had called Hutchinson, barked at Jim.

 "His mother. What the hell is it to you?" Jim returned the man's icy glare. "And what do you want with my partner?"

 "Hutch, calm down." The second man, his short, dark curls just beginning to turn gray, reached out and placed a calming hand on his partner's arm before fixing his gazing on Jim. "Do you have any idea where they went?"

 "No. Naomi just that said she wanted Blair to come away with her for a few days." Anxiety crept through Jim's gut again. There was something seriously wrong with this situation. Why the hell were these people so damn anxious to find his partner?

 "Simon, what the hell's going on here? Who are they?" Jim jabbed an angry finger in the direction of the visiting Feds. "And what the hell do they want with Sandburg? Is Blair in some kind of trouble?"

 "Jim, I think you'd better have a seat." Simon motioned to the table behind them and started gathering the files off his desk.

 "I don't want to have a seat, Sir." Jim replied coldly, his jaw tensing. "I want to know what the hell is going on."

 "Jim, please..."

 "Captain Banks," the dark-haired one cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I think you'd better get an APB out on Sandburg."

 "You think I don't know that?" Simon snapped at the man before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Captain Starsky, please, just take the files and wait with your partner at the table. Give me a minute to make that call and have a word with my detective."

 "We're wasting time here." Hutch hissed toward his partner. "I told you that we should've just headed straight to the apartment and picked up the kid."

 "Hutch, drop it." Starsky curled a hand around Hutch’s forearm and directed him to the table. “These people know what they’re doing, let’s give them a chance to do it.”

 “All right, I just...” a weary sigh escaped him and Hutch closed his eyes.

 “I know, babe, I know.” Starsky turned back and scooped the files off of Simon’s desk, meeting Jim’s hard stare. “While your captain’s taking care of that, there’s somethin’ I think you should see.”

 Jim studied the man closely, once again gaining the impression that he and his partner were something more or less than the harried Federal agents he’d been expecting. “Unless it’s going to tell me why you’re so interested in my partner, I don’t care.”

“It is. Please.” He gestured toward the table. “All I’m askin’ for is five minutes, detective. Just listen to what we’ve gotta tell you and then decide from there.”

 Jim sat stiffly across from them, suddenly not sure if he wanted to know what those bloody pictures had to do with his friend. As he watched, Starsky reached to pull the second file from the pile and flipped it open in front of him. Inside, a man of approximately 30 stared up at Jim, his guard’s uniform neatly pressed, his warm brown eyes holding a glint of humor.

 “Joseph Spinelli, a prison guard for the last 8 years. He and his partner and another guard were transferring a felon from Folsom prison to San Quentin thirteen days ago.” Jim tried to place the note in Starsky’s voice as he recited this information. Sadness? Regret? “Their prison transport was found abandoned at the side of the road, their prisoner gone and both Spinelli’s partner and the other guard murdered. No sign of Spinelli.”

 “What do a dirty guard and a prison break in California have to do with my...”

 “Debbie Foster,” Hutchinson intoned as he tossed the next folder down in front of Jim, “twenty-eight year-old investment banker in New  York. Walked into her office ten days ago to get a file and hasn’t been seen since.” He sorted through the files, “Jennifer Santo, disappeared from her home, leaving her five month old daughter behind, that same day. George Murphy, disappeared off a construction site. Tyler Parker. David Rhodes. Kathy Wilder.” His voice rising as he slapped each file down, until a hand land softly on top of his, stilling it.

 “What the hell have any of these people have to do with Sandburg?” Jim snapped, what little patience he had wearing thin. “Damn it, Simon, what’s going on?”

 “Twenty-two years ago,” Starsky leaned back in his chair, his voice so low that Jim had nudge his hearing up to catch it. “Hutch and I were part of the investigation that brought down Simon Marcus...”

 “Simon Marcus? The cult leader?” Jim found himself straining forward, vague memories of news stories flashing through his memory.

 The knot in Starsky’s stomach tightened as he remembered the horrors they’d found. “We were the arresting officers...” his voice faltered and he exchanged a glance with his friend that bespoke shared pain. “God, I can’t even begin to tell you what we found there. After all this time, everything we’ve seen as cops, none of it, not one other unholy terror compares to what they were doing. We managed to arrest Marcus and most of the cult’s hierarchy, or so we thought. It took eight months to bring Marcus to trial and convict him of the nine murders we could pin on him.”

 A sudden spike in Hutchinson’s pulse drew Jim’s attention. The man was reaching for a glass of water with a hand that trembled so slightly that even with his senses Jim could almost believe it was his imagination.

 “Hutch?” Somehow, Starsky had picked up on his partner’s discomfort as well, reaching out to gently touch Hutch’s back. The move was so intimate and familiar that for a moment Jim found himself leaning into the comforting hand that was always there when he needed it, turning to catch the smile that always offered support and encouragement, only to find it missing. A chill worked its way down his spine as he turned back to the two men.

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” The blond man waved off his friend’s concern and turned to Jim. “At the sentencing hearing, they got into the court house somehow and...” there it was again, that telltale spike in his pulse, a slight increase in respiration, “they kidnapped Starsky. Right from under our noses, right from under my nose.”

 “Hutch.” This time the warm voice held a note that was at once both supportive and concerned. “Don’t.”

 “Yeah, I know,” in a tone that clearly said he didn’t agree, “it wasn’t my fault.” Brushing a hand across his face, he looked up at Jim and continued, “When we found Starsky, the remaining cult leaders were holding him at an old, closed down city zoo. But that wasn’t all we found. God, if we’d had any idea...” his voice cracked, “they were holding children there. Thirteen children. Jesus Christ, you’d think that someone, some parent, grandparent, teacher, someone would’ve reported at least one of those children missing. The things they did to those children...”

 Starsky reached to pull Joseph Spinelli’s folder out and dropped it on top again. When he finished flipping through the first few pages, Jim found himself looking down at a picture a thin, young boy. Hunched in the corner of what appeared to be a cave, he was covered in filth, welts and bruises showing through the torn clothes he wore.

 “Damn,” Jim swore softly, his heart breaking for the scared little boy in the pictures, “Spinelli was one of the kids?” The implication suddenly hitting him as he looked sharply at the two shrewd pairs of eyes studying him. “All of them?”

 “Yes.” Hutchinson turned the pages in the next file. “It took over a week for anyone to make the connection between the disappearances and Marcus’ escape.”

 Feeling the cold dread that had started in the pit of his stomach spreading outward, Jim looked to Simon for support, afraid to ask the next question, not wanting to hear the answer he already knew. The brief flash of pain in Simon’s eyes before he turned away only confirmed Jim’s fear. Taking a deep breath, he asked. “Blair?”

 No words were spoken as another file was pushed in front of him. Worn, the edges tattered with age and use, the precise letters, written in neat block, everything about the file seemed to mock Jim, daring him to open it. In that moment, he found he couldn’t. Couldn’t open it. Couldn’t look at the words, the pictures. Couldn’t know that once, somewhere, someone had hurt Blair and that he’d been unable to stop it, hadn’t even known about it.

 But he had to look, didn’t he? Had to know if he was going to help, going to stop this from happening again. And so, slowly, so slowly that no one could tell it contained the same slight tremble that Hutchinson’s had just moments before, Jim’s hand reached out and touched the file. He ran his finger across the faded letters: Sandburg, Blair, as though it that could somehow change them. Then, with an almost too casual flick of his wrist, he opened it.

 Jim slammed his eyes shut at the sight that greeted him, as if those thin tissues of flesh could block out the image that was now seared into his brain. The sight of that achingly tiny boy, curled into a corner, his small body covered in bruises, painfully thin ribs straining against flesh that seemed stretched to the breaking point. And then there were the eyes, eyes that Jim recognized despite the intervening years and the changes they’d brought, eyes that should be full of joy and wonder, but only held fear.

 “Simon, I...” Jim closed his eyes against a flood of emotion, anger and fear warring with pain and regret. “I can’t look at this.”

 “Jim, I’m sorry.” The compassion in Simon’s eyes almost undid him. “I should’ve warned you. But...” he shook his head and turned away, whispering softly. “But how do you prepare someone for that.”

 A hand gripped his arm, squeezing briefly before pulling away. “Me too. I should’ve taken the pictures out. You didn’t need to see that, no one does.” Starsky shuffled through the file, removing a handful of photographs before handing it back to Jim. “Just the reports, if you think...” He left the thought unfinished, shrugging apologetically.

 Trying hard to check his emotions, Jim opened the file again, running a professional eye over the reports, ignoring the pang in his heart at what each methodically catalogued injury had meant to the little boy who was now his best friend. Closing it again, Jim pushed aside the nagging voice in the back of his head proclaimed there was something missing and focused his attention on Starsky and Hutchinson.

 “Why?”

 The question, spoken coldly, startled the two visitors and they exchanged a quick glance before Hutch asked. “Why what?”

 “Why help him? After everything Marcus and his followers did to these kids, why would Spinelli help him escape?” Catching the silent, almost imperceptible signals that flew between them, Jim knew there was still more they hadn’t told him. “And why kidnap the other children? What could they possibly want from them after all this time”

 Hutchinson’s pulse spike again and Jim turned a laser fine glare on him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

 “They weren’t kidnapped, at least not that we can prove.” Hutch slumped back in his chair, rubbing his face. “At least one we know wasn’t. Kristine Anderson was in protective custody in Portland, three days ago she answered the phone and then hit the officer guarding her over the head with a lamp and disappeared.”

 “So, she was in on it, went voluntarily?”

 “No, she was... From every report, the girl was terrified when the Portland PD picked her up and told her what was going on. She didn’t remember a lot of what happened, but enough to be scared. She went into protective custody willingly, gladly.” Hutch shifted uncomfortably, making eye contact once more. “Until she got that phone call, a phone call that shouldn’t have gotten through to her at the safe house, she was fine. Afterward... the officer said that she just went blank, like there was no one there.”

 “What the hell does that mean?” Jim’s heart raced at the implications. “Are you saying that they got to her? With just a phone call?”

 “We’re not sure what happened, but...” Starsky heaved a sigh, once again breaking eye contact. “Given the sudden circumstances behind each disappearance, the out-of-character nature of them... We know that the cult was usin’ brainwashing techniques back in the 70s and the docs figure that maybe the kids are reacting to some kind of post-hypnotic suggestion that was planted in ‘em before they were rescued. Now all they gotta do is call the kids and activate it.”

 “Naomi.” Jim suddenly sat upright in his chair. “I knew something was wrong with her. She was too desperate to get Blair out there this morning. She has to know that something’s wrong.”

 “You think she’s trying to protect Sandburg?” Simon asked dubiously.

 “If she is, it’s about time.” Jim’s eyes narrowed angrily as they drifted over the folder bearing Blair’s name. “How the hell could she let this happen, Simon? I know she wasn’t the most attentive mother, but for Christ’s sake, how the hell could she let something like this happen to her own child?”

 “I don’t know, Jim.” Pain shone in Simon’s eyes as he thought of his own son. “I can’t even begin to imagine.”

 “Wait a second.” Hutch snapped his fingers and reached across the table for the file. “Who did you say this Naomi person was?”

 “Blair’s mother.” Jim replied, scorn coloring his tone.

 “Not according to this.” Hutch flipped quickly through the pages, pointing insistently at the relevant line.

 “What are you talking about?” Jim snatched the file back, quickly scanning the page.

 Name: Blair Alonso Sandburg

DOB: 12/27/69      Age: 7

Father: Unknown

Mother: Deceased

 * * *

 “Blair, honey, you’re not eating.” Naomi reproved gently, cupping a hand over her son’s. “What’s wrong?”

 “Besides the fact that you won’t tell me what’s going on?” Blair turned his hand over to grasp hers. “Mom, I know there’s something more going on here than just your wanting to spend time with me. What is it?”

 “Yes, sweetie, you’re right, there is.” Extracting her hand, she reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear before patting his cheek. “But I’ve already promised to tell you all about it once we get to the cabin. I’m talking about whatever else is bothering you. Blair, sweetie, I can tell just by looking at you that something is wrong. You’re too pale, too thin. What’s wrong?”

 Blair looked at his mother for a long moment, as if weighing his choices, before shrugging and pulling away. “There was an accident, a few weeks ago. I guess I’m still recovering.”

 “Accident?” Naomi’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at her son’s pallid features. “What kind of accident? Does this have something to do with your work with Jim?”

 “Yes, no... Not exactly. It’s a long story, Mom. And I don’t think I’m really ready to talk about it yet.” He shifted uncomfortably and recaptured her hand. “The short version is Jim and I kind of had a falling out and we both said and did somethings we shouldn’t have and we’re still trying to put the friendship back together.”

 “Oh, sweetie, I know how much Jim means to you,” Naomi squeezed the hand holding hers and sighed. “My timing couldn’t have been worse, could it?”

 “Actually, Mom,” Blair laughed gently. “It could’ve been a lot worse considering. Besides, maybe some time apart will do us good. It seems like lately we’re either trying too hard to act normal or sniping at each other.” He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn their conversation had taken, and pushed his plate away. “What do you say we get this circus on the road again?”

 “You’re right,” she sighed, gathering her belongs. “We still have a long drive in front of us. I’m just going to freshen up.”

 “Okay, I’ll meet you at the car.” Blair dropped some money on the table and started to slip his wallet in his back pocket before catching sight of a payphone across the restaurant. Pulling out his calling card, he walked over and quickly dialed.

 * * *

 “Major Crime.”

 “Hey, Henri, is Jim around?”

 “Hairboy, is that you?” Henri swiveled around in his chair, grinning gleefully at the sight of Jim shut away in Captain Banks’ office with the two federal task force agents. “Man, Simon was not happy to find out you’d skipped on this morning’s meeting.”

 “Damn. I was afraid that would happen. How loud was he?”

 “Loud,” Henri confirmed. “Just about took Ellison’s head off.”

 “Maybe I should head back...”

 “Where are you?”

 “A restaurant outside of Yelm.”

 “What’re you doing all the way out there?” Henri asked, rifling around in his top desk drawer.

 “That’s a good question.”

 “What?”

 “Going... somewhere with my mom. She showed up on our doorstep this morning to whisk me away for a long weekend of family bonding.”

 Henri burst into laughter. “I’ve seen your mother, Hairboy, I’d take a weekend in the mountains with her over a meeting between Jim and the Feds any day.”

 “Henri, man, she’s my mom. Cut that out. Listen, can you tell Jim I called? I’ll let him know where we’re headed as soon as I know.”

 “You got it Sandburg, later man.”

 * * *

 Jim stepped out of Simon’s office, pale and grim, making his way, woodenly, over to his desk and sat down heavily.

 God damn, he needed a drink. Jim couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed a drink to numb the horrors his job brought to him everyday, probably the night Lila died, but he’d just about sell his soul for one right now. For anything to help dim the memory of that thin, battered little boy and eyes that should only know joy filled with terror.

 “Jim? Man, are you all right?” Henri stood next to his desk, brow furled in concern. “I called you a couple times.”

 “Sorry, H. Yeah, I’m fine, just...” He waved a hand in the direction of Simon’s office. “This case is...” He trailed off, staring back through the blinds at Starsky and Hutchinson sorting through the files.

 “Ugly, huh?” When Jim nodded, Henri just shook his head. “Sorry, man. Listen, I just wanted to pass on a message from Sandburg. He wanted you to know—”

 “Sandburg?” Jim’s head whipped around audibly and he glared up at Brown. “When did you talk to Sandburg?”

 “About twenty minutes ago,” Henri replied, puzzled by the sudden change in Ellison’s attitude. “You were in with Captain Banks and the Feds.”

 “And you didn’t call me?” Jim snapped, rising angrily to his feet.

 “I told you, you were in with Simon and—”

 “I don’t give a damn who the hell I was in with, you should’ve called me.” Jim’s voice rose with every word.

 “Ellison.” Simon stood in the doorway of his office, glaring at his detective. “What’s the problem?”

 “Brown talked to Sandburg,” Jim ground out, pointing an accusatory finger at the other detective.

 “You what? When?” Simon demanded, the two Feds crowding in behind him.

 “I talked to Hairboy on the phone. What’s going on, Captain?” Henri asked, concerned. “Why the big deal about my talking to Sandburg?”

 “Did he say where he was?” Starsky pushed in between Jim and Simon.

 “Yeah, he said he was in a restaurant outside of Yelm.” Henri answered. “Simon, is Sandburg in some kind of trouble?”

 “We think he might be. Did he give you any idea where he was headed?”

 “No.” Henri shook his head in disgust. “He only said to let Jim know he called and that he’d try and call back when he knew where they were going. Jim, man, I’m sorry. If I’d had any idea that Sandburg was in some kind of trouble, I’d’ve got you right away.”

 “I know. I shouldn’t have come down on you like that,” Jim admitted apologetically. “I’m just worried.”

 “Yeah, I hear you, man.”

 “Okay, listen up people, I don’t want to have to repeat myself.” Simon stood in the middle of the bullpen, making sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing. “If anyone here takes a call from Sandburg, you find Detective Ellison or myself right away. Do not let him off the line. Is everyone clear on that?” A round of affirmations followed.

 “Captain Banks, this Yelm, where is it?” Hutch asked, following his partner and Jim back into the captain’s office.

 “It’s a small town about thirty, thirty-five miles South of here.” Simon pulled a map out of his filing cabinet and spread it out on the conference table. “Here.” He pointed to the spot on the map.

 “Is there anywhere around there that you think they could be going?” Starsky traced the line of freeways leading to the small dot on the map.

 “Nothing I can remember Sandburg bringing up,” Jim replied thoughtfully. “And from there they could be headed to any number of out of the way places. Up into the mountains to one of the National Parks or Forests, back over to I-5 and down into Oregon. Damn it, I should’ve stuck around and found out where Naomi was taking him.”

 “She probably wouldn’t have told you the truth anyway,” Hutch pointed out, turning to his partner. “What now?”

 “That’s up to Captain Banks.” Starsky watched him expectantly. “We’d like to stick around here, with your permission. Sandburg’s the last kid on the list, and the hardest to track down. I think if we’re going to have any hope of findin’ the others or Marcus it’s gonna be through him.”

 “We’d appreciate any support you’d be willing to lend us.” Simon replied, glancing significantly at his detective. “Have you checked into your hotel yet?”

 “No, we were kind of hoping we wouldn’t be staying that long,” Hutch sighed, rubbing long fingers across his forehead. “We should probably check in with the task force, too, let Franks know what’s going down.”

 “Ellison, forward your calls to your cell and tell Brown I want to see him in here. I want him to get started calling all of the contacts listed for Naomi in Sandburg’s personnel file. Then make sure Captains Starsky and Hutchinson get settled in their hotels,” Simon directed. “When you get back we’ll see what Brown’s come up with and see if you can come up with anyone else Sandburg’s mentioned.”

 “Contact list?” Hutchinson questioned. “You don’t just have a number you can call?”

 “For Naomi?” Simon snorted softly. “Not hardly. Ms. Sandburg travels quite frequently, usually to some of the more exotic locations. It makes it hard to find her when she isn’t trying to get lost.”

 “Makes her hard to find when her son needs her,” Jim muttered angrily.

 “Jim,” Simon warned softly.

 “Whatever,” Jim replied curtly. “I’m going to go transfer my calls, let me know when you’re ready.”

 “Mind if I ask what that was about?” Starsky motioned toward the closed door.

 “We’ve had a hard time getting a hold of Ms. Sandburg after Blair was injured on a couple of cases,” Simon explained. “Detective Ellison is a bit... protective of his partner, he tends to take things like that a little more personally than Sandburg does.”

 “I can understand that,” Hutch said softly, exchanging a knowing glance with his partner.

 * * *

 Jim leaned against the wall outside of the hotel room Starsky and Hutchinson had just checked into, carefully extending his hearing to pick up on their conversation.

 “What do you think of Ellison?”

 “Seems like a good cop to me. Really seems to care about the kid.”

 “You don’t think it’s a little strange that a former army ranger just happened to lose his partner at a time like this?”

 “Hey, you lost me once in a crowded court house.”

 “That’s not funny, Starsk!”

 “I know, Babe, but it’s true. I think Ellison’s a good cop who got caught in somethin’ none of us are prepared to deal with and I think you’re takin’ too much responsibility for this on yourself.”

      * * *

 Hutch jumped from the car, not even taking time to turn off the ignition, and scrambled around the front, his long legs eating up the distance between him and the horrifying tableau in front of him. With each hurried, pounding step, he could hear the sounds in front of him, the low fervent chanting of the cult members, grow louder, “Si-mon. Si-mon. Si-mon,” filling his ears.

 But it wasn’t the black robed figured that transfixed him, driving a cold spike of terror through his chest. It was a tiny slip of girl, red hair flowing across her simple white gown, and the knife she held above her head, poised to strike. It was the sight of his partner, his best friend, helpless before her, his hands tethered over his head.

 Even as he ran, legs pumping, lungs straining, he knew he was going to be too late. Too late. Too late. And then, there it was, the flash of morning sun against the blade as it moved in an inexorable arc, down, down, until the only sounds he heard were the soft sickening squelch of the blade sinking into vulnerable flesh and Starsky’s cry of pain.

 “NO!” The cry was torn from his throat as Starsky lifted eyes already fogged with pain to meet his. A brief second of recognition passed between them before those eyes slid silently, permanently, shut. “NO! STARSKY! NOOOOOOOOO!”

 "Hutch! Hutch!" Strong arms wrapped around the sobbing man, holding him close, "Hutch, come on, babe, wake up. It's just a nightmare, that's all," Starsky soothed, rocking his partner gently as he held him tight, "Just a nightmare. I'm right here."

 “Starsk?” Hutch clutched weakly

   Sentinel, Too – part 1: May 20 1998

New Moon – May 25th, 1998/June 24th, 1998/July 23rd,1998

Full Moon – June 10th, 1998/July 9th, 1998

Bloodbath - Judge Arlen B. Yager

[shadow-of-a-whisper]

A Brief Overview Of “The Sentinel (TV)”

Jim was raised by a strict, workaholic, divorced dad (mom wanted nothing to do with her kids) who pitted him against his younger brother for their entire childhoods, until Jim was old enough to run away to the nearest Army recruitment office. Dear old dad’s A+ parenting also involved making Jim feel like a freak (seriously, he used that exact word, to his recently traumatised 10-year-old child’s face) for using and talking about having the Sentinel abilities he was born with. Jim ended up suppressing his abilities so hard that he completely forgot he even had them. He has SO MANY trust and control issues as a result of his upbringing. Seriously, SO. FREAKING, MANY. His fear of abandonment in particular can probably be spotted from space. He fairly quickly made his way up to Captain in the Rangers, Spec Ops, until a mission went south and he got stranded in Peru for 18 months. His entire unit died in the helicopter crash. During that time he lived with the native Chopec tribe, and his dormant Sentinel abilities came back online. Basically, all five of his senses are extremely heightened. Think Daredevil on steroids, only not blind. Incacha, the local Shaman, acted as his interim Guide. The Guide helps the Sentinel focus, process overwhelming sensory information, and not go insane. He’s a buffer, a guardian, a grounding presence. When a Sentinel hyper-focuses on a single stimulus to the exclusion of all else (a zone-out), the Guide calls them back. When a sensory spike incapacitates the Sentinel, it’s the Guide who figures out what caused it, and helps the Sentinel overcome it until the agony passes. Jim was later rescued and returned to civilization; his abilities went dormant again, and he became a detective with Major Crimes in Cascade, Washington. A few years later, during a weeklong stakeout in the woods, (aka a period of traumatic isolation), his abilities came online again. They started driving him nuts and endangering his life, until he meets Blair Sandburg.

Blair is a genius anthropologist with Rainier University, a former prodigy and world traveller, who has been studying historical records of Sentinels and wanting to meet one his whole life. He becomes Jim's partner, studies and experiments with him, to control and improve Jim's senses, while writing his doctoral dissertation on him. Essentially, he’s Jim’s Guide.

Jim's Sentinel abilities are a big secret. Only Simon, his best friend and police Captain, knows about them and why Jim needs Blair. It turns Blair's dissertation into a bone of contention between them. Naomi, Blair’s flakey hippy mom, sent his unfinished diss to a publisher (read: unscrupulous ex) for proof-reading. Predictably, he proceeded to throw obscene amounts of money at Blair for the publishing rights, and then leaked excerpts to the press when Blair still said NO. Blair tried to fix everything by holding a press conference calling himself a fraud, amongst other things. Jim was all but moved to tears.

The mysticism is a really fun angle that gets terribly underutilized by the canon in the last season. In the first 3 seasons, Jim has multiple visions of a blue jungle (the spirit world), his panther animal guide, Blair's silver wolf spirit guide, and Incacha (who dies at one point). There's also a scene where Blair is recently but very much dead (due to drowning), EMTs have written him off, and Jim uses his panther to fuse with the wolf and bring Blair back. He then turns chickenshit, and refuses to talk about it for the remaining episodes.

It's hilarious, the boys take turns dating a new woman every episode. It's never the same woman for longer than that one episode though. They live together, go on vacations together, work together, voluntarily follow each other on dangerous unsanctioned rescue missions... it's actually a lot like Hawaii 5-0. I think my favourite part was where Blair jumped out of a plane (with a parachute) for Jim, and you much later find out that he's terrified of heights. But no-homo, because 'reasons'. Riiiiiiight. I guess that's the early 90s for you. I'm still bitter.

Megan is an Australian Detective in Cascade on an exchange programme who calls Blair 'Sandy', and is good friends with him. She accidentally finds out about Jim being a Sentinel in the last season. 'The bitch', as I refer to her, was an evil Sentinel, and Blair was temporarily murdered by her via drowning in a fountain on campus. After that they all chased her to Mexico, where Jim inexplicably made out with her on a beach, and the bitch later fried her brain on a home-brewed potion inside a hidden ancient Sentinel temple. It was a wild episode. Oh, and there’s a street drug called ‘Golden’ in the canon universe. It makes users hallucinate, and see pretty gold lights. Jim accidentally got trace amounts on his fingers, and it made him temporarily blind. All he could see was a lot of gold light and a few vague shadows. He had to do the Matt Murdock thing for an episode, and was hilariously awful at it. Blair was tricked into a near-lethal overdose.

[theparadoxmachine]

I had a dream last night where I went to a wedding with Blair Sandburg from the Sentinel. Only in my dream, his mother Naomi didn't exist, and instead he had an older sister who was the one getting married. But when we got to the wedding, I was hit by a sudden bout of uncontrollable fatigue. There was a massive pool at the swanky hotel the reception was at and it was so sunny outside, the sunlight reflected off the water and the bright lights from the camera flashes made it impossible for me to keep my eyes open so I left shortly into the reception before I got a massive migraine.

I wound up at the house I grew up in (of fucking course, where else would I be) and later I found out that after I left, Blair's sister had told him that she and her new husband were moving to Europe and he was going with them. They didn't invite him to join them. They told him he was going. Which would uproot him from Cascade and the university and his work with Jim. Mind you, Blair was still an adult in my dream.

He tried to argue with her, but between her sickly sweet passively dominant demeanor and the full, unflinching and grinning support of...I'm not sure if these were maybe his foster parents or her new inlaws but they were a married hetero couple who were there when this happened, he was outnumbered.

I felt so bad for ditching him after this. I really think I could have stood up for him. I of course didn't care what these people think and also I'm southern. Passive aggression is a regional pastime.

I was trying to sleep on my old twin bed but it was covered in plushies and it had no sheets. My brother was camped out on the old burgundy leather couch. Blair was in a sleeping bag on an air mattress in my old bedroom with me. I wanted so badly to talk to him, to apologize for leaving the reception before his sister ambushed him, to try to comfort him a little, but every time I tried, he was asleep. I went into my old bedroom and he was there in the sleeping bag on the air mattress, only his curly hair visible. I wanted to touch it so bad. Not in an "ooh pretty way" (ok maybe a little) but I just wanted to comfort him because he was so upset.

Eventually I was able to talk to him and he was very distraught. It seems that he had a trust fund of some kind that his sister had control of. But he was over 25 (I'm not sure if this age is relevant irl but it was the age Dream Me mentioned) and I was confused as to why she still was in control of the money.

I suggested that he could enroll in some classes on civics and law at a local community to college in order to continue his education on the cheap and that courses like that would help him with his police work with Jim. (This btw was the only time Jim came up in the dream. He never actually showed up.) I also told him that this deal with the trust fund seemed shady as hell, since as an adult in his mid-late 20s there was no reason why his sister should be in control of his money, and gently suggested he contact a lawyer about it.

Ok Dream Me suggested -still gently- that he sue her. But I didn't trust that woman farther than I could throw her. She had an untrustworthy smile. Nobody should be smiling while announcing they plan to forcibly uproot another family member, I don't care if it is their wedding day.

I don't know what would have happened after that because I woke up.

But damn even in my dreams poor Blair can't catch a break.

[ubbrian-blog]

Poetry, Drama, Short Stories

Poetry, Drama, Short Stories

Frost, R., Untermeyer, L., & Frost, R. (2008). The road not taken: A selection of Robert Frosts poems. New York: St. Martins Griffin.

These deceptively simple lines from the title poem of this collection suggest Robert Frost at his most representative: the language is simple, clear and colloquial, yet dense with meaning and wider significance. Drawing upon everyday incidents, common situations and rural imagery, Frost fashioned poetry of great lyrical beauty and potent symbolism. Lexile reading level for The Road Not Takenis NP.  There are a multitude of ya themes, including choices, dreams (hopes and plans), and exploration.

Grandits, J. (2007). Blue lipstick: Concrete poems. Sandpiper.

A 15-year-old girl named Jessie voices typical—and not so typical—teenage concerns in this unique collection of poems. Her musings about trying out new makeup and hairstyles, playing volleyball and cello, and dealing with her annoying younger brother are never boring or predictable. Jessie’s a girl with strong opinions, and she isn’t shy about sharing them. Her sarcastic take on high school life is revealed through concrete poetry: words, ideas, type, and design that combine to make pictures and patterns.  Lexile reading level for Blue Lipstick: Concrete Poems is NP.  YA themes include coming of age and new experiences.  

Nye, N. S. (2002). 19 varieties of gazelle: Poems of the Middle East (What Have You Lost?). New York: Greenwillow Books.

Naomi Shibab gathers observations, ruminations, and informal prose comments on the theme of loss: from clothing or a thought, to deaths of friends and family members, of innocence, time, opportunities, pride, a homeland. The selections are all free verse, direct of address, virtually free of obscure imagery or difficult language, most, but not all, originally written in English.  The Lexile reading level forWhat Have You Lost? Is NP.  YA themes include loss and a coming of age.  

Dunning, S. (1995). Reflections on a gift of watermelon pickle...: And other modern verse. Glenview, IL: ScottForesman.

Here are modern poems chosen for their individual excellence and their special appeal to young people. The photographs accent the contemporary tone of the collection.  This collection ranges From lighthearted Phyllis Mc-Ginley to pessimistic Ezra Pound; from the lyricism of Edna St. Vincent Millay to the vigor of Lawrence Ferlinghette; from Carl Sandburg on loneliness to Paul Dehn on the bomb.  The little known or unknown poet and the widely recognized appear side by side.  Whether it is a pheasant or flying saucer; lapping lake water or sonic boom; a deer hunt, a basketball, or a bud, it is all poetry reflecting today's images and today's moods.  Lexile reading level for Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle is NP.  YA themes include nature and coming of age.

Yeats, W. B., & Marcolin, M. (2014). The song of wandering Aengus. An Spidéal, Galway, Ireland: Futa Fata.

This poem is a composition by Yeats and the poem’s magnificence lies in its mythological element. Aengus, the god of love and beauty, has been portrayed as an ordinary man in the poem. According to the legends, Aengus fell in love with a girl who then turns into a swan. Yeats, in this poem is revising the old folktale, here, a trout turns into a girl, leaving Aengus enamored his whole life.  The Lexile reading level forThe song of wandering Aengus is NP.  YA themes include love, transformation, man and nature, and time.