New
Arrivals
Author-Sorcha
Titles
Getting It Right
by Sorcha
Warnings: Hmm. None, I guess. Unless you'd liked to be warned about the lack of plot. <g> Rated G.
As always, many thanks to Danae, the best beta reader around. <g>
This is just a little vignette that I wrote one night a long time ago for purely therapeutic reasons. I wasn't even going to post it but changed my mind. Or perhaps I should say a couple of people changed my mind for me. <g>
Comments always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Like everybody else, I don't own ‘em but wish I did. I don't get paid to do this and no infringement is intended. University stresses me out enough so please don't sue.
Jim Ellison turned over onto his side, lifting his head slightly off the pillow. He listened carefully -- regular heartbeat, regular breathing. No signs of physical distress. So it was something else, something else keeping his Guide awake that night. Deciding that neither of them would be getting any sleep like this, Jim threw back the covers and got out of bed, pulling on his robe as he descended the stairs from his bedroom.
Ellison opened the balcony door, immediately turning down his temperature dial as he was hit with the chilly night air. Blair Sandburg turned around at the sound of the door opening, and promptly started to apologize to his friend. "Oh, man, Jim. I'm sorry. I woke you, didn't I? I tried to be quiet but --"
Jim waved him off. "Don't worry, Chief, I was already awake."
"Oh." Blair turned back, resting his arms on the railing, looking out into the night.
Jim moved over to join him. "What's going on, Chief?"
"Huh? Oh." The younger man straightened and wrapped his arms around his torso, trying to keep in some of the body heat that his t-shirt wasn't able to. "It's nothing."
"I don't think ‘nothing' would be keeping you up all night," Jim disagreed.
There was a slight pause, then Blair turned and walked back into the loft and headed for his bedroom. At first, Jim thought he was walking off, running away from the conversation. But just before his disappeared into his room, Sandburg called, "Just a sec." He reappeared holding a single piece of paper. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Blair shoved the paper across the surface toward Jim. The detective sat down, accepting the offered paper, and found that it was a computer printout of a poem:
"Around The Corner"
By Henson Towne
Around the corner I have a friend
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone
And I never see my old friend's face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well
As in the days when I rang his bell,
And he rang mine. If, we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.
"Tomorrow" I say "I will call on Jim"
"Just to show that I'm thinking of him"
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner . . . yet miles away.
"Here's a telegram sir --" "Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.
Jim didn't look up right away when he finished reading the poem. He sat and thought for a moment, letting himself fully realize what was going through his friend's head. Looking up, he found that Sandburg was studying the table top. "Blair," Jim got his attention. "This poem, it's... it's not us."
"But it could be." Blair's expressive eyes met Jim's, allowing the older man to see how much this was bothering Sandburg.
"Look, Chief. This poem is a good wake-up call, probably not a bad thing to read from time to time to remind us about what's important. But it's not our future, okay?" He found that Blair was nodding, and so Jim continued in a lighter tone. "Besides, do you really think I'd *let* you stay out of my life like that?"
Blair went back to staring at the table. Quietly, he said, "Sometimes I wonder."
Jim's voice became serious again as he said firmly, "Well don't."
Sandburg looked up again. "Really?"
Jim nodded, and watched as Blair visibly relaxed. "You think you can sleep now, Chief?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I think I can."
Three Days Later
Jim pulled his truck into the parking lot near Hargrove Hall, and came to a stop. "You all set, Chief?"
"Yeah, thanks for the ride, Jim." Blair shoved the book he'd been reading into his backpack and climbed out of the truck.
"So I'll pick you up at five then?" Jim doubled checked with his partner.
"Yeah, that would be great. Oh." Sandburg stopped himself as he was about to shut the car door, and dug around in his backpack a moment. "I've got something for you." He found what he was looking for, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his bag. "Um, it's just that, well, you were right about what you said the other day and . . . I think that maybe this one will be more. . . fitting." Blair shoved the paper into Jim's hand. He shut the door, calling "See ya", and took off.
Puzzled and curious, Jim watched his partner bounce over to the anthropology building. Then he looked down at the paper in his hands. Slowly, he unfolded it and read what was on it. It was another poem:
The Thousandth Man By Rudyard Kipling One man in a thousand, Solomon says, Will stick more close than a brother. And it's worth while seeking him half your days If you find him before the other. Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend On what the world sees in you, But the Thousandth man will stand your friend With the whole round world agin you.
'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show Will settle the finding for 'ee. Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go By your looks, or your acts, or your glory. But if he finds you and you find him. The rest of the world don't matter; For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim With you in any water.
You can use his purse with no more talk Than he uses yours for his spendings, And laugh and meet in your daily walk As though there had been no lendings. Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call For silver and gold in their dealings; But the Thousandth Man he's worth 'em all, Because you can show him your feelings.
His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right, In season or out of season. Stand up and back it in all men's sight -- With that for your only reason! Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide The shame or mocking or laughter, But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side To the gallows-foot -- and after!
This time when he finished reading, Jim smiled. <Yes, Chief, I think you've got it right this time.>
Both Sentinel and Guide went about their respective days. But throughout, each repeatedly thanked their higher power that they'd found their thousandth man.
The End