Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jim paced the loft restlessly, almost sick with worry about Blair. He didn't really know why hewas so upset; after all, it was only natural that Blair would avoid him after the vicious things he'd said. But the feeling of anxiety was growing along with the certainty that there was something wrong with his Guide.

Jim cringed when he thought of the stupid, hateful things he'd said to Blair. The stricken look on the young anthropologist's face had been like a dagger in Jim's heart, but by then it had been too late to take back the words. Jim's own hurt and petty jealousy had gotten the best of him, and he wanted to make it up to Blair in the worst way, but Blair hadn't been home since the fight. His belongings were still in his room, which Jim hoped was a good sign.

When Jim realized he'd been absent-mindedly dusting the same knick knack for a good 10 minutes, he gave up and snatched his keys from the basket by the door. *I'll go looking for him* he thought *If he tells me to fuck off, then so be it, but at least I'll know he's okay.*

Jim knew Blair could be crashing with one of a thousand friends, but a hunch brought him to the anthropology building. In the quiet of the deserted campus, Blair's heartbeat rang out loud and strong. *Okay, he's fine, now I'm gonna get out of here before I provoke another fight*. Jim turned to leave, but was drawn back. *Oh, hell* he thought. *Can't hurt to tell him I'm sorry.* He tugged on the door and was surprised to find it locked. *Of course it's locked, dumb-ass. It's Christmas break and after midnight.*

He told himself again to drop it and leave, but the panicky feeling was stronger than ever. All of Blair's lectures about the Sentinel genes had sunk in, and Jim somehow knew his instinct to protect his Guide was trying to tell him something. He retrieved his lockpicking equipment from the truck and made short work of the door.

Jim headed for the stairs, senses up and attuned to his Guide. The minute he hit the stairwell, the smell hit him. Blood. Thick, metallic, and plentiful. *Blair!* Jim's heart raced, and he bounded down the steps three at a time and sprinted to Blair's office.

"Blair? Chief?" Without bothering to knock, Jim burst into the office. "Oh, Jesus!"

Blair lay on his side, shivering, arms wrapped around himself in an effort to ward off the chills that racked his body. His hair, usually so meticulously groomed, was tangled around his face. Worst of all, the jacket he'd thrown around himself did nothing to hide the bloodstains on the back of his pants. His body was tight and stiff with the attempt to control whatever pain had been inflicted on him.

Blair moaned softly, and Jim's paralysis broke. He crossed the room in three strides and knelt by his Guide. "Blair?" he said quietly. "It's Jim. I'm- I'm going to help you."

Blair blinked up at him, relieved for a moment, until he remembered. "Just go away," he ordered dully. Fighting the pain, he curled into a tighter ball, away from his ex-partner.

Jim gently touched his shoulder and rolled him back. "Blair, what happened?"

"You want to know what happened?" Blair spat hoarsely. He pushed his hair away from his face so Jim could see the bruises and bite marks. "I was raped, okay?" he said deliberately. "A date went bad and I was gang raped. Go ahead and say it. Tell me I got no less than a cheap whore deserved!" Blair looked away before he could see the contempt in Jim's eyes.

Jim sat in silent shock. "You didn't deserve it, Blair," he said finally. "Oh, God, no." He gently stroked his Guide's tangled hair back from his face. "I'll get you to a hospital, then home."

"I don't need your goddamn pity. I can take care of myself," Blair retorted, but he didn't pull away from Jim's caresses. He felt miserable and violated, but Jim's presence had a calming effect. Contemptuous or not, Blair knew Jim would die before allowing anything to happen to his Guide, and that made Blair feel safe and protected.

"Blair, it's not pity," Jim pleaded. "I'm sorry." His voice broke, and he paused to collect himself. "I'm sorry this happened to you, and I'm sorry I called you a-called you what I did. I was surprised and-" But this was not something Blair needed to hear now. "Please let me help you," Jim finished.

Blair heard the emotion in his friend's voice and knew he was being sincere. He was touched by Jim's reaction to his plight, and he felt himself weakening. "It hurts," he whispered, and reached for Jim blindly.

Jim carefully slipped his hands under Blair and lifted him into an embrace. Blair hissed as pain wracked his body at the movement, but he found himself being cradled in Jim's strong arms, and that was worth all the pain life could inflict. Blair relaxed against the big man and allowed himself to be rocked.

"I'm so sorry," Jim whispered again. "I was such an asshole to you."

Blair didn't even blink when he felt Jim's lips brush his own. It felt natural, much more so than when he was paid to be kissed. He wanted to tell Jim how much he loved him, and that they could get beyond the stupid fight if they tried, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he clutched Jim's shirt and buried his bruised face in the detective's chest.

Jim got to his feet , supporting his own and Blair's weight easily. "You need to get to a hospital," he said softly. "They really-"

Blair felt Jim's chest heave with a sob he'd never give voice to. "I can walk," Blair offered shakily. "I made it here okay."

Jim looked doubtful. "No way, Chief. I can carry you."

"It's not that, Jim," Blair said. "It's...I need to feel not so helpless, you know? I mean, I need to have some control over my body right now, and if I let you carry me...you see?" He knew he wasn't expressing himself well, and that the pragmatic Sentinel would scoff at his vapors. He steeled himself for the laughter.

But Jim nodded and wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. "Okay, Blair," he said. "Anything you want."

Those simple words were like a balm to Blair's soul. He felt some strength returning, and he slowly made his way to the truck, leaning heavily on Jim the whole way. The trip was probably the longest, slowest of his life, and every step sent shards of pain shooting through him, but the fact that he'd done it on his own-mostly-was like a slap in the face of his attackers. They hadn't beaten him, and that was important to the independent Blair.

As soon as he was buckled into the seat, he curled up and tried to catch his breath. It hurt terribly to sit, and he was dimly aware that he'd started bleeding again, but Jim was with him, steadying him with a tender hand, and muttering reassurances, and Blair knew he'd get through this.