Thanks to Shallan, who is more reliable than the muse, for her excellent beta job. I plan to do more in this universe but I want to return to 'Forces' for awhile. So this will be it for a few months. I think. The muse is moody and menopausal and refuses to comment. Thanks to everyone for their LOC's and encouragement. .
Java Head
The pain started small and was easy to ignore, barely penetrating the soft blackness that enveloped him. But gradually it grew, until it pulled him from his deep sleep. Then his chest and gut exploded in agony until he couldn't breathe.
Suddenly Jim was there, easing Blair's pain with gentle hands and soothing words. He helped Blair sit up and take his medicine. As much as it hurt to move to sit up, the water Jim gave him to drink was cool and wet, refreshing Blair's ravaged throat and washing away the foul taste in his mouth. Groggy with pain and sleep, the Guide barely registered that his Sentinel was still holding him close, the strong hands stroking his head and back, soothing him back to pain-free sleep.
Stretched out on the other sofa, Jim could easily keep an eye on Blair. He had fully intended for him and his Guide to sleep in their own beds tonight, but he had dozed off watching TV and was awakened hours later by Blair's sounds of distress.
The boy had been in a black hole of pain that only Jim could get him out of. He just needed to get the kid past this night. Morning would bring rested bodies and fresh perspective. Blair was repressing so much. Bittersweet good memories meshed with bad ones made even small talk a minefield.
Seeing pale streaks in the distant horizon, Jim realized it was later than he'd thought. It was earlier than he usually got up, but he might as well get a jump on the day. He sat up and stretched, then quietly got up from the sofa. He put on coffee and headed for the shower.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Blair was stirring. His heartbeat and breathing didn't indicate that he was in pain, but Jim didn't want to take any chances. Hurrying, he got Blair's medication and a glass of water.
Kneeling next to the sofa, he laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Blair, wake up."
With effort, the young man opened his eyes. He squinted at the morning daylight. His eyes darted around the room, confused, then rested on the face before him.
"Sentinel -- Jim?" he rasped.
"Yeah, Blair," he said with a smile. "It's Sentinel Jim. I need for you to take your meds. Can you sit up?"
"Okay," he nodded.
Taking it slow, Jim helped Blair get around that morning. The empath was too sore to struggle for independence. Neither of them wanted a repeat of the night before.
Jim finally got his charge into his own bed. As Blair sank down on the mattress, he looked around the room and had a foreign, yet wonderful sensation of home. Jim covered him well with comforters and quilts then left him to his rest.
Ellison woke Blair again at noon. Since last night, he had been giving Blair his pain medicine about a half hour early. Blair questioned the wisdom of this.
"It's commonly done in nursing homes, Chief. When you ingest drugs, it takes time for it to dissolve then be absorbed through your stomach lining into your blood stream. This allows time for the new dose to take affect before the previous dose has completely worn off."
Jim sat on the side of the small bed while his Guide ate. "Chicken with rice this time, Blair. This okay?"
"It's good, Jim. Thank you. Did you know chicken soup actually has healing properties in it?"
"Not really. I just thought it was comfort food. But I knew it would be easier on your stomach than anything tomato based."
Blair paused in his eating. "Jim, about supper last night--"
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Blair."
"No, I'm okay now. It just k-kind of snuck up on me then."
"Okay, Chief. It's your call."
"It's stupid, really. I'd been on the road for a few weeks. Mom had stuck $500 in my bag, so I had plenty of money. But I had to stretch it as much as I could. I didn't know how long I'd be traveling. Looking for odd jobs was tricky. It was Spring and school was still in session. People get suspicious about a kid walking around during school hours. Anyway, I -- uh -- found lots of ways to eat free or cheap. I-I'd watch people around parks and road side stops. Some -- sometimes they'd throw away partially eaten meals. Chips, Lunchables, stuff like that." Embarrassed, he glanced up at his Sentinel, who watched him with barely concealed sympathy.
"So, like I said, I'd been traveling for a few weeks and sometimes I was pretty hungry. Food wasn't always available when I wanted it. I saw someone throw away a Pizza Hut box and then leave. No one else was around so I checked it out and there were a couple of slices left." He shrugged. "I figured it was okay. It smelled okay. So I ate it."
Jim winced.
"If I'd been thinking, I'd have left it alone. But I hadn't had pizza in so long, I just didn't think--"
"How bad was it?" Jim asked gently.
"I was sick for about two days. It hit me just a couple hours after I ate the pizza. I found a secluded spot away from the highway, near a creek. All I could do was puke and sleep the whole time. Good thing I was near the water or I'd have probably dehydrated. I was so scared I would have turned myself in if I'd been near civilization."
Blair shrugged his shoulders. "I got better, but I was a lot more careful about foraging after that." He smiled wryly. "And I sure don't have pizza cravings anymore."
Jim rested his hand on the back of the boy's head. "You'll probably get over it eventually, but we won't push it. How are you feeling now?"
"Better. Tired, but I don't want to sleep anymore."
"You want to move to the sofa? Watch some TV or something?"
Blair smiled. "Yeah. You got Discovery?"
Jim grinned back. "That and Animal Planet and the History Channel." He helped Blair out of his bed and walked him to the sofa.
Jim had just gotten his Guide settled, watching some program on Russian subs, when the phone rang.
"Ellison," Jim clipped in a no-nonsense voice.
Blair listened with half an ear to Jim's side of the conversation.
"Hi, Simon. What can I do for you? You need Blair's statement?" Jim looked sideways at Blair when he looked up at the mention of his name.
Jim listened a moment then pulled the receiver away from his mouth. "Do you know what a statement is, Chief?"
The boy nodded. "I tell my side of what happened."
Jim nodded. "Are you up to it today? An officer can come here to take it."
"Can you stay?" The blue eyes were hopeful.
"I was planning on it."
Hope turned to relief. "Okay, Jim."
The Sentinel turned back to the telephone. "This afternoon would be fine, Simon." Another pause. "We had a rough night."
Blair blushed.
"But today has been a lot better." Jim smiled warmly at his Guide. "I think we're gonna be okay."
The blush deepened and Jim was rewarded with a shy smile. He turned his attention back to the conversation. "I think that would be alright, Sir. Thank you." Jim hung up.
"That was Captain Simon Banks, my boss. He'd like to come over later and meet you." Jim sat down beside Blair.
"Okay, Jim." Blair looked wide-eyed at the prospect of meeting another person.
"Simon's okay," Jim tried to reassure him. "He has a son close to your age. Maybe the two of you could... ah... be friends," Jim said awkwardly.
Blair shrugged noncommittal and looked back at the TV screen. Friends. He doubted it. Nobody wanted to be friends with his kind. Besides, he wouldn't know how to be a friend. He'd gotten pretty good at being alone.
Jim was aware of Blair's sudden despondent mood but decided to leave it alone. Quietly he started cleaning up the lunch mess.
Blair sat restlessly on his bed pulling items from his worn back pack. Just as he'd said, Jim had only removed the medicinal drugs he'd been carrying. Everything else was still there. He had a lot less stuff than at the beginning of his journey. He'd ditched the duffle bag long ago. He'd felt he was less noticeable without it and it made traveling easier. He'd found that he could survive well enough without most of it.
Desolately, he looked at his meager belongings. Few mementos from his past life: A well-used water bottle, a shirt, a pair of boxers and a pair of socks, matches, his pocket knife, a small saucepan and a spoon, granola bars and meat sticks, toothbrush and toothpaste, tattered wash cloth, hotel packets of shampoo and a bar of soap stored in a ziploc baggie, his hair brush, a notebook that he used as a journal, his walkman and a few cassette tapes and a handful of photographs.
The pictures were of him and his mother. He hadn't looked at them at all since he'd left New York. He got up, pulled open the desk drawer and put the pictures in without looking at them. The time would come that he could look at them, but not yet.
He was suddenly very tired, but he knew Jim's boss was coming over soon to meet him, so he busied himself with either putting stuff away or throwing it away. He no longer needed the water bottle and the pan was battered and cheap. He put the clothes in the small hamper by the door and the toiletries on the end of the mattress to put in the bathroom later. He set the matches and knife on the desk next to the walkman and tapes. Since Jim had left them in his bag, Blair assumed he meant for him to keep them.
Blair picked up his wallet and turned it in his hands. He stroked the soft, worn leather, the rough skin of his fingers catching on the scarred surface. Opening the wallet, he pulled out all the money he had left; thirty-six dollars and twenty four cents. That was all. There was nothing else. He carried no form of identification. As far as the world was concerned -- at least until Jim had rescued him -- he didn't exist. The only reason he still had the wallet was because it was one of the few ties he still had to his mother.
Blair took the money and went in the living room. He stopped beside Jim and waited quietly. Jim looked up from the TV. "What's up, Chief?"
Blair held out the money.
Confused, Jim took it from him. "What's this?"
"That's the money that I had left from what my mom gave me. It's yours."
"Mine? Why?"
Blair shrugged. "Because you're my Sentinel. What's mine is now yours."
Exasperated, Jim shook his head. "Forget that Sentinel Program bull crap, Blair. This is your money. Your mother gave it to you. It's not mine." He gave the money back to the confused boy and patted the cushion beside him. "Come here, Chief."
Blair sensed a 'lesson' coming up. Obediently he sat.
"Okay, Blair. I'm not very good at talking. So I'm going to keep this simple for my sake. I'm a Sentinel and you are an empath. Whatever forces we may believe in brought us together. I hadn't planned on a Guide, especially such a young one. But according to Rafe, for whatever reason -- spiritual, chemical -- you and I are compatible and have bonded. So here you are. Though I wasn't in the market for a Guide, I'm okay with it. With you. Now, I know as far at The Program is concerned, I own you. But as far as I am concerned you're my -- uh -- my son. Or brother. Or something like that. Your money is your money, not mine. Your room is your room. You have a right to privacy, the same as me. Got it?"
Blair hesitated and then nodded.
"You okay?"
Blair nodded again.
Jim sighed. Then he reached over and tousled Blair's hair lightly. "We're gonna be okay, kid," he reassured him. Time. Time was all they needed.
They both jumped when someone knocked on the door.
Saved by the bell. So to speak.
Jim got up and went toward the door. "Must be Simon."
Blair was curious. "How do you know?"
Jim pointed to his nose. "Those gawdawful cigars he smokes. He doesn't dare smoke in the building, but the smell clings to him."
Blair looked impressed.
"Plus, he's the only person I'm expecting," Jim confessed.
Jim opened the door and let in two men. "Hey, Simon. Rafe," Jim said approvingly. "Come on in."
Blair looked up at the men. Geez, he'd be glad when he grew up. Being short really sucked sometimes. The taller of the two was a black man with glasses wearing a trench coat. He had a no-nonsense face, but Blair could see smile lines and the twinkle of good-humor in his eyes. The other man was younger and Caucasian. His stylishly trimmed hair was almost black and his eyes were pale blue. He actually looked like he could be related to Jim. If Blair hadn't recognized his name, he wouldn't have taken him for a cop. He dressed more like a yuppie. Must be money in his family.
Nervously, Blair stood.
"Simon. Rafe. This is Blair Sandburg. My Guide," Jim introduced them.
Blair held his right hand out toward the men. Touching was safe now. Jim was here, shielding him.
The men were surprised but impressed. They carefully shook Blair's hand.
Blair glanced at Jim who nodded in approval. Blair's face was still serious, but his eyes softened in pleasure.
"Have a seat, guys. Coffee?" Jim turned to the kitchen.
The three sat down. "Coffee would be great," Simon rumbled. He looked back at Blair. "So you're Blair. How are you, son?"
"F-fine, Sir. Thank you."
Simon could see he was going to get nowhere with small talk. He knew from his own son, who was only a little younger, that boys weren't proficient with mindless chit-chat simply to fill empty space.
"Blair, this is Detective Brian Rafe. Rafe is going to take your statement."
Blair glanced at Rafe, who gave a friendly nod.
"I'll just leave you two to talk now." Simon got up and joined Jim in the kitchen.
Blair turned back to Rafe. "Uh... Hi."
Rafe smiled. "Hi, Blair. You can call me Rafe. Or Brian."
"Jim says you're a Guide."
"Can't you tell?"
"I feel something from you. It's not real strong, but Jim said you're a low-level Guide."
"Not what I hear about you. I'd say your abilities passed me up about two years ago."
"How do you know?"
"Your empathy surfaced too early. That's why the other Sentinel tagged you. You're way ahead of schedule, kid. Jim's a strong Sentinel. You wouldn't have been able to initiate a bond with him if your ability didn't equal his." Rafe's eyes shone with admiration.
Blair's eyes shifted uneasily. "Not much of an ability. Mostly a pain in the a--" He bit his lip, embarrassed that he nearly cussed in front of a grown up; much less a cop.
Rafe chuckled. "Don't sell us short, Blair. Our ability is very misunderstood and underestimated by everyone, including ourselves. We hold unbelievable power within us. Jim understands that, and he's a good guy. Better than most. He'll take care of you. He'll probably be very instrumental in changing things in your lifetime."
Blair simply stared, afraid to believe the things Rafe told him.
Rafe smiled in understanding. "That's okay, kid. You'll see. Now, let's get down to business."
Simon and Rafe were gone. Jim sat down beside Blair. "How you doing, Chief?" The interview had been hard on the Sentinel. It was the first time Blair had talked about the attack and hearing the young man talk about how Powers had abducted and pretty much tortured him had been excruciating to listen to. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for Blair to re-live it.
Blair was resting his head against the back of the sofa, his eyes closed. Jim could see dried tear-tracks on his cheeks. Blair opened his eyes and looked at his Sentinel. "I'm alright, Jim," he quietly reassured him.
Jim looked unconvinced. "I know that was hard to talk about. I didn't know -- all -- that."
"Yeah, it was hard. But it's over now and I don't have to worry about any of that anymore."
"Damn right," Jim muttered.
"Say, Jim. Rafe's a neat guy, huh?"
Jim smiled. "Yeah, he's neat. You two got along pretty well, huh?"
"Maybe he can help me out some. You know -- teach me some Sentinel and Guide stuff."
"I'm sure he'd be glad to, Chief. You know, you're younger than just about any full-fledged empath in the U.S., so some of the stuff involving us with the Sentinel/Guide stuff is going to be a work-in-progress. You're going to be in school," he ignored Blair's grimace. "And I'm going to be at work. But we'll have to work out something special, like a part-time job at the PD or some way for you to be with me. Simon has been working on that a little and we were thinking about training you to be a crime/evidence photographer or something like that."
Blair was a little excited. "Hey, I took a photography class last summer at a commune we were staying at! The teacher said I had a good eye."
Suddenly Blair felt lighter, as though a bit of the pressure of life had been lifted from him. Jim was pleased and, Blair could feel, a little relieved as well. Blair guessed the older man had been worried about how he was going to fit a kid into his professional life, and Blair was very pleased that the idea had come from Jim's boss. Perhaps he only did it for Jim's sake, but it was nice that he had worked to come up with a good solution. Perhaps Jim and Rafe were right and things were going to work out after all.
It'd be nice to have his life run smoothly for once. And no more hiding.
Blair rested his head once again on the sofa cushion and basked in the brilliant smile of his Sentinel.
The End
Feed the muse! Menopause is a you-know-what and chocolate just doesn't cut it anymore!