Fic: Prodigious (TS, Jim/Megan, Blair/OC)

Author’s Note: Last in the Ariel series, set after “Priceless” but at this point I don’t remember by how much. My friend, Medie, wrote a similar series about Jim and Blair and their respective partners, one of whom was an OC, and eventually delved into the lives and friendship of their children. Another author in the fandom, Jen R, took that branch Medie’s universe and ran with it, with Medie’s blessing. One of her stories–I forget now which one–inspired me to explore my own version of the “next generation.” I got about as far with it as I did with filling in the middle of the series, but here’s a glimpse into the future that might’ve been, between Blair’s son Jamie and Jim’s as-yet-unborn daughter.


“So are you going to tell her or aren’t you?” Jim grinned proudly at his partner as he pulled up in front of Blair’s half of the duplex the two of them shared with their wives.

Blair looked embarrassed. “I dunno, man, I think Ariel’s a little young for a heart attack.”

“Which is exactly why your news won’t give her one,” the Sentinel retorted, cuffing the younger man playfully upside the head. “So get in there and tell her that her husband made cop of the year this year instead of his partner.”

“All right, all right.” His Guide ducked another swat and hopped out of the vehicle. “I’ll tell her as soon as I get inside.”

Following him out of the truck, Jim slammed the driver’s side door with a chuckle and headed up his own front steps, still keeping an eye on his partner. When Blair disappeared inside, he dialed up his hearing, turning the key in his own lock at the same time.

“Well look who’s home,” Ariel’s teasing voice greeted her husband.

“Hey,” Blair returned fondly, giving his wife an audible kiss. Jim opened the door, smiling to see Megan on the other side, fast asleep on the couch with one hand draped over her pregnant belly.

“Hey there, Jamie,” the Guide addressed his son with even more affection. “So what did you and Mommy do today?”

The Sentinel snorted softly in amusement. Sure, just as soon as he got inside he was going to tell her…

“Oh, we had a big day, didn’t we, Jamie?”

“Oh yeah? What made it so big?”

Before Ariel could answer, a clear young voice said: “dendna.”

Blair’s wife laughed quietly. “That. That’s what.”

Just then Megan stirred and grumbled sleepily, “So much for the Joey giving it a rest for an hour.” She rubbed the spot where the baby had kicked.

Jim stared in wonder from his wife to the wall that separated his home from his best friend’s–then back–and began to laugh.

“Like father, like son,” Ariel remarked on the other side of the wall.

Megan blinked drowsy eyes at her husband. “Jimbo, be nice. You know Sandy and Jenny don’t like when you eavesdrop,” she teased.

When he just smiled at her, she lifted her head from the cushions with a quizzical look.

“Jamie said his first word,” he explained softly.

“And?”

“It was ‘sentinel.'”

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Fic: Priceless (TS, Jim/Megan, Blair/OC)

Author’s Note: Set about a year or two after “Things That Go Bump in the Night” and five years after the episode “The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg.” This was another early story I wrote out of order. I wrote it for the Sentinel lyric wheel, because it was what the lyrics gave me. If you ignore Ariel’s presence, however, it works as a pretty solid future-fic all on its own too. Thanks to Nancy Taylor for her ever faithful beta duties on this series.


“Uh-uh, Jim. You are out, man!”

“Sandburg, that ball did not touch me! Trust me, I would have felt it.”

Blair shook his head with a merry smile. “I do trust you, with my life. But I don’t trust you not to try to cheat by dialing your sense of touch down to zero. So get out of here, before I report you to the ump.”

“All right, BREAK IT UP!” Simon’s voice boomed from behind them. As one, they turned to the masked figure, whose intimidation factor was only slightly enhanced by the black garb and body armor. “Jim, be a good sport and get your ass back into the dugout. He’s right–you’re out.”

Caught, Jim just sighed, glared at his partner and stomped away from third base. Simon followed, resuming his place behind the plate.

“All right, Blair!” a jovial female voice shouted from the outfield. Jim redirected the glare in that direction, but Ariel just smirked and waved impishly at him.

As he reached the dugout, Brown gave him a sympathetic smile and a comforting pat on the shoulders. “Better luck next time, Jim.”

“Hit a homer for me, will you, H?” Jim returned, his irritation fading into an amused smile. “Get back at that partner of mine for choosing to play on his wife’s team instead of mine.” The other detective grinned and strode to the plate while Ellison ducked his head and picked out a spot on the bench.

Out in the field, Blair smiled and tapped his eyebrow in salute, knowing his friend could see. Jim smiled in return, watching as the curly-haired third baseman turned his attention to H, who was playfully taunting Rafe about his pitching skills.

Officially, the ball game and the picnic were to commemorate Memorial Day Weekend, but unofficially the entire Major Crimes division considered it the anniversary of the day Blair Sandburg had formally turned in his unofficial status with the department for a full-time job. They were all here, Jim marveled, to celebrate something that he’d half expected to matter only to him…and to Blair.

A knife-blade twisted in his heart as he remembered the darker side of that celebration, the reason everything had changed. To this day it amazed him that Sandburg had never once shown any signs of regret.

God, had it really been five years?

He felt an arm slip through his and slender fingers entwine his hand. “Ooh, somebody’s thinking deep thoughts,” Megan’s teasing voice intruded softly on his consciousness. “Either that or he’s zoned, so I hope it’s the former.”

Jim smiled and squeezed her hand in return. “Just…remembering,” he stated softly.

The Australian nodded wisely. The unofficial anniversary made it pretty clear what he was thinking about. “You still feel guilty about that, don’t you?”

A low sigh escaped the Sentinel. “Is it that obvious?”

“Woman’s intuition,” she quipped. “Sentinels aren’t the only ones with genetic advantages, you know.”

He chuckled and released her hand to snake an arm around her waist. The light mood faded quickly though. “Even after five years, part of me still doesn’t understand why he did it. So many roads that he could take…why did he choose this one?”

Megan smiled. “Well, Jim, I think the answer to that is pretty simple. Everyone wants a chance to be someone. We all have dreams, we all want our voices to be heard. But sometimes there are more important things. There’s an expression I heard once: ‘Sweeter than any star you can reach, is when you reach and find you’ve found someone.'”

Puzzled, Jim’s eyes drifted to where Ariel’s slender form could be seen chasing the ball Brown had just walloped.

“No, Jim,” the woman beside him corrected, noticing where his attention had gone. “I don’t mean Jenny–well, not just Jenny, anyway–I mean you. Sandy loves you, as a brother, as a friend, as your Guide…and he decided that you were more important than the prize.”

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because that’s the world’s most priceless prize, Jim; if you can look back and know you were loved.”

The detective couldn’t help but chuckle. “Says the woman who turned down my proposal.”

She blushed. “Yeah, well, I changed my mind, didn’t I? And I did it because Jenny sat down and had pretty much this same talk with me.”

Jim squeezed her tighter, grateful beyond words for that fact. “Sounds like we’ve both got some pretty good friends.”

“We do,” Megan agreed, letting her head fall familiarly onto his shoulder. “Jim?” she murmured into his chest.

“Mmm?”

“If you ever start to doubt again…wondering what your life is worth or why anyone would make a sacrifice for you…just remember that. You were loved. You *are* loved.”

Detective James Ellison, Sentinel of the Great City, closed his eyes in gratitude and dropped a kiss onto the dark waves of his wife’s hair. “I know.”

“Megan, you’re up,” Simon interrupted gently, smiling at the couple on the bench.

She stood, giving her husband’s hand one last squeeze. “Why can’t you mates play a normal game, like cricket or rugby?” she teased good-naturedly, throwing a wink over her shoulder as she approached home plate.

The Captain-turned-umpire just snorted. “Since when has this department done anything normal?” he muttered to himself.

Jim smirked and turned his eyes back to the field.


End note: Story based on the following lyrics, provided by Medie:

“You Were Loved”
written by Diane Warren, performed by Wynnona

We all want to make our place in this world;
We all want our voices to be heard.
Everyone wants a chance to be someone;
We all have dreams we need to dream,
But sweeter than any star you can reach
Is when you reach and find you’ve found someone.
You’ll hold this world’s most priceless thing,
The greatest gift this life can bring,
If you can look back and know
You were loved.

You were loved by someone,
Touched by someone,
Held by someone,
Meant something to someone,
Loved somebody,
Touched somebody’s heart along the way.
You can look back and say,
You were loved.

You can have diamonds in your hand,
Have all the riches in the land,
Without love do you really have a thing.
When someone cares that you’re alive,
When someone finds their world in your eyes,
Then you’ll know you’ve found all you need.
You’ll hold this world’s most priceless prize,
The sweetest treasure in this life,
If you can look back and know
You were loved.

So many roads that you can take,
Whatever way you go,
Don’t take that road alone.
Better you should know…

You were loved by someone,
Touched by someone,
Held by someone,
Meant something to someone,
Loved somebody,
Touched somebody’s heart along the way.
You can look back and say,
You did OK
You were loved.

So remember to tell that one,
You are loved.

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Fic: Things That Go Bump in the Night (TS, Blair/OC, Jim/Megan)

Author’s Note: And now the time jumps get big. So I, um, yeah, never finished the story where the romance actually blossomed. I would be willing to post whatever unfinished fragments I have if there’s interest, but…yeah. This jumps ahead about four years in the series timeline. Blair is married to Ariel and Jim to Megan, so obviously they’re no longer roommates. The two couples do, however, own a duplex together so Sentinel and Guide are close if needed. Hence the shared wall.


THUMP!!

Ariel Sandburg sat up in bed with a start. Either the sound or the movement also woke her husband, because Blair pulled himself into a sitting position beside her.

“What was that?” she whispered loudly.

There was another loud THUD against the wall, then the sound of two familiar voices. Blair listened for a moment, then chuckled and placed a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Just Jim and Megan ‘fighting’,” he yawned. “Think you can get back to sleep?”

Ariel nodded and snuggled back into the covers, her husband following. The shouting on the other side of the wall continued.

“Why do they have to be so loud about it?” the redhead grumbled sleepily.

Blair shrugged and cuddled closer to her. His arms came around her waist and he pressed a kiss to the corner of her earlobe.

“Maybe Jim’s just trying to get back at us for all the times we’ve…kept him awake.”

Ariel squeaked. “Blair!”

All of a sudden, the shouting on the other side of the wall died.

“Thank heaven,” Ariel mumbled, burying her face in her husband’s chest.

Before they could get back to sleep, though, the pair on the other side of the wall burst into giggles. Apparently Jim had shared the joke.

Blair’s wife groaned. “Remind me to buy a white noise generator to keep in the bedroom.”

The giggling only got louder.

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Fic: Braided Into a Corner (TS, UST)

Author’s Note: Okay, so this is where the time jumps in the series really begin. Suffice it to say that Megan took Ariel in when she broke her leg and they became good friends as a result–she also abbreviated Ariel’s last name to a nickname just like she did with Blair, hence why she calls her “Jenny.” This is set while the leg is still healing. In terms of the series, Megan still thinks Jim is psychic.

Acknowledgments to Nancy Taylor as always.


Megan blinked, startled, as the door to the loft swung open before her hand reached it to knock. Jim grinned at her from the opening, raising a finger to his lips.

“Come on in, Conner,” he told her softly.

A little bewildered, she stepped past him into the apartment, which seemed strangely empty. “Where are Sandy and Jenny?” she asked in a low tone, imitating the quietness of his voice.

Still grinning, Ellison pointed towards the couch. Megan gave him a quizzical look and crossed the room on tiptoe. Reaching the sofa, she found Blair and Ariel sitting together on it, the redhead with her recovering leg stretched out along the cushions. Her head had lolled onto Sandburg’s shoulder, and his own curly head was rested atop hers. Both were sound asleep.

“Ah, I see,” Conner whispered with a trace of satisfaction in her voice. So, that would explain why he anticipated me at the door. “This must be one of those times when being psychic comes in handy.”

Jim got a peculiar expression on his face, the same half-amused look he almost always wore whenever she mentioned his abilities. Megan ignored it, since she knew her chances of getting an explanation for his reaction were slim to none.

She studied the pair on the couch again, smiling this time. “That’s sweet. What happened?”

“They were watching a movie.” The detective chuckled. “Apparently it wasn’t very interesting.”

“And I thought they were actually going to study,” the inspector exclaimed in quiet mock-indignation.

“They were,” Jim conceded. “The movie was for Ariel’s ‘film as literature’ class. Coffee, Conner?”

She nodded. “Sure, since I might be here for a while anyway.”

The detective smiled and she returned it, taking only a moment to marvel at the rarity of that. He turned away into the kitchen; she let her attention drift back to the pair on the couch. Red and brown curls tumbled together over the sleeping pair, so that she couldn’t have told whose hair was whose if not for the difference in color.

That thought caused a mischievous smile to creep over her face. Hmm…

Jim crossed back into the main room of the loft a moment later, only to find Megan bent almost studiously over the two curly heads on the back of the couch. “Conner, what are you doing?”

The inspector looked up innocently from her task, revealing two hands twined in Blair and Ariel’s hair, weaving the red and brown locks into a single braid. “I don’t suppose you know where Sandy keeps his hair bands?”

Jim couldn’t help it. He laughed. Loudly.

Blair and Ariel jerked awake and jerked apart. Or rather, they tried to pull apart, but didn’t get very far before the mutual braid resisted and inertia brought their heads back together with a solid “klunk.”

“What the hell?” Blair exclaimed as his fingers set out in search of the knotty problem he couldn’t see.

By this time, Megan was almost on the floor with laughter. Jim was also failing to keep a straight face. Finally, he gave up, beginning to chuckle through a broad, merry grin.

“Jim, what the hell did you do?” Sandburg asked as he and a groggy Ariel weeded through their entangled hair.

“Me? What makes you think I had anything to do with this?” the Sentinel protested.

“Right. All he did was watch,” Megan contributed a backhanded defense.

Jim glared at her. “Thanks for the help, Conner.”

“Give it up, Jim,” Ariel yawned. “Mischief loves compan–ow!”

“Sorry,” Blair apologized.

“‘Sokay. Just try to pull your own hair in the future.”

“I am trying–I’m just having trouble telling yours and mine apart right at the moment.”

“Hey, Megan,” Ariel called to the Inspector. “You got us into this mess–why don’t you come over here and help undo it?”

“What, and miss half the fun?” Conner retorted, her eyes still dancing.

The embraided pair grumbled in response and returned to their blind disentangling efforts.

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Fic: Mating Dance (TS, Jim/Megan)

Author’s Note: Set after “A Certain Similarity” in my Ariel chronology and during the episode “Neighborhood Watch” on the series. Thanks to my beta reader, Nancy Taylor, and Aussie-slang consultant, Kathryn Andersen. And Medie, for bugging me to finish and for showing me people other than me *do* like Jim/Megan by their reactions to her stories.


“Man, you may be a Sentinel, but sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose.”

Jim turned to look at his partner as the elevator doors slid shut. A devilish grin covered most of Blair’s face, and there was a knowing sparkle in the younger man’s eyes.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” the detective asked.

“It means that seventy-five percent of the time, your way of reacting to a woman you find attractive is to pick a fight with her. Sort of the grownup equivalent of pulling her pigtails.” Sandburg continued to smirk at him like the proverbial canary-consuming feline. “And you accuse me of being in denial about Ariel.”

“Wait a damned minute, Sandburg. Are you trying to imply that I’m attracted to Conner?” The look Jim shot his partner was one of pure incredulity.

“To quote you, Jim, ‘You said it, not me.'”

“Chief, I think those whatchamacallit grubs have gone to your head.”

“Witchety grubs, Jim.”

“Whatever. Maybe the last batch you had was rancid or something.”

Blair chuckled. “Why can’t you just admit I’m right? Come on, even Simon can see it. ‘The way you two carry on, no one will doubt it,’ and I quote.”

Jim just snorted. “Somehow I doubt that playing matchmaker is what Simon had in mind.”

“Come on, Jim, you know there’s precedent! The concept of competition as courtship is *ancient*, man! You have the myth of Atalanta, who would only marry a man who could out-run her, Shakespeare’s Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing with their ‘merry war,’ Heathcliff and Catherine from Wuthering Heights…although that’s not such a good example because they both married other people–”

“Chief–”

“–or just look at your own history, Jim. Beverly Sanchez, Elaine Walters–”

“Spare me the English lesson and the history lesson, Sandburg. I suppose you’re going to try to tell me I was subconsciously attracted to Cassie too?”

Blair shook his head. “No, Cassie you definitely didn’t like. Although I think it could be safely said we both consider her a friend now.”

Bewildered, the detective shook his head. “Explain to me the distinction here, Chief, because I don’t see it.”

“It’s pretty simple, actually,” Sandburg complied in a calm tone. “What it comes down to is respect. You perceive Megan as an equal, whereas with Cassie you never did. You had no respect for her. And believe me, there is a visible difference in the way you treat the two of them. For one thing, if Cassie Wells were to ever leave Cascade, for whatever reason, something tells me that even though you like her more than you used to, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager for her to stay as you were with Megan.”

“I was not ‘eager’–”

“Oh yeah? You were the one who said her choice should be obvious.”

Before Jim could form a rebuttal, the elevator doors dinged open. Fuming, the Sentinel stormed out, nearly bowling over the object of their conversation.

“Conner, will you look where you’re going for God’s sake?” Ellison snapped.

Megan bristled. “Excuse me?? I look where I’m going? I’m not the one who blew out of the lift with a bug up his arse!”

“I wasn’t expecting someone to be blocking the exit,” Jim shot back.

The Australian opened her mouth to retort, but the Sentinel interrupted her. “Save it, Conner. You can act like a nagging wife once the assignment starts, but not before.”

Jim marched across the lobby and turned to look expectantly at Sandburg from just within the glass doors.

Aghast and furious, Megan turned to Blair as well. “What the hell was that about?”

Not trusting his voice, he just shrugged with a mild grin.

She let out a low, indignant “Hmph!” and continued in the direction she’d been going, which was not into the elevator. Sandburg watched her for a moment, mildly appreciating the view, then glanced back at his partner.

He almost laughed when he noticed that Jim too was intent upon the Inspector’s retreat.

“The mating dance of the modern Sentinel,” Blair chuckled softly.

“I heard that!”

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Fic: A Certain Similarity (TS, Blair/OC)

Author’s Note: This was the second Ariel story I wrote, although chronologically it takes place after “A Trick of the Light.” It was inspired by the resemblance between Ariel–who I had yet to find a “face” for, so no one knew what she looked like but me–and the character Cassie Welles in the episode, “Dead Certain.” Now, Cassie was one of those female characters that fandom as a whole took an instant dislike to, but while in this instance I could see where it came from, I never hated her with quite the same intensity. It didn’t stop me, however, once I saw her for the first time, from having a little fun with the fact that she looked remarkably like my OC…

Betaed as ever by the wonderful Nancy Taylor.


“You really like her?” Jim asked as soon as the elevator doors closed. His voice was slightly incredulous, and his posture was still tense from the unpleasant run-in with the new head of forensics in Simon’s office.

Blair nodded. “Yeah, I do. Okay, she comes on a little strong, but…” he shrugged.

Comes on a little strong–there’s the understatement of the century. The detective shook his head in wonder. “Can I ask you something, Chief?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Cassie’s resemblance to Ariel, would it?” He quirked an eyebrow at the younger man.

Sandburg blinked. “Huh? I’m not following you, man.”

“You have to admit, they do look alike.”

“No, I don’t,” the anthropologist frowned. The patch of skin between his eyebrows furrowed. “Cassie doesn’t look a thing like Ariel. Where’d you get that idea?”

Ellison smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. The curly red hair, the green eyes, the shape of the face…”

“First of all, Ariel’s hair is a bit longer, and a lot redder. And her eyes are not green; they’re blue-green, with that little gold corona around the pupil that makes them look like there’s a solar eclipse going on in there. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed that.”

“Probably because I’ve never stared deeply into her eyes,” Jim murmured, smirking.

Blair glared at his partner. “We were acting, man. Sheesh. Don’t you ever forget anything?”

The detective chuckled. “I still think there’s a definite resemblance, but suit yourself, Chief.”

The anthropologist sighed. “All right. Maybe there is a certain similarity–”

“Uh huh.” The elevator doors dinged open, and Jim stepped out into the lobby. Blair followed, his naturally faster pace allowing him to keep up easily with his friend’s longer stride.

“But even if there is, why would that influence me liking or disliking Cassie? Geez, Jim, you sound like you think I have a thing for Ariel.”

Jim just grinned. “You said it, Chief, not me.”

Sandburg rolled his eyes. “So, if you think I like Cassie because she looks like Ariel, what does that say about you, man? I mean, should I be warning Ariel to stay away from you for a while…?”

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Fic: A Trick of the Light (TS, gen)

Author’s Note: Set about a month after “These Heather Hills.” Thanks to Nancy Taylor and Marianne Edison for beta reading, hand holding, and helping me fix the end.


“So, what did you think?” Ariel asked the two men as the three of them crossed the parking lot of Rainier Covenant Church.

Jim shook his head in wonder. “I will admit, I’ve never been to a church service like that before. They actually seem to…have fun.”

The redhead put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. “I meant the song, Detective,” she teased. “Although you’re right–this church is a lot of fun. That’s one reason why I attend it.”

“Oh.” The Sentinel looked embarrassed, inspiring Blair to laughter.

“Well, I liked it,” the younger man responded while his partner was recouping. “I’ve never heard the Hallelujah Chorus performed with so much energy.”

“You would know about energy,” Jim murmured, his discomfiture fading into a smile as he unlocked the passenger door of the truck. “It was very nice, Red. I just wish you did everything else with as much confidence as you sang.”

“That’s because I am confident in my faith, I’m not about everything else,” she admitted, then did a double take. “Wait…you heard me?” Ariel had only known about Jim’s abilities for a month, so the rare occasion when he used them in her presence still had a tendency to catch her off-guard.

Both men nodded. “You’d be surprised what Jim can pick out when he wants to,” Blair added.

The distant, faint mechanical roar of a jet overhead drew all three pairs of eyes upward. “For example,” the anthropologist continued, suddenly getting excited. “Jim, what airline is that plane up there?”

“Southwest,” Ariel answered promptly.

Sandburg almost hit himself in the face with the truck door he was opening. He gaped at her, eyes wide and startled. “What?”

Jim focused on the far-away lettering, then smirked. “She’s right.”

Blair’s eyes bugged even more. “Ariel–?”

The redhead laughed. “Don’t get so excited, Blair.” She pointed to where the plane was disappearing from sight. How many airlines do you know that paint their planes orange and goldenrod?”

Looking upward, the anthropologist chuckled as well as he took in the color scheme. “Right.” He shot an admiring look back at her. “That was good. You really had me going there for a second.”

Ariel and Jim exchanged an evil look, which Blair caught out of the corner of his eyes.

“You two really do get some sort of perverse pleasure out of ganging up on me, don’t you?” he grumbled good-naturedly.

His only response was an innocent “Who, us?” look from the pair.

Sandburg rolled his eyes as he climbed into the truck. “Save it for someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do,” he shot over his shoulder.

The other two didn’t stop laughing until they reached the loft.

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Fic: These Heather Hills (TS, Blair/OC)

Author’s Note: This story is set sometime after the events of “Rainy Day Remembrance.” Thanks as always to Nancy Taylor, who helped me fix a problem that delayed this story’s completion for months. It was written for Kathryn Andersen, who asked me to fill some of the holes in the middle of the series after I had written a couple of stories set five years down the line. *blush* Sadly, I never finished the job. Dedicated to all the roommates who ever put up with me.


Part I

“Well, this shouldn’t take too long,” Jim announced with satisfaction as he studied the luggage in the back of the truck, a rather large duffel bag with a garment bag leaning up against it.

Ariel smiled sheepishly as she retrieved her backpack from the bed. “Um, I wouldn’t say that. We still have to get the rest of my stuff out of storage.”

The detective’s eyes narrowed. “Storage?” he repeated with a sideways glare at his partner. “Sandburg, you didn’t mention anything about storage.”

“Well, the storage room is on campus,” Blair rationalized. “It didn’t really seem like an extra stop…”

“Especially since it’s in the building,” the redhead agreed, her eyes hopeful.

Ellison sighed deeply. “All right. Where do we deposit the first load?”

Ariel pointed out a door halfway down the building, which opened onto a little patch of sidewalk that probably passed for a patio. A balcony hung over it from the floor above, creating a nice shade. “Just drop everything on the porch. I’ll slip inside, get registered, and get my key.” She disappeared into the building.

Jim lifted the duffel bag out with a sigh. Blair collected the garment bag and followed him to the apartment she had indicated.

The detective zeroed in on the door, a frown crossing his face.

“What?” Sandburg asked warily, recognizing his partner’s expression.

“The door’s unlocked,” Jim pointed out. He turned the knob and pulled it open.

The room inside was already half-filled with boxes. A couch upholstered in a revolting seventies-style plaid sat against one wall, with a couple of cookie-cutter standard dorm chairs pushed into a corner to make room for it. On a desk on the opposite wall sat an open TV box, with a VCR stacked carelessly on top of it. Someone was clearly in the process of moving in, and it wasn’t Ariel.

The Sentinel turned to his partner. “Are you sure this is the right room?”

*****

“Airy!”

The familiar voice snapped Ariel’s attention back the way she had come. “Heather!” she exclaimed in delight.

“God, I was hoping you’d come in today!” Heather Pratt returned gleefully, her dark eyes sparkling. The two girls embraced. “I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too!” Ariel pulled back and looked at the necklace her roommate was wearing, a little shamrock almost the same shade of gold as her hair. “Ooh, did you get that in Ireland?”

Heather’s hand flew to her throat as the two resumed walking towards the apartment. “Yep. That reminds me, I got something for you too–it’s back at the room. Did you get your key yet?”

The redhead nodded. “What about you?”

“Yeah. I left it in the room.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ariel cocked an eyebrow at her roommate. “I’m assuming you left the door unlocked then, since you didn’t know when I’d get here.”

The blonde smiled back impishly. “Don’t I always?”

They reached the apartment door just as Jim and Blair were turning around to come back out. Heather took one look at them and her eyes widened in appreciation. “Well, hi! Shouldn’t you be walking into my life, not out of it?”

Blair stifled a snicker, while the detective just smiled indulgently.

“Let me guess,” the anthropologist asked. “This is Heather?”

Ariel nodded. “Blair, Jim, I’d like you to meet Heather Pratt,” she introduced the blonde. “My roommate for all but a couple of semesters of my college career thus far. Heather, this is Blair Sandburg, and this is his roommate, Detective Jim Ellison.”

“Heather, it’s nice to meet you. Ariel’s told me a lot about you,” Blair held out a hand to Heather, which she accepted with a sly smile.

“Yeah, she mentioned you a couple of times too,” she told him with a smirk. “When she remembered to write. Call me ‘Heaven.'”

The anthropologist glanced back at Ariel, who was doing her best to keep her expression blank. “Oh, yeah? Why ‘Heaven’?”

The blonde batted her eyelashes once at him and said in a flagrantly come-hither voice, “Because I’m the closest thing to it you’ll ever see.”

Whoa! The anthropologist blinked twice before a huge grin spread over his face. He cocked one eyebrow playfully at her and turned on the charm. “I don’t suppose that’s a theory you’d care to test sometime?”

Heather didn’t miss a beat. She leaned in toward him and whispered, “Oh, it’s not a theory. It’s a proven fact.”

The Sentinel disguised a snort of laughter as a cough.

Heather then released Blair’s hand, letting one finger trail suggestively down his palm as she pulled away. He just stared at her with an expression of breathless awe on his face.

Jim nudged his partner with his shoulder. “Heel, Sandburg,” he murmured with a smirk.

The teasing comment broke the spell as Blair pulled his attention away from Heather to glare at the detective.

Ariel nudged her roommate, grinning. “Hon, you’ll have plenty of time to flirt with Blair later. Right now, I want to be at least half moved in before I go to bed.”

*****

“Sandburg, didn’t I tell you to let me carry the heavy stuff?”

“Geez, Jim, I’m not that weak.”

The detective laughed. He watched Blair dig determined fingers into the knot in his shoulder. “I never said you were, Chief. But you have to remember to lift with your legs, not your back.”

“You okay?” Heather asked, popping out from behind a now-empty box in the kitchen. She crossed the room and tossed the cardboard out onto the patio.

The grad student grimaced. “Yeah, I’ve just got a bit of a knot in my back.” He tipped his head from side to side, trying to crack his spine.

Heather placed a hand over the spot that he had been rubbing. Her fingers prodded gently at the muscle and she whistled. “Yeah, you’ve got a knot in there all right. Take off your shirt.”

Blair’s eyes widened. “Already?” he joked.

The blonde smirked and smacked his shoulder. “Smartass. I’m going to give you a backrub, and you can’t do a proper massage through three layers of fabric.”

“Gonna mix up one of your concoctions?” Ariel asked as she deposited yet another empty box outside the apartment door.

Heather just smiled impishly. “Take off your shirt,” she repeated to Blair. “While I go find my oils and something to spread on the floor.”

She disappeared into the bedroom and Sandburg grinned broadly at his partner. “Guess we ought to offer our services as movers more often, huh, Jim?” he teased as he began unbuttoning his flannel.

Jim got a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I don’t know, Sandburg, selling yourself for just a backrub seems a little cheap. Don’t you agree, Red?”

Ariel laughed. “Not from what I’ve heard about Heather’s backrubs.”

The blonde emerged from the back with a patchwork quilt thrown over one arm, a basket in her hand and a thin book tucked under her other arm. Nudging a few boxes and their makeshift coffee table–her trunk–aside, she spread the quilt out on the carpet. “Now, finish stripping and lie down there. I’ll figure out a blend and be right with you.”

One of Blair’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re into aromatherapy?” He snuck a glance at Jim, wondering idly how the older man’s Sentinel senses would respond to something like that.

Heather nodded and flipped open her book. “Believe it or not, it works. I like to take a bath with lavender sometimes before I go to bed. It helps me sleep.”

Hmm…Heather in the bathtub, now there was a pleasant mental image, Blair ruminated as he watched the blonde. Pulling off his last shirt, he collapsed onto the quilt and pillowed his head on his hands. Maybe he could forego the backrub–just relaxing seemed to be helping enough.

A contrary muscle in his back spasmed in protest. Okay, maybe not, Sandburg grimaced.

Jim sat down on the couch with a sigh, while Ariel continued unloading books onto the bookshelf. Both watched Heather curiously as she let a few drops of several different oils fall into the bottom of a teacup. When she seemed satisfied with the scent, she uncapped a bottle of almond oil and poured a small amount into the cup to help blend the other oils.

Curious, the Sentinel took a sniff. Rose, Jasmine, and a couple of others he didn’t recognize by name, although he’d smelled just about every essential oil there was in that one shop when they were trying to track down Veronica Sarris.

Ariel’s roommate took a deep breath and released it, her chest bobbing a little under the low-cut top she wore. Idly, Jim observed that Heather Pratt was a very attractive young woman. He breathed in the scent of the concoction once again. It really was quite pleasant, and very soothing.

Stepping to Blair’s side, the blonde set the cup down beside him and proceeded to straddle his back. She dipped her fingers into the oil, rubbed them together, then took his shoulders in both hands and began to knead them.

The anthropologist let out a low moan. “God, that feels good,” he murmured into the floor.

The air in the small apartment was beginning to seem unseasonably warm, and the Sentinel found he was having trouble breathing. His eyes seemed pinned to Heather where the young woman was working on Blair. Every movement was slow and measured, every time her hands slid up his back, her body rocked forward in a smooth, flowing, enticing motion. For one moment, Jim felt an almost feral desire to pull her off his partner, throw her up against the wall, and put that nickname of hers to his own little test–

Startled, he recoiled from the thought. God, where the hell was his mind going? She was only twenty, for heaven’s sake!

“Chief,” he almost gasped, springing to his feet. “I’m going to go get some air, okay?”

His only answer from the younger man was a distracted acknowledging grunt.


Part II

It took a brisk walk in the rapidly-cooling evening, to a part of the campus some distance from the girls’ apartment, before Jim felt fully in control of his hormones again.

What the hell happened to me back there??

The detective passed one hand over his stunned face. He hadn’t felt that out of control since Laura McCarthy, whom Blair had hypothesized was emitting some sort of pheremone that his heightened senses were reacting to. Could his response to Ariel’s roommate be pheremonal too? If it was, why hadn’t it happened right away, when they’d first met, instead of hours later?

Not to mention, at least this time, she seemed to have the same effect on Blair. At least, once she’d started that backrub.

Think, Ellison, Jim scolded himself. What changed between this morning and when you first started having this…reaction.

His mind scrolled through the day. They’d picked up Ariel at the airport, brought her to campus, met Heather, spent several hours helping them move in…then Blair had stopped, complaining of a sore back, Heather had offered to give him a massage and brought out that basket of essential oils–

That was it. He’d started losing control the moment he’d smelled those oils.

Aromatherapy, Blair had said. Jim didn’t know much about the subject, but wasn’t aromatherapy based on the idea that certain scents had a particular effect on the human mind and body?

He’d have to ask Sandburg when the younger man finished his backrub. But in the meantime, he would wait out in the truck, instead of the apartment. He might zone out from pure boredom, but at least he wouldn’t find himself fantasizing about a woman twenty years his junior.

*****

“Um, guys, I think I’m going to go to bed,” Ariel stated uncomfortably, picking herself up from her seat on the couch and closing her book on the bookmark. Almost an hour had passed and Jim still hadn’t returned, while the emotional atmosphere in the room had gotten more and more uncomfortable. The charge in the air was now making her feel very much like a voyeur.

“You don’t have to,” Blair slurred in protest from the floor.

The redhead smirked. Right. “It’s okay. We can finish unpacking in the morning. Night, Blair. Thanks for coming over, and thank Jim for me too.”

“Um hmm.”

With a tight smile, she hurried into the back room. The door shut firmly behind her.

Heather cast a worried glance in that direction, then back at Blair as he shifted under her. “Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.

“M’fine,” he murmured. “Mind’s jus’…wanderin’.”

Her hands froze. “Maybe I should stop.”

He made a weak effort at shaking his head. “S’okay. I like it.”

With a silent sigh, Heather resumed kneading his neck, her eyes drifting once again to the closed bedroom door. It’s not you I’m worried about.

*****

“Man, that has got to be the best backrub I’ve ever had in my life,” Blair enthused as he climbed into the cab of the truck beside Jim. “And Heather, is she hot or what? Ariel was right when she said I’d like her.”

There was no response except a sideways look from the Sentinel as he pulled out of the parking lot. The younger man frowned. “Hey, Jim, why didn’t you come back in?”

The detective looked uncomfortable. “Sandburg, this aromatherapy business…are there any scents that are supposed to be aphrodisiac?”

Blair’s curly head bobbed. “Yeah, of course. Rose, Jasmine, Ylang-Ylang, Patchouly…” He rambled on down the list for about thirty seconds. “Why?”

Jim sighed. “Because I detected about half of that list in that concoction Heather made.”

“You mean–” The anthropologist’s eyes widened. “Oh! Wow, that stuff really works, doesn’t it?”

“You’re telling me,” the Sentinel murmured.

“This is great!” Sandburg exclaimed, starting to get excited again. “The oils didn’t really affect me until she started rubbing them into my back, but you picked it up from across the room–”

“This is not great,” Jim contradicted him. “Chief, the stuff was giving me fantasies about a girl half my age. If I hadn’t left when I did, I don’t know if I would have been able to stay in control of my actions.”

Blair grimaced. “I get the picture.” He too remembered the last time Jim had lost control of his body’s response to a woman. It had not been an experience either of them would care to repeat. “So, what do you think we should do?”

The detective wrinkled his nose. “First of all, as soon as we get home, you take a shower and wash the mess off you. I don’t want to find myself having explicit dreams about Ariel’s roommate because you reek of that stuff.”

“Or about me, huh?” the younger man joked, earning him a daggered look from his roommate. “Hey, relax, man, I was kidding. You know I’m as straight as they come.”

Jim snorted. He couldn’t argue with that. “Then tomorrow we’ve got to figure out something to tell Ariel, so this doesn’t happen again.”

“How about the truth?” Blair suggested. “I mean, I know we don’t need to, and it’s your decision, but I think we both know she can be trusted.”

“I’ll think about it,” the Sentinel sighed.

*****

“Morning,” Ariel yawned as she wandered into the kitchen the next morning. Heather was sitting at the table, staring white-faced at her aromatherapy book. “When’s your first class?” the redhead asked as she reached for a bagel.

When there was no answer from the blonde, her roommate did a double take. “Uh oh. Heath, what happened?”

Heather let out a despairing little groan and buried her face in her arms. “I just made the most horribly huge mistake.”

Grabbing her breakfast off the counter, Ariel sat down and regarded her friend curiously. “Oh? What’s that?”

Her face burning, Heather pushed the book toward her roommate. “That mixture I used on Blair last night–it worked so well that I decided to write down all the ingredients so I could make it again sometime…Airy, three-quarters of the oil I put in that was aphrodisiac!”

Her roommate stared at her for a minute, then began to laugh. “Well, that certainly explains a few things!”

“He said, after you left, that his mind was wandering, but I didn’t realize…Oh, God!” Heather hid her face again. “I picked them because one of the effects was supposed to be muscle relaxation, I wasn’t trying to seduce him or anything! I swear!”

“I know you weren’t.”

“But he doesn’t!” the blonde almost wailed. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

Ariel shrugged. “Tell him the truth.”

The other girl’s head popped up. “Are you kidding? He’ll hate me!”

“He’s not going to hate you,” the redhead promised. “You don’t know Blair like I do. He won’t hate you for something as little as that.” Her eyes took on an impish glint. “Especially not with the way he was flirting with you–and you with him, I might add–before you ever even pulled out your oils.”

“No, he’s going to hate me,” the other woman repeated with conviction.

Ariel rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself, but you have to tell him something.”

Heather groaned and hid her face in her arms again.


Part III

A bright smile beamed across Blair’s face as he opened the loft door to admit Ariel. “Hey, you’re early. Food’s still on the stove.”

“Is that a problem?” the redhead asked, one eyebrow shooting up in imitation of her favorite television character.

The anthropologist shook his head. “Nope, no problem.” He glanced out into the hallway behind her. “Heather didn’t come, huh?”

She fought a smile. “No…she’s a little afraid to be around you right now.”

“Oh?” Sandburg closed the door behind her. “Is it about what happened with the oils?”

Ariel stared. “You knew about that?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“How?”

“It’s, um…kind of a long story.” He glanced at the table, which Jim was setting with typical Sentinel meticulousness.

“You’re not mad at her, are you?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“I don’t,” Ariel grinned, “but Heather does. She’s firmly convinced you’d hate her if you knew what happened, even if it was an accident.”

Sandburg chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to talk to her, then. No, I don’t hate her. But there is, um…a little bit of a problem. Which is partly why we invited you over for dinner tonight. So it’s just as well that Heather didn’t come.”

The redhead frowned, looking from one to the other. “What do you mean?”

“Well…I didn’t figure out that Heather had used aphrodisiacs in that blend,” Blair explained. “Jim did.”

“Jim?” Ariel cast a puzzled glance in the detective’s direction. “But how? She didn’t use any of the stuff on you. She didn’t even give you a backrub.”

“She didn’t need to,” Jim stated. He sighed. “Sandburg, you explained this to me, maybe you’d better–”

Blair shrugged. “Okay, Jim, although you did just fine breaking the news to Simon.”

“That’s because Simon saw the evidence before he heard the outlandish story,” Jim retorted.

“What outlandish story? What are you guys talking about?” Ariel asked, confused.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” Jim interceded. “We’ll explain over dinner.”

*****

Ariel ran a finger back and forth along the side of her glass, eyes fixed thoughtfully on the water in it. A pensive frown creased her lips.

“Ariel,” Blair started. “It’s okay. We know that this can be a little hard to swallow. Sheesh, even Jim was skeptical at first, and he was the one experiencing it.”

“No,” she shook her head firmly. “It’s not that I don’t believe you…I mean, you’ve never lied to me–” The redhead hesitated mid-thought.

Jim took advantage of the pause to shoot a curious look at Blair, half expecting to see chagrin on the younger man’s face. Sentinel hearing focused in on his roommate’s heartbeat. But both Sandburg’s face and his heart remained calm.

Well, I’ll be damned. He really hasn’t ever ‘obfuscated’ to her, the detective marveled.

“I’m just thinking maybe I owe my mom an apology,” Ariel continued in a soft voice.

This caught both men’s attention.

“Your mom?” Blair asked, excited.

She nodded. “You said you have a lot of cases of people with one or two ‘heightened’ senses?”

The detective could almost hear his partner’s heart sinking. He frowned–that was a possibility he’d never really considered, that Blair might actually want to find a second Sentinel. It made logical sense considering what little he knew about scientific research methods, but something about the idea disturbed him.

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Sandburg confirmed.

Ariel sighed. “Well, I think my mom would be one of them. She’s always smelling things that no one else in the family does. I…I always thought she was imagining things. I tried not to, but sometimes I was actually…” Her voice hitched a little. “I was embarrassed by her. But if this is true–”

“Just smell? You’re sure?” Blair asked with a tone that was still slightly hopeful.

The redhead frowned. “Well, she always has been a light sleeper, and once she heard me typing from two rooms away when I had my door closed and my radio blaring.”

The anthropologist’s interest visibly piqued even more, but before he could rattle off another question, she continued.

“Not sight, though. I’m sure of that. She wears contacts for nearsightedness.”

“Oh,” Blair’s ballooning excitement popped once again.

“Look, Chief,” Jim pointed out calmly, “why don’t you wait until you know if you’re ever going to meet the woman before you start planning any tests for her?”

“Tests?”

The detective chuckled. “Yeah, Sandburg likes to think of me as his own personal guinea pig.”

Ariel giggled. “Now, that I find difficult to imagine.”

“Well, you probably can imagine that he’s not the most cooperative test subject,” Blair groused good-naturedly.

Before the redhead could ask for details, Jim changed the subject. “So what are we going to do about your roommate?”

Ariel grinned. “Well, I don’t think we’ll need to do anything right away. It’ll probably be a couple of weeks before she even picks up the book again, she’s so paranoid. Beyond that, I think I can run interference.” She turned to the younger of the two men. “The only real problem will be convincing her you don’t find the whole incident unforgivable.”

He nodded. “Well, why don’t I come back to campus with you tonight and have a talk with her?”

She agreed. “Sounds good to me.”

*****

“So, you’re really *not* mad at me?” Heather asked again in amazement.

Blair shook his head. “Why would I be? Honestly, I don’t think I would have been upset even if you had done it on purpose. In fact, I was wondering…”

The blonde watched him with an inquiring expression.

“I know there’s eight years age difference between us, but I really do find you attractive. That’s not just the oils talking.” He smiled the same gorgeous, sincere smile that had melted many a young woman’s heart, including Maya’s. “Could we maybe get together again, sometime?” His voice turned more flirtatious. “Maybe let nature’s aroma take its course?”

She smiled in response. The idea had definite appeal, but…

Her smile never faded, except from her eyes. “Nah. Call me superficial, but I like my guys to be significantly taller than me.” With a mischievous grin, she held one hand up to Blair’s head and ran it through the air towards herself. “Sorry.”

Then, thinking of the grad student’s roommate, her expression became even more mischievous. “Of course, significantly older I can handle too, in the right guy.”

Blair laughed and faked being stabbed through the heart. “Ouch, I think I get the point. Should I send Jim over now, or later?”

*****

“How’d it go?” Ariel asked as the bedroom door closed behind her roommate.

Heather leaned against the door, letting out a low breath. “Well, you were right, he doesn’t hate me.”

The redhead grinned. “I told you so.”

“In fact…” Heather hesitated. “Oh, hell. He asked me out.”

For an infinitesimal second, a flicker of dismay seemed to cross the other woman’s face, but she masked it with the practiced skill of a lifelong actress. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him no.”

The redhead looked up at her friend, surprised. “Why?”

“Airy, I know you like him,” Heather answered softly. “You’re a hell of a lot more important to me than any guy. I’m attracted to him; I’ll admit that right now. But I won’t let that come between us.”

The redhead took a deep, shaky breath. “You’re right, I guess I do have a little bit of a crush on him. But if he wants you…I won’t stand in the way. I’ll understand. I can’t pretend it won’t hurt a little bit–maybe even a lot–but I’ll live with it. You’re too important to me too.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” The blonde rolled her eyes melodramatically. “Will you just shut up and stop playing the martyr for once? I could take just about any guy on this campus and be just as happy. And you know that.”

She grinned, poking her roommate in the shoulder. “If you don’t want to tell him, that’s cool. But sheesh, let *me* be selfless for once, okay?”

Ariel smiled. “Well…okay. If you want. But I can almost guarantee you nothing’s gonna happen.”

Heather just shot her head with another knowing smile. “We’ll see.”

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Fic: The Little Namesake (TS, gen)

Author’s Note: This story takes place a few weeks after the events of “The Tempest and the Teapot.” Thanks again to Nancy Taylor and DebC.


“Really, I can handle it. You don’t need to come up.”

Blair shifted the car into park and craned his head to look into the back seat. What had been one duffel bag had multiplied as Ariel’s stay at the loft had extended. When the young woman had decided yesterday that she was finally ready to face her half-empty dorm room again, it had taken all three of them to carry the luggage she had accumulated down to the car. Jim had even joked that maybe putting French doors on the couch might be a simpler solution after all.

“It’s not a problem,” he reassured her. “Besides, it’ll save you a trip or two.”

Ariel colored a little looking at the collection in the seat behind them. “Poor Jim,” she murmured. “He must have thought I was moving in permanently.”

Blair snorted mildly in amusement. “That’s okay, he’s used to it. Did I ever tell you I was originally supposed to stay for only a week?”

“Seriously?” she laughed. “What happened?”

Sandburg shrugged. “I don’t really remember. Somehow the arrangement just turned permanent.”

Lifting the lock on his door, Blair pushed it open with a decisive movement. He released his seatbelt and climbed out. The redhead followed his example, reaching around the door after she was out to unlock the back and shoulder a bright red backpack.

With both shoulders and both hands occupied, the two finally started towards the dorm. Fortunately, a student just coming out of the building spotted them and held the door. She grinned in cheeky recognition at the doctoral student.

“Hey, Mr. Sandburg, you moving in?”

“Not unless my roommate threw me out when I wasn’t looking,” he returned merrily, answering the grin with a charming smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Lisa.”

The brunette shrugged. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

She let the door fall closed behind them and disappeared down the sidewalk.

Ariel giggled. “Oh, man, I can’t wait for you to meet Heather.”

“Heather?”

“My roommate. She’s spending a semester in England.”

Blair nodded with a wary look in his eyes. “And why can’t you wait for me to meet her?”

“Because,” was the teasing reply thrown over Ariel’s shoulder as she moved towards the stairs. “She’s the only person I know who could probably out-flirt you.”

The anthropologist perked up with visible interest and hurried to follow. “Oh, yeah?”

*****

“Here it is.” Ariel gestured with a shoulder at the door to room 315. Letting the bag fall from her left hand, she fumbled in her pocket until she pulled out a dull gold-colored key. The key slipped into the lock and the door swung open with a little help from the young redhead.

She let out a breath of relief when one foot finally managed to force a wooden block under the door, bracing it open. “Boy, why do they have to make these doors so heavy,” she muttered.

Blair stepped into the room and looked at its inhabitant with a question in his eyes. She shrugged, indicating for him to just drop the stuff anywhere. Which he did. Once the burden had been shrugged, he let his eyes drift around the room in curious inspection.

Those blue eyes narrowed as he took in the decor. “Um…Ariel?”

His friend looked at him, then followed his gaze and began to laugh. “Which one? Me or her?”

There was a definite motif to the room. A large poster of “The Little Mermaid” hung over one of the beds, with a smaller one decorating the door of the closet on that side of the room. A Little Mermaid toothbrush holder sat on top of the bookshelf, with a matching pencil holder on the desk. The cartoon Ariel also stared at him from the top of one dresser in the form of a porcelain figure in a pink dress, running a fork through her hair, and from several other places around the room.

“‘The Little Mermaid’ came out when I was thirteen, in junior high,” Ariel (the student) explained with a smile. “It was pretty much inevitable that someone would pick up on the similarity and tease me about it, so I circumvented the problem by beating them to it.”

Blair nodded, picking up a pencil with a plastic mermaid curled around the eraser. He chuckled and held it up. “She does look a bit like you.”

“It’s the hair,” Ariel agreed with a smirk.

Returning the writing utensil to its matching receptacle, Sandburg wandered over to study another poster on the far wall, this one of a painting in the Pre-Raphaelite style. In it, a red haired woman was standing on a cliff, looking down on a fierce storm that was battering a forlorn ship in the distance. One hand controlled her wind-whipped hair while the other was clasped to her chest.

He turned back to look suspiciously at Ariel. “Is this–?”

“Waterhouse’s ‘Miranda’ or ‘The Tempest,'” she admitted with the same mischievous smile. “I couldn’t find any nice paintings of Ariel at the poster sale.”

He next studied a smaller image, this one of a rampant lion before a large, blue Star of David. Next to it was another image of a lion, this one with the name, Ariel, its definition and “attributes” embossed over the picture in gold-toned foil leaf script.

Even Ariel’s bookshelf continued the theme. Sylvia Plath’s “Ariel and Other Poems,” sat next to a book entitled Ariel Ascending, which contained essays about the poet. Tad Williams’ quasi-sequel to “The Tempest,” Caliban’s Hour, was next on the shelf, followed by a video cassette labeled with the words, “The X-Files: Kaddish,” an episode which, if he remembered correctly, had featured a character named Ariel. Next were pre-recorded tapes of “Footloose,” “The Little Mermaid” and “Prospero’s Books” and a space for the copy of “The Tempest” that he and Jim had read with her at the loft. They were separated from the shelf’s other contents by a “Little Mermaid” porcelain bookend.

Watching his inspection, Ariel colored a little. “I know it might seem a little overboard–”

Blair shook his head. “No, I think it’s great that your name means so much to you. Names should have meaning. Did you know that in a lot of tribal cultures, individuals rarely kept the name they were born with? They’d take on a new name when they came of age, something that described them and their accomplishments–”

“Like ‘Dances With Wolves’?” she teased.

He grinned. “Exactly.”

“Do you know what your name means?”

Blair nodded. “‘Child of the fields.'”

“It suits you.” Ariel smiled. “And it sounds a whole lot easier to live up to than ‘Lion of God.'”

He chuckled. Tilting his head to one side, he tried to picture her as a stern, protective lioness. The image didn’t quite fit. “So, how did you get your name?”

“My dad’s family has this nutty tradition that no two children can have the same first name. I think Mom chose my name as a protest vote against the practice.” She shook her head in amusement. “When she and Dad saw ‘The Tempest’ in London, the character of Ariel was played by a woman, so she didn’t realize until after they named me that it was a man’s name in the original Hebrew.”

“I’ve met women with my name, too,” Blair sympathized with a smile as his fingers and attention wandered over to yet another “Little Mermaid” piece, this one a snow globe with a daydreaming Ariel flanked by several creatures from the “Under the Sea” segment of the movie. Including a sullen Sebastian whose expression looked amusingly familiar.

“She’s my favorite,” the redhead confessed. “Of all the characters with my name I’ve ever seen, she’s the one who most reminds me of myself.” She sighed, glancing over at the empty bed on the other side of the room, a wistful expression on her face. “Boy, I can’t wait for Heather to come back.”

Blair felt a pang of regret–he knew it was hard for her to be stranded here with most of her friends abroad, which was why she’d stayed with them for a while. “Are you sure you were ready to come back?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

Ariel nodded. “Yeah. As long as you and Jim don’t mind if I still drop by for a visit once in a while.”

He grinned. “Anytime. Hey, you want to go down to Mountain Grown and get a cup of coffee or tea or something? Since I’m here anyway.” Mountain Grown was the new cafe on campus, named as the result of a competition within the student body.

She smiled. “That sounds like a great idea. I love their Chai.”

“They serve Chai? God, I haven’t had Chai in years!” He handed the snow globe to her, and she set it back on the bookshelf en route to the door.

“Hey, Ariel?” he asked as he watched little starfish dance inside the globe, suddenly realizing who the fussy little crab reminded him of. “Just one thing…”

“Yeah?” One of her eyebrows lifted suspiciously.

Blair grinned and pointed back at the decor as he followed her out of the room. “Does this make me Flounder and Jim Sebastian?”

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Fic: The Tempest and the Teapot (TS, gen)

Author’s Note: This story is set a couple of days after the flashback in “Rainy Day Remembrance.”


“I’m just taking a break. It wasn’t holding my interest.”

“Ariel, that’s the fourth break you’ve taken in the past hour. You’ve spent more time on break than you have reading!” Blair’s voice was growing gradually more and more exasperated.

“I’m sorry! I just can’t concentrate! I don’t know why I’m having this trouble. I love Shakespeare, and The Tempest is my favorite of his plays. But I can’t…” She spread her hands in helpless confusion. “I can’t focus on it.”

Blair let out a long, low breath, and ran a frustrated hand through his curls. Suddenly, he perked up, an idea poking through the soil of his mind.

“I have an idea. Why don’t I read it with you? I’ll take all the male characters and you can read all the female ones.”

She laughed unexpectedly, the shadow lifting from around her shoulders. “That leaves you with practically the whole play except for Miranda.”

“It does?” Blair snatched her book and flipped to the cast list in the front. “Damn. You’re right. Let me go draft Jim–”

“You think you can talk him into it?” Ariel looked towards the stairs that led to the detective’s bedroom. From their brief acquaintance, he didn’t strike her as the theatrical type.

“It might take a little persuading,” Sandburg admitted. “But, yeah, I think I can talk him into it.”

She nodded. “Ok, but there’s one of the ‘male’ roles that I want.”

“Oh, yeah? Which one?”

Ariel smirked. “Why, Ariel, of course.”

“Of course.” The anthropologist grinned in response.

Jim was already glaring at Blair by the time the younger man reached the top of the stairs. “The answer is no, Sandburg.”

“Oh, come on, Jim,” the younger man coaxed. “It’s Shakespeare.”

“I don’t care if it’s the Bible. I am not taking part in this.”

His partner sighed, running one weary hand over his face. “Please,” he asked more quietly. “I know you don’t know Ariel, but…I can’t stand to see her like this. When I had her in class last semester, she used to turn in these great papers about the theocratic government and social structure of ancient Israel–hell, Jim, she knows more about the history of Judaism than I do, and I’m Jewish! But now…if she doesn’t get her grades up soon, she may end up on academic probation. I…I can’t let that happen.”

The detective knew his resolve was weakening, but made one last effort at resistance. “Blair, it’s not your responsibility to save her grades.”

“Maybe not. But it is my responsibility to be a friend when she needs one,” the anthropologist countered quietly.

Just like you are for me, Jim admitted silently. Well, what of it, Ellison? It wasn’t technically his responsibility to help you with your senses either, until he chose it.

“All right,” the Sentinel finally relented. “But just this once. Next time you need to cast a homework assignment, take her down to the theatre department.”

Blair grinned. “Oh, come on, you’ll do fine. Just think of it as going undercover.”

*****

Jim snorted in mild amusement at Prospero’s next line. “‘Poor worm, thou art infected! This visitation shows it.'”

Blair shot him a dangerous look from his place on Ariel’s other side. The detective pointed innocently at the text. “Hey, it’s in the script.”

The young woman between them laughed, but made no other comment except Miranda’s next line. “‘You look wearily.'”

Slipping back into character as Ferdinand, Blair reached for her hand and clasped it firmly over the book. “‘No, noble mistress, ’tis fresh morning with me when you are by at night. I do beseech you–chiefly that I may set it in my prayers–what is your name?'”

“‘Miranda,'” the redhead “blurted” out, then gasped. “‘Oh my father, I have broke your hest to say so.'”

“‘Admir’d Miranda,'” the anthropologist murmured in a reverent voice. “‘Indeed the top of admiration! Worth what’s dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have ey’d with best regard, and many a time th’ harmony of their tongues hath into bondage brought my too diligent ear. For several virtues have I lik’d several women, never any with so full soul but some defect in her did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow’d, and put it to the foil.

“But you…'” Now getting really caught up in the act, Sandburg lifted one hand to run over Ariel’s dark strawberry curls. He glanced at the line to learn it, but said it with his eyes fixed on her face. “‘Oh you, so perfect and so peerless, are created of every creature’s best!'”

The “Sandburg charm” had been turned on full force, and Jim had to admire his partner’s acting ability. If he hadn’t seen them together out of character, he would have sworn that Blair really had fallen for Ariel, harder than he’d fallen even for Maya.

If the look on the young woman’s face was anything to go by as she recited Miranda’s respondent monologue, either the charm had worked its magic, or she was every bit the actor Sandburg was, maybe better. He ‘tuned back in’ to the actual words of the dialogue midway through Ferdinand’s next speech.

“‘…Hear my soul speak:'” Blair drew his hand back and pressed it earnestly to his heart. “‘The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service, there resides, to make me slave to it, and for your sake am I this patient log-man.'”

What do you want to bet he’s storing up all these lines in his memory to use on some unprepared beauty in the future, was Jim’s amused thought.

“‘Do you love me?'” “Miranda” asked breathlessly of “Ferdinand.”

“‘O Heaven, O Earth, bear witness to this sound, and crown what I profess with kind event if I speak true! If hollowly–‘” The would-be prince’s eloquent speech was interrupted by a sharp, piercing whistle from the kitchen, which sent all three players into gales of laughter.

“Well, I don’t know about heaven and earth, Chief, but your tea seems to agree with you,” Jim teased.

The lovesick Ferdinand and Miranda vanished, leaving behind only a very relaxed Blair and Ariel, both with sparkling eyes. The anthropologist bounced up from the couch and into the kitchen, exclaiming a little when he forgot to pick up a potholder before grasping the teakettle.

“What kind of tea do you want?” he asked their guest.

“Anything but ginseng,” was her response. “I know it’s got some good properties, but at least for me it has the most horrible aftertaste.”

“Jim?”

“No thanks, Chief.”

Mugs clattered for a few minutes and the scent of a tea he didn’t recognize filled the Sentinel’s nose. Smells rather like…nah, he shook his head with a small smile. Even my nose can be wrong sometimes, can’t it?

Blair returned to the sofa with the mugs and handed one to Ariel. She took a cautious sip of the steaming liquid and looked back up at him in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Know what?” Sandburg blinked.

“I *love* corn tea. I have ever since I went to Korea.”

Jim almost snorted. Corn tea? Okay, so my nose wasn’t wrong.

Ariel’s remark caught the anthropologist’s interest. “Korea? Wow, that must have been an interesting trip!”

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been there, Chief?” the detective asked, amused.

“No, actually, I haven’t,” Sandburg admitted, resuming his seat. “So, how’d you end up going, Ariel?”

“It was one of the trips offered over summer session,” Ariel snuggled deeper into the couch. “Which is not the best idea, let me tell you. Southeast Asia in August is like a steam bath.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Blair agreed. “I spent some time in Irian Jaya.”

“Irian Jaya? Cool. Dr. Whitaker has been there.”

Blair looked surprised. “Dr. Whitaker, the English prof?”

Ariel nodded. “Yeah, my advisor. He’s used the experience as source material for a lot of his writing–fiction and non.”

*****

Okay, maybe I do need a cup of tea or something, Jim admitted silently after what felt like hours of animated conversation between the two students, about Southeast Asia and Rainier professors. He pushed himself off the sofa, wandered into the kitchen, and began to probe the cupboards.

The Sentinel grimaced. “Hey, Sandburg, don’t suppose you bought any normal tea while you were at the grocery store, did you?” he called to his roommate. So far, his nose was telling him the answer was no.

Blair looked up with a frown, halfway through a question about the legend of the bell at Kyung-ju. “I thought you didn’t want any, Jim.”

“I don’t want any of this stuff,” the detective waved a hand over the assortment of exotic teas set out on the counter. The younger man started to rise, and Jim held up a staying hand. “Never mind. I’ll make myself a cup of coffee.”

A sudden yawn stretched out the anthropologist, and he darted a curious glance at his watch. “Ouch. Jim, isn’t it a little late for coffee?”

The Sentinel grunted. “Not if you two are planning on finishing this little drama tonight.”

A small giggle escaped from Ariel. “Now, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard Shakespeare described as a ‘little’ drama.”

“He’s right, though,” Blair admitted. “It is getting pretty late.”

“As if that ever stopped you before, Sandburg,” Jim pointed out.

The anthropologist colored, but rushed to defend himself. “Yeah, but typing is comparatively quiet.” Comparatively being the operative word.

The young woman giggled again, then giggled harder when she realized she was giggling. “Oh, boy, maybe I should go to bed. Er, couch, whatever.” Another giggle, this one bordering on hysterical. “If I’m giggling this much,” she giggled, “you know I’m tired.”

The two men exchanged an amused glance. “It’s the tea,” the detective concluded. “It’s made her corny.”

That set off another fit of giggles from the redhead, and a half-hearted glare from Sandburg. Resisting the urge to laugh himself, Blair clamped a calming hand down on her shoulder. “I think you’re right. Maybe you should go to bed, since you’re not due to have the play finished until Friday.” Ariel nodded.

Jim smiled at them both from the kitchen. “You’re not going to be doing this all night, are you?” he asked the young woman in a pleading tone.

She shook her head, her lips pinched tightly closed in an effort to suppress the uncontrolled laughter without choking on it.

Relieved, Jim abandoned all thoughts of coffee in favor of sleep, and began re-shelving tea boxes. “I hope I can trust the two of you to empty and wash the kettle before you go to bed?” he asked as he closed the cupboard door.

“Uh, yeah, one of us ought to remember,” Sandburg promised hesitantly.

“And be quiet about it,” the older man warned.

Both curly heads nodded in mock solemnity. Jim rolled his eyes and proceeded to his bedroom, pausing only to give Blair a playful cuff on the side of the head.

Ariel’s laughter followed him all the way up the stairs.

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