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by April Hackett

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PetFly has them; I want them. Unfortunately I can't afford them, so I write. No infringement is intended. Any errors seen are because I'm stubborn and can't stop rewriting. <g>

Comments: I'm venturing into new territory here, both with a new fandom and a new rating. Gads, I didn't think I COULD write anything other than slash. <g> Please let me know if you
liked it. I have several ideas for follow-ups. Should I? The following stories will head into slash, eventually. <g>

I never really noticed all the colors that filled my reality. Everything floated past me as grays and pastels. Then he came into my life.

He brought chaos into my regimented world. And before I knew it, that turmoil had slipped into a calmer order than I had felt in decades. Suddenly smells and sounds filled my universe without the discomfort and pain of before. But what most surprised me were all the colors. Vibrant, practically alive in intensity, they flooded my life as never before.

I always had favorite colors, as everyone does. But, now, I have little doubt what colors draw my eye. Gold, bronze, deepest brown leads the way with chestnut and mahogany filling in the gaps. The colors mingle and bounce as he moves about the room, drawing my attention as light reflects and highlights what, to me, is a feast to behold.

His tones cascade across my senses as he tells me about his classes at the university, slowing my slide into a zone-out as I watch that wave of curling hair dance and bounce as he moves.


"Hmm?" I feel relaxed sitting at the table, a cooling cup of coffee teasing my nose with its distinct aroma, the lukewarm heat from the cup comfortable against the palms of my hands. Most of my attention is on him though. I like to watch him. I enjoy the energy and enthusiasm that practically bursts from him as he relates whatever tidbit of knowledge has crossed his mind.

"Jim, are you with me?"


I glance toward his eyes when he glides into the chair across from me. A solid mental yank pulls me closer into blue, gorgeous azure. Sapphire shading leading into evening's velvet blue stares back at me. There are little cones of green mixed in -- almost a glowing emerald that draws and highlights the blue that is slowly constricting as the black pupil expands. Blue, deeper than day's color, more the last leading shade before night descends. Blue fills my world...


The subtle tactile stroke brushes against my wrists as they rest relaxed on the table. The stroke moves up my bare forearms, raising the hairs as if electricity was zinging through my system.

"Jim, feel my hand. Hear my voice. Come on back now. Jim."

The electric circuit races up my arms, across my shoulders, and into my brain. The blue filling my vision surges brighter when the circuit hits my consciousness. Touch has been added to my comprehension as that gentle stroking touch continues to send teasing shots of awareness through me.

"Jim, come on, man."

Sound has checked in as I become aware of the soothing tones that can reach me no matter how far I've sunk into a zone. I begin to hear worry creeping into his voice, as his heart begins to beat a little faster. My nose twitches unhappily as his scent spikes slightly with the acid taint of fear. I don't like smelling that scent on him.

The electrical surge has grown steadily as more pressure is added to the gentle stroking. The blue slowly recedes and I see a handsome face lined with worry staring at me. He's leaning across the kitchen table, his strong hands grasping my forearms firmly.

"Jim, you with me, man?"

I blink, breaking the power blue had cast over me. I give my head a little shake to break the last shards of the zone loose and take a deep breathe. "Yeah, I hear you, Chief."

"Damn, Jim. What set you off like that?" Blair asks as he slowly eases back across the table.

He sits down, not really relaxing yet. I know he won't relax until he's sure I'm back and okay. Of course, then the questions will begin.

"I guess I'm a little more tired than I thought." I give him a crooked smile and ease back slightly. The firm grip around my forearms ease and gently slides down across my wrists, then hands, until his fingers disengage contact with me. As much as he wants to know, I'm not ready to tell him that gorgeous sapphire blue eyes were the cause of my slip.

I'm not sure if he's ready to hear that... yet.


End Colors by April Hackett:

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Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.