New
Arrivals
Author-Tate
Titles
Making Contact
by Tate
Here is a short piece I wrote for the Smarm/Non-owie challenge. This is does not occur in my psychic connection AU. It hasn't been beta read so please excuse any errors. Also, the religious views discussed in the piece don't necessarily represent those of the characters on the show. Thanks to Lorrie for talking this one over with me. It's rated G. Hope you like it! You can send any responses to TateWG@aol.com
Disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly Productions and UPN. Contact belongs to the late Carl Sagan and family, and WB. No copyright infringement is intended. No money is exchanging hands.
Blair had been walking for more than an hour through the wet streets of Cascade. His hair and jacket were sprinkled with water drops, the remnants of a steadier rainfall that had soaked the city while he sat in the dark theater. It was after 11 p.m. now. The movie had ended more than two hours ago, but he felt the need to continue his aimless walk around downtown. He had too much to think about, and the constant motion seemed to turn the wheels in his head a little faster.
After reading the book yesterday, he'd gone to see the film alone. He knew that if he'd asked someone to go with him that they'd likely spend time talking about it afterward. He'd decided it was an experience he'd rather process on his own, just like the book.
Who would have thought that the Hollywood of 1997 could produce a film with such significant overtones? To top it off, it'd been released in the same summer as mindless offerings like *MIB*, and *Batman and Robin*. Sure, those movies were all in good fun, but substance, brain food was really what people needed. That was what Blair believed *Contact* to be.
Since he was a child, he'd been a fan of Carl Sagan. He could still hear the man's voice proclaiming the "billions and billions" of stars in the universe, and thus, the limitless opportunities for life on other planets. The book and film explored both the scientific and religious implications of such a find, and challenged people to examine their own belief systems. That's exactly what Blair was doing now.
He'd been born Jewish, but he hadn't thought much about religion or spirituality since he'd started his studies. He'd been far too busy examining the beliefs and rituals of other cultures, than wondering about his own.
Then, Jim Ellison had come into his life, or rather, he'd invaded the life of the Sentinel detective. Between helping his partner with his senses and dodging bullets, Blair seemed to have little time to contemplate the possibility of an afterlife or the existence of God. But maybe it was important that he make the time. As much as he was afraid to admit it, he had a much better chance of meeting an early grave than the average grad student. Then, where would he be? He smiled to himself. "That's the question. Isn't it?" he asked himself aloud.
He knew that if Jim had anything to say about it, he wouldn't find out about the afterlife (if there was one) for a long time. With that thought, he turned the corner and made his way back to the Volvo. Jim was probably worried by now. Besides, he could continue his pondering in his own warm bed.
Blair opened the door to the loft, not at all surprised to see Jim sprawled on the couch with a beer, watching late night television. "Hey, Jim."
"Hey, Chief." The detective looked over at him, his forehead wrinkling as he noted Sandburg's appearance and demeanor. The lecture about calling home if he was going to be late didn't come. Instead, Jim asked, "what's up? You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."
"Nah, man, try the universe." The words just spilled out of his mouth. Blair hadn't planned on discussing his ruminations with Jim, but the Sentinel had obviously picked up on his emotions.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He did, but the question was could he? Could he share his inner most anxieties with Jim Ellison? The answer came almost immediately: He wouldn't want to share them with anyone else. "Yeah, I guess so."
Blair slipped out of his wet jacket, hanging it by the door. He combed his fingers through his damp hair, as he walked over to the couch. He sat close to his friend, wishing that he had Jim's senses so he could feel the presence of the older man, wishing he could hear Jim's heartbeat. It would assure him that he wasn't as alone as he felt. A hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Blair nodded, glancing over at Jim, but returning his gaze to the hands that twisted in his lap. He felt like a kid again. Like some child whose questions were too numerous and obscure for an adult to answer. "It's just . . . well, it's kinda stupid."
"What is it?"
"I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"About the big questions. You know, life, Evolution, the Big Bang." Blair had brought his hands together, and then spread them apart to simulate the creation of the universe.
"Those are big questions," Jim agreed, without any hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Did you come up with any answers?"
"No, only more questions. That movie I saw tonight, *Contact*, made a lot of things seem insignificant while elevating others."
"Sometimes movies can do that." Still, there wasn't the vaguest hint of a patronizing tone in Jim's voice.
"Jim," Blair began, sliding over on the couch so he was facing his partner, "do you believe in God?"
A smile played at the corner's of the detective's mouth. "Now that really is the big question, huh? Well, I don't believe in the God of any particular religion, but I do believe that there's something more to this life that just this life, and there's something greater than us that makes everything possible."
"So, you do?"
"In a way."
Blair's inner turmoil stirred. Jim believed, and more than anything, he wanted to share that belief. He wanted the comfort of knowing that death wasn't the end, but he didn't have that kind of faith. At least he didn't think so. Right now, he was reaching for the part of his mind that held his answer to the question he'd just asked Jim, but there was nothing there. It scared him.
"What do you believe in?"
Jim's question almost sent him into a panic. Here was Jim, expecting an answer from him about his feelings on the nature of the universe, and he didn't have a clue as to how to reply.
After a short silence, Jim spoke again. "You don't have to think of a long elaborate answer, Chief. You don't even have to say anything if you don't want to."
Surely, it wouldn't be that easy. Blair took a deep breath and reached again. "I don't know what to believe. I only know that I'd hate to think that when you die, there's only darkness, that you won't be rewarded for all the good you have done for people, Jim." He hated the thought of Jim's bright light just winking out. He deserved more.
It was a moment before the Sentinel realized that the "you" was referring directly to him. "I don't do what I do for any reward, Chief."
"I know that. It's just . . . well . . ." Blair's voice drifted as all the great mysteries of the world seemed to flood through him. Life. Death. Time. Space. God. Infinity. And in the face of it all, he felt insignificant. No, that's not what the movie was saying. 'We aren't insignificant. There has to be a purpose. And maybe, I've already found my own.' He looked into Jim's eyes and saw concern, trust, and something more--friendship.
Ellison patted his shoulder. "Take it easy. You don't have to come up with all the answers in one night." Jim stood up. "I'm going to get another beer. Do you want one?"
"Yeah."
While Jim made his way over to the kitchen, Blair got up and walked over to the balcony door. After noting that the rain had stopped, he opened the door and stepped out. The cool air brushed against him. It held the lingering smell of now distant showers. He let his gaze wander out over the city and then up to the sky. Only the brightest stars were visible. He knew that the light reaching his eyes had been generated years before, and that some of those stars might not even exist anymore. He sighed at the thought.
Jim walked out beside him, handing him an opened bottle. Blair took the beer and brought it up to his lips. It had a stronger taste than he had remembered, but it was good. Holding the bottle loosely in one hand, he gestured with the other at the night sky. "Do you think there's life up there, Jim?"
"If not, it's an awfully big waste of space."
Ellison's words echoed those of the film that he hadn't seen. The coincidence sent a shudder through Blair.
"Chief, what . . . ?"
But before Jim could finish, Sandburg had turned without thinking, dropped the bottle in his hand, and rushed at Jim, embracing him. The clink of breaking glass sounded deafening in the night air. 'Oh, he's going to kill me for that one,' Blair thought.
But the words from Jim's mouth were anything but angry, as he returned the hug. "It's okay. I'm right here," he said, patting Blair's back as one would a frightened child.
Blair slowly pulled away, thankful that strong hands still held him by his shoulders.
"You okay?" the Sentinel asked, angling his head to get a better look at Blair's face.
The younger man tipped his chin up. "It's, well, I think it sometimes important to connect," he said. "You know, to assure each other that we're in this together, and to know that we're not alone, not necessarily in the cosmic sense, but in the human one."
"To make contact," Jim said.
"That's right." Blair blinked back the tears that had threatened.
"You're not alone, Blair. We are in this together, and whatever happens, know that you are cared for deeply. It's important to hear that sometimes."
Blair nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He couldn't believe that Jim was actually admitting his emotions. Maybe this brotherly display could give him the strength to continue to search for his own answers. And whatever they turned out to be, he could count on that strength to see him through.
"Now, about this glass . . ." Jim looked down at the shattered bottle. Returning his gaze to Blair, he smiled. He let go of the younger man's shoulders and playfully tapped him on the side of the face.
"I'll take care of it, Jim." Blair grinned, brushing by his friend into the warmth of their home.
THE END