Disclaimer: The Sentinel, Blair Sandburg, Jim Ellison, Simon Banks, and all other characters are property of Paramount and Pet Fly. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money has exchanged hands.

Rated: G

Feedback: Sure, at dawn_twilight@hotmail.com

Summary: Really this is too short to have one.

Notes: I feel so bad about not posting. My life is totally crazy at the moment, but I am working on my other stories. I wanted to dedicate this little offering to Romanse. She is a great Internet pal!


by Twilight (Dawn)


The pencil moved rhythmically across the surface of the parchment. Time had no meaning, there was no hurry, no deadline to meet, no paperwork to be sorted, typed and signed. There was just the smooth strokes where pencil met paper...flowing, moving in exotic curves and lines. Calloused fingertips smudged and smoothed, dark lead stained the pristine paper.

It had been many years, but the hands remembered, fingers gripped the sketch pencil as they had before, wrist slightly bent, the smallest finger braced against the surface, guiding.


Forms emerged, first just a mass of black and white, shades of gray, but ever changing, taking shape. Light and shadow, graceful curves and hard contours all leading to this very end.

Soft curls barely brushed strong and rugged shoulders. Proud chin and cheekbones, nose, each fitting perfectly, but the eyes...he had finally captured the soulful eyes of this most important subject.

The loft door creaked open. Blair appeared with a laundry basket balanced on his hip. "What do you got there, Jim?"

Jumping slightly Jim quickly turned the sketchpad over and looked toward his roommate and friend. A slight guilty blush rose to his cheeks as Blair moved past him, setting the basket at the bottom of the loft stairs.


Finally looking down, he pulled the book close to his chest. The pad held many drawings, some abstract, some just partial ideas...

Carolyn while she slept...Danny in his dress uniform, on the day he graduated from the academy...Simon perched on his desk, smile bright, cigar cradled delicately between his long, dark fingers.

Images would come and when he was feeling a little stressed or maybe just tired, he would pull out his pad and see what would emerge. He had always loved the idea of starting with nothing and making something good, something important to him in some way.

Finally looking up, he saw Blair standing near the coffee table, a slight confused smirk on his face.

"It's nothing...just doodling, Chief." Jumping to his feet, he snapped the pad shut, jogging up the steps and stowing the pencils and pad back in the box that fit snug under his bed.

He could hear Blair moving around downstairs, pulling papers from his overstuffed backpack, getting ready to work on his school stuff, having finished his Saturday chores.

"I got some soup and a sandwich in the microwave for you." Jim called over the rail.

Blair looked up, soulful eyes locking with his, pleasure and mirth shining bright.

"Um...thanks, man."

His roommate moved toward the kitchen and Jim moved back to his box. Many sketch pads and loose papers lined the bottom. Picking up his latest creation, he smiled and headed to the steps. Never before had he shown his collection, but today...today he had someone to share them with.

The End

Comments, criticism, suggestions? Please e-mail Twilight.

Back to Twilight's page.