Title & Summary -
Is It Enough? Jim tries to sort through his feelings after September 11, 2001
Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.
Author's note: This was written within a few days of the terrorist attacks and was posted to SA at the time. It's been sitting on my hard drive ever since.
Is It Enough?
By Jael Lyn
September, 2001
Jim watched again. And again, completely unable to tear himself away.
He watched his brothers in blue, on the other side of the continent, digging with their hands. Not that they were alone - firemen, iron workers, doctors, volunteers - all braving the heat and the rain and the despair. Each one leaving a little piece of soul in place of the bucket of rubble that was hauled away.
Every day he came home exhausted from the extra hours, only to turn on the television and watch the images of such anguish. He couldn't stop. Couldn't eat, didn't really sleep. He alternated between rage and crushing sadness, never finding peace or a place for his thoughts to rest.
The demands of the job could push the emotions away for a few hours. He was grateful for it. They had extra security to run. The list didn't end - an airport to open, public buildings to guard, new procedures to design and implement. There were never enough people to go around and always more to do. He and Sandburg had even been drafted to coordinate with the FBI as they searched for the guilty. Had they come through Canada, sitting so close to Cascade's door? Had they gone to ground waiting for the moment to escape the US? Was the airport safe? There were so many questions that needed answers, and so few people to do the asking.
"Hey," said a soft voice behind him. Sandburg. He hadn't even heard him come in, or noticed his partner move across the darkened loft. Strong hands sank into Jim's shoulders, massaging the tight muscles. "Why don't I warm up some soup? I know you haven't eaten."
Jim's eyes went back to the screen, grateful for his friend's comfort. So like Blair to reach out beyond his own burdens.
"Sure. I'll help," Jim answered, getting to his feet. When did getting off the couch seem like so much work?
"I can do it, Jim. Stay off your feet."
"As if you've been lounging all day. I lost track of you when Simon and I got called to the liaison meeting. Where did you go?" As Jim wandered into the kitchen behind Blair, he noticed the clock. The time registered as a shock. He stared at his roommate, still computing the hours that had disappeared from his day. "I didn't know what time it was. Where have you been?"
"Nowhere special." Blair was already rummaging in cupboards. "Is vegetable beef okay? Or would you rather have clam chowder?"
"I'd rather have a straight answer." Jim's voice had an edge of anger, and he regretted it. He wasn't angry with Sandburg. He was angry with himself. How could he have not noticed that his partner had been AWOL for hours? Damn TV. Damn terrorists. Damn everything.
Sandburg sighed. He attacked the soup can with the opener and answered reluctantly, as if accepting he couldn't distract Jim out of this one. "I went by the Red Cross, and then went to St. Mary's."
And?"
"And what?" Blair dumped the soup into the pan and started it heating. "What do you want to drink? Do we have any milk that isn't sour?"
"Chief, you're good, but not that good. You didn't spend hours doing a couple of drive-bys." Jim pulled out a chair and motioned his friend to sit down. Now that he looked, he could see the lines of fatigue on his friend's face. A little effort on his part and he could catalog the ever-so-slightly raised heartbeat. Blood pressure was probably up, too, along with a headache. Stress will do that. "Don't give me any crap. Park it in this chair, and tell me the rest. We can warm up some tea water along with the soup." The two men traded places, and Blair wearily dropped into the chair.
"Okay. People need to talk, and I don't mind listening. I helped out on the crisis phones for a while. Spent forever talking with some poor girl at Rainier whose mom was vacationing in New York and she hasn't heard from her. If she feels any better it wasn't because I had any answers." He shrugged, telegraphing his bleak mood. "Then I went and bought some groceries. Cathy was worried about this Lebanese lady - she doesn't speak much English and her husband's stranded somewhere. She was afraid to go out alone." Blair sighed. "As if we haven't had enough hate to go around this week."
Jim joined his roommate and they both sat, silent, with the newscast droning in the background. Now that the food was warming, any more tasks seemed just too much.
"You can't stop watching, can you?" Blair finally asked, his tired blue eyes fastened on Jim's strangely vacant ones. "You want to go, don't you? Simon would understand - he'd make the arrangements."
"Yes - I mean no." Jim rubbed fretfully at his forehead. Days of unnamed and unspoken anxiety were about to spill out. "Name me one person in America right now who wouldn't gladly dig in there with their bare hands if it was possible. It's - it's just not my place. At least I don't think it is."
"I sense a 'but' there."
"Yeah." Jim looked off into the distance. "I could make a call. They'd take me back in a heartbeat."
"The Army, you mean? Covert ops?" Blair nodded. It was a good effort, but Jim didn't miss the apprehension underlying the calm, understanding tone. "Of course. You could do anti-terrorism stuff. Yeah, they'd probably have you packed and gone before morning."
"I know."
"So what's stopping you?"
"You."
"Oh." Blair lowered his eyes, but not before the hurt came through.
"That's not fair, Chief. God, I'm sorry I said that. You aren't the problem. I just can't sort this out. One minute I'm ready to be on the first chopper into Afghanistan, the next someone's handing me a candle. I can't settle..."
"Jim, don't be so hard on yourself. It's not black and white right now, even if we want it to be. I was at antiwar demonstrations in my diapers and I want to nail the bastards. You're not the only one feeling conflicted here. I'm right in line with you." He slid his chair closer to his friend's. "We have a whole nation mourning the dead and trying to balance 'give peace a chance' with 'never again'." He paused. "Do you really want to go?"
"Not without you. Sentinel stuff aside, you're my partner. We go as a set."
Blair responded with the faintest of smiles. "Don't think I'd quite be on the top of their 'hire immediately' list, man. The spooks wouldn't know whether to keep me or send me to interrogation." His frown deepened with concern. "Jim, you've got to follow your heart. If you need to go..." He left the sentence unfinished, struggling with the words. "You have something to offer, Sentinel or not. I don't have your skills. I wouldn't be a help, but you could do a lot."
Something snapped in Jim's head. Sandburg thought he was no help? The haze of the last few days shifted, and he couldn't spit out the words fast enough. "Damn it, Sandburg, you amaze me. You don't help? Who was the first one in line to give blood? Who worked out a schedule and covered for people so the rest of us could give the next day? Do you really think anyone else could have talked that big fraidy-cat Brown into giving a pint? Who thought of setting up the hotline so folks could volunteer temporary homes for the stranded travelers?" He waved off Blair's protest. "Who says the right thing when it all gets to be too much? Who puts food on everyone's desk when no one in the bull pen can even remember when the last real meal happened? Who else is out buying groceries in the middle of the night, for God's sake?"
"Jim..."
"Don't start." He cuffed his friend on the head fondly as he stood. He could hear the soup bubbling. That peace he'd been yearning for seemed nearer, more certain. "Sometimes I just need to look close instead of far away. I need you around to set me straight." Blair tried to look away, but Jim wouldn't have it. "I am following my heart. It might not be flashy, and sometimes it doesn't seem like enough. My place is with you, in Cascade, doing what needs to be done. Today, tomorrow and the day after."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I'll get the soup. Tomorrow's another day, partner."
The End
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