Characters SOOO not mine. Sue mego ahead. Take the cat that is the spawn of satan, and one other that looks like a certain panther.hmmm.

This one is for Sam. And she knows why. So there.

Post TSbBS.Blair is a cop.but Jim just won't HEAR him, already.

AFFIRMATION

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"Goddammit, Sandburg! At what point did I ever give you permission to put your life on the line without alerting me first? Huh? Because I'd really like to fucking know, Chief," I berated my partner all the way home from the station, feeling more guilty by the minute, with each and every word that fell from my lips, but godDAMMIT I was so pissed at the kid. Kid? HA!

Fine; granted, he was my official partner now. But for Christ's sake, did that give him the right to follow me into the warehouse after I'd distinctly told him - as my partner, mind you - to stay where the fuck he was until I'd had a chance to check it out? Did it? I told him to wait five minutes...just five fucking minutes...and then he could come up from behind. But did he listen? Shit, does Sandburg EVER listen? NO! And now that he has a badge and gun? It's fucking WORSE! He disobeys me now more than he ever did, and I am going to...to...fucking...SHIT!

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Rolling my eyes in exasperation no longer has any effect on Jim Ellison - the Sentinel of the oh-so- Great City of Cascade - despite the fact that I am the accompanying Shaman of said Great City. Bastard...he's been railing on and on ever since we got released from the hospital. It was only a fucking graze wound! The bullet barely fucking touched me; hell, I didn't even pass out or go into shock or anything...but do you think the asshole cares? NO! He doesn't...he's way too caught up in reading me the riot act.

"Just give me five minutes, Chief, and then you can pull up the rear. Stay here, okay?" He'd told me...ordering me around like I was still some...some novice at this police-work shit! Puh-leeeezz. As soon as he was through the bushes, I was out of the truck and following in his tracks. I am his partner, after all...gun and badge to prove it, too...so he can just suck my ass. Ooohhhh, wait, wayyyy too much imagery there...we ARE at work - at that very moment I heard a pop, and before I could safely drop to the ground, I was hit. SHIT. All I could think of as I went down was, 'you're never going to hear the end of this one, Blair'. Gods, when I'm right, I'm really, really, REALLY right.

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"Chief, can you hear me? Blair? Are you awake?" I asked him continuously as he moaned a bit before sitting up from his completely horizontal position on the ground. It's a good thing that he was conscious...that way, he'd remember me kicking his fucking so-called Shaman ass! There wasn't a lot of blood; thank God for small favors, because all I needed at that moment was to Zone - NOT! - and I was able to tear off my shirt and shred it so I could wrap it around his biceps where the bullet had grazed him.

"Talk to me, Blair. Say something, Chief. Please...say something," I murmured to him as I tied the rift in his flesh off. And you know what? Do you want to know what he said to me, after nearly being shot to death? He said, "Something, Jim. Something..." By Gods, he's lucky I didn't kill him my goddamn self, right then and there.

"Thank CHRIST," I bellowed, holding him in my arms despite the smirks from the EMT's on the scene by that time, "You're going to be fine, Blair. Honest, it's just a little flesh wound...no big deal, okay Chief? Okay?"

"Yeah, man, I got that. I got it, Jim. I'm fine, really," the little twerp answered, and so I let him think that he was off the hook due to his condition, riding in the ambulance with him, clutching his hands in mind dramatically - of COURSE it was just for looks! What the fuck do you take me for...some kind of sap? I'm the Sentinel of the Great City for crying out loud! It doesn't make me any less of a man to hover over my partner - even if he IS my life-appointed Shaman - and go see the doctor with him. So...so THERE.

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I didn't even have a bullet in my arm...that's how miniscule my injury was! But did Jim ease off in the ER? NO! He didn't. He hovered like some kind of fucking den-mother, giving the doctors and nurses the third fucking degree about how I was, how bad was the wound, was I going to recover...shit, I was only grazed! It wasn't like my life was in danger at any time! I wasn't shivering and shaking with shock, with blood pouring out of me from every infliction - it was a fucking flesh wound, man!

The worst part was, in between hassling the doctors and RN's, he was coddling me - tossing blankets over me every chance he had, fluffing my pillows, checking my saline IV every few seconds. I couldn't even ask the docs to toss him out and let me relax, because he wouldn't leave me alone long enough for me to finish a sentence.

Damn, Jim, I know you love me...and I love you, too...but just fucking let 'em stitch me up and send me on my way! On OUR way...I wanna' go home, and you're holding us up, man!

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I made sure that Blair was warm enough on the exam table; even though he tried tossing off the blankets I covered him with, I ran around and found enough to cover him back up with. Poor kid, the shock was making him hysterical! He knows that he gets cold at the slightest draft, and this godforsaken ER was certainly no exception. He was lying in the bed, with his good arm over his eyes, murmuring my name over and over...what was I supposed to do except try to make him comfortable?

He kept trying to tell me that he was fine, that it was just a little scratch - but I knew Blair too well. I realized that he was in considerable pain and just trying to put on a brave face for me...so I let him know that I cared about him equally that much.

I ignored his weak pleas for me to stop mother-henning him to death, instead fluffing his pillows and ensuring that his IV was close enough to the bed for him to be comfortable. I grabbed blankets from empty beds all the way up the hall as he tossed them off one by one, insisting that he was 'warm enough, dammit'! I'm sure he was sweating from a fever of some kind...it couldn't possibly be from me trying to swaddle him to death, as he so succinctly put it...he'd be glad to miss that chill of death, I kept telling him, even as he insisted that he was fine.

Fine? HA! No fucking way was he fine...he'd been shot because he'd refused to follow my orders, and by God the kid was going to learn - hard way or NOT - that he must always listen to his Senior Parnter...and Sentinel...if he was going to succeed at his job. Okay, no, wait...OUR job...no, HIS job...no...oh FUCK it. I just wanted him well and we could duke it out later; and I was sure we would. I wouldn't be disappointed, as it turned out.

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Two hours later, the doctors finally released me from the ER...yeah, I was heartily wrapped up in gauze - all to cover the seven big stitches I'd required. C hrist, you'd think I was near-death the way Jim was acting...up until he brought the Ford around to pick me up in front of Cascade General, that is. He held onto the steering wheel as he leaned over to unlock my side, and smiled at me as he bade me a friendly, "Hop on in, Chief!", which I did, and then shut my own door after belting myself snugly in.

He pulled out of the ER driveway and headed for the road home, still bearing that same goofy smile as he steered us towards the freeway, and continued to show no emotion other than relief as he got on the interchange that would deliver us to Prospect Avenue. Two minutes later, all Hell broke loose in the cab of the truck.

"Goddammit, Sandburg! At what point did I ever give you permission to put your life on the line without alerting me first? Huh? Because I'd really like to fucking know, Chief," he informed me, eyes on the road the whole time despite his obvious interest in my forthcoming reply....or the reply that he'd assumed was forthcoming.

I didn't say one word all the way home. He bitched and moaned, ranted and raved, cursed and forgave me all the way home, and I still refused to say so much as one...little...tiny...word. Of course, this pissed him off entirely more than anything that I might possibly have come up with to vocalize, and the tips of his ears were red and fairly emitting steam by the time we reached the Loft...but I still had nothing to say.

He hounded me the entire time we walked towards our building from the truck; cursed me the whole way up in the painstakingly slow elevator that just so happened to be in order tonight. He didn't shut his fucking mouth until we got to our front door and he had to hunt for his key. As he finally silenced long enough to find his key and unlock the door, I found my voice once he'd swung the heavy metal barrier open and we'd gotten in. I slammed the door unceremoniously shut behind us and wheeled around to meet him, his jaw nearly to his chest in shock as I spoke, deathly seriously, "Shut up now, Jim. You just shut the fuck UP and listen to ME for a change. Got it?" I asked him, biting my tongue as he gawked at me so innocently and with such love...that I wouldn't start laughing and screw the whole thing up.

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I made my way slowly to the sofa and sat down, biting back a groan of pleasure at being off my feet after so long a day, completely aware that Jim was tracking every iota of my being at the moment. He remained where he stood - exactly where I'd told him to stop - and waited for me to begin speaking. I closed my eyes as I frantically gathered my thoughts, and released him from his post, "Jim, come here, man. Come and sit next to me, okay?" I asked - and bade him at the same time. Not one to keep his Guide waiting, he plopped down next to me on the couch and sat as close to me as he dared, all-too aware that he'd gone over the line with me today.

"Jim, you know that I'm fine, right? I mean, you know that I was never at any point today in any mortal danger...right?" I asked him without meeting his gaze.

"Yes, Blair. I'm aware of that," he continued on, "But..." I cut him off directly.

"NO, Jim, there's no BUTS! Goddammit, I'm fine! And you KNEW I was fine...you knew that all I had was a little cut; no worse than you yourself have suffered...on more than one occasion, I might add."

"Yes, Chief, I know," he said, instantly dropping his chin to his chest, refusing to say anything more; he knew that this was my show now, and he knew that it was his retribution to listen...and listen CLOSELY...and not reply. Good Sentinel.

"Ellison, I've been with you for nearly six years now. I've taken all the tests that the law requires me to pass in order to be your equal on the street - and I've surpassed some OTHER tests that have been given to us - quite spiritually, I might add - as a result of our very involvement with one another. At what point are you going to accept that I am, whole-heartedly and unequivocally, your partner - in every fucking way that counts?" I demanded this of Jim as I glared at him from my position right next to him on our sofa, his eyes still refusing to meet mine...and when they finally did, I was shocked to my core at the emotion shining back at me.

Yes, shining...because big, strong, emotionless Jim Ellison was choking back tears as he allowed his azure gaze to wateringly meet my own, and all of a sudden my anger and frustration dissipated, leaving nothing but love and trust and blind faith in its wake. "I...I can't lose you, Blair. I love you so fucking much...you just...have...to stay in the truck," he finished before the sob broke his voice. Despite my injured arm, I clutched him close, muttering words of nonsense in his ear as he'd done for me hours earlier while I'd been loaded onto a gurney and - quite possibly, as far as my over-protective Sentinel was concerned - out of his life forever.

"Jim...sssshhhh...baby, oh baby," I gasped into his ear, "Jim, listen to me, okay?" I released my hold on his face and made sure that he looked into my eyes as I clutched his chin with my good hand, both of our tears streaming down our collective cheeks as I spoke, "I don't have to stay in the fucking truck anymore, okay? That particular safety net doesn't exist anymore for us, okay?" I stated, my heart breaking as I watched his features crumble within the palm of my hand...before I released his face and pulled my hand back to my own chest before continuing, "I love you, James Joseph Ellison. I love you so much that I gave up my academic career for you, and I gave up all of my own misconceptions about both myself AND you, so that I could be my own person within this relationship that you and I now share. And I wouldn't change one goddamn thing about any of it, and I can only hope that you feel the same way. But mark my words, Jim, I will NOT...now, nor EVER...stay in the truck, from this point forward - actually, from yesterday forward - because it is now my job to watch over you, just as it is your job to watch over me. And I can't do that from the fucking truck," I finished. My voice caught and broke into a sob as I nuzzled against my partner in all things, sad but content that I had managed to speak my mind once and for all.

The big lug's arms closed over my shoulders - gently enough so as not to upset my most recent injury - and he kissed my cheek and smiled into my flesh, my auburn curls soaking up the tears that continued to fall down both of our faces with our newly-born agreement. I no longer had to stay in the truck, and he no longer had to be my sole - or soul - savior. I was strong enough to save myself - most days, anyway - and he was always there for me if I needed him. And for now...that was enough.

End Affirmation by Jvantheterrible: duranjaxter@comcast.net

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