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crack_van2012-02-28 11:59 pm
laurie-ky.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2012-02-28 11:59 pm
Entry tags:
Intangible by Psychgirl (Teen)
Fandom: THE SENTINEL
Pairing: None (Gen) Characters:Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg
Length: 7543 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snycock
Author's website: Psychgirl's page at A Storage Room 3 (Sentinel Fanfic)
Why this must be read:
Psychgirl takes a couple of canon elements – Jim's on and off relationship with his senses, the interpersonal dynamics of the characters, and just how much touching went on between Jim and Blair – and weaves a well-written and researched, clever story with the premise that Jim doesn't just touch Blair in friendship, but out of a physical need neither he nor Blair were aware had developed.
So what happens when he can't sling an arm over Blair's shoulder, or pat him on the cheeks, or give him a noogie? A sexual harassment charge is the catalyst that supplies the answer.
Some things I really liked while reading were the easy friendship between Jim and Blair in the beginning of the story, the motives of the person who brought the charges, the growing sense Blair has that something is wrong, and the emphasis on the mind-body-sentinel connection.
The ending isn't tidy and wrapped up in a bow, and I love that about this story. There's an innocence that's been lost between them, and I have to wonder what lies ahead in their future.
**
Blair glanced at Simon’s office, wishing for Jim’s hearing. He thought about going over and knocking on the door, but there was something foreboding about the closed blinds. Attempting to distract himself, he pulled some lecture notes out of his backpack and sat down at Jim’s desk.
His head snapped up a few minutes later when Simon’s office door flew open with a crash. Jim stalked out, cold fury written all over his face, in every line of his body. He strode over to where Blair was sitting and reached for his jacket.
“Jim?” Blair said, apprehensively. “What’s the matter?”
Jim’s eyes met his, and he could see hurt and concern in their depths. There was a pause, then Jim took a breath, as if to say something.
“Ellison.” Simon’s voice had a definite warning tone to it. Blair glanced over to see him standing in the doorway to his office, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression stern.
The look of anger on Jim’s face hardened. His gaze slid away from Blair, the muscles in his jaw jumping convulsively. Yanking his jacket off the tree, he stamped out of the bullpen, bypassing the elevator and heading for the stairway.
Blair grabbed his backpack and started to head out after him.
“Sandburg, can I see you in my office?” The request was made in a surprisingly gentle voice, a distinct change from the steely reproof of a moment ago.
He hesitated, torn between going after Jim and pumping Simon for information. “But… I… I gotta….”
“Blair, please.”
Alarmed at the unusual conciliatory tone, he hurried into Simon’s office, closing the door behind him. “Simon, what the fuck—“
“Have a seat.” Simon motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Want some coffee?”
He couldn’t say anything for a second, he was so stunned. Then he found his voice. “Simon, what the hell is going on? You never offer me coffee.”
Simon extended a cup towards him and Blair took it automatically. “Sit,” Simon ordered, pointing at a chair.
Now that was more like the Simon he knew, and Blair sat, relieved that things appeared to be going back to normal. “So… what’s up with Jim? Are his senses acting up or something?”
“No.” Simon’s mouth was drawn in a grim line. “Blair… well, there’s no easy way to say this. Jim’s had a sexual harassment complaint filed against him.”
“What? You’re kidding me.”
Simon shook his head slowly.
“Simon, man, Jim would never—“
“Sandburg, my hands are tied,” Simon replied. “There’s a very specific policy on this and I’ve got to follow it to the letter, for Jim’s sake.”
Blair blew out a long breath, anxiety warring with concern. “So, is he suspended?”
“No, but I’ve given him the afternoon off to sort some things out.”
He stood, putting the untouched coffee on Simon’s desk. “Thanks for the heads up, Simon. I’m gonna go find him and see what I can do to help.”
“Blair, sit down.” Simon’s voice was still soft, but had the definite tone of a command.
He obeyed, the butterflies in his stomach suddenly morphing into jet airplanes.
Simon sighed, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t go find Jim, because you’re part of the problem.”
He stared at Simon in astonishment, unable to even muster a response to that.
“The complainant is alleging that Jim has an excessive amount of physical contact with you, and that this creates a hostile workplace environment.”
“Simon, that’s ridiculous,” he replied, shaking his head. “Jim’s just a very tactile person.”
Simon looked faintly uncomfortable. “He touches you a lot, Blair. I’ve noticed it too.”
He glared at Simon and opened his mouth to reply, but was forestalled when Simon raised his hand. “I’m not saying there’s any merit to the complaint. But he does have his hands on you a lot.”
Blair frowned. Sure, Jim touched him a lot – a hand on his back or shoulder as they were entering or leaving a room; affectionate pats on the knee or cheek; an arm braced across him protectively. A couple of times he’d even grabbed Blair’s hand and ran it over some object, as if Blair would be able to share his hyper tactile sense.
He looked up at Simon. “It’s probably just a proximity thing. You know, we live together, work together.” But he knew that wasn’t it, and he could see the same awareness in Simon’s eyes. “Man, I promise you, there’s nothing hinky about it. It’s not like he’s hot for me or something. It’s….” He exhaled, knowing Simon didn’t want to hear this. “It’s probably a Sentinel thing.”
Simon nodded, but his expression was dour. “I figured as much. But it doesn’t really matter.” He gave Blair an apologetic look. “I’m temporarily suspending your ride-along pass, effective immediately.”
Blair snorted. “I thought that the policy in cases like this was to transfer the victim.”
Simon looked uncomfortable again. “Well, you’re also a victim. The complainant filed a second harassment suit on your behalf.”
Apprehension shifted to anger. “What? She’s filed against Jim for me? What the hell, Simon? How can she do that?”
“There’s a clause in the law that allows for third-party filing. It’s meant to be used in cases where the alleged victim is too afraid of the perpetrator to blow the whistle.”
“Afraid? She’s saying I’m scared of Jim?”
“The complainant’s alleging that the contact is unwelcome on your part, but you’re too afraid to say anything because you think Jim would retaliate against you, plus you’d lose your observer status and therefore access to what you need for your dissertation.” Simon’s eyes narrowed. “And I never said the complainant was a woman.”
“You didn’t have to,” Blair said grimly. “And I have a pretty good idea of who it is.”
“Blair,” Simon said, the warning tone he’d had earlier with Jim back in his voice, “do not go talk to her. You’ll just be making things worse.”
He didn’t like it, but he knew Simon was right. “Okay, but once this is all over, she and I are going to have a reckoning.” I knew Sam was pissed at me, he thought, but I never dreamed she’d do something like this.
“Someone from IA will be in touch with you to schedule a time for your deposition. Oh, and one more thing.” The guilty look was back on Simon’s face. “You can’t have any contact with Jim until the investigation is over. At all.”
“You mean… oh, man.” His heart sank. It had taken a moment for the full meaning of that to sink in. “You mean I gotta find a place to crash temporarily?”
“No,” Simon replied hurriedly, “Jim insisted that you stay in the loft. That’s why I gave him the afternoon off, so he could pack some things and go get a room somewhere.”
Blair shook his head, hating the thought of being in the loft alone, of not being able to talk to Jim, especially given this mess. “This sucks, Simon.”
“I know, kid. I agree.” Simon shifted some papers around on his desk. “Give me about a half an hour, and then we’ll go to the loft.”
He frowned. “You don’t have to give me a ride, I’ve got my car.” Then, seeing the look on Simon’s face, comprehension dawned. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Simon wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I have to be able to testify later that you and Jim didn’t have any contact after I notified you.”
Intangible by Psychgirl.
Pairing: None (Gen) Characters:Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg
Length: 7543 words
Author on LJ:
snycockAuthor's website: Psychgirl's page at A Storage Room 3 (Sentinel Fanfic)
Why this must be read:
Psychgirl takes a couple of canon elements – Jim's on and off relationship with his senses, the interpersonal dynamics of the characters, and just how much touching went on between Jim and Blair – and weaves a well-written and researched, clever story with the premise that Jim doesn't just touch Blair in friendship, but out of a physical need neither he nor Blair were aware had developed.
So what happens when he can't sling an arm over Blair's shoulder, or pat him on the cheeks, or give him a noogie? A sexual harassment charge is the catalyst that supplies the answer.
Some things I really liked while reading were the easy friendship between Jim and Blair in the beginning of the story, the motives of the person who brought the charges, the growing sense Blair has that something is wrong, and the emphasis on the mind-body-sentinel connection.
The ending isn't tidy and wrapped up in a bow, and I love that about this story. There's an innocence that's been lost between them, and I have to wonder what lies ahead in their future.
**
Blair glanced at Simon’s office, wishing for Jim’s hearing. He thought about going over and knocking on the door, but there was something foreboding about the closed blinds. Attempting to distract himself, he pulled some lecture notes out of his backpack and sat down at Jim’s desk.
His head snapped up a few minutes later when Simon’s office door flew open with a crash. Jim stalked out, cold fury written all over his face, in every line of his body. He strode over to where Blair was sitting and reached for his jacket.
“Jim?” Blair said, apprehensively. “What’s the matter?”
Jim’s eyes met his, and he could see hurt and concern in their depths. There was a pause, then Jim took a breath, as if to say something.
“Ellison.” Simon’s voice had a definite warning tone to it. Blair glanced over to see him standing in the doorway to his office, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression stern.
The look of anger on Jim’s face hardened. His gaze slid away from Blair, the muscles in his jaw jumping convulsively. Yanking his jacket off the tree, he stamped out of the bullpen, bypassing the elevator and heading for the stairway.
Blair grabbed his backpack and started to head out after him.
“Sandburg, can I see you in my office?” The request was made in a surprisingly gentle voice, a distinct change from the steely reproof of a moment ago.
He hesitated, torn between going after Jim and pumping Simon for information. “But… I… I gotta….”
“Blair, please.”
Alarmed at the unusual conciliatory tone, he hurried into Simon’s office, closing the door behind him. “Simon, what the fuck—“
“Have a seat.” Simon motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Want some coffee?”
He couldn’t say anything for a second, he was so stunned. Then he found his voice. “Simon, what the hell is going on? You never offer me coffee.”
Simon extended a cup towards him and Blair took it automatically. “Sit,” Simon ordered, pointing at a chair.
Now that was more like the Simon he knew, and Blair sat, relieved that things appeared to be going back to normal. “So… what’s up with Jim? Are his senses acting up or something?”
“No.” Simon’s mouth was drawn in a grim line. “Blair… well, there’s no easy way to say this. Jim’s had a sexual harassment complaint filed against him.”
“What? You’re kidding me.”
Simon shook his head slowly.
“Simon, man, Jim would never—“
“Sandburg, my hands are tied,” Simon replied. “There’s a very specific policy on this and I’ve got to follow it to the letter, for Jim’s sake.”
Blair blew out a long breath, anxiety warring with concern. “So, is he suspended?”
“No, but I’ve given him the afternoon off to sort some things out.”
He stood, putting the untouched coffee on Simon’s desk. “Thanks for the heads up, Simon. I’m gonna go find him and see what I can do to help.”
“Blair, sit down.” Simon’s voice was still soft, but had the definite tone of a command.
He obeyed, the butterflies in his stomach suddenly morphing into jet airplanes.
Simon sighed, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t go find Jim, because you’re part of the problem.”
He stared at Simon in astonishment, unable to even muster a response to that.
“The complainant is alleging that Jim has an excessive amount of physical contact with you, and that this creates a hostile workplace environment.”
“Simon, that’s ridiculous,” he replied, shaking his head. “Jim’s just a very tactile person.”
Simon looked faintly uncomfortable. “He touches you a lot, Blair. I’ve noticed it too.”
He glared at Simon and opened his mouth to reply, but was forestalled when Simon raised his hand. “I’m not saying there’s any merit to the complaint. But he does have his hands on you a lot.”
Blair frowned. Sure, Jim touched him a lot – a hand on his back or shoulder as they were entering or leaving a room; affectionate pats on the knee or cheek; an arm braced across him protectively. A couple of times he’d even grabbed Blair’s hand and ran it over some object, as if Blair would be able to share his hyper tactile sense.
He looked up at Simon. “It’s probably just a proximity thing. You know, we live together, work together.” But he knew that wasn’t it, and he could see the same awareness in Simon’s eyes. “Man, I promise you, there’s nothing hinky about it. It’s not like he’s hot for me or something. It’s….” He exhaled, knowing Simon didn’t want to hear this. “It’s probably a Sentinel thing.”
Simon nodded, but his expression was dour. “I figured as much. But it doesn’t really matter.” He gave Blair an apologetic look. “I’m temporarily suspending your ride-along pass, effective immediately.”
Blair snorted. “I thought that the policy in cases like this was to transfer the victim.”
Simon looked uncomfortable again. “Well, you’re also a victim. The complainant filed a second harassment suit on your behalf.”
Apprehension shifted to anger. “What? She’s filed against Jim for me? What the hell, Simon? How can she do that?”
“There’s a clause in the law that allows for third-party filing. It’s meant to be used in cases where the alleged victim is too afraid of the perpetrator to blow the whistle.”
“Afraid? She’s saying I’m scared of Jim?”
“The complainant’s alleging that the contact is unwelcome on your part, but you’re too afraid to say anything because you think Jim would retaliate against you, plus you’d lose your observer status and therefore access to what you need for your dissertation.” Simon’s eyes narrowed. “And I never said the complainant was a woman.”
“You didn’t have to,” Blair said grimly. “And I have a pretty good idea of who it is.”
“Blair,” Simon said, the warning tone he’d had earlier with Jim back in his voice, “do not go talk to her. You’ll just be making things worse.”
He didn’t like it, but he knew Simon was right. “Okay, but once this is all over, she and I are going to have a reckoning.” I knew Sam was pissed at me, he thought, but I never dreamed she’d do something like this.
“Someone from IA will be in touch with you to schedule a time for your deposition. Oh, and one more thing.” The guilty look was back on Simon’s face. “You can’t have any contact with Jim until the investigation is over. At all.”
“You mean… oh, man.” His heart sank. It had taken a moment for the full meaning of that to sink in. “You mean I gotta find a place to crash temporarily?”
“No,” Simon replied hurriedly, “Jim insisted that you stay in the loft. That’s why I gave him the afternoon off, so he could pack some things and go get a room somewhere.”
Blair shook his head, hating the thought of being in the loft alone, of not being able to talk to Jim, especially given this mess. “This sucks, Simon.”
“I know, kid. I agree.” Simon shifted some papers around on his desk. “Give me about a half an hour, and then we’ll go to the loft.”
He frowned. “You don’t have to give me a ride, I’ve got my car.” Then, seeing the look on Simon’s face, comprehension dawned. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Simon wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I have to be able to testify later that you and Jim didn’t have any contact after I notified you.”
Intangible by Psychgirl.