The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of 
Pet Fly Productions, UPN and Paramount. No copyright 
infringement is intended, no profit is being made. And let's 
face it guys, anyone who sues me over this story has much 
bigger problems to worry about. 

That said: The original concept was one I stole from Becky and 
Robyn! (Hi!) Yes, I asked them before I posted this.

Archive: If you want to. GeoCities finally gave me back my 
homepage, and all my missing files, so I'll be updating soon. 
When I get the chance this will be found at:

http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/8868/tsfanfic.html

Notes: Can we all say 'stupid?'

Warnings: If you dislike pointless nonsense and silly 
ramblings, don't read this. I wrote the whole thing in fifteen 
minutes at three o'clock Sunday morning after reading 
something on Becky and Robyn's site. At the time I thought it 
was hilarious. Now... *now*.... <sigh>

________

Long Lost Friends
or
It's Three o' Clock and I Really Ought to be in Bed


<It *is* you!>

Edward Guthrie stared, enraptured, at the article of beauty and 
grace before him. <I never thought... When I got out of prison 
and you were gone... I gave up all hope. I thought you hated me 
for what I'd done, that I'd lost you and your friendship... your 
love. I was wrong. So wrong. I know that know. They took you 
away. But I've found you now. It will all be all right. 
Soon.>

"Hey, Chief!"

Guthrie looked around, and saw the source of the call. A tall 
man, in good shape - cop definitely - was jogging down the 
sidewalk. He stopped next to Guthrie's long lost friend his face 
wreathed with a beaming smile. He said more, but Guthrie 
was too far away to hear the words. The smile on the man's 
face said it all, though. He thought this wonderful, loving 
creature was his. *His!*

<Not as long as I'm alive,> Guthrie vowed silently. <You'll 
never have him.>

****

It had been easier than he expected to follow the man who'd 
tried to claim his dearest friend as his own. He'd followed him 
to a nice part of town, 852 Prospect Street to be exact, and 
watched as the man prepared to enter the building. Guthrie 
didn't wait any longer, he had to confront this man, this thief, 
before he went inside!

"Hey!" Guthrie darted across the street, running full speed 
toward the man. "Don't you move!"

The man paused and turned to look at Guthrie. His eyes 
narrowed and his hand went to his side - a shoulder holster? 
Guthrie had been right. He *was* a cop. If he thought that 
would be enough to save him he was seriously mistaken.

Guthrie slowed to a walk as he neared, and he stared with joy 
and longing as he allowed his eyes to rest upon the friend he 
had thought lost to him. "I never thought I'd see you again. I'd 
thought I lost you, that I'd driven you away." Overcome with 
emotion, driven to tears as he gazed upon the sight of his 
dearest friend, he stumbled forward, one hand outstretched 
beseechingly.

The cop was running, placing himself between Guthrie and his 
goal. His gun was out now, too, aimed directly at Guthrie's 
heart. "Stay back," he warned in a cold, hard voice which 
brooked no argument.

Guthrie cast one more lingering glance at his soulmate before 
turning his gaze upon the cop. "Who are you?" he demanded 
him a voice harsher than he'd though possible. "Tell me your 
name so I can curse it till the day I die!"

"That day will be coming very soon if you don't back away 
now," the cop said in a voice every bit as harsh. "Detective 
James Ellison, Cascade PD. Now *back off!*"

"You can't have him," Guthrie said flatly, desperation and years 
of painful separation filling his voice. "You can't. You think 
he's yours but he's really mine. I won't give him up. He belongs 
with me."

"Over my dead body," Ellison said calmly. "Tell me who you 
are."

"Edward Guthrie." He glanced past Ellison. "You remember 
me, don't you? You could never forget. We meant far too much 
to each other." He turned his gaze back to Ellison. "I won't let 
you keep us apart any longer. I won't!" He cast caution to the 
wind, determined that if this was to be his last day of life, than 
he would die with the one who meant more to him than any 
other.

Ellison didn't fire, for which Guthrie would later be grateful. 
Instead he grasped the arm of the young man standing behind 
him, the boy with the long hair and beautiful eyes, and pulled 
him away, out of the path of Guthrie's desperate lunge. He kept 
himself between the boy and Guthrie the entire time. Perhaps, 
Guthrie would later realize, the boy was Ellison's dearest. It 
was good to know the man had someone of his own, and 
wouldn't be too upset and alone when Guthrie reclaimed his 
friend. But why he thought Guthrie would harm the boy was a 
mystery.

But Edward didn't think any of that at the time. Instead he 
rushed past Ellison and the boy, not seeing their surprised and 
relieved looks when he didn't glance back at them, continuing 
forward to drop to his knees beside his friend. "Oh God, it's 
been so long." Guthrie reached out one hand to lightly caress 
the firm, smooth side of the one he had though forever lost. "It 
has been far too long."

And he wept with joy to be reunited with his soulmate, the 
most beautiful blue and white '69 Ford pickup ever to grace the 
face of the planet.
________

Don't look at me like that! I *warned* you!

I just realized that this is even more jumbled an unclear than I'd 
thought it would be, but I hope you all got what I was trying to 
say. Maybe one day I'll clear it up, throw in a slighter longer, 
more serious misunderstanding, some Blair owies, smarm... an 
actual plot... I can dream, right? <g>

finis