The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of Pet 
Fly Productions and Paramount. No copyright infringement is 
intended.

This is what happens when too little sleep combines with a 
caffeine high and fan-fic withdrawl. Not pretty at all.
________

Withdrawl



"What is it *this* time?" Blair demanded. The young man 
sounded decidedly annoyed as he emerged from his room, 
pulling on a dark blue sweater as he did so. "I have things to 
do! I have a life! Doesn't she *know* that?!"

"Majik's had a rough couple of days, Chief," Jim tried to 
soothe his roommate, "and she needs to unwind a bit. She 
didn't get any sleep after the big game the other day, and then 
Thursday she spent almost seven hours helping get the last 16 
pages of the yearbook ready on time -- and we know she 
doesn't function well on five hours sleep. Really, Chief, the 
last time that happened-"

"She came up with that spirit guides story. Yeah, I know."

"And she lost her Economics notes, not to mention the surprise 
quiz in English."

"She knew the material," Blair muttered half-heartedly, 
accepting the cup of coffee Jim handed him. "She's gonna 
pass."

"Yeah, but it was still kind of stressful. And after all that, they 
lost some of the profiles for the senior class and she had to 
retype them at the last minute."

Blair snorted unsympathetically and took anouther deep 
draught of the hot drink. "The way that girl types it was hardly 
an inconvenience. I bet she was done in under an hour. She 
spends a lot of her free time typing anyway - stories, articles, 
that God-awful poetry..."

"I thought you liked her poetry."

"I'm in a bad mood, okay?" Blair snapped. "I had *plans* for 
today!"

Jim shrugged. "Well, so did I. Besides, her writing is another 
reason she's putting us through this."

Blair looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

Jim sighed and leanded against the kitchen table as he finished 
the last of his coffee. "Karin made Majik promise to write more 
if she ever wanted to get the epilogue to "Set-Up." And she's 
drawing a blank. Majik *really* wants to read that too - Karin 
promised there was going to be smarm."

Blair nodded as he swallowed the last sip of coffee. "Karin's 
good with that. Unlike *some* writers I could name."

"Chief, leave Maj alone."

"Like she leaves me alone? Name one story where I wasn't 
maimed, murdered or mauled. *One.*"

"~Doctor Sandburg.~"

"Okay, so there was one. I bet you can't come up with 
another."

"The Brother's Keeper thing."

"That wan't a story. That was a missing scene."

"This is getting ridiculous," Jim muttered. He snagged the 
sleeve of Blair's sweater with one hand and the empty coffee 
cup with the other. He deposited the cup in the sink and tugged 
his partner toward the door. He handed Blair his coat and 
ushered the younger man out the door. "We have an 
appointment, Chief, remember?"

Blair pulled his coat on with a rough tug. "Yeah. Right. Great. 
I can't *wait.* If she wants a story why doesn't she write about 
what happened in French class? Then Karin gets her Sentinel 
story and Majik can leave us alone."

"I think Maj wants to forget about that, Chief."

"But it *was* about us."

"It was about *you,* Chief. And Lorelei didn't know you were 
a fictional character. Besides, Maj doesn't write NC-17." 

"*You* obviously haven't read her Voyager stories."

"And I never will."

"You have no imagination."

"And I never will. In the truck Sandburg."

Blair considering arguing, but it really wasn't worth it. Jim 
would win anyway. "Fantastic. I have tests to grade and 
research to do, but no, I'm going to just wait for some two-bit, 
would-be hack-"

"Be nice, Sandburg."

"Nice? *Nice?* Any second now she's going to have a 
homicidal murderer start taking potshots at us or a drunk driver 
slam into the truck-"

"She already did that."

Blair glowered. "I know. She killed me, remember?"

Jim's voice was tight. "I remember."

Blair's annoyance faded into concern instantly. "Oh, hey, Jim, 
man, I'm sorry. I know you don't like thinking about that one."

"It's all right," Jim assured his Guide. "She never did finish 
that one anyway, and she has been toying with the idea of 
bringing you back."

"She already did that once, didn't she?"

"Twice." Jim pulled to a stop outside the station. "Come on 
Chief. Time to face the music."

***

"*Sandburg!*"

Jim's shout startled him out of his reverie and Blair looked up 
from his text to see what had Jim so upset. He had a brief 
glimpse of Jim and Simon barging out of the Captain's office 
before someone grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out of 
his  chair. He stumbled, but the grip on his hair didn't loosen, 
merely pulled him against whoever had grabbed him. An arm 
crossed over his throat. "Don't move!" The shout came from 
just behind Blair's ear, and he winced at the noise. "Don't 
come any closer!" All Balir could tell was that whoever had 
him was taller than he was, and male. 

There was a commotion outside Major Crimes and the arm 
across Blair's throat tightened. Strong too.

He looked up and saw that Jim and Simon both had their guns 
drawn and aimed. He would have been more assured if the 
weapons hadn't seemed to be pointing directly at his chest.

Jim caught his gaze and held it, calm and reassurance, trust and 
safety offered and accepted by each and Blair allowed himself 
to relax fractionally.

"Let him go, Johns," Ryf's voice came from behind him, hard 
and firm. "You're just making it harder on yourself."

Blair's assailant - Johns - turned slightly, still managing to 
keep Bair between him and the weapons being held on him. "I 
didn't kill her! I didn't! You have to believe me!"

"Stay calm," Ryf said. "Don't fo anything stupid. Let the kid 
go and you'll get out of this in one piece."

Behind Ryf, Brown stepped into the bullpen. "He's right, 
buddy. Let Sandburg go. You'll get your chance to prove 
yourself."

Johns was trembling violently. "You think I killed her," he 
gasped. "You think I killed her!" His voice rose until he was 
almost shouting and Blair had to fight to keep from wincing 
with each hollered into his ear. "I din;t kill my wife! I won't go 
to jail! I won't!"

"You won't." Jim's voice was quiet, but dangerous. "If you 
didn't kill her, then we'll find out who did. But if you hurt 
him, I swear to God, you won't live to go to trial."

Blair could almost feel the indecision rolling off Johns. "He's 
right," Blair said softly. "These guys are the best. They'll find 
out who killed your wife. I promise. But you gotta give them a 
sign of good faith here. Let me go and let them get back to 
their jobs so they can find the murderer. Okay? You'll be 
fine."

There was a long pause, during which no one moved or spoke 
for a long moment as the two sides faced each other down.

With a strangled sob, Johns' arm fell away from Blair's throat 
and the other hand released its grip on his hair. He took a step 
back and sagged against the wall. Blair took a few steps away 
and Jim was there, the gun still held firm in one hand, aimed at 
Johns, the other hand taking hold of Blair's arm, pulling the 
yopunger man toward him. Not until Ryf had Johns cuffed and 
Mirandized did Jim lower the gun.

Jim turned to his partner, Sentinel eyes and hearing searching 
him for injury or distress. "Are you all right? Hurt anywhere?"

Blair shook his head slightly, leaning into Jim's grip. "No, 
man. I'm fine." He looked behind him as Ryf and Brown 
pushed Johns out of the room. "Poor guy."

"Doesn't excuse what he did," Jim said flatly, 
unsympathetically. "Doesn't excuse what he threatened to do." 
His grip on his Guide's arm tightened fractionally, reassuring 
himself that his friend was all right. In private, or at least 
somewhere without so many security cameras, Jim would have 
pulled his Guide close, but for now he contented himself with 
this simple contact and the strong beat of his Guide's heart.

Blair caught his eyes and smiled reassuringly. "Can we get out 
of here, Jim?"

***

"That was *it?!*" Blair stormed into the loft, throwing his keys 
toward the bowl and tossing his coat in the general direction of 
the coat rack. Both missed. "Some crazy hostage situation? 
What, was she suddenly overcome with the desire to make a 
fool of me in front of the entire station?"

Jim shrugged. He hung his coat up, then looked down at 
Blair's, wondering if it would be worth the argument to make 
the younger man pick it up.

"A five-minute hurt with a five-second comfort?" Blair raged. 
"She messed up my entire day for a brotherly pat on the arm? I 
can't *believe* this!"

Nope. Definitely not worth the argument. Sandburg would win 
anyway. "Just relax, Chief." Jim draped Blair's coat over the 
rack. "You got a lot of work done before the excitement 
started."

Blair grumbled a bit, but didn't disagree. "It was *still* stupid. 
She can do better than that."

"Well, it *was* a pretty sorry excuse for a story. I hope Karin 
takes pity on her and decides to send her the epilogue anyway. 
Besides," he added, "Majik's working on some new stuff."

Blair glanced at him askance. "How many times do I end up in 
the hospital?"

Jim's expression was pure sympathy.

"Oh, great. She's not going to kill me *again,* is she?"

"You know she never tells me that," Jim pointed out.

"Yeah," Blair sighed. He rubbed at his throat absently. "After 
this one, she better write me some pretty good scenes in those 
new stories. A murder suspect with emotional issues and one 
hell of a grip threatens to do me serious bodily harm and all I 
get is the perfunctory concern." He sighed.

"Are you still hurting?" Jim asked. He tucked two fingers 
beneath Blair's chin and urged the younger man's head up so 
he could get a better look. "You said you were all right."

"I am," Blair sighed. "My throat's just a little sore. It's nothing 
to worry about, Jim."

Jim ignored him and traced the fingers of his free hand along 
his friend's throat. "That's going to be a pretty bad bruise," he 
said worriedly. "Maybe we should get you to a doctor."

Blair curled his fingers around Jim's wrist and tugged lightly, 
offering his partner a gentle smile. "I'm fine, Big Guy. Really. 
Just a little sore."

Jim kept his handa gainst his friend's throat. "You're sure?" he 
asked doubtfully.

"Positive," Blair assured him.

Jim let him go reluctantly. "All right. But you tell me the 
instant it starts to hurt, deal?"

"I promise."

Jim studied his eyes for an instant, then, satisfied that the 
younger man was telling the truth, turned away. "I'm going to 
call for take-out. Why don't you crash onthe couch for a little 
while?" Blair nodded andheaded into the living room, the 
events of the day starting to catch up with him. There was a 
hand on his shoulder just as he reached the couch and he 
turned to see Jim looking down at him.

Without hesitaiton the older man pulled him into a tight 
embrace. "My concern is never perfunctory," he whispered 
fiercly. "Never doubt that, you understand?"

Blair nodded and worked his hands around Jim's back, 
gripping his friend in an equally fierce embrace. "I do know. 
And thank you."

They stood like that for a moment longer before Jim released 
him. "*Now* I'm going to order dinner," he announced. "You 
take a break. You're going to need your strength. I hear Maj 
plans on finishing the revisions Blessed Protector's Thoughts 
on Cypher tonight, and you know what that means."

His partner groaned. "I'm going to be having nightmares for a 
week, aren't I?"

Jim chuckled. "And then she wants to get started on that X-
Files crossover - you know, the one where you're captured by 
the secret government orgainization?"

Blair moaned and droped onto the couch face-first, burying his 
face in the pillow. 

Jim cheerfully leaned over the back of the couch and patted his 
friend on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's not all bad. You'll 
probably only be in the hospital a few weeks." He managed to 
stifle his laughter - mostly - as he headed into the kitchen.

Until the pillow Blair had hurled smacked into the back of his 
head.

Jim stumbled, more from surprise than anything else, and 
leaned down to pick up the pillow. "You have asked for it, 
kiddo." He hefted the pillow with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

And they enjoyed a normal evening at home.



End