Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jim helped Blair up the stairs to the loft and let them in. There was an awkward moment where both men stood in silence, needing to speak, but not knowing how to start.

"Will you be heading right to bed, or would you like something to eat first?" Jim asked finally.

"No thanks," Blair answered. "I'll grab a glass of juice or something later. The doctor said clear liquids for awhile."

"Oh. Right." Jim looked away, uncomfortable at the reminder of his friend's rape.

"I think I'll take a bath," Blair said. "I need to get some of this blood and...junk...off me." He was aware of how he must smell to Sentinel nostrils, reeking of sweat, fear, blood, and other men's lust, and he didn't want Jim thinking about it.

Jim nodded. "Okay." He looked at Blair with a rare expression of shyness. "Do you want some help?"

Blair smiled, touched. "No, I think I can do it, thanks." He paused. "I mean, for everything."

Jim shrugged. "You're my partner, you know?" As if that explained everything, and maybe to Jim it did.

Blair turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, dumped in some tea tree oil for a disinfectant, and stood back to take his clothes off. He forgot about his cracked ribs until pain lanced through his side when he tried to remove his shirt. "Shit!" he whispered fiercely, tears welling up in his eyes. *Stop that shit right now!* he told his tear ducts. *None of that self-indulgent bullshit. I just have to-* Blair hissed softly as he tried again to undress.

"Blair?" Jim called. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Jim," Blair said through gritted teeth.

"Can I come in?" Jim persisted. "Please?"

"Door's open," Blair said grudgingly.

Jim came in and shut the door behind him. "Let me help you with that," he suggested, looking at Blair expectantly.

Blair sat waiting for Jim to help, until he realized Jim was waiting for his permission. *He's a cop. He's dealt with rape victims before. He knows they...we...need to feel in control, so he's letting me make all the decisions. God, I love you, Jim!* "That'd be nice of you," he said aloud.

Jim slowly undressed him, letting Blair help where he could, then picked up a soft sponge. "Whoa, Jim, what are you doing?" Blair asked, frowning. "You're not going to bathe me?"

"Why not?" Jim took a deep breath and let it out, carefully measuring his thoughts before putting them into words. "You're in pretty bad shape," he said quietly. "You can't even lift your arms; how are you supposed to wash your back? Look, Chief..." Jim paused again, thinking of the right way to put it. "There's no shame in asking for help. Everyone does at some point."

"Even you?" In spite of all he'd been through tonight, Blair was fascinated by this side of Jim and wanted to hear more. Jim was a man bound to stoicism by training and nature, and this was a rare opportunity to see inside. Blair suddenly felt that if Jim would let him in just once, he'd be allowed in forever.

"Of course, even me," Jim confirmed. "Did'nt I ask for help when I went to see you in your office that first day? When I agreed to let you be my partner?" He laughed softly. "Maybe not directly. I hardly ever do anything directly, but...you always seem to know when I'm asking and what to give me." Once again, the pause. "And did it ever occur to you that I need to help you? To do something to-" he waved his hand vaguely "-to make up for what I said to you the other night? I really hate myself for that. Please."

Blair stared at his friend, contemplating. The speech from the normally guarded Jim was the longest and most emotional he'd ever heard, possibly that Jim had ever given. It said everything about their friendship, the friendship Blair had thought lost just a few short hours ago. Jim was trying to apologize the only way he could, through action. "Sure, Jim," Blair said with a slight smile. "I could use the help. Thank you."

Jim returned the smile tentatively, and wrapped a solicitous arm around his Guide. Blair sunk into the hot water, wincing as the heat stung his sore parts, and gradually relaxed. Some of the tension drained from his abused body and he closed his eyes. Even so, he could feel Jim kneeling by the tub, sponge in hand.

"I'm going to get your back first," Jim said.

Blair nodded, too tired for words just now. He felt warm, soapy water flow down his back with Jim's first gentle stroke, and moaned softly. "That's good." The sponge began rubbing in circles, soothing away the fear and shame. Blair fell into a near-trance as Jim continued to the front, carefully across bruised and bitten flesh, spreading the moist heat to Blair's chest and stomach. Blair felt the sponge stop at his leg.

"Can I?" Jim asked.

"Hmmm?" It took a moment for Blair's foggy brain to register that Jim was asking permission to wash his legs. "Please."

Blair opened his eyes and watched Jim wash away the blood-his blood-that had run down his thighs. Seeing some of the tangible effects of the rape erased under Jim's gentle care made it better. Blair wanted nothing more than to let Jim go on and on caressing him with the sponge until the memories faded with the bruises, but he couldn't. "I'll finish," Blair said.

"Huh?" Jim roused himself from his own trance.

"My front," Blair told him. "I'll finish." He smiled when Jim hesitated. "You can stand right there and help me out of the tub if you want." He washed between his legs quickly and held out his hand. Jim handed him out and wrapped a towel around him. Blair let Jim dry him efficiently before he could take a chill, and dress him in his customary sweats and t-shirt.

"Why don't you climb into bed and I'll bring you that juice and a pain pill?" Jim suggested.

"Sounds good." The warmth of the water was wearing off, and Blair could feel every one of his injuries in the chill air of the room. He didn't usually indulge in Western medicine, but he had a feeling he'd be needing the Lorcet tonight. Most of his wounds were minor, but his bottom was really hurting, and sleep would be impossible without some help. He sat on his bed, shifting his weight to find a comfortable position, but it was impossible. Blair gave up, and lowered himself to his stomach. The pain was bearable without his weight pressing on the area.

Jim came in with a glass of apple juice and a straw. "I thought you might not want to sit," he explained, indicating the bendable straw. "Here." He handed the glass and a small pill to Blair, who took them gratefully.

Blair swallowed the cool juice quickly, remembering he hadn't had a drink in hours. He looked up to see Jim watching him uncomfortably. "What?" he asked.

Jim held up a bottle and some cotton balls. "Witch hazel," he said. "You need to be cleaned back there, and witch hazel is good for that. Bring down the swelling a little."

"Oh." Blair blushed. "Do you mind? I mean, it's gross." His face flamed at the thought of Jim wiping his ass like a mother to a baby. This was not the way he'd imagined Jim seeing his ass.

"Blair, I was a medic," Jim told him. "Did I ever tell you that?"

Blair shook his head.

"I was, and a damn good one. I've seen the human body inside and out, like a nurse or a doctor. There's nothing to be ashamed of around me."

Reluctantly, Blair nodded his acquiescence. "Okay, I guess." He lowered his head to the pillow and spread his legs. He heard the cap come off the bottle and the room was filled with the subtle honey smell of witch hazel.

Blair felt Jim separate his cheeks, and he jumped, heart pounding as the rape raced through his mind. He struggled briefly.

"Blair," Jim's voice cut through the panic. "It's just me, Chief. You're safe now. You're safe. Calm down."

Jim's voice was like an instant tranquilizer. Blair took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow. *Jim won't hurt me. Jim won't hurt me* he repeated like a mantra. "Okay, go ahead."

Jim patted his back. "It's just me," he said again. "If you want me to stop, just say so."

The touch of the liquid on his torn flesh was cold, but soothing. The nerves responded to the cold and the witch hazel itself, and Blair felt some relief when Jim was done. But that didn't make it any easier to think about what Jim had seen of him and what he'd done. The cleaning had taken no more than a few minutes, but the feeling of someone else wiping him had been embarassing. "Thanks," Blair muttered without raising his face from the pillow. "I feel better. I think I can sleep now."

Jim gave his back a final stroke. "Okay. If you need me I'll be out here, okay?"

Jim closed his Guide's door and sat, listening to Blair's breathing become slow and even as the Lorcet took effect. He sat in the dark for a long time, seeing again and again the evidence of the rape his best friend had endured. The bites, the bruises, the violated flesh of his anus. Jim's eyes narrowed and a low, dangerous growl echoed in some primitive part of his brain.

The men who'd done this to Blair were going to know justice before the sun came up. Not the justice of a cop, but of a Sentinel protecting his Guide.

Blair was fast asleep and completely unaware when Jim slipped noiselessly out of the loft.