Disclaimer: This story is in no way affiliated with UPN or Pet Fly Productions. The characters are their property, and this story is not meant to infringe upon their copyrights.
Miles To Go - Part one
Blair Sandburg had been crinkling the flyer in his hands for a good five minutes, but his partner refused to look up from the report he was writing. "It says here that registration for the Captain's Exam closes out at the end of the week," Blair said.
"Mm," was Jim Ellison's reply. He looked down at the keyboard, then up at the screen. F5 to continue or press ALT, SHIFT, END to close. Jesus, you need three hands to work this stupid program...
"Captain James Ellison... Captain Ellison of the Cascade PD... Morning, Captain Ellison. Hey Cap'n, how's it going! Attention Captain James Ellison...Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Blair tried again.
Jim sat back in his chair and gave Blair a discerning glare. "Sandburg, when I speak do you hear actual words or just some sort of indecipherable buzzing noise?"
Blair smirked at his partner. "Look, Jim, all I'm saying is..."
"No, I'm curious here, Chief. It can't be words, because you would have heard me at least one of the hundred and seventy five times I said I wasn't interested in trying for Captain."
"Jim, man, come on. You're great at what you do, but there are all kinds of ways for you to defend the tribe. And at a way higher pay scale too."
Jim grimaced in annoyance, although part of him, as always, was pleased at his lover's career counseling. Jim liked it when Blair's attention was focused solely on him, and he was of the opinion that it happened far too infrequently. Sandburg had a tendency to spread himself too thin and if something had to give, it was usually Jim. Or so he whined.
"If money were the main objective here..." Jim started to say.
"I know, I know, you would have joined your father's business and been a tight ass wheeler-dealer instead of becoming a tight ass cop."
Jim pointed a threatening finger at Blair. "Just because I won't pummel you here in the bullpen doesn't mean I won't do it when we get home."
Blair's grin widened. He suddenly rapped his knuckles on Jim's desk and leaned in close to the detective. "Hear that, Jim? That's forty, and it's knocking on the door, babe."
"Oh, man, you are a little fucker," Jim said in a low voice. "I'll have you know I have the body of a 25 year old."
Blair licked his lips and said wickedly, "Yeah, you fuck it senseless every night then give it back to me."
"You are so dead," Jim said as he pretended to study the reports on his desk.
"The day's fast approaching when you won't be able to catch me, Old Man," Blair taunted.
"Cruisin' for a bruisin,' Sandburg," Jim muttered back.
"See there? As a captain, you'll be able to cultivate new and improved ways to back up your threats with more than just brute strength..."
"Like I could compete with you," Jim scoffed. "I'll stick to being the mindless muscle, thanks."
"You're a natural leader," Blair pointed out. "You're already one of the most respected officers on the force. You're certainly one of the most decorated. This is the next logical step, Big Guy."
Jim knew it was virtually impossible to pull off his feigned disinterest when he was flushing so hotly with pleasure, but he still gave it a shot. "Logic has nothing to do with being the captain of a squad," he said knowingly. "Besides, I can't very well defend the tribe if I'm sitting behind a desk."
"You'll be a different kind of captain," Blair said confidently. "We'll make new rules for you."
Jim felt another flush of pleasure and inwardly rolled his eyes at himself. Some tough cop he was, melting into a pool of Jell-O over the kid's faith in him. You are so far gone, Ellison...The shore is completely out of sight...
"Well we'd better just wait 'til you've got tenure, Professor, because we both know I'll be out on my ass the minute I'm forced to swallow some bureaucratic bullshit. Simon's the politician around here, not me."
"You'd be great," Blair said in a low voice, meant only for Jim.
The detective felt his insides quiver at the words. "You always make me wish I was the man you think I am," Jim said with a rueful shake of his head.
Still using that quiet voice, Blair looked deep into his Sentinel's eyes. "I wish you'd see yourself as the man I know you are."
"How many times have I warned you about unfair foreplay at the office?" Jim growled under his breath.
Blair laughed, eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, I've got a meeting at the university, Big Guy. That gives you the afternoon to think up a suitable punishment." Jim smirked at that as Blair slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Hey, play your cards right, and I'll make you a fancy sit-down dinner tonight."
"Better make it worth your while," Jim said seriously. "It's the last time you'll be doin' it for awhile."
Blair knit his brows. "What? Making dinner?"
It was Jim's turn to look mischievous. "No, Babe," he leaned in to whisper. "Sitting down."
Heading for the door to the loft, Jim grinned at the aroma wafting from the kitchen. Blair wasn't kidding about a fancy dinner, Jim thought in satisfaction. He opened the door and smiled again. Blair had gone all out. The table was set with the good dishes, candles flickered around the loft. A jazz CD played softly in the background.
Jim hung up his coat then kissed Blair's upturned face. "Is all this for me?" Jim asked, inordinately pleased at the effort. He held Blair close and felt the rumble of laughter in the smaller man's chest.
"For my one and only," Blair said cheerfully, his tone setting off alarm bells in Jim's head. He was either apologizing for something he'd already done or something he was going to do.
"Aw, jeez, what?" Jim groaned, when he noticed the homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies on the counter. Desserts meant he really, really wasn't going to like this.
Blair was laughing, shaking his head in exasperation at being known so well. "I am, like, way too predictable here! Man of mystery I am not."
"Come on, Sandburg, spill it," Jim ordered. "Dreading this through dinner will kill my digestion, so let's just get it out in the open."
Blair checked the stew simmering on the stove, turning the heat down to low, then leaned against the kitchen counter. "Okay, Bob Pfeiffer called me into his office to tell me that Kate Winslow is pregnant."
Jim lifted a curious eyebrow at his lover. "What, he wants you to take a paternity test or something?"
Blair smirked. "Funny, Jim. No, see, Kate was going to take a group of first year grad students to the Amazon rain forest for a five week intro to field research rotation..."
Jim nodded, his comprehension. "Ah, so Pfeiffer had to ask some other prof to take the kids and he wants you to take over their classes until they get back? That won't be so bad, Chief. I'm getting pretty good with my senses. I can survive five weeks on my own."
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Blair readily agreed. "Only Pfeiffer doesn't want me to take over anyone's class, he wants me to make the trip."
Jim stared around the kitchen, a confused look clouding his features. "So, what's the deal here? Did he fire you when you refused? He can't do that, Blair! I mean, you have a perfectly good reason not to..."
"Jim, I didn't refuse," Blair said. "I told him I'd go."
Jim flinched in surprise, then stared wide-eyed in disbelief at his partner. "Well you're going to feel pretty foolish tomorrow when you tell him you won't," he said calmly.
"Not a problem," Blair said, just as calmly. "Because I'm not telling him that."
"Yes, you are," Jim said dismissively. "You know you can't go off to some jungle, Blair. Jesus, sometimes you act like you're twelve years old."
"No, sometimes you treat me like I'm twelve," Blair clarified.
"You are not going to the rain forest, Blair," Jim said in his best "case closed" voice. He headed upstairs to change his clothes.
Blair followed him. "Why is it that if you don't like what I'm about to do, you suddenly think I'm asking your permission to do it?"
"Why is it you're always about to do something stupid?" Jim asked, pulling his sweater over his head.
Blair's mouth fell open. "So you're saying what I do, what I am is stupid?!"
Jim took off his pants and tossed them in the laundry pile. "You know that's not what I meant!" he replied. "What's stupid is a guy who's only been in remission for a few months thinking he can lead some jungle expedition!"
Blair's eyes flashed eagerly--the consummate debater given concrete facts to dispute. "It's been six months, and I already cleared it with McVey. And this is hardly an expedition, Jim. It's like Anthropology 101 in the field."
"It's too dangerous," Jim said, trying to stay calm and reasonable. Still, he slammed the dresser shut with more force than necessary. "Blair, you're not a hundred percent yet. You still get so tired, and you're more susceptible to colds and..."
"McVey said it was fine. I'll get a blood test and full physical right before I leave and another one right when I get back. I'm still right on schedule with the check-ups, Jim. Jeez, I'm actually a week early!"
"For McVey's check-ups," Jim emphasized.
Blair had blood tests and a physical every six weeks, but Jim wasn't comfortable with the time lapse between doctor's visits and insisted on carrying out his own examination every week. It only took fifteen minutes or so--just a quick check under Blair's arm and at his groin to see if Jim could sense tumors at either lymph node site.
Blair ignored Jim's implied point. "Look, we're in a completely settled site--more modern and up-to-date than the precinct for pete's sake!"
"No!" Jim barked. "God, Sandburg, I can't believe you're even considering this! We both just started sleeping through the night..."
Blair surged forward, eyes pleading with his lover. "Jim, please try to understand. I need this trip! I didn't even know how much until Bob offered it! I need to do this again! To be out there!"
"You don't need this trip!" Jim said stubbornly. "There'll be others..."
"How can you be so sure?" Blair asked quietly. "Jim, what if I don't get another chance? What if the next time something like this comes along, I'm too sick to go?"
Jim whirled around and glared at the younger man. "You're not going to get sick again!"
"You don't know that," Blair replied, his sadness not for the uncertainty, but for the anguish it caused his lover. "Look, no one knows how much time they have left, Jim. But for some of us that idea hits a little closer to home. This remission could be gone tomorrow..."
"Then how can you even think of leaving me for five weeks?" Jim cried, finally losing some of the control he was struggling to maintain.
Blair sighed and moved in to try to calm Jim with his touch, but the big detective pushed away his outstretched hand. "Jim, we need this, man, both of us."
"I don't need to be apart from you!" Jim angrily replied, turning and jogging down the stairs.
"Yes, you do," Blair said gently, following behind. "Man, you clutch every time I sneeze! I catch a cold and you're ready to call 911! For cripes sake, I step out on the balcony when it's below 70 degrees and your jaw starts twitching like I'm walking across a high wire!"
"So I worry a little," Jim said, then amended his words at Blair's dramatic posture of disbelief. 'Okay, okay, so I worry a lot. You don't have to go traipsing off to the Amazon just to get me to lay off."
"You think you're responsible for keeping me well," Blair said, continuing before Jim could voice his disagreement. "It's like you're terrified that if you drop your guard it's going to come back for that reason alone. Like...as long as you stay vigilant, stand guard over me, you can fight it back. It's a beautiful sentiment, man, but dangerous, you know? Because if it does come back--" Blair held up a hand against Jim's reflexive denial of such a fate. "I said if, then you're going to spiral down in this major guilt-fest, and take me with you. We just need to get some perspective here, okay? You need to learn that you can't control this remission. I love you for trying, man, but..."
"I remember when you were sick," Jim said softly. "I remember how helpless I was, how...how little I had to offer you." Now it was Jim's turn to stave off Blair's denial. "You know what I mean...how little effect I had on your being cured. I remember how that felt Blair, but even so there's this part of me that honestly believes I can keep you well. I know it's crazy, but..."
"Life with a control freak," Blair said with a comic sigh. "You need to remember that I can take care of myself, Big Guy," Blair said. Jim finally let him run a comforting hand up and down his arm. "Hell, Jim, I need to remember it. If I keep letting you take care of me, I'll forget how to take care of myself."
"That wouldn't be so bad," Jim said, drawing Blair into his arms.
He felt Blair smile against his chest. "You say that now. The first time I'm too selfish to give you a head rub after a bad day, you'll rethink the idea."
"Never," Jim promised, kissing the top of Blair's head and running his hand up and down his back. Jim sighed and tightened his hold. "Please don't go, Baby," he whispered. "Don't do this, okay?"
Jim knew the words were fruitless, that all they would do was make Blair feel guilty. But maybe, for once, the guilt would work, would make Blair acquiesce for just once. Why couldn't he see reason? He'd only been in remission for six short months. He wouldn't be considered 'cured' until he'd been clear of cancer for five years. Five years. God, it felt like a lifetime sometimes.
And now he's thinking of taking off for the Amazon?! Jim thought angrily. His immune system is still weak, and he thinks nothing of immersing himself in some germ infested jungle!
Blair had almost died from complications of the lymphoma, a fact the grad student had already conveniently forgotten, but one Jim never would. Sometimes when he looked at his lover, he still saw him as he was during the worst of it--barely more than a walking skeleton, eyes sunken, looking bruised from pain and fatigue, skin gray and lifeless. Jim shuddered and forced the picture from his mind.
Blair kissed Jim's chest through his T-shirt. "You need to let yourself off the hook," he said in a low voice. "A few weeks apart, Big Guy, a few weeks of me on my own, and I swear to you, everything will be back in the proper focus."
Jim wondered why Blair's "case closed" voice was so much more effective than his own. Shoulders sagging in defeat, he sighed, vaguely disturbed that he had so little backbone when it came to Blair. Was there anything important enough to him to stand his ground against the younger man? Sure Blair capitulated on hundreds of everyday kind of decisions, but all the really big ones fell his way, and they both knew it. Maybe that was by design-- picking and choosing his battles, giving in to Jim on subjects like neatness and leftovers, so he could stand firm on things like jungle expeditions.
The loft was quiet for the rest of the night. After dinner, Jim cleaned the kitchen while Blair got to work planning his trip. It was a companionable silence, though--no animosity. But Jim was still worried.
He'd nearly gone off the deep end when Blair was sick. Nearly. Well, that was being generous. He'd pretty much flipped out, going so far as to steal an illegal serum, manufactured from the bone marrow of murder victims. God, it sounded so ghoulish when he thought about it now, but at the time, he hadn't felt an ounce of compunction over what he'd done, at least, not until Blair called him on it. His lover had been horrified and then enraged when he learned Jim was planning on giving him the serum without his knowledge. Remembering it now, Jim thought it seemed more like a hazily recalled dream--certainly not something that had actually happened. Blair managed to forgive him. Managed wasn't even the right word. Blair had effortlessly forgiven him, as if Jim's betrayal was nothing but an inconsequential slip.
Looking up from the sink, Jim snuck a guilty peek at his lover, hunched over the laptop in barely contained glee. Blair believed that Jim had destroyed the serum, but it was in a hermetically sealed pouch taped to the underside of a drawer in the refrigerator. Jim tried to shake off the guilty feeling. He was certain he would never use the serum without Blair's full knowledge and cooperation. Relatively certain.
Oh hell, maybe he was nothing more than an alcoholic with a comforting bottle of whisky tucked away for safekeeping.
Jim ran the dish cloth over the counter one last time, then wrung it out and folded it over the divide in the sink.
>From the couch, Blair looked up at Jim, a smile that was almost sympathetic softening his features. Jim knelt down in front of him and took one of his hands. Jim brought it to his lips and nuzzled the thin, gold band Blair wore. Jim didn't wear one, even though at one time, he had told Blair he would. He had promised it to Blair when he was very sick, promised it in the place of something Blair really wanted--an assurance of relief--of release--should the cancer, or more accurately, the treatment become more than Blair could stand. Jim couldn't give his lover what he had really needed, so instead, he had offered the promise of a public commitment if only Blair would stick with him and continue to endure the unendurable.
After Blair went into remission, he relentlessly tortured Jim about that promise, pretending to plan an outrageously extravagant gala, which turned out to be a surprise party for Jim's 39th birthday.
Blair really pulled that one off, Jim thought fondly. He had talked endlessly about the supposed "commitment" ceremony, inundating Jim with decisions about hors d'oeuvres and entrees and music and guest lists. He was certainly more into it than Carolyn had ever been--hell, the two of them had settled for a justice of the peace. Jim watched with growing trepidation as Blair's list of invitees grew larger and larger, encompassing almost the entire police department. Their relationship was still a pretty closely guarded secret. Simon knew, of course, and Joel Taggart. Brown and Ryf. A couple of the cops in Vice with whom Jim was still close, but it wasn't exactly common knowledge. Blair told a stunned silent Jim they would keep quiet about it until everybody arrived expecting a party and found themselves at a wedding instead.
And when Blair wasn't going on about the guests, he was harping on Jim to write his vows and decide which piece of music he was going to dance to with his new husband. Jim was working on an all-out panic attack that would give Blair a run for his money, certain he couldn't go through with the public extravaganza, but at a loss as to how to tell Blair.
A few weeks before the ceremony, Jim and Blair drove to a party house to check out its suitability for their gala, Jim secretly hoping they'd waited too long to reserve the place. Seeing the parking lot crowded with cars, Jim tried to get Blair to call off their impromptu visit.
"No way, man," Blair replied. "Looks like a hopping party!"
"What, you mean to crash this thing?" Jim asked, as if Blair had just revealed his diabolical plan for taking over the world.
"Crash, shmash!" Blair pshawed. "A stranger is just a friend you haven't met."
"I'll remind you of that when we're both standing in a cell at the county jail," Jim muttered, following behind the younger man.
Blair pushed the door open, and Jim immediately noticed that the lights were out. Aw shit, just their luck, they came upon the one party in Cascade being held hostage by thugs. The detective reached around back for his gun just as the lights burst on and a deafening cry of "Surprise!" went up through the room.
It took a good two minutes. Jim stood there, stunned, confused, then slowly things started making sense. The guest list he'd grudgingly approved was milling about in the flesh. The hors d'oeuvres, the band, the drinks, the food...everything they'd talked about the last month, excluding the table full of birthday presents, was right there.
Jim slowly turned his head to Blair and leveled his most evil glare at the exalted younger man. With a comic, "Yikes!" Blair took off toward the other end of the hall, Jim setting off after him, only to be restrained by Simon and Joel Taggart.
"Your ass is mine, Sandburg!" he shouted, dramatically straining to get out of the hold. The room shook with laughter.
>From across the room, Blair grinned broadly as he turned around and said sotto voice to his Sentinel, "That's one promise you're going to keep, Big Guy."
They partied late into the night--or rather, early into the next morning. And for several hours after that once they got home. After crashing for a few hours, then wolfing down a cholesterol laden breakfast, Jim finally turned to Blair and said, "Are you mad?"
Blair laughed and shook his head. "Once you got me up off the bathroom floor, I kind of figured the deal was nixed."
Jim winced. "I'm not very good at keeping my promises, am I?" he sighed, looking out the window.
"You keep the important ones just fine," Blair said. "Listen Jim, dancing around the room in front of a bunch of people, standing up and committing in front of them--those are...adolescent kind of fantasies--hardly realistic, especially for a cop."
"Don't make excuses for me," Jim said, as a heavy sense of guilt slumped his shoulders.
Blair laughed and pulled Jim down on the couch with him. "Hey, you're talking to the guy who promised to be out of your hair after five days. Remember me?"
Jim smiled in spite of himself. "Vaguely," he said, stretching his long frame out on the couch, head settling into Blair's lap.
Blair kissed his forehead and began to massage his scalp. "Look, I understand what you were feeling then as my lover and now as a cop. And hey, the world's changing by the minute. Who knows what might be possible next year or the year after that or the year after that?"
"So then why this whole charade?" Jim asked, thoroughly confused.
Blair pointedly lifted a brow at his lover. "Just because I understand, doesn't mean you can waltz through life promising me something when we're in deep shit, and then renege when everything's back to normal. Think of this as a warning, Big Guy. Then next time maybe I won't be so understanding."
And a few weeks after that, Jim sprang his own surprise on Blair. In the solitude and serenity of the loft, Jim privately, but no less devotedly, entrusted himself to Blair. He danced with him to song after song, each one painstakingly chosen for the sentiment expressed, then teasingly got down on one knee and asked for Blair's hand. Flushing with pleasure, Blair had given it to him, and Jim slid the ring on his finger, and promised all the things a man promises at a time like that--to love and honor, to worship with his body and with his soul, to forsake all others and keep Blair only unto him. And Blair returned that promise and later told Jim that making the vow just between the two of them meant more to him than any public display ever could.
Remembering that special night, Jim rose and went over to the CD, putting in a disc, then programming in the songs he wanted to play.
The first few strains of music wafted through the loft, and Blair flushed, sinking into his shoulders as if a chill had run up his back. Jim held out his hand, and when Blair took it, he gently pulled him to a standing position and welcomed him into his arms.
We could dance under the moonlight Hug and kiss all through the night, Oh baby, tell me Do you wanna dance with me, baby?
"I'm forgiven, huh?" Blair whispered as they swayed to the music.
"Nothing to forgive," Jim said, kissing the top of Blair's head. "I'm not mad, just..."
"Crazy?" Blair helpfully offered.
Jim pulled away long enough to smirk at his smart ass lover. Then he sighed and cast his eyes heavenward. It was pretty close to the truth. "Certifiable, Baby," he agreed and found it didn't bother him nearly as much as he thought it would.
[Two Weeks Later]
Blair craned his neck to make sure he had counted all of the students. "Now you'll see why we're here two hours early," he muttered to Jim. Standing up, Blair lifted his arm to garner everyone's attention. "Guys! Hey guys!" he called. "All right, now look. When I said one bag weighing no more than 25 pounds, apparently you heard me saying two bags weighing 50 pounds each. Now I, for one, do not intend to go down in the Amazon rain forest because you all couldn't live without hair gel for a few weeks." Moans and groans from the students. Jim couldn't help grinning. "Yeah, yeah, save it, guys! The airport has been kind enough to provide us a room right over there with lockers and a scale. I want you all to repack the essential items on your list, store the crap, then weigh your bag and make sure it's not an ounce over 25 pounds." More groans. "Get to it!" Blair called over them.
He grinned and flashed his eyebrows at Jim before sitting down next to him.
Every once in awhile, a student--always female--came out to ask Blair his opinion on one item or another. One student, a beautiful blond who looked like she was more suited for a runway than a rain forest--came out four separate times. Jim smirked after her. "What the hell does she think that's for?" he asked, pointing to the ring on Blair's finger. Blair grinned at his jealous lover.
"Not a sign that I belong to the hulking cop, that's for sure," he laughed.
Jim grimaced. "I get five weeks of Simon and the rest of the guys at the station and you get five weeks of Susie Co-Ed. How is that fair?"
Blair nodded toward a tall, skinny kid with short hair and coke bottle glasses. "Don't worry, man. Susie Co-Ed will come walking off the return flight hand-in-hand with that guy." He turned and saw a shorter young man with bright red hair and freckles. Blair smiled. "Or maybe that one." At Jim's snort of disbelief, Blair shrugged and said, "Research teams are a sub-group all their own, man. Half the kids will pair up before the plane lands in Brazil."
"Just as long as none of them get any ideas about playing Teacher's Pet," Jim growled, and surprised Blair by leaning over and kissing him hard on the mouth. Even though no one else was waiting for the flight, enough of Blair's students saw the kiss. It would only take a few minutes for the rest of the group to hear about it.
Blair's grin managed to be both teasing and knowing when Jim pulled away. "Man, I'm going to jet off to the jungles more often."
Jim slipped his fingers through Blair's and squeezed his hand. "Not without me you're not," he said.
Blair was looking down at their clasped hands and shaking his head. "Would you really come with me some time?"
Jim gave him a lascivious grin. "Baby, I come with you all the time," he said. He leaned in close and whispered in Blair's ear. "And sometimes I come before you, and sometimes I come after you, and sometimes, when I'm really, really lucky, I come inside you." He kissed Blair's temple and audaciously ran his tongue around the tip of his ear.
Blair made a face and pulled away from his lover. "Would you, Jim?" he asked seriously. "Come along on one of these research trips? Take a leave of absence from the force, close up the loft...."
Jim shook his head, but not at Blair's question. "Aw, Jesus, Chief, I don't think there's anything I won't do for you. Just get me the number of someone who can water the plants, and I'm back in the jungle."
"You're just saying that because I'm leaving," Blair said. "It's easy to be so generous when you know the TV remote is yours for the next five weeks."
"Mmm, five whole weeks without a nature show...We'll put the Discovery Channel out of business."
Blair laughed and nudged Jim's shoulder with his own. "I'm more worried about the condom and lube industries myself," he teased cruelly.
Jim moaned. "Oh man, Sandburg. I oughta drag you to the men's room and make you pay for that!"
"Wanna?" Blair asked, eyes suddenly bright.
"Sandburg," Jim said, rolling his eyes.
"Hey, what happened to 'nothing you won't do for me?'"
Jim couldn't help grinning at his lover. "You know, I try to express this nice, romantic sentiment, and right away you're twisting it into something sick."
"Now I'm sick and twisted? You didn't think so this morning, did you?" Blair taunted.
"Twisted would have been fairly accurate," Jim said. They both started laughing, and after it petered out, they shared secret smiles with each other.
The terminal gradually filled with other passengers. The students, packs safely within the specified weight range, milled about, talking and laughing excitedly. Twice, Blair told Jim he didn't have to stick around. The noise was kind of annoying, but Jim shrugged and shook his head. He liked watching Blair with his students. Blair was 'the kid' around the precinct, so Jim always got a kick out of seeing him in the role of teacher. Almost everyone, big and small, old and young, responded to Blair, but kids in particular appreciated his easygoing manner and genuine interest in their thoughts and ideas.
When the final boarding call was announced, Blair reluctantly stood up. Jim heard his throat catch and it surprised the younger man. "Jeez," Blair whispered, turning to look at Jim with wide eyes. "Man, I'm going to miss you!" he said, as if the idea had just occurred to him. Knowing Sandburg, it had. He hugged Jim tightly, eyes squeezed shut. Jim held him just as tight, nearly oblivious to the crowd around them.
"I'll miss you, too," Jim whispered in Blair's ear. "I love you, Chief."
"Me too you," Blair said softly.
Jim stepped back. "All right, then, if you're going, go," he said gruffly.
Blair grinned and backed away, watching Jim over his shoulder as he went.
"Be safe," Jim ordered. "You get kidnapped, Sandburg, and I'll hunt you down like a dog!"
Jim could hear Blair laughing all the way to his seat.
Jim stayed in the terminal and watched the plane until it was out of sight. Considering his Sentinel eyes, that was a considerable amount of time. Then he sighed, feeling lost and aimless for the first time in roughly two years. He looked around, then slowly made his way to the truck. He could call Simon and some of the guys. Go out to dinner maybe. Something high fat and very much a no-no in the Sandburg Book of Healthy Eating. Catch a flick. Hang out at O'Roarke's.
Jim swung the truck out on the highway and shook his head. Nah, too much trouble, he thought. He'd just stay in tonight, enjoy the quiet. Hell, if he was lucky, the Discovery Channel would be playing a nature show.
[Three Weeks Later]
Excerpt from Blair's Journal:
I didn't think I'd miss Jim so much. I've been thinking that the dependence thing was more habit than actual need. Now I'm not so sure. I haven't slept through the night since we got here. I keep waking up and panicking because Jim's not here beside me. I never even relied on Naomi the way I have on Jim. Sometimes I can't decide if I've never really loved anyone before or if the way I love Jim is just so colossally off the map that it eclipses every other emotion I've ever had. He'd love to read that. Well, it's 3 am, Big Guy, I'm not all that coherent right now, so don't let it go to your head.
Man, do I miss you!
[Two Weeks Later]
Jim was bouncing on his heels in a perfect imitation of Blair. He found himself grinning when Susie Co-Ed walked off the plane holding the redhead's hand. Damn that kid knew what he was talking about, Jim thought, shaking his head. Jim sighed as passenger after passenger debarked. Jesus, knowing Blair he was probably engaged in some research on the peculiar characteristics of a subgroup of flight attendants.
Sure enough, Blair was the last passenger off the plane, talking animatedly with one of the flight attendants. At the first sight of him, Jim's heart jumped in his chest, and a huge smile lit his face. "Blair!" he shouted, surging forward.
Blair's head shot toward the sound of his name, and an answering smile burst forth. "Hey!" he called and took off toward Jim, jumping into his outstretched arms with a shout of laughter. He wrapped his arms around Jim as the taller man swung him around and around. "Oh man!" he breathed into Jim's neck. "I missed you so much! God, I missed you!"
"You're home!" Jim sighed, holding the back of Blair's head, pressing the younger man's face to him. Finally he pulled away and set Blair down. He squinted at his lover and said in a gruff voice, "All right, all right, let me get a look at you!" He gave him a long once-over. The group had spent the night in a hotel in Rio De Janeiro, so Blair was clean-shaven. His hair was long enough to tuck behind his ears. He'd lost some weight, but looked tan and healthy. "Mmm, pretty as ever," Jim said approvingly.
"Pretty," Blair snorted at the adjective. He gave Jim a good look, reaching out to rub the rock hard stomach. "Good boy," Blair praised. "I see you managed to avoid the intoxication of fast food."
Jim laughed and swung his arm over Blair's shoulder. He picked up Blair's pack and headed for the parking lot. "Guess I shouldn't tell you I just added an hour to my work-out, should I?"
"Am I going to have to do a cholesterol count on you?" Blair asked.
"Is that what you want to do when we get home?" Jim retorted.
When Blair gave a pretense of thinking it over, Jim tightened the arm around his shoulder. "I am so glad you're home!" Jim said, smiling down at Blair.
Blair beamed as he stared up at Jim, the stoic older man for once making no effort to mask the look of joy on his face.
Once in the truck, Jim slammed the door shut, but instead of revving the engine, he just turned, leaning against the door, and stared at Blair. "Longest five weeks of my life, Chief," he said, slowly shaking his head. "I missed you."
Jim could feel the warmth wafting from his lover, who looked over at him and graced him with a look of absolute love and contentment. "Can't be anywhere near as much as I missed you," Blair said in a low voice. He reached out and laced his fingers through Jim's. "I've never felt like that before," he said wondrously. "It was...it was awesome, Jim!"
Jim laughed and gathered Blair into his arms, hugging him as tightly as he could. "I'm so glad you're home, Baby. I can't wait to show you how glad I am!" Jim growled and kissed Blair hard on the mouth.
"Homeward, James!" Blair ordered with a twinkle in his eye. "Post haste!"
In no time, they were home, Blair's gear stowed, dirty clothes churning in the washing machine, and the two of them relaxing in the oversized tub. A few well placed candles offered dusky light as they slowly encouraged their bodies to get reacquainted.
They had welcomed one another home quickly and explosively when the door to the loft first slammed shut, clothes strewn everywhere, grunts and groans and licks and kisses the only sounds to be heard. Once those base needs were sated, they could concentrate on a more sensual reunion.
The water in the tub was so hot, steam wafted lazily toward the ceiling. They faced one another, knees over hips, close enough to rub their cocks together.
Blair spoke with his face inches from Jim; his voice hushed at the intimacy. "God, Jim, it was so weird. I've always convinced myself that wherever I am is where I'm supposed to be, know what I mean?"
Jim grinned fondly at his lover and stole a kiss. "Sandburg, it frightens me to say this, but yeah, I know exactly what you mean."
"But man, this was like...weird! I missed our bed and driving to work together and telling you about my day and calling you in the middle of the day for no reason and fighting about whose turn it is to cook and trying to get you to read some book I just finished and wrestling over the TV remote...I didn't just miss you Jim, I missed our life. That's never happened to me before. My life has always been wherever I am...I've never left half of it behind when I had to go."
His heart thundering with pleasure, Jim smoothed the hair away from Blair's face and brought it close for a slow, deep kiss. He wrapped his legs even more tightly around the smaller man.
"Does this mean I don't have to worry about a wanderlust taking hold of you?"
Blair smiled and shrugged. "It means when it does you can bet your ass I'm coming back."
"I can live with that," Jim said softly. He hugged Blair tightly, holding his head to his shoulder and refusing to let go for a long time.
They couldn't keep their hands off each other that evening, as if needing the contact to reassure themselves the reunion was real. They remained side by side as Blair switched clothes from washer to dryer, as Jim paid for the pizza and dished it out onto plates, as they ate, as they washed up...as they made their way upstairs.
Blair flopped down on the bed, spread his arms and sighed luxuriously. "Ahhh, bed!"
Jim stripped quickly and loomed over his lover. "All the conveniences of home, huh?"
Blair opened his eyes and licked his lips at the sight of Jim's arousal. "Mmm, I'm not sure I'd call that a convenience," he teased.
"Surely you're not suggesting it's an inconvenience," Jim said, watching Blair wiggle out of his boxers.
Blair grinned. "No way, man. And don't call me Shirley."
Laughing in spite of himself, Jim launched himself at Blair with a growl. He could feel Blair laughing with him as he rolled over and ended up with Blair on top of him. "I missed you, Shirley," he said, hugging his lover in strong arms.
Blair sighed, his eyes still dancing with laughter. "I missed you too."
Jim pet Blair's hair, smiling at the curly tendrils as they wrapped themselves around his fingers. "I'll deny it if you ever call me on this, but you were right, you know."
"I know," Blair agreed, then grinned. "About what?"
Jim snorted his amusement. "About needing the space. Needing to gain some perspective. I was nuts the first two weeks you were gone. I couldn't do anything with myself, you know?"
"Boy do I!" Blair agreed. "I've never been able to do anything with you!"
With a smirk, Jim pinched Blair's ass and shivered when Blair jumped and yelped, driving his erection against Jim's. "I was going crazy not knowing how you were doing, if you needed me...Not even if really. I was convinced you needed me and wouldn't be able to function without me there."
Blair's eyes suddenly softened. He laid down, head tucked up under Jim's chin. "It was harder than I thought it would be," he admitted softly.
"I'm sitting there at work and I'm thinking maybe you won't remember to drink enough fluids, maybe you're getting dehydrated, maybe you're pushing yourself too hard and you'll be out on some trail, too tired to find your way back to camp..."
Blair smiled and kissed the smooth chest beneath him. "Mmm, I love you," he said lazily.
Jim hugged him briefly and kissed the top of his head. "And you know me--grouching around when I've got something on my mind. So Brown asks me what the big deal is, like, can't we go a few weeks without it and all this, so, trying to be the open, honest guy you're always going on about, I try to share my feelings and I tell him how you're out there with no one to look after you, and..."
"Oh, man, no way!" Blair said, with a laugh. "You did not say that!"
"No, I said it," Jim admitted. "So Brown just about busts a gut laughing, and he shouts over to Ryf, "Get this, buddy! Ellison is worried about Sandburg not having someone to look out for him!" So now Ryf's laughing, and Simon comes out of his office, with that eyebrow of his arching up and Joel is in tow, and he joins the party. And Simon looks at me and says, 'It's not Sandburg who needs looking after. Hell, Jim, with him out of the country, I had to assign somebody just to make sure you've got sense enough to get your ass out of the rain!' And naturally, the room goes crazy. You know, I'm starting to think I'm not a very subtle man."
Blair laughed until Jim took advantage of his open mouth and slipped his tongue inside it. He rolled over, sighing when Blair purred, deep in his throat. "I think the key is that we need each other, you know? Like, it's the same amount of need; not weighted towards either one of us."
"I love you," Jim whispered, gently undulating against Blair. "Love, need, want. All of it, Baby."
"It's all yours," Blair replied, shifting to his side, silently offering and asking.
Jim groaned. "Oh yeah, lover." He slid one well oiled finger inside Blair's anus, then a second, then a third. "You're so tight," he huffed in Blair's ear. "Too long without me inside you, lover. Too long."
"Hurry," Blair moaned. "I need you so bad, Jim. Oh God, so bad!" Blair bucked against Jim as he inserted that third finger, his shout of surprise making Jim's cock twitch.
Jim slid inside his pliant lover. Slowly, slowly pushing inward, he groaned against the tightness and the heat that surrounded his cock. "I missed you," Jim whispered, beginning a continuous litany as he steadily took more and more of Blair. "You're all there is of me, Blair. God, I love you. Unh, oh yeah, that's it. So tight inside you, so hot. Oh yeah, I'm part of you now. I make you whole, Baby. Feel me make you whole."
"Yes," Blair whispered, so lost in the sensation he was barely capable of forming the simple word. He tried to move but was held completely immobile by Jim's large frame. For once the big man was not holding back; was not aware of his bulk in contrast to Blair's smaller body. Firmly pushing the rest of the way inside, Jim came to rest against the softness of Blair's ass.
"This is home, Baby," Jim thrummed in Blair's ear. "This is where you belong; where we both belong--this one moment of connection, that's what it's all about, that's what it all means. Now tell me you're mine. Tell me your soul belongs to me."
"It's always only ever yours, Jim."
Jim sunk his teeth into Blair's shoulder and gave a quick shove. "I missed you so bad, Baby...Rubbed myself raw in this bed thinking of you, dreaming of you, waiting for you..."
"Uuungh, I'm here!" Blair moaned, bucking in an ineffectual attempt to get Jim to start moving. "Oh God, I'm here... I'm here."
"I missed your ass," Jim whispered, lightly bouncing and grinning wickedly at Blair's stifled groan. "Missed your hot, tight ass, closing around my dick, missed taking you so hard you shove a pillow in your mouth to keep the neighbors from hearing you scream...missed watching you walk around slow and sore, and knowing your ass was throbbing at the memory of me inside you...missed taking what's mine..."
"So take it!" Blair cried, pushing himself off the bed, forcing the motion Jim withheld.
With a muffled roar, Jim answered with a mighty thrust of his own, laughing with the delighted pleasure of a starving man let loose at a banquet. "Oh Christ, what you do to me!" Jim gasped as Blair shoved himself backward each time Jim moved forward.
"God, I love you, I love you!" Blair moaned, tossing his head back and forth, stunned and excited by Jim's wanton enthusiasm. "Take more!" he cried, lifting his hips in reply to Jim's powerful thrusts. "Oh God, I want you to take it all."
Jim groaned, his arousal taking on an almost physical presence in the room. "It's all mine, lover. You're all mine. Oh Christ, you feel so good. Give it to me, give it all to me."
"It's yours, it's yours, it's yours," Blair panted in time to Jim's lunges, no longer possessing the strength to answer those vigorous surges.
Jim's warning cry started low, and as he emptied himself inside his lover, he threw his head back and bellowed at the joy of his release. He waited until he was completely soft before he withdrew from the haven of his lover.
They ended up lying on their backs, sweating, panting, and staring at the ceiling. "Shit!" Jim breathed in disbelief. "Jesus, you okay, Blair?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing!" Blair replied. "That was wild, man!"
Jim grinned, the muscles needed just about the only ones on his body not aching at the moment. "Kinda surprised you there, didn't I?"
"Whoowee, Big Guy! Must be that extra hour you tacked on to your workout, huh?"
They both laughed, groaning in unison when Jim pushed himself over onto his side, drew Blair close and spooned up against his back. "I love you," Jim whispered. "So much I don't know what to do with it. Scares me sometimes."
Blair settled himself against Jim's solid chest. "Not me, Big Guy," he said drowsily. He snuggled his ass to Jim's softened penis. "Feels great from here."
Jim smiled, pressing his lips against the warm flesh of Blair's neck. "I'll let you fly again, but not for awhile, okay? You stick close to me for now, all right?"
"Mmmm," Blair muttered, his voice thick with pleasure. "Like you could get me to go."
[Three Months Later]
"Sandburg, would you hurry up?" Jim grumbled. "I'm starving!"
Stripped down to his boxers, Blair walked downstairs carrying his jeans and a sweater. "All right, already," he said, tossing his clothes on the couch. "Zeno's doesn't even open until 6:30. There's no rush."
"That's the Sandburg Motto if ever I heard one," Jim griped, walking over with a bag of potato chips in his hands.
Blair snatched the bag from him. "Jeez, it's like living with a ten year old," Blair said, putting the chips back in the cabinet. "Don't want to spoil your dinner, Jimmy. And if you're really good and clean your plate, you can have some dessert."
Jim smirked and pulled Blair close to him, licking his lips in anticipation. "Mmm, something extra sweet," he said, sinking his teeth into Blair's neck.
Blair laughed as he pushed Jim off him. "Come on then. You're the one who wants to get this show on the road."
Blair stepped back, and lifted his left arm straight in the air. He bent it at the elbow, his hand resting behind his head. Jim's face schooled itself into a look of deep concentration. He put one hand on Blair's shoulder, then brushed his sensitive fingertips down Blair's side. Blair shivered at the coolness of Jim's touch, but said nothing. Applying only slight pressure, Jim ran his hand from the underside of Blair's arm, following in a line down his armpit and the length of his chest, all the way to Blair's waist.
Jim knew only a split second before Blair did.
His Sentinel fingertips slid up Blair's side, taking one more pass under his arm. Jim's hand froze and his breath caught in his throat, the quiet hitching sound suddenly reverberating in the silent loft. His eyes, wide with shock and terror, met Blair's, and Jim made a sound like he'd been kicked in the gut.
Jerking away from Jim's hand, Blair stepped backward, looking as if Jim had just slapped him. "No!" he said angrily. "No!"
Jim found himself struggling to breathe. His knees felt like rubber, the room swam in front of him. "Blair, I..." he started to say, moving forward to take him in his arms.
Blair cried out, a strained, wild sound, like a frightened animal, and backed fearfully away. "No!" he shouted. "No! I said no! I said no!"
Jim tried again. "Blair, I need to..."
"You don't need to do anything!" Blair yelled, walking on jerky legs over to the couch. Shaking violently, he put his clothes back on. His shoulders were hunched, and he was blinking rapidly, as if some deafening sound was echoing in his ears.
Jim advanced toward him feeling like he was walking through quicksand. Funny that his limbs couldn't seem to take direction from his brain anymore. He touched Blair's shoulder. "Blair, please, don't..."
"Get away from me!" Blair shouted, whirling around and stumbling backward. "Don't touch me! Don't you touch me!" He made a couple of steps toward his old bed room before grabbing his head at his temples and doubling over as if in pain. A bellow of despair escaped him. "Oh God, no, no! No! Do you hear me? NO!" Head back, fists clenched at his side, Blair shouted at the first deity that came to mind. "Don't do this to me! Don't do this!"
Jim couldn't make himself stop trying to make contact. He tried to embrace Blair from behind, whispering, "It's okay, it's okay," even though it was a lie.
"Get off me!" Blair cried, shoving Jim away. "I'm not doing this again, do you hear me?" he shouted, waving his finger at Jim. "I already did this! I don't have to do it again! I won't!"
"Blair, just let me..."
"No!" Blair shouted, backing away. "I said, no!"
He turned and bolted for his study, once his old bedroom. He slammed the door shut and locked it. For a split second, Jim was terrified that Blair might do something self-destructive, but that was so unlike Blair, he immediately shook it off. Besides, he could piggy back his sight with his hearing and he knew for a fact that Blair was crouched on the floor, in the far corner of the room. Arms wrapped around his knees, he was slowly rocking back and forth and shaking his head no.
Jim felt like he stood there for hours before he could coax his brain into working order. He called Blair's doctor and explained what he'd felt. He made an eight a.m. appointment, then left a message on Simon's voicemail telling him he'd be in late. He fixed himself a sandwich and ate half of it before feeling like he was going to puke and tossing it in the garbage. He stood at the doors of the balcony and stared out at the bay for a long time, listening to the panicked rhythm of his lover's heart echoing in their otherwise silent home.
At some point, Jim climbed the stairs to the loft and went to bed. He laid there quietly and remembered his own reaction the first time Blair was diagnosed. He'd waited until Jim got home to tell him, and Jim had acted with typical Ellison charm. "Jesus Christ, Sandburg, can't you do anything right?" he yelled. "I send you for a simple check up and this is what you come back with? Christ, I'll make an appointment and take you myself..."
Blair gently broke into Jim's diatribe and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down," he said, an order, not a suggestion. "Brad gave me a ton of information we need to sift through to help us decide where we go from here..."
"We're not going anywhere!" Jim snapped, wondering how a man as educated as Blair could be so fucking stupid. "It's a mistake!" Jim had insisted, flinching away from Blair's outstretched hand. "It happens all the time in these labs. They mix up blood samples or- or-or there's a spot on an x-ray from-from faulty equipment. They're just...they're just wrong!"
"Then they made the mistake over and over again," Blair said wryly. "They gave me five blood tests and took a biopsy of the tumor. They're not wrong."
"This is so like you, Sandburg," Jim had fumed. "You're so fucking passive! Believe whatever anyone tells you, don't bother to verify anything, just take them at face value. God dammit, why do I have to do everything around here?!"
Jim had shouted for close to an hour, lambasting Blair for his ineptitude and carelessness in accepting such an obviously ludicrous diagnosis. And Blair had calmly and compassionately waited for reality to hit and when it did and Jim fell to his knees in terror, Blair was right there, holding him close and whispering his promise that everything would work out, everything would be okay.
The memory shamed Jim still.
And now it was happening again, but for some reason he was the rational one this time. For now. With a shudder of revulsion, Jim remembered the emotional turmoil of Blair's first round with the disease. Was he strong enough to go through this again? Was Blair? Jesus, forget emotional strength, could Blair physically cope with this? His body had barely recovered; Jim still thought him too skinny, and he tired with far more frequency than he ever had before. He'd almost died before. Blair had almost died, and when he first got sick he was a damn sight stronger than he was now.
Oh God, how were they going to do this again?
And since we're talking, God, do you mind telling me why we're doing it again?
It was close to two in the morning before Jim heard Blair wearily climbing the steps up to the bedroom. Jim turned over on his side and hitched up on an elbow.
Blair sighed, then slowly stripped out of his clothes. "Sorry I flipped," he said tiredly.
Jim shrugged vaguely and made room for Blair. "We have an eight o'clock appointment with Brad."
Blair nodded then sat down on the edge of the bed, turned away from Jim. Jim reached up and ran his hand up and down Blair's back, infinitely relieved that he could touch Blair without the younger man shoving him away. Blair was his anchor emotionally and physically, the need for contact almost pathological.
Head down, Blair's shoulders started to shake. "I'm sorry!" he whispered. "I let you down! I'm sorry, man!"
Shocked, Jim quickly sat up and moved to take Blair in his arms. "No," he said firmly. "We're not going to start this. We don't even know anything for sure. You've never let me down. Not for an instance. Never."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Blair whispered, clutching Jim as tightly as he could.
Jim rocked him gently, kissing his head and whispering comfort into his ear.
"I'm so scared!" Blair said when he calmed enough to speak.
"I know, Baby, I am too."
Blair shook his head. "No, man, you don't understand. I don't think I can do this again, Jim. I mean, I really don't think I can."
Jim didn't say anything for a minute, he just continued to gently rock with Blair in his arms. "It'll be different this time," he finally said. "I'll be different. I'll help you. I'll be strong for you."
Blair chuckled unexpectedly. "I'm the strong one," he said, a private little joke between the two of them.
"We'll do everything your way," Jim whispered in his ear. "Anything you want, Baby. I won't push my will on you for a second, I swear."
"You gonna give up breathing while you're at it?" Blair asked wryly.
"I mean it!" Jim insisted.
Blair gave another shaky laugh and nuzzled into Jim's hold. "It's a little early to start making promises you can't keep," he said and lessened the sting of his words with a sweet kiss to Jim's cheek. "I don't even think I want you to keep it. Aw, jeez, Jim! I don't think I can do this!"
"Maybe together we can," Jim tentatively ventured. "Maybe if we work together instead of...instead of on our own, maybe then you'll be able to do it."
Blair's breath suddenly caught in his throat and a shudder rocked him. "I should have worked harder on my dissertation!" he said suddenly. "Oh God, what if I don't finish it, Jim? What if I don't finish it?"
Jim rocked him and whispered soothingly, "You'll finish it, Baby. I'll help you. You'll finish it..." And to himself, Jim thought You'll finish it. If I have to chisel it on stone and defend the crazy thing myself, you're going to finish it.
"I'm sorry," Blair said. "You probably never would've come near me if you knew loving me would be so hard."
Jim laughed out loud at the very idea. "Blair, loving you is the easiest, most effortless thing I've ever done in my life!"
And then, for want of anything better to do, Jim turned out the light, reclined in bed with his lover, and held him, softly petting his hair, until the sun rose the next morning.
Twelve hours and one biopsy later, their worst fears were confirmed. Blair had a malignant tumor in the lymph nodes under his arm. The remission was over.
The two men sat numbly in Brad McVey's office and listened to him calmly schedule surgery in four days to remove the tumor and to explore the other lymph node site at Blair's groin. They would select a treatment regime based on the outcome of the surgery.
Slumped in his chair, shoulders hunched, Blair looked like a surly adolescent brought before the school principal. He wouldn't meet Brad's gaze, so the doctor spent the majority of the consult speaking directly to Jim. The irony wasn't lost on the detective. Not 24 hours ago, he'd tried to promise Blair that he wouldn't force his will on the younger man, and now here he was making all the decisions.
Jim sighed and shifted in the chair. He hadn't slept at all the night before, and he was feeling the fatigue as a weight across his shoulders. Okay, so Blair wasn't up to all of this just yet, that didn't mean Jim couldn't factor in his point of view, did it? There was a ton of information back at the loft that Blair had gathered when he was sick the first time. Jim decided he would read up a little before the surgery, just in case Blair was still out of it when they met with Brad again.
Excerpt from Blair's Journal:
The lymphoma's back. The remission only lasted nine months, and you don't have to be an oncologist to know what that means.
I lost it when Jim found the tumor. I'm talking totally flipped out here, man. I just couldn't believe it, couldn't make my brain wrap itself around the concept. I've totally let Jim down, and on top of that, I feel like a complete idiot for all that squawking I did about taking care of myself. Since we found out, I can barely pick out a pair of socks in the morning. I've left everything up to Jim, and I feel guilty about that too. I can't pick out a pair of socks to put on, I'm supposed to select a treatment regime?
When I got up this morning, Jim was reading through a bunch of alternative healing books I'd picked up last time I was sick. He kept asking what I thought about this treatment or that, looking up at me with eyes so full of emotion--hope and desperation and faith, offering his acceptance of alternative medicine like a child offering his crush a bouquet of hand-picked flowers. It was almost like he was speaking a foreign language. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and ask if there was any orange juice left.
Jim felt guilty for going to work, even though Blair insisted on it after he got him admitted to the hospital. It would have been easy enough to override Blair's insistence, but the hospital room was oppressive, made Jim feel like the walls were slowly drawing closer and closer. His discomfort was obvious. Blair was slated for tests all morning long anyway, so it wasn't like they would have spent any time together. And given Blair's frame of mind the past few days, if they had been together, they probably wouldn't have spoke to one another. Besides, Jim needed to tell Simon what was going on, and he wanted to do that in person.
Okay, Ellison, how many more justifications are you going to drum up? he wondered idly.
He hated feeling helpless. Already that gnawing, consuming panic that had been his constant companion the last time Blair was ill was churning in his stomach. That feeling scared him almost as much as the thought of Blair being sick. He...did things when he felt like this.
Jim sighed and sat back in his chair. Well he was just about as useless here as he was at the hospital, he thought, pushing away the report he was vainly trying to finish. He looked up, almost relieved, when Simon blew through the room and into his office.
"Simon, you got a minute?" Jim asked, rising from his desk and following Simon inside.
It was well known in the department, hell, in the entire building, that Simon did not want to be approached in the morning before he had a chance to make a pot of coffee and drink at least one cup. That meant if someone was disturbing him, it had better damn well be important.
Simon pursed his lips and suppressed a sigh. "What's up?" he asked, looking over Jim's shoulder for Blair.
Jim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Jim stared at Simon with startled eyes and gruffly cleared his throat and tried again. "Blair's out of remission."
That was the first time Jim had said the words out loud. He looked around him, as if surprised to find the earth still revolving around its axis.
"Aw, Jim, no," Simon said, sounding just as shocked and saddened as he had the first time Jim delivered news of Blair's illness. The big man slid slowly down in his chair. "What's the prognosis?"
Jim sighed and sat down as well. "I don't know, Simon. Not so good, I'm thinking. It came back too fast. I don't think he's fully recovered from the first time through." He sighed again. "This is...too soon."
Simon rubbed his face with one big hand. "Blair holding up okay?"
Jim shrugged. "I don't think he knows what's hit him. He wasn't expecting this." Jim slowly shook his head, sounding dazed. "We didn't even get a year, Simon. Not even a single, lousy year." He sighed and straightened up in the chair. "He's scheduled for surgery this afternoon to remove the tumor. We'll know more after that."
Simon sighed and shook his head. "You guys don't deserve this," he said quietly. He opened the daytimer on his desk and studied it for a minute. "What time's the surgery?" he asked.
"Uh, twelve thirty," Jim replied. "Sir, you don't have to..."
"I've gotta rearrange a couple of meetings," Simon said, pointedly ignoring Jim. "I'll see you at the hospital around quarter 'til one."
"Simon, thanks, but really, you don't have to..."
"Blair's done a lot for me, and my kid," Simon said. Darryl had found a confidant in Blair, someone young enough to understand his point of view, but mature enough, level-headed enough, that Simon felt comfortable knowing Darryl felt close to him. "I'll see you there."
Jim smiled slightly, more acknowledgment than anything else. "Thanks, Simon," he said. "Blair, uh, doesn't want this to be public knowledge yet, Sir. All right?"
Simon nodded, but added, "The men and women here will be a good source of support for him. They were last time."
"I know," Jim said. "I think we just need some time to get used to the idea again, you know?"
It was a rhetorical question, but the way Simon nodded, Jim got the impression that the captain actually did know.
"It's only supposed to take three hours," Jim said.
It had been absolutely silent most of those three hours, and Simon jumped at the sound of Jim's voice.
"It's been five. That can't be good." Jim began pacing nervously. "Can't be good...I shouldn't have let it come to this...I should have taken care of this when I had the chance..."
"Jim," Simon said softly, then, when he failed to get Jim's attention, a little louder. "Jim!"
Jim gave him a haphazard glance. "You go off the deep end this soon and Sandburg'll have my ass," he said warningly.
Jim's face stayed blank for several beats, then the joke registered, and he made a face. "Am I fooling anybody, Captain?"
Simon lifted a dubious eyebrow. "One of the guys on the janitorial staff isn't totally clued in, but he works the night shift."
"Sandburg lets me think my cover's secure," Jim admitted with an embarrassed shrug.
"Kind of hard to hide those cartoon birdies flying around your head," Simon said.
Jim was getting ready to reply when Brad McVey approached. "Hey, Jim," he said. "Got a minute?"
Jim nodded dumbly and followed McVey to his office. He sat down across from the doctor and tried one of Blair's breathing exercises. It wasn't doing much good. Brad looked down at his file, then leveled his gaze at Jim. "Jim, the news isn't as good as we'd hoped," he said, and Jim felt the blood drain from his face.
"We removed a tumor from the lymph nodes under Blair's arm, and while we didn't find a tumor in the groin area, there were some cancer cells present."
Jim processed the information as quickly as he could. He knew it was more favorable to have cancer in only one of the lymph node sites. Going in, they hadn't thought there was any involvement outside of the nodes under Blair's arm. "Okay, uh, so what does this mean?"
"It means we're looking at a fairly aggressive return of the cancer, Jim. Cancer cells above and below the diaphragm, coupled with the fact that the remission only lasted nine months, means we're going to have to combat the disease just as aggressively. Now, there's no involvement in any of the organs, nor in the chest or anywhere else, and I'm very encouraged by that. I'd like to schedule the chemo and radiation routines now. Give us a few days to come up with the best approach, then we'll..."
"Right now?" Jim interrupted. "I thought we'd be able to...last time we had some time to discuss the treatments we wanted."
McVey's eyes flicked from Jim down to the file on his desk. "That's a luxury we don't have," he said.
Jim felt his lungs heave, but he clenched his jaw and nodded shortly. "What's Blair's prognosis?"
"I'm confident we can beat this, Jim," the doctor said. But Jim's heart twisted and fell with the realization that McVey's bland features would make any stonefaced cop envious.
Continued in part two.