The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of Pet 
Fly Productions, Paramount and UPN. No copyright 
infringement is intended. No profit is being made. 
 
This story and all original characters are the property of the 
author. 
 
Well, I've written an essentially pointless character piece 
(EPCP) from Carolyn, Simon and Jim's POV, so now I figure 
it's Blair's turn. This one even has a plot. A little one... 
________ 
 
He'll Be Here 
 
 
 
This is so not how I saw my life ending. I always figured I'd 
buy it in a plane crash, or while studying one of the tribes I've 
visited. A car accident. One of my students flips out during 
finals week and blows me away. You know. 
 
But I never thought I'd die because of one of Jim's cases. 
 
Oh, I'm not stupid. The possibility has been there from day 
one. How many times has he tried to keep me out of 
something for my own good, to keep just this sort of thing 
from happening? I lost count a long time ago. But the 
possibility was just that; a possibility. A chance. It was never 
a real bona fide threat. I always knew Jim would be there to 
watch my back when I wasn't able to watch it myself. 
 
But he can't watch my back every moment. 
 
And who looks for kidnappers while they're grocery 
shopping? Okay, *besides* Jim. 
 
That's how I got here. Tied up in a warehouse, a hostage 
against Jim, waiting for the flames to take my breath away. 
After the Golden Incident I have a real thing about fires. I 
would have rather the guy just shoot me. 
 
As I have every few minutes since I awoke, I squirm a bit, 
trying to loosen the ropes that bind my wrists together. 
Another rope is tied around  my ankles. Both are tight, with 
no sign of give in them. The skin of my wrists has been 
rubbed raw and the warm blood is slick against the ropes, but 
not enough to help me get loose. 
 
The small room they locked me in is getting warmer and 
smoke is starting to seep in beneath the door. Figures they'd 
set the place on fire. Couldn't just leave me here to die, oh no, 
gotta burn me to a crisp. I must have gathered some really 
rotten karma from about eight hundred past lives to deserve 
the type of luck I've had over the past few years. 
 
<Where are you, Jim?> 
 
I hope he's all right. This whole thing was aimed at him, after 
all. I'm just a means to an end to keep Jim from testifying 
against a killer. And I know Jim well enough to know that the 
second they grabbed me he had half the city out looking for 
the guys who took me. I just hope he didn't give in to their 
demands and refuse to testify. Jim would have, if he honestly 
thought it was the only way to save my life, there's no doubt 
in my mind about that; but seeing as how they've decided to 
kill me regardless, I hope he sent the bastard to prison for a 
long time. 
 
And then I hope he hurries up because it's getting hard to 
breathe. 
 
I don't really think I'm going to die. 
 
Hopeless, aren't I? Simon would probably laugh his ass off if 
he could hear my thoughts now. How much more convincing 
do I need? Most people in my condition would be busy 
praying to the deity of their choice. Me? I know Jim will be 
here in time. Somehow Jim will make everything all right. 
 
*** 
 
The first thing I feel is the burning in my lungs. I try to 
cough, but that only makes it worse, so I try to calm down 
and take a deep breath. 
 
The air is cool and wet. There's a hint of smoke, but it's more 
like a memory, no longer the overwhelming presence it was 
before. I feel warm, but the heat of the fire is gone. 
 
There's a warm pressure against my forehead and I open my 
eyes to see what it is. Jim pulls away and I can see dark 
smudges on his face and clothes. "You with us, buddy?" 
 
My throat is sore so I just nod. 
 
Jim's hand  grips mine so tightly it almost -- almost -- hurts. 
"You stopped breathing, kid. Scared the hell out of me. You 
sure you're okay?" 
 
I nod again. "Knew you'd come," I manage to get out. "Knew 
it." 
 
There must be more smoke than I thought because his eyes 
are tearing up. "I wish I did, Chief." He grips my hand again 
and looks past me. "The ambulance is here. You're going to 
be fine." 
 
There was any doubt? 
 
"Just relax. Rest. Everything's going to be okay." 
 
See? I want to say, I knew it. But I can't get the words out and 
Jim says to rest, so I don't fight too hard to keep my eyes 
open. 
 
I know he'll be there when I wake up. 
 
 


end