A/N: Jim starts a journal, because Blair wants him to. Set some time in the aftermath of "Remembrance." Picture this as being in Jim's handwriting (hence the underlining rather than italics). A bit weird, a bit silly, but not when you look at it just right :-), and maybe this Jim isn't your cup of tea...
"You really need to keep a journal," he tells me. I tell him he's crazy; he assures me he isn't. "Who knows what else you're repressing, Jim? You won't talk to me, you won't see a professional, and I don't think you'll even face things yourself without help," he tells me. I tell him everything is fine; he tells me I always say that and it's rarely true.
I tell him I'm not going to write "Dear Diary"; he tells me that I better not, since I'm not a 13-year-old girl in 1956. "Just write like you talk to yourself in your head," he tells me. "You do think sometimes, right Jim?" Ha ha, Sandburg. "This will help you confront things that you might avoid otherwise, and it helps use more of the brain than just thinking about things does." Fine. Whatever, as the kids say.
I don't know what he thinks I'm supposed to be facing. I'm sure that there's nothing else hiding that I'm not thinking about. We've had enough surprises already, haven't we?
So why am I doing this? Just because he told me to? He thinks that I don't listen to him, that I never do what he wants me to. Damn, doesn't he see how he leads me around? Why is that? Why do I always do what he wants, eventually? I mean, yeah, he's smart, knows just about everything and what he doesn't know he can figure out or make up if need be, and he's brave when it matters, and he's sexy as... um... he's what?
Oh shit, he's right again -- there is more I'm repressing. When do I get to be the one who's right, anyway?
Was this what he was expecting me to find? And now that I know, he'll know I know something, and he'll find a way to pry it out of me... I guess I better go tell him.
Ha -- I would have thought that the idea of telling him would have me trying to stuff this little realization back into the box where it was packed in the back of my mind... but instead of pushing that down, I've got something else coming up -- in my damned pants. I think Sandburg is making me lose my repression abilities or something, because this gem doesn't seem to have been hidden all that deeply if I figured it out after only four paragraphs of the damned journal. (Well, three years and four paragraphs...)
Well, no sense putting it off... hey, if I'm lucky and he's happy to see me with my new revelation (and hard-on), he won't make me write in this stupid thing anymore...