Archive of Our Own ^beta

Pet Fly and Paramount own these characters, and I do not. Make of that what you wish.

As always, for my darling other self, the wise and wonderful Alyjude.
And a big ol' thank you to the discerning eye of Lilguppee. ^___^

This is just *barely* slash - the PG is for the nasty, mother-frowned-upon language.

RACHEL BRADY, RN, CCRN
Rachel leaned against the admitting desk of Cascade General's emergency room and clutched the edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Must not kill doctor, must not kill doctor," she muttered.

'That Jensen is a bitch and a half!' she thought angrily, taking a deep breath. "I don' care if she is a Harvard graduate, she had no call to speak to me like that! Thinks she's a goddamned M-Deity!'

Rachel let go of the desk and took another deep breath. 'Just let it go. You have only another two hours left, you can rise above it.' She looked up and happened to glance out through the doors to the ambulance bay. "Oh, fuck me raw!"

Ignoring the startled looks of the patients in the waiting area, Rachel leaned over the desk, picked up the phone and dialed.

<Security.>

"Hey. It's Rachel in Admitting. I need security down here, stat. Send Tiny."

<Sure. What's up, rival gang bangers?>

"Worse. It's Ellison and Sandburg."

<Shit.>

"Tell me about it! Just get Tiny down here."

<He's on his way. Good luck.>

"Thanks, I'll need it!"

Rachel looked out the doors again. Sandburg was the patient this time, with Ellison by his side, doing his Nazi Mother Hen routine. It wasn't quite as bad as it got when Ellison was the patient, but an injured Sandburg was no walk in the park, either.

Rachel turned her head as a 6'2", 300-lb Samoan man came down the hallway at a fast trot. "Hi, Tiny!"

"Hey, Rach. Where are they?"

"Just coming in now."

"What do you need?"

"Whatever else happens, do not let Ellison in to the exam room with Sandburg until he fills out the paperwork."

Tiny nodded. As the paramedics entered the hospital, pushing Blair on a gurney, Rachel called out, "Put him in Exam B!"

The paramedics nodded. As they rolled past, Rachel stepped in front of Jim, knowing that he would be so focused on Blair that he would actually walk into her. He did.

With an embarrassed, "Excuse me," Jim tried to step around Rachel, but she stepped back in front of him, put her hand on his chest, and shook her head. "Paperwork, Detective."

Jim glared at her. "I'll do it later!" He stepped around her again, only to come face-to-face with Tiny, who was scowling at him. Jim took a step back.

Rachel waved a bunch of forms in front of his face. "Bite me, Ellison!" Jim looked startled, and she pressed her advantage. "You will sit in that chair and fill out these forms, and then you can go see Sandburg. Not before."

Jim, rebellious, opened his mouth to speak, but Rachel forestalled him, waving a finger in his face. "Now, now, Detective, just fill them out. I am not having a repeat of what happened the last time you didn't fill them out!"

Jim flushed, and Rachel snorted. "You should feel ashamed! It wasn't Records fault that Sandburg's claim got denied! And to go in there, yelling and threatening! You scared those girls half to death!"

"Oh, come on! I mean, yeah, I raised my voice, but-"

" 'Raised your voice'? Is that what you call it?" Rachel looked at Jim consideringly. "Do you know that one of those clerks is still in therapy?"

Jim blinked. "I, um..."

"Oh, never mind! Just fill out the forms, okay? The sooner they're done, the sooner you can see Sandburg."

Looking a little lost, Jim sat in a chair and began filling out the forms, Tiny towering behind him. Every few seconds, Jim would turn his head towards Exam B, as if he could somehow see Blair through the walls.

With a muttered "Why me, Lord?" Rachel stuck her head into the exam room to see how Blair was doing. She was just walking over to Jim to give him an update when a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the hallway.

Jim was out of his chair like a shot, only to be shoved back down by Tiny, who held him down in the chair, his hands pressing heavily on Jim's shoulders.

Jim struggled futilely against Tiny's grip, practically sputtering with anger. Rachel was almost afraid to approach Jim, but she stood in front of him anyway. "Ellison?" When that didn't get his attention, she yelled "Jim!"

He snapped his head around to glare at her, and Rachel stumbled back from the fury blazing in his eyes. Her voice trembling, she said, "Look, it's okay! Sandburg's fine, really! His shoulder was dislocated, and the doctor must have popped it back in. People always scream like that, I promise! He's fine, Blair's fine!"

Jim calmed slightly, and tilted his head, as if listening. He took a couple of deep breaths, and then nodded. "Okay, I believe you, but I still need to go in there." Jim tried to stand, but Tiny's hands were still on his shoulders.

Rachel just shook her head and pointed. "Paperwork."

Jim glared at her, and then suddenly grinned, like the sun breaking through storm clouds. "Geez, Rachel, you're worse than Simon!" He sighed, and started back on the forms.

Rachel smiled. Having met Captain Banks many times before, she considered that to be a compliment. Then a stray thought struck her. "Hey. Ellison. When did Sandburg dislocate it?"

Jim looked up, distracted. "What?"

"Sandburg, his shoulder. How long ago?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. A couple of hours?" He went back to his paperwork.

Rachel sent a glare towards Exam B. 'Damn,' she thought, 'He knows he's not supposed to do that. After an hour out, relocating it is supposed to be a surgical procedure. Sandburg must have been 'persuading' people again.' She sighed to herself. 'I'm going to have to talk to that doctor.'

Jim finished the forms and handed then to Rachel. "There, Napoleon, I'm done. Happy now?"

Rachel shook her head absently as she checked over the forms. "I'm never happy, Ellison."

"Can I go see Blair now?" Jim looked pointedly at Tiny's hands, which were still pressing down on his shoulders.

Rachel fixed him in his place with a stare. "Just a minute. Besides his shoulder, Sandburg has a nasty bump on his head, so they're probably going to want to keep him overnight for observation. Will you be able to behave yourself?"

Jim looked at her with a 'who me?' expression.

Rachel sighed. "Fine. Go forth and annoy." She nodded to Tiny, who released his hold on Jim. Jim was out of his chair and in Exam B before she or Tiny could blink.

Rachel sighed again and looked at Tiny. "Stay with him for a while, okay? I hear he's a real pain in Radiology."

Tiny nodded. "You got it, Rach." He looked at her for a moment, and then patted her on the shoulder. "You need a beer."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I need a fucking case of beer, that's what I need!" She waved Tiny away, and watched as he trailed after Ellison. She went back to the admitting desk, where she threw herself into a chair and sent it rolling across the floor until she hit the back wall. She closed her eyes for as minute, but then thought she should probably warn Radiology and Neurology of the joy that what soon be theirs.

Phone calls made, Rachel leaned back in the chair. 'I wonder,' she thought, idly rubbing the foot Jim had stepped on, 'I wonder if it's too late to become a librarian?'

She closed her eyes again, tilted her head over the back of the chair, and twirled around and around and around.

HECTOR ALVAREZ, X-RAY TECHNOLOGIST
Hector stretched across the exam table, and slapped the phone off the wall, into his hand. He whispered a satisfied "Yes!" before bringing it to his ear. "Bueno, Radio One, Hector speaking."

<Hey, Hector.>

"Oh, hey, Rachel! What's up?"

<Just thought I'd let you know that you've got a possible concussion with a dislocation coming your way.>

Hector frowned. "Why are you telling me that? They usually just show up and I fry them." His frown grew more pronounced. "Is this some kind of test? Will my raise be dependent on this?"

<No, no! Nothing like that! > He heard Rachel sigh deeply. <It's Sandburg.>

Hector crossed himself. "Like my day hasn't been bad enough! Is the pit bull with him?"

<When is he not?>

Hector began pacing, his free arm waving wildly. "Dios mio! I'm not having that crazy man in my exam room, do you hear me? I'm not!"

<Hector-->

"Do you remember what happened the last time? I'm an old man, Rachel, I can't take that kind of strain!"

<Hector-->

"Do you know how much paperwork that caused? And the lawyers! I hate law-"

<Hector! Just calm the fuck down, okay? Tiny's with him. Between the two of you, you should be able to keep Ellison out.>

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

<Hey, he's out of my hair. Have fun with your vida loca.> She hung up.

Hector slammed down the phone with a snarl. "And that is just another reason why I hate Ricky Martin!"

He threw his hands into the air and paced around the exam room, muttering under his breath. In the middle of his fourth circuit of the room, Hector heard the 'ping' of the elevator arriving on the floor, and he suddenly stopped, a stricken look on his face. Then he ran for the door.

When Blair arrived at Radiology Exam One, protesting all the way -"I don't need to pushed around on this thing, man. I hurt my shoulder, not my legs!"-- Hector was standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance.

The orderly pushing the gurney appeared startled, but Hector didn't even look at him. He glared at Jim and pointed a finger. "You. You will be staying out here." He gestured at the chairs lining the hallway. "Are we clear?"

Jim took a step forward, looming over Hector. "I stay with Sandburg." He took another step, only to have Tiny drop a hand on his shoulder and hold him back.

Jim turned toward Tiny, actually growling, and shrugged off Tiny's hand. Tiny then put his hand on his gun. Blair, wincing in pain, propped himself up on his elbow and said, "Jim! Calm down, man, it's okay, everything's okay!" The orderly, looking very worried, tried to get Blair to lie back down. Hector threw up his arms and bellowed, "ENOUGH!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Hector, who was so mad he was spitting. He pointed a shaking finger in the general direction of Jim.

"You see?" Hector asked. "You see? Que idioto! This is exactly what I mean!" He pointed at Blair. "Look at him! Look what you've done to him!" Jim looked over at Blair, who was still struggling with the orderly. Blair blushed, and slowly laid back down.

Hector snarled, "Well, that's fine for now, but what about later, when he's being x-rayed, eh? What are you going to do then?"

He put his hands on his hips, and glared up at Jim. "Or have you forgotten the last time? With you, crouching on the floor, hands over your ears, screaming 'It hurts, it hurts!'. And him, the nino, throwing himself off the exam table, crawling across the floor to you. He tore all his stitches, there was blood everywhere, do you remember that pendejo?"

Jim flushed a deep, sullen red, but he didn't back down. He crossed his arms and glared. "I'm staying with Sandburg."

Hector threw up his hands and started swearing in Spanish, and Blair propped himself back up on his elbow and said, "Come on, Jim, be reasonable, it's just a fucking x-ray, I'll be fine!" Tiny sighed deeply, put his hand on Jim's chest, and shoved Jim so hard that he stumbled backwards and fell into a chair. Jim started to get up, but stopped as Tiny drew his gun and pointed it right in the middle of his chest.

Once again, everyone stopped what they were doing, but this time they all stared at Tiny.

Carefully, without moving, Jim said, "You won't shoot me."

Tiny shrugged. "Cascade Gen is a Level One Trauma Center. I bet we can patch you up."

Jim narrowed his eyes. "I'm a cop."

"Actually, you're a disruptive asshole." Tiny cocked his gun and took a firmer stance. "And I can pretty much guarantee you that everyone in this hospital would agree with me."

"And that means. . .what?"

"It means sit the fuck down, and shut the fuck up!" Tint shook his head in amazement. "What the hell's your problem, anyway? He's getting an x-ray, not brain surgery!"

"You don't understand! He's, I mean, well, he's my partner!"

Tiny just raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I can't explain it! Blair, you tell him!"

Silence. "Blair?" Both Jim and Tiny turned their heads to see. . .nothing. As soon as Tiny had drawn his gun, Hector and the orderly had pulled Blair into the exam room and started the x-ray series.

Jim blinked at the closed door. "Well, fuck."

Tiny holstered his gun, and began laughing silently, his whole body shaking, tears streaking down his face.

Jim shook his head. "It's not funny, dammit!"

Tiny just laughed harder. Jim watched him for a moment, stone-faced, until he couldn't hold the expression anymore, and he, too, burst out laughing.

Hector chose this moment to wheel Blair back out. He looked at Jim, who was sitting on the chair, rocking back and forth and snorting. He looked at Tiny, who had slid down the wall and was now sitting on the floor, still shaking and teary. He shook his head and stalked back into the exam room.

The orderly just looked frightened.

Jim composed himself and stood up, wiping his eyes. He went over to Blair and started running his hands over Blair's body, checking for injuries. Blair batted the hands away. "Stop it, you dork!" he said under his breath.

Tiny turned to the orderly. "Take him up to Neuro. He's staying for observation." He turned to Jim. "You going to behave yourself now, or do I need to follow you up?"

Jim waved a hand. "No, it'll be okay. They know us up there." He smoothed the blanket over Blair and then held his hand as the orderly pushed the gurney towards the elevator.

Tiny watched the elevator doors close behind Jim and Blair with a sense of relief. "Trust me, Ellison: everyone in the hospital knows you!"

He snorted and walked off, in search of a beer. Or two.

MITCHELL PERKINS, MD, FIRST-YEAR NEUROLOGY RESIDENT Mitch groaned as he rolled over on the cot, and opened one eye to glare at the door. "What?" he snapped. He knew he sounded petulant, but dammit! He'd been sleeping!

He couldn't see the nurse, backlit as she was by the light from the hallway, but he could hear the petty satisfaction in her tone. "We're admitting an overnight, and we need you to do the history."

Mitch sat up and groaned again, scrubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Why me? Fred's the attending tonight."

"We paged him. He's busy, said you should take it."

"But he's the attending!"

The nurse's tone hardened into pure steel. "Dr. Fredericks is in the ER, dealing with a GSW to the head. He said for you to take it." Then she flicked on the lights, and closed the door behind her. Loudly.

Mitch winced at the sudden brightness. He sighed heavily, feeling horribly put-upon. The nurses hated him. They hated him, and took any chance they could to twist the knife. He glared at the door. "She enjoyed waking me up - you could hear it in her tone."

He sighed, stood up, and got his stethoscope. The one thing his attending had told him when he started his residency was 'Do NOT piss off the nurses. They will make your life a living hell if you treat them wrong.'

Mitch grumbled to himself as he went to pick up the new admission's chart. "But I didn't treat them wrong, that's the thing! I mean, I wasn't asking too much to expect the nurse to have read the freaking chart before going in to see a patient, was I?"

The charge nurse passed him the new admission's chart, letting go of it before he had in a firm grip. They both watched it fall to the floor. "Sorry," she said insincerely, and then turned to answer the phone.

See? They hated him. As he bent to pick up the chart, Mitch once again thought that maybe yelling at the nurse in the break room, in front of all the other nurses, had really not been his brightest idea. And the 'ditzy blonde' comment probably hadn't helped, either.

He flipped through the chart as he walked to the patient's room, his eyes widening. This Sandburg character had been in the hospital a lot! Gunshot wound, stitches, concussion, concussion, concussion. . .ouch! And that was all within the last six months!

Mitch opened Sandburg's door, and stopped still. There were two men in the room. Sandburg was propped up in the bed, his dark hair and bruised face making him look pale and wan. But sitting next to the bed was an older, stronger-looking man. He was sitting so close to the bed he was practically in it, and he was clutching Sandburg's uninjured hand to his chest. He was resting his forehead on Sandburg's, and was gently whispering something that was making Sandburg very happy, if the soft and dreamy look on his face was any indication.

Mitch rolled his eyes. Was he the only one here who knew how to do his job? He coughed, and both men turned their heads to face him, without breaking contact with each other. Mitch coughed again. "Hi, I'm Dr. Perkins. I need to examine the patient, and you, sir," he pointed at the older man, "you need to leave now."

Mitch hear a whispered "Oh, man!" from Sandburg, but he was distracted by the older man, who stood up, and crossed his arms. Whoa! He was a big one!

Mitch took a nervous step back, and then stiffened his spine. "I'm serious. Visiting hours were over long ago. You can come back tomorrow at 9:00 am." The man just continued to stare at him. Mitch took a deep breath. "Am I going to need to call security?"

Mitch didn't even see the guy move. One second he was standing by the bed, and the next he was in Mitch's face, shoving him hard against the wall. Before Mitch could say anything, the man had him off his feet, holding him suspended against the wall by an arm against his throat.

The man leaned in towards Mitch, his blue eyes glittering dangerously. "Listen, asshole. Blair is my partner, and I'm staying with him, and no punk of a doctor or the keystone cops you call security or anyone at fucking ALL is going to get me to leave! You got that?"

Mitch tried to answer, but he couldn't get any air. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes when the door opened and a nurse came in. She stopped, looked at Mitch for a moment, and then smiled and wiggled her fingers. "Hi, Jim!"

As Mitch watched, unbelieving, she stepped past him and walked over to the bed, a huge smile on her face. "Blair! Look! I brought you some ice cream."

Blair smiled with genuine pleasure. "June! Thank you! You didn't have to do that, you know."

June reached out and gently brushed the hair off of Blair's forehead. "Aw, you know I'd do anything for you, punkin."

"Does Tony know you talk to your patients like that?"

June put a hand over her mouth and giggled. Mitch made a strained, gasping noise deep in his throat. Both June and Blair turned their heads, surprised, as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"Oh, hey, June." Blair waved a hand in the general direction of Jim and Mitch. "Can you do something about that? Before Jim kills him? Because prison romances as so not my thing!"

June laughed and patted Blair on the head. She walked over to Jim and put two hands on his straining bicep. "Jim. Come on, now. Put Dr. Perkins down. He's new here, he doesn't know about you and Blair."

Jim just growled, and pressed harder against Mitch's throat. June whacked Jim on the arm, hard. "Jim! If you kill him, you'll go to jail, and Blair will be sad." Jim turned haunted eyes to June, who continued, "You don't want Blair to be sad, do you?"

Jim slowly shook his head. June smile brightly, like a teacher would smile at a very clever student. "Good! Then let Dr. Perkins down. He's turning all blue over there."

Jim took a deep breath, let it out, and then stepped away from the wall, letting Mitch just fall to the floor. He went back over to his chair and reclaimed Blair's hand, smiling fatuously.

Mitch lay gasping on the floor, greedily drawing in air through his abused throat. June leaned over him and said, "Jim and Blair get special treatment. They always get to stay together, no matter what the situation. I'm surprised you didn't know, it's listed right in both their charts." She smiled, a satisfied and vengeful smile. "It's not too much to expect that you would read the freaking chart before you go in to see a patient, is it?"

Then June stepped over him disdainfully and left the room. As Mitch struggled to sit upright, he wondered just how much Godiva he was going to have to buy before the nurses would be nice to him again.

PRACTICALLY THE ENTIRE STAFF OF CASCADE GENERAL Blair waved at yet another nurse, and then tilted his head to look up at Jim, who was pushing the wheelchair. "Jim!" he whispered through a fixed grin, "This is starting to freak me out!"

Jim stopped the wheelchair by the elevator and pushed the 'down' button. "What's freaking you out, Chief?"

Blair waved an arm at all the nurses, orderlies and techs, who were lined up in the hallway, watching them leave. "They are! They're all waving and smiling, it's like some kind of weird Stepford honor guard!"

"They're probably just glad you're leaving."

Blair flipped Jim off, and the janitor who was mopping the floor next to them snorted. Jim and Blair turned to look at him, and he pointed his mop in their direction. "Ha! Glad you're both leaving, that's more like it!"

Jim narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean, old man?"

The janitor dropped his mop in the bucket, splashing dirty water on Jim's shoes. "Means you're more trouble then you're worth, and we're glad to see the back of you, that's what that means!" He paused to glare at Blair as well. "The both of you!"

Jim took a step forward, his fists clenched. "Now, listen-"

"No, you listen!" The janitor interrupted Jim with a poke to the chest. Startled, Jim took a step back. The janitor poked him again. "You two trash this place every time you breeze through here, and who had to clean it up? Me, that's who!" He began mopping the floor with wide, sloppy strokes, forcing Jim to take another step back. "I should get goddamn hazardous duty pay, that's what I should get!"

Jim crossed his arms and glared at the janitor, who did not seem particularly intimidated. From his wheelchair, Blair said, "Come on, man, don't you think that's a little harsh? I mean, 'hazardous duty pay'? We're not that ba-"

Blair stopped speaking as Dr. Perkins came around the corner and stopped dead, staring at Jim in horror. He looked around wildly, and then flung himself through the nearest door, not caring that it was the nurse's locker room. Both Jim and Blair heard a lot of high-pitched screaming, and something that sounded like a slap, but Dr. Perkins didn't come back out.

Slowly, they turned back to the janitor, who was watching them and looking smug. "That little pissant spent the whole night puking. I had to clean that up, too."

The elevator 'pinged', and Jim quickly wheeled Blair inside. As the door closed, Blair reached up and clutched Jim's arm, saying, "I'm scared, Jim. Hold me?"

Jim rolled his eyes and punched him on his good shoulder. Blair started to giggle. The elevator reached the lobby, and with Blair still laughing quietly, Jim pushed the wheelchair down the hallway toward the exit. As they passed, more and more people stepped out to watch them leave, waving and calling out to them. "Goodbye!", "Take care of yourselves this time!", "Be careful out there!"

Then, so close to unison that it was very, very frightening, everyone on the floor yelled, "AND DON'T COME BACK!!"

Jim yanked Blair out of the chair, up into his arms, and sprinted for the door, getting out while the getting was good.

As the doors closed behind Jim and Blair, everyone in the hallway sighed with satisfaction. At that moment, the ER attending came around the corner and said, "Heads up, people! We've got a bus accident with multiple injuries on its way in!"

The nurses and doctors who were still standing around turned to look at one another. Finally, one said what they all were thinking. "Well, thank God! Finally something normal to deal with!"

End Just Kill Me by Blankety: [email protected]

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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.