Title: Clueless in Cascade Author: akire Email: email@example.com Status: Complete/ Unbetaed Category: Crossover: Highland/The Sentinel, part of my universe Spoilers: umm, got a basic grasp of the Highlander universe? Fine. Oh yeah, we’re a Clan Denial fanfic. In The Sentinel, we pick up after TSbBS. Disclaimers: D/P and Pet Fly really DO own them. If you don’t recognize it, its probably mine. If it’s silly or crazy, definitely is mine. But if anyone sends the lawyers after me, I’m sending out the boys with swords ;) Oh yeah, and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Rating: PG, prob. Hey, I’m not offended by much, if it should be rated higher, tell me! Content Warning: purists beware. Language may offend some readers. Summary: Blaer’s just musing about keeping secrets. Notes: Part of the series of snippet prequels to the ‘biggy’ of this universe ;) That’s long enough. On with the show! ~~##~~ It was raining again, which was not an unusual occurrence in Cascade. Blaer laid back on his bed in his little room under the stairs and listened to the steady patter against the windows. The loft was quiet on this lazy Saturday afternoon, Blair’s room mate out running errands despite the weather. Jim Ellison. Sentinel, police detective, best friend, room mate. Mortal. It was the last that had occupied Blaer’s thoughts of late. He knew everything there was to know about Jim, from his shoe size to his PIN. But Jim did not know even the most central fact about Blair. He did not know that Blair could not die. It was not a secret Blaer shared easily. Mentally, he counted off the mortals who knew. Joe Dawson, local chief Watcher and friend. Blaer’s own Watcher, whose current identity he had yet to figure out. Tessa had known who he truly was, but the beautiful artist was gone, stolen from them all by a thug’s bullet. Naomi, the wandering free spirit who, despite a deceptively flaky reputation, had been a steadfast friend. During the sixties he had posed as her uncle, in the seventies her brother. Now Naomi was playing his mother, and relishing the role by showering her ‘son’ with all the love and affection in her huge heart. Three. Three living mortals knew who Blair Sandburg really was. He rolled over to lay on his side. He trusted Jim, and more importantly, Jim trusted him. He relied on Blair to maintain his control, and with it his sanity. Even if he was sometimes an ass in showing it. Blair snorted. Why couldn’t he just say it. Aloud, he spoke the words. “I am Immortal. I do not age. I cannot die.” Automatically his eyes flicked to where his sword lay, artistically concealed under a jacket. “But I can be killed. I have killed.” He sighed and changed position yet again. If he ever did work up the courage to have this conversation, that little tidbit could wait. Instead, he cast his mind back three decades, to when he first met the radiant, interesting teenager. He had been passing through town with a bunch of friends who would later be known as hippies, on their way to join others in San Francisco. The van had broken down in Hicksville, and Blair had sat down in the shade of a tree to wait. Adults avoided the stranger, children pointed and laughed, teenagers stared and tried not to get caught. Strangers were rare occurrences, something to be feared. But that wasn’t Naomi’s style. Her mind already far away, she had approached him, as confident as could be, and introduced herself. The next morning, when their happy van left, they had acquired a passenger. She had treated him like a big brother and confidante, and somehow had not been fazed in the slightest when he had staggered back into the flat they all shared late on night, cloths torn and bloody, mind reeling from the powerful Quickening he had taken. Naomi had understood that he was different yet still just a guy. But then again, Naomi was one of a kind. But, a little voice in his head sang out, isn’t Jim one of a kind as well? The noise of keys in the lock, the door swinging open, yanked his wandering mind back to reality. Blair pushed himself upright and went into the main room. Jim, hair and jacket damp, was dumping his keys. “Chief! Had a good afternoon? What have you been up to?” Jim smiled, his expression one he reserved solely for Blair. Blair smiled in return. “Oh, not much. Just thinking.” He would tell Jim the truth. Just not today.