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Fic: First Impressions

Title:First Impressions
Fandom:The Sentinel
Characters:Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg
Spoilers:Happens around the first episode after they meet at the hospital.
Summary:Blair gets to see where Jim lives.
Word count:515
Auhor's notes:I don't own The Sentinel or any of the characters and this is written for entertainment purposes only. Written for 15_minute_fic Word #153

15_minute_fic word cold

First Impressions

“I suppose I can give you a couple of hours on Saturday.” Jim didn’t even look towards Blair.

Blair knew he needed to jump at the opportunity to get to know the detective better. “Sure, Jim. How does 10:30 sound?”

“Be at my place by 9:00 AM sharp and I’ll let you have a couple of hours.”

“Okay, okay. I can do 9:00 AM.” Blair grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

There was a partial grunt from Jim and he didn’t even look up as Blair left the bullpen. It was still a little unnerving for Jim to have a ride-along. He limited the time Sandburg was with him, not wanting to expose the graduate student to too much police-related activity. After all, Sandburg knew nothing about the world of police officers and criminals and Jim didn’t particularly want that to change.

Blair didn’t have any problem finding 852 Prospect on Saturday morning. He noticed there was a bakery nearby and that the neighborhood was quiet and seemed peaceful. The perfect environment for a sentinel. Even though Jim’s senses had recently come to the forefront. Blair walked inside the apartment building and took the stairs up to the third floor. He found #307 and raised his hand to knock, but at that time, the door opened. Jim stood there.

“9:00 AM.”

“C’mon in, Sandburg. I was just finishing washing the breakfast dishes.”

Blair followed Jim inside the apartment, closing the door behind him. He looked around the space. The empty space. There was a minimalist amount of furniture. The place looked like a hotel room, with none of the touches that would indicate that anyone in particular lived there. No paintings on the wall, no plants growing in the corner.

‘Cold’. That was the word that came to Blair’s mind as he looked around. It was a cold place, devoid of warmth that would make this a home. This wasn’t a home; it was just a place Jim Ellison came at the end of the day to sleep.

Suddenly, Blair felt sorry for Jim. That he didn’t have a home. He had a place to live, but it was far from a home. Blair knew that even though he lived in a warehouse, it was more of a home than this was. Blair left his stamp on his place, his belongings, and his stuff. Looking around at this area, no one could tell who lived here, if anyone.

He looked to see Jim looking at him. “You okay, Sandburg?”

“Yeah, Jim. I’m fine. We ready to do some tests?”

“We? Do I get to do tests on you, too?” Jim let a laugh escape.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go see how good you are. And I’ve come up with some tips to help you deal with sensory overload.”

The rest of the day, all Blair could think about was the stark coldness of the loft and how it seemed to fit Jim. Blair hoped to help Jim in that area in the future. To make his house a home.


Jim?, You mean that
These are my stories chronicling the continuing adventures of Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, Sentinel and Guide, partners and friends.

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