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ickaimpWhile back, we were working on a Due South/The Sentinel crossover fic with MOrgan called Call of the Wyrd.
Life happened, we haven't worked on it for a while.
Oh, hello little plunnie.... :: CHOMP ::
Geh.
This is a side story, what's going on with the Sentinel crew, since most of the fic is from the Due South characters POV. Um... have one other side story that takes place before 'Call of the Wyrd'
Think this is coming out cause the next three scenes have popped up and said hello. Which is really funny, cause the YGO: Guard Dog fic plunnies keep looking at these plunnies and growling. And the TGZ ones keep snickering.
Plunnie fight! *runs like hell*
+++
Jim had a headache.
Actually, he'd had a headache for a while now. It wasn't a debilitating one, just a nagging ache in the back of his head that wouldn't go away. It made him grouchy and a pain in the ass to work with, but he didn't really care.
"Ellison!" Simon roared from his door. "Where's your partner?"
"He's at school." Jim growled. "Like he has been all week."
"Well, when you see him, tell him good job." Simon grinned, belaying his supposedly furious attitude. "We just got word from the Commissioner, who was talking to the Dean. Evidently his report on Closed Police Societies made quite a positive impression. His observer pass has been extended indefinitely."
"That's great sir." Jim smiled, feeling like he had sawdust for fillings in his mouth. "I'll be sure to tell him."
"How is Hairboy anyway?" Henri asked curiously, looking up from his paper work. "He's been scarce lately." Rafe nodded, seconding Henri.
"He's had papers to do at the University." Jim waved it off. "You know how it is at the end of a semester." Usually frantic, with Blair attempting to finish writing papers even as he had to grade several dozen other student's work.
Simon looked perplexed, chomping down on the end of a cigar. "Jim... Darryl got out of school a few days ago. The semester is over."
Jim paused, not having an answer to that. Now that he thought about it, Blair had been pretty absent lately. But that was because of the end of semester, right?
"Hey!" Simon addressed the room. "When was the last time anyone saw Sandburg?"
Voices trailed off as people looked around at each other attempting to calculate the last time they saw everyone's favourite anthropologist.
Rafe finally commented. "Two... weeks ago?"
"Three." Donut girl offered. Voices assented, including some people who usually didn't even have offices on this floor.
Simon crossed his arms, looking grave. "You telling me that no one's seen Sandburg in weeks?"
Silence.
"Jim? He's your roommate."
"Haven't seen him recently, sir." Jim admitted, his headache cranking up a notch. It was hard to remember when the last time was. Certainly had had to have been sooner than that. The light had been on in the room under the stairs a few times when he'd gotten home.
"He gave me an envelope." Megan mused.
Every head in the room rotated towards her. It would have been eerie, or funny, under other circumstances.
Simon pulled his cigar out of his mouth. "When?"
"Must have been a month ago. Just a tic." The Australian woman mused, digging in a desk drawer. People began to wander over towards her desk, Simon included. She found it, holding up a small manilla envelope triumphantly.
"Don't just hold it, open it woman." Simon growled impatiently. She made a face at him but did so, emptying the contents on her desk.
Blair's Police Observer Pass and a folded piece of paper. Megan picked up the piece of paper, her hands shaking only a little bit. She opened it up and gasped.
"Megan?" Joel questioned.
She swallowed, then held the paper out for everyone to see. "It says 'Thanks'."
That was it. One simple word, clearly written in Blair's handwriting. Nothing else.
Jim was out of the Bullpen and down the hall before he registered Simon's bellow calling his name. He ignored it, taking the stairs down to the truck instead of waiting for the elevator.
The ride home was a blur, as was actually climbing the stairs and getting into the apartment.
"Sandburg!" He shouted. Silence echoed back. "Chief? You here?"
Nothing.
Logically, it was the middle of the day and Blair shouldn't have been home anyway. Right now, logic wasn't dictating the shots.
He paused a moment outside of the door to Blair's room. He usually didn't enter it, respecting Blair's privacy, just as Blair respected his by not going up stairs. But if there was going to be any sign of Blair, or where Blair was, it was going to be there.
"Chief?" He knocked on the bedroom door, then opened it. The scent of vanilla hit his nose as he turned on the light switch. Glancing around, he spotted a metal ring on the lamp's light bulb that the scent was coming from. A ticking sound caught his attention.
Alarmed, he moved the night stand next to the bed, discovering a timer connected to the lamp, one which turned the light on and off. So that's how the light had been turning on and off.
Giving the room a serious look around, the sense of alarm did not fade, but increased. The room was neat, disturbingly so. All the random and strange artefacts and books that usually littered the area were gone. A quick check revealed that the closets were empty as well, all the clothing was gone. A few personal things, blankets and rugs remained, but otherwise the room was cleaned out.
Except for two books on the bed, which was neatly made as if waiting for it's next tenant.
The headache intensified for a moment, causing the world to tilt and sway dangerously. He gripped a bookshelf, keeping himself upright until it passed, then made his way over to the bed.
The books weren't professionally bound, just having a long plastic clip along one edge to hold it together. Blair's neat handwriting labelled each one.
'The Not-So Thin Blue Line - By Blair Sandburg'
'The Sentinel - By Blair Sandburg'
The first was obviously what Simon had been raving about. The second however...
With a profound sense of dread, he picked up the second book and opened the inside cover. The preface had two words.
"For Jim."
White filled his vision as he lost himself in a zone.
-fin-
Life happened, we haven't worked on it for a while.
Oh, hello little plunnie.... :: CHOMP ::
Geh.
This is a side story, what's going on with the Sentinel crew, since most of the fic is from the Due South characters POV. Um... have one other side story that takes place before 'Call of the Wyrd'
Think this is coming out cause the next three scenes have popped up and said hello. Which is really funny, cause the YGO: Guard Dog fic plunnies keep looking at these plunnies and growling. And the TGZ ones keep snickering.
Plunnie fight! *runs like hell*
+++
Jim had a headache.
Actually, he'd had a headache for a while now. It wasn't a debilitating one, just a nagging ache in the back of his head that wouldn't go away. It made him grouchy and a pain in the ass to work with, but he didn't really care.
"Ellison!" Simon roared from his door. "Where's your partner?"
"He's at school." Jim growled. "Like he has been all week."
"Well, when you see him, tell him good job." Simon grinned, belaying his supposedly furious attitude. "We just got word from the Commissioner, who was talking to the Dean. Evidently his report on Closed Police Societies made quite a positive impression. His observer pass has been extended indefinitely."
"That's great sir." Jim smiled, feeling like he had sawdust for fillings in his mouth. "I'll be sure to tell him."
"How is Hairboy anyway?" Henri asked curiously, looking up from his paper work. "He's been scarce lately." Rafe nodded, seconding Henri.
"He's had papers to do at the University." Jim waved it off. "You know how it is at the end of a semester." Usually frantic, with Blair attempting to finish writing papers even as he had to grade several dozen other student's work.
Simon looked perplexed, chomping down on the end of a cigar. "Jim... Darryl got out of school a few days ago. The semester is over."
Jim paused, not having an answer to that. Now that he thought about it, Blair had been pretty absent lately. But that was because of the end of semester, right?
"Hey!" Simon addressed the room. "When was the last time anyone saw Sandburg?"
Voices trailed off as people looked around at each other attempting to calculate the last time they saw everyone's favourite anthropologist.
Rafe finally commented. "Two... weeks ago?"
"Three." Donut girl offered. Voices assented, including some people who usually didn't even have offices on this floor.
Simon crossed his arms, looking grave. "You telling me that no one's seen Sandburg in weeks?"
Silence.
"Jim? He's your roommate."
"Haven't seen him recently, sir." Jim admitted, his headache cranking up a notch. It was hard to remember when the last time was. Certainly had had to have been sooner than that. The light had been on in the room under the stairs a few times when he'd gotten home.
"He gave me an envelope." Megan mused.
Every head in the room rotated towards her. It would have been eerie, or funny, under other circumstances.
Simon pulled his cigar out of his mouth. "When?"
"Must have been a month ago. Just a tic." The Australian woman mused, digging in a desk drawer. People began to wander over towards her desk, Simon included. She found it, holding up a small manilla envelope triumphantly.
"Don't just hold it, open it woman." Simon growled impatiently. She made a face at him but did so, emptying the contents on her desk.
Blair's Police Observer Pass and a folded piece of paper. Megan picked up the piece of paper, her hands shaking only a little bit. She opened it up and gasped.
"Megan?" Joel questioned.
She swallowed, then held the paper out for everyone to see. "It says 'Thanks'."
That was it. One simple word, clearly written in Blair's handwriting. Nothing else.
Jim was out of the Bullpen and down the hall before he registered Simon's bellow calling his name. He ignored it, taking the stairs down to the truck instead of waiting for the elevator.
The ride home was a blur, as was actually climbing the stairs and getting into the apartment.
"Sandburg!" He shouted. Silence echoed back. "Chief? You here?"
Nothing.
Logically, it was the middle of the day and Blair shouldn't have been home anyway. Right now, logic wasn't dictating the shots.
He paused a moment outside of the door to Blair's room. He usually didn't enter it, respecting Blair's privacy, just as Blair respected his by not going up stairs. But if there was going to be any sign of Blair, or where Blair was, it was going to be there.
"Chief?" He knocked on the bedroom door, then opened it. The scent of vanilla hit his nose as he turned on the light switch. Glancing around, he spotted a metal ring on the lamp's light bulb that the scent was coming from. A ticking sound caught his attention.
Alarmed, he moved the night stand next to the bed, discovering a timer connected to the lamp, one which turned the light on and off. So that's how the light had been turning on and off.
Giving the room a serious look around, the sense of alarm did not fade, but increased. The room was neat, disturbingly so. All the random and strange artefacts and books that usually littered the area were gone. A quick check revealed that the closets were empty as well, all the clothing was gone. A few personal things, blankets and rugs remained, but otherwise the room was cleaned out.
Except for two books on the bed, which was neatly made as if waiting for it's next tenant.
The headache intensified for a moment, causing the world to tilt and sway dangerously. He gripped a bookshelf, keeping himself upright until it passed, then made his way over to the bed.
The books weren't professionally bound, just having a long plastic clip along one edge to hold it together. Blair's neat handwriting labelled each one.
'The Not-So Thin Blue Line - By Blair Sandburg'
'The Sentinel - By Blair Sandburg'
The first was obviously what Simon had been raving about. The second however...
With a profound sense of dread, he picked up the second book and opened the inside cover. The preface had two words.
"For Jim."
White filled his vision as he lost himself in a zone.
-fin-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-12 06:47 am (UTC)*drags step-ladder over to Jim. Picks up a nice fluffy pillow. Stands on ladder and raises pillow*
WHAM!!!!
I dub thee, Insensitive Clod!
no subject
Date: 2006-03-12 07:56 am (UTC)Whoooo!!!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-11 05:30 pm (UTC)