Title: Tied
Author/pseudonym: Kata Avalon
Pairing: J/B
Rating: G
E-mail address for feedback:
catya0@yahoo.comSeries: snippet series part 3
Other websites:
Disclaimers: The characters were not created by me, but I sure am recreating them to suit my imagination
Notes: The previous parts are definitely required reading
Summary: Jim tries to adapt
Warnings: AU, not sure what else
Together 3: Tied
By Kata Avalon
***
They were in a high class men's wear boutique. *Air conditioned, thank God.* Jim was looking around him curiously. They had not been to this one before. The whole store occupied two levels and was designed after a wealthy businessman's home, or what some conservative designer had decided a businessman's home should be like. Everything in sight was for sale. The price tags were minimal or non-existent. Unlike the prices.
Blair said he preferred longer lasting hand-made quality stuff. Saying it was better for the environment than the mass-produced processed from oil and rock stuff.
Jim wandered around the store as Blair checked the leather jackets. One of Blair's bodyguards was tailing him. The sales clerks always recognised Blair as the one who made the decisions and left Jim alone.
He noticed a journal on a mahogany desk. He picked it up and opened it. The empty pages seemed to be waiting for someone to fill them. He caressed the dark leather covers.
"Would you like it?" Blair always seemed to know where he was.
Jim nodded without lifting his eyes from the desert pages.
***
Jim was sitting on a terrace. It was a lazy afternoon, no meetings or telephone conferences going on. The journal was lying open on a round wooden table in front of him. Jim had been looking at the untouched pages for a couple of minutes.
He raised the pen.
Empty
Can you hear me?
Banging my fists against the curtain of water
Shouting
Without a voice
Pleading
Without hands
Can you hear me?
Existing
Am I allowed?
He looked at the pages marred by his writing. He moved his hand to rip off the page. Froze.
The words were his. They were his voice. He knew he could never get out. Blair would not allow it. The sentinel in him would not allow it. This was his fate, or destiny. Whatever.
He stroked the words. They were his. They made him real, documented his existence.
And Maria was right. It made him feel better in a way to see a part of him, his words, on a page.
He raised the pen again.
***
Blair was pacing. Naomi should get in contact about her sentinel project this evening. He was anxious to find out of her progress.
Blair registered the journal lying on desk, half under a magazine. He had seen Jim writing on it a few times. He picked it up and opened it.
*Odd, I did not know he wrote poetry.* There were short poems and pieces of prose written in Jim's handwriting. *Must be Maria's influence.*
Blair read some of the pieces. They were short, almost terse and somehow haunting. In the back of his mind a
thought rose about where Jim got the inspiration for such dark pieces. The thought was pushed down as unimportant.
Blair put the journal back on the desk. He would have to encourage Jim to write. Some of the pieces were pretty good.
He checked his watch. Time for Naomi to contact him. He went to the computer and logged into a private chatroom.
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