Disclaimer: Just borrowed, briefly.
Warning: Death Story
Additional Warning: My first posted fanfic
What a Guide Must Do
By Jayed
EMAIL: Jayed
Dear Simon,
Forgive the cliché, and forgive me for putting this on you, but by the time you get this, I’ll be dead. You see, Jim made a terrible mistake when he brought me back at the fountain. We’ve never connected since then, not even in the ways we did before. I hoped that the experience would make us stronger, but Jim didn’t want that.
So, it’s become increasingly clear that while we have a bond, Inchaca made a mistake, and I’m not Jim’s true Guide. He doesn’t trust me. His first impulse is always to assume the worst about my motivations. A Sentinel would never treat his true Guide in that way. He literally couldn’t.
My research, and, yeah, I’ve checked and rechecked it, shows that even our rudimentary bond will interfere with any attempt Jim makes to find his true Guide. I can only free him through my real death. Sucks to be me.
And yet, while there are still things I wanted to do in this life, I haven’t really been living since I came back. I have to face it, Sierra Verde and Alex, the whole mess with Brad Ventriss, and now this disaster of my academic career, all these point to the fact that I’m trying to live a life I should no longer have. I’ve watched as Jim began to make love to the woman who killed me and while he failed to make any effort to capture the goons Brad sent to beat me. In each case, he stopped me from being killed again, but slowly and not very enthusiastically. In forcing the death of my academic career, the destruction of the dream of my life, Jim has shown me convincingly that doesn’t trust, need, respect, or even much like me. Again, yeah, sucks to be me.
The city needs its Sentinel. The Sentinel needs his true Guide. Yet, even a failed Guide must do everything in his power to help a Sentinel, even if it means his own death. I’ve long suspected I’d be willing to die for Jim; I just didn’t expect it to go down this way. I had hoped for sorrow and find that I’m settling for gratitude, at least I hope he’ll be grateful this time. I’ve gotten damn little in the way of thank you over these last years.
Simon, I hope you will help Jim to find his true Guide. Please, look at folks in the PD or in one of his old military units. Choose someone he already trusts or is, at least, willing to learn to trust. To help, I’ve left the only surviving copies of my notes about Jim’s abilities, allergies, and zone out cures in a safety deposit box at my bank. Enclosed is the key. Please make sure the new, no, the true Guide gets those materials.
My fondest regards and good-byes to Daryl, to Joel, to Megan, Henri, and Rafe. I leave no last words to Jim. I’ve said everything I could have already. Simon, thanks for everything. You’ve been great.
Blair
Simon put down the letter. He looked out through the window of his office into the bullpen. Jim was sitting calmly, talking to Megan about one of her cases. Did Jim’s calm mean that Blair was right? Or that Blair was, despite the note, still alive?
Standing slowly, Simon walked the door, opened it, and called out to Jim …
END