Disclaimers: We all know to whom Jim, Blair, Simon, and Taggert belong but, I tell you, one of these days my younger sister is going to wake up and squeal because they're in a box under my Christmas Tree.
Notes: One night a little while ago, Wendy Myers came onto IRC in a down mood and asked for a little smarmy bit to cheer her up. She had a couple of requirements; Blair Owies and Smarm. This is the result. The smarmy bit grew into an epic *G*.
I've got to give a round of thanks to Becky Brewster for Beta Reading this monster (92k is a MONSTER for me). Also, a HUGE thank you to Linda Hutchenson. It was a learning experience, Linda, you're a joy to converse with. Last but not least, Wendy, thank you for the formatting help *G*. OK, this is a test. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to try and figure out WHAT in this story decided me on the title *G*. For those of you who always waited after class for the teacher to grade the test, the answer is at the end of this story *G*.
Summary: Smarm, Jim owie, Smarm, Blair owies, Smarm, Hospital Scene, Smarm.............I think you guys get the idea, huh?
Warnings: Strong Language & Owies
Eagle Eye
The squall of tires broke the silence of the night as the 68 Volvo came careening into the parking lot of Cascade General. The Volvo skidded to a halt in front of the ER entrance, and a blur of flannel and curls came racing out the driver's door and into the hospital entrance. Blair narrowly avoided colliding with an elderly man in a wheelchair as he barreled into the ER and up to the reception desk.
"Hey, hey, I need some help please," Blair panted at the nurse sitting there, his flight from the University to the hospital leaving him out of breath. The silver haired nurse looked crossly at him for a second before her features softened, seeing his obvious distress.
"Why don't you take a minute and catch your breath, Darlin'," she said as she made her way over to the counter, "then I can see about helping you, okay?"
Blair took a deep breath, "No, please, I got a call at the University, they told me that my partner had been taken here." Blair gulped and tried to continue. "They....they said he'd been shot. Please, I just need to know where he is."
The nurse's eyes were filled with concern as she came around the desk and put an arm around Blair's trembling shoulders.
"It's okay, sweetie, we'll find him. My name is Hattie, I promise, I'll find him for you. Why don't you take a seat here and try to catch your breath?" Hattie said as she gently directed Blair through the silver doors separating the ER unit from the waiting/admissions room. Hattie sat Blair into a chair next to a closed exam curtain, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.
"Tell me your partner's name and I'll try and find some information on him for you." Hattie said gently. "It should only take a minute."
"Jim," Blair began, then took a breath. "Uh.....I mean Detective James Ellison, he's with the Cascade PD."
"Okay, sweetie," Hattie said, her hand brushing an errant curl behind Blair's ear. "I'll go find him and you just sit here and try to calm down for me." She flashed Blair a smile, then turned and walked through the silver doors.
Blair sat and tried to calm his racing heart. He was sure that Jim, if he were conscious and all right, would be able to hear its staccato beat from anywhere in the hospital. Blair brought his legs up, putting his feet on the chair and wrapping his arms around his knees in an attempt to calm down. "He'll be okay. He'll be okay." he chanted. "He's just gotta be okay." Blair put his legs back down on the floor, got up, and began to pace. The movement of his feet echoing the beat of his frightened heart.
Blair paced the length of the room, continuously glancing at the silver doors in the hopes of catching a glimpse of either Hattie or his partner.
Two things happened simultaneously. Hattie came rushing in through the silver doors and a loud crash sounded behind a nearby exam curtain, followed by, "No, damn you, let me out of here."
The curtain was ripped open and an ER nurse came running out. "Hattie," she said, heading for the nurse, "call security. We've got a possible OD in exam three and he's tried to jump at the doctor twice already. We've managed to restrain him right now, but there's no telling how long they'll hold. I'll feel better with some muscle standing by."
"Sure thing, Nance," Hattie said as she headed for a phone on the wall. The nurse turned and headed back to the exam area. Suddenly she was knocked to the floor when a large hulk of a man came charging through the curtain. The man with clothes torn, a dirty face, restraints dangling from his wrists waved a bloody knife in front of him before bolting.
The nurse quickly picked herself up and, keeping an eye on the man, inched her way into the curtain. She gasped and called out, "Hattie, page Dr. Strong, tell them we need help and an OR consult down here. Dr. Chan has been stabbed and I think the knife has lacerated his intestines."
Meanwhile, the patient continued his rampage through the ER brandishing the dripping knife at anyone and everyone he saw.
"I'm NOT goin' to jail. NO ONE is gonna get me in jail again, I tell ya. I'll stick all of yas if you come near me. NO ONE is gettin Marty in jail again. Hey, get away from that damn phone!" he roared when he spotted Hattie still trying to use the wall phone. "I'm gonna cut ya," Marty said menacingly and started to move towards Hattie.
A voice stopped him, "Hey, Marty, why don't you put the knife down and let the doctors take a look at you?" Blair asked, standing up from his position behind a gurney.
"That cut over your eye looks pretty bad. It must be hurting." Blair continued, using his Guide voice to try and diffuse the situation.
Blair slowly walked toward the center of the room, trying to get Marty's attention away from Hattie.
The new target effectively removing Hattie from his limited attention span, Marty stalked towards Blair. Blair stopped in the center of the room, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
"Come on, Marty, let someone help you," Blair began only to be cut off when Marty bounded over to his side and grabbed a handful of Blair's flannel shirt.
"Who the hell are you?" Marty asked, shaking Blair then bringing the knife up to rest against the side of Blair's face.
"I'm nobody, Marty," Blair said calmly, "I just want to be sure you get some help. A cut like that can get infected really easily."
"Yeah, sure ya do, Punk," Marty said menacingly, moving the knife slowly down Blair's face to rest against his chin.
"You want to help me right back into the slammer. I told them, NO ONE IS GETTING MARTY BACK INSIDE." he roared, the hand holding Blair's shirt abruptly letting go to wrap itself in Blair's hair.
"Well, Punk, since you're feeling so helpful tonight, how about you and I take a little walk.
Blair's eyes widened. "No, Marty, that is SO not a good idea," he offered, his voice shaking. "Why don't you just let me go and give me the knife, then one of the doctors can take a look at the cut on your face?"
Marty's bloodshot eyes narrowed and his mouth curved into a sneer. "So, Punk, you want this knife, Ay?" Marty asked mockingly, shaking the hand entangled in Blair's hair. "I think that can be arranged."
The knife left Blair's throat and traveled down his body, disappearing from Blair's view.
"Hey, man, you don't wanna do this. Come on, why don't..." Blair's voice was cut off by a piercing pain in his side that robbed him of breath.
"How's that, Punk, are you sure you wanted that knife?"
Marty sneered at the pain visible on Blair's face and shook him a little, bring the knife back into his view dripping with his blood. "How's that, you want my knife again? Yeah," Marty sneered, continuing when Blair didn't answer. "I think I'd like to give you the knife again. How bout another little cut...."
"You even twitch, you bastard, and it will be the last thing you ever do." A deep menacing voice declared from behind them and Marty whirled, his hand leaving Blair's hair to curl around his throat.
"Oh, who are you and what are you gonna do bout it?" Marty asked, pressing the knife into Blair's ribs.
Blair looked up, his painfilled eyes meeting the piercing blues of his Blessed Protector's. Blair sighed and let his body relax slightly in the stranglehold Marty had on him.
Thank you, God Blair thought, his relief at seeing Jim alive and standing in the doorway with only a small bandage on his bicep overpowering the fear and the pain in his gut. His Blessed Protector filled the doorway. Barefoot, shirtless, and in dirty jeans, the sight of Jim standing tall just inside the silver doors, gun steady in his hand was enough to light a spark of hope in Blair.
Jim's eyes met Blair's and softened, conveying hundred things before turning cold again. He cast a quick look, taking in his partner's appearance. Fearful eyes, ragged breathing, he catalogued it all, purposely keeping his senses away from the area of Blair's wound. He needed to keep his concentration and he knew that, should he focus on the site originating the pained look in his partner's eyes, that task would be infinitely harder.
"I'm Detective Ellison, with the Cascade PD. You have one chance out of this alive," He told Marty, his voice hard as flint. "You let him go, and put down the knife, or I WILL put you down."
"Oh, yeah, Cop, I'm sure you're gonna just let me waltz right outta here." Marty sneered. "I know," he continued, tightening the hand around Blair's throat. "I got an idea. How bout you let me and my friend here walk out those doors? Then maybe I'll let ya have him." Marty tightened his hand once more and gave Blair a little shake.
The small gasp of pain from Blair was all the Sentinel needed to hear in order to let the panther take over.
Jim blocked the rest of the world out, concentrating only on the danger to his Guide. All he saw was the knife pressing against his Guide's ribs. All he heard was the wheezing of his Guide's breath and the straining staccato beat of his heart. All he could smell was the fear radiating off his Guide. His world contracted, consisting only of his Guide and the threat that put him in jeopardy. The Cop disappeared, leaving only the Sentinel in his place. The Sentinel could taste the blood of his enemy, imagine the feel of his bones breaking.
It was a standoff, neither one moving, neither giving nor gaining the upper hand. The crash of an instrument tray from the exam curtain behind them tipped the scales. Marty started at the resulting clang, loosening his hold on Blair's throat minutely and shifting the position of the knife away from his ribs.
That's all the opening the Sentinel needed. He dialed up his sight, seeing the nerves in Marty's arm tense a millisecond before it moved and he let loose with a bullet from his gun, hitting Marty's hand, and causing him to drop the knife.
Everything happened at once.
Marty howled, thrusting Blair away and cradling his now bleeding hand. Jim leapt, catching Blair before his damaged body could strike the floor. Simon and Taggert burst through the double doors and took down the howling Marty, subduing and cuffing him.
Jim cradled Blair and slowly sank to the floor using his own body to ease Blair's descent.
"Chief, Blair, can you hear me?" Jim's voice shook with pent-up emotion. "Come on, buddy, I need you to talk to me here."
Jim gently laid his friend's body on the floor, before moving the bloodied shirt to examine the wound in his side. Jim's breath caught at the sight of the ugly stab wound in Blair's abdomen, blood flowing freely from the tear. Jim placed his hand over the wound trying to stop the blood. Blair groaned, and tried to shift away from the hand applying pressure, making the Sentinel's jaw clench.
"I'm sorry, Chief, but I've got to stop the bleeding."
Blair's eyes sprang open with a gasp.
"Jim, oh GOD," Blair moaned still trying to move.
"Stay still, Chief, try not to move."
"Jim, you're all right? They called me at the university, told me you'd been shot. I..." Blair's breath caught as a blinding pain pulsed through his side.
"Shhh, it's okay, Buddy," Jim indicated the bandage on his arm, "it was only a small flesh wound, I'm fine. The slime ball we were chasing got in a lucky shot. Right now you've just got to try and keep still, okay? The doctor will be here in a minute."
Blair gasped as a spasm ripped through his side.
"OH GOD, Jim, it hurts. ARGH..." Blair's head lolled to the side, unconscious, and Jim shifted his hold on the precious form of his Guide.
"It's going to be okay, buddy, "Jim reassured both himself and his partner as the ER doctors came over and started working on Blair's body.
Strangely familiar noises invaded his consciousness and he knew he should recognize them. Slowly Blair waded through the river of unconsciousness, knowing that something was going on. Blair slowly opened his eyes, trying to move as little as possible until he'd gotten the lay of the land. With that in mind, he smothered a groan his body wanted to make as he awakened and recognized his surroundings.
The impeccably white tiles of the ceiling, the constantly annoying beep of the heart monitor, the antiseptic smell that permeated everything told his still foggy mind one thing; he was in the hospital.
Blair turned his head, trying to get some idea of how he'd ended up in the hospital this time, and spotted the sleeping form of his Blessed Protector in his customary chair next to Blair's bed. Blair gave a small sigh of relief that turned into a whimper when he caught sight of the dark green scrub top replacing his Sentinel's usual attire, which immediately cleared his foggy brain. The events of last night came crashing back into his brain, causing the EKG's beeping to quicken as it followed the frantic beating of his heart.
Jim awoke with a start, frowning at the accelerated beat of his partner's heart. He cursed himself for not waking at the first signs of consciousness from his injured Guide. Jim was at Blair's side in a flash.
"Hey, Chief, it's okay," Jim assured his Partner, his voice a comforting croon. "You're okay, just relax and try not to move too much." Jim grasped Blair's hand and began rubbing circles as he reached for the call button.
Blair jerked his hand out of Jim's and laid it on the arm about to push the call button. Blair gasped as the abrupt movement sent a fiery pain down the side of his body.
"Damnit, Sandburg, I told you to stay still. What are you trying to do, tear all your stitches?" Jim took both of Blair's hands in his and laid them in Blair's lap.
"Sorry," Blair croaked out as he tried to get back the breath stolen by the pain.
Jim's face softened. "No, I'm sorry, Chief, you don't need me yelling at you." Jim sighed and resumed the calming circles on Blair's hands. "You just scared the hell out of me last night."
"Yeah, well, welcome to the club." At the uncomprehending look on Jim's face Blair explained, "Last night....I thought you were dead. Got a call.....University, they said you'd been shot." Blair closed his eyes, the statement sapping what little strength he had.
"Aww damn, Chief, I'm sorry," Jim crooned, his hand reaching up to push a few stray curls from Blair's face. "I hadn't realized anyone had called you. They must have looked up my records and set out in search of my next of kin when the call came in."
Blair sighed, the tightness in his chest disappearing and easing his breathing.
"S'ok, not your fault."
Jim's reply was cut off by the entrance of the Doctor and a nurse.
"Well, Mr... Sandburg, I'm glad to see that you're awake. My name is Dr. Frenzel and, if your partner will excuse me for a minute, I'd like to check your stitches and see how they're holding up."
"NO," Blair gasped, his hand shooting out and grabbing Jim's arm in a vice-like grip. "Please....I'd like him to stay."
The doctor's face softened, "Well, I guess it will be okay. Please, Detective, move around to the other side of the bed. I'll need a bit more room over here."
"Sure, Doc, no problem." Jim patted Blair's hand urging him to release the arm he had a hold of, before moving around the bed.
The doctor examined Blair's wound and took his vitals quickly, trying to cause as little pain as possible. "Well, I must say you were lucky Mr. Sandburg," The doctor began after washing his hands, "The knife wound was in your right side and somehow it managed to miss both your liver AND intestines. Other than the loss of blood, you came out of this pretty well. You'll be in a bit of pain for awhile, but other than that and being careful not to tear your stitches you should be all right."
"Good, when can I go home?" Blair asked hopefully, eliciting chuckles from the others in the room.
"Well, how about we give it a day or two. I'd like to at least wait until you can stand for a time under your own power. Besides, those stitches are only a few hours old. I'd like to give them some time to set. Maybe by tomorrow I can give you a better estimate, okay?"
Blair only sighed so Jim answered, "Yeah, Doc, thanks. Blair just isn't real fond of hospitals but he'll be on his best behavior, won't you, Chief."
Blair rolled his eyes and the doctor thanked Jim before he and the nurse left the room chuckling.
Jim repositioned his chair next to the bed and settled in.
"Jim, why don't you head home for a bit, man," Blair asked with a yawn. "I'm feeling kind of tired, and it's obvious you haven't been home." Blair said, tugging on the surgical scrub.
"Well, if you're sure you'll be okay. I guess I could use a shower and a change of clothes."
"And a meal, I know you haven't had anything heavier than coffee since yesterday. If I have to, I'll call Simon and tell him to make sure you eat."
"Fine, Sandburg, I'll eat." Jim grumbled. "Exactly WHO is supposed to be the mother hen here, anyway?" Jim asked with a grin.
Blair carefully shifted in the bed, "Oh, this isn't mother henning, I'm just getting a little preemptive strike in. I KNOW, who will be the Blessed Protector from hell for the next few weeks. I've got to get my licks in while I can."
"Sure, you just remember, Chief, paybacks.........." Jim began, Blair's light snore telling Jim he didn't need to finish the sentence.
Jim got up and reached over Blair, pulling the blanket up and gently placing Blair's arms beneath it. He gave Blair's face a final caress as he turned to go.
"I'm just glad you're okay, buddy," Jim whispered from the doorway, then turned to go, missing the smile on his Guide's face.
Okay, this is where I would've ended it, but Wendy asked for a smarmy at home in the loft scene and who am I not to comply *G*.
Three days later, the Sentinel helped his tired Guide into the loft, both glad to be home. The Guide, because he was weary of the hospital and the Sentinel because he was tired of the constant state of alertness the absence of his Guide caused in him.
"Okay, Chief, couch or bed?" Jim asked with a smile, the look of exhaustion on his Guide's face giving him an idea what the answer would be.
"Bed, man, I'm so wiped you'd think I'd just run a marathon, not moved from the truck to the elevator to the loft." Blair answered as he moved slowly into the room, pausing at the kitchen island and leaning against it.
"Well, Chief, getting stabbed takes a lot out of you. The doctor said you were going to be in pain for awhile. The same goes for sapped energy." Jim offered as he locked the door of the loft and moved to help Blair into his room. "Come on, I'll get you settled then come out and check the locks."
Jim took Blair's arm and helped him make the slow trek into his room. Jim leaned Blair against the wall while he turned the bed down, then helped him out of his clothes. Blair chose to sleep in his T-shirt and boxers rather than fight into another set of clothes just to sleep. Jim then left Blair only to return moments later with a glass of water and two bottles of pills.
"Here ya go, Chief," Jim said handing Blair three pills and the glass of water. "Two antibiotics and one pain pill. I don't want to hear a word about the pain pill either," Jim started at the look on his partner's face. "You're in pain, so you take a pain pill, for tonight at least, okay."
Blair mumbled something about pushy Blessed Protectors as he swallowed the pills with water then, after handing the glass back to Jim, snuggled carefully into the covers. Jim set the glass on the night table and tucked the blankets warmly around Blair's body. He picked up the glass, switched off the light, and turned to go.
"Sleep tight, Chief."
"Thanks, mom," Blair returned with a smirk as Jim left the room.
"You just keep it up, junior," Jim called back as he made his final rounds of the night and headed upstairs to his own bed.
Blair came racing into the ER of Cascade General in a blur of curls and blue flannel, running up to the empty reception/admitting desk and looking around in a panic for anyone to help him.
"Hey, hey, I need some help here, please," Blair called out hoping someone would hear him. He paced nervously for a few moments then called again, "Please, is anyone here, I need help, I got a call saying my partner's been shot." When his second call for help went unheeded, he decided to take matters into his own hands and spotting the double silver doors that separated the waiting room from the exam rooms, ran barreling through in search of his partner.
The sight that met him caused his heart to skip a beat and his palms to sweat. His partner was on the floor, struggling with a huge man and a knife at his throat.
"Jim," Blair called and moved to help his Sentinel, only to discover that his body wouldn't work. It was as though he'd run into an invisible wall that held him helpless while his partner fought for his life only yards away. As if hearing his pleas, the behemoth on top of his partner looked up and, meeting Blair's eyes, sneered before returning to the task of murdering his friend.
"NO," Blair pleaded, the invisible force still holding him immobile and forcing him to watch as his greatest fear was played out like some horror movie right before his eyes.
As if sensing his victory in hand, the crazed man redoubled his efforts with the knife and slowly moved it closer to the detective's chest with each thrust. Jim's movements became weaker as his energy was drained by the length of the battle.
"Damnit, leave him alone you, bastard," Blair cried, his clenched fists striking the partition keeping him away from his partner. Time slowed, as the horrific scene played out in front of him. "Please, God, help me," Blair sobbed as he watched the drug-enhanced strength of his nightmare overpower that of his Sentinel. Finally, Jim zigged when he should've zagged and the knife made it under his defenses. Two sets of blues met, as the knife slashed downward into Jim's body causing his blood to flow like a red river onto the floor.
"NOOOOOooooooooo!" was torn from Blair's throat as he watched, helpless, as the knife was thrust again and again into his Sentinel's body, while his murderer cackled with glee over the act. Blair pounded his hands into a bloody mess trying to break through the invisible wall and hold his friend as he died.
"Jim, NO, Jim, please don't die," Blair repeated over and over, beating the wall in time with his desperate pleas. Suddenly, the wall seemed to give a little, flexing under his zealousness. His hands got trapped, the wall capturing them in a vice-like grip.
A soft voice broke through his sobbing.
"Stop, Chief."
"No," Blair shocked his head, "I can't stop, I can't."
"Yeah, Chief, come on stop before you hurt yourself." the voice pleaded.
Blair recognized the voice, it was Jim's.
"Stop? But I couldn't stop him, Jim. I couldn't save you. I FAILED!!" Blair screamed renewing his struggles.
"Chief, BLAIR!!" Jim's voice insisted, "You didn't fail. I promise, buddy, you didn't fail, just open your eyes for me, Chief."
"No, I can't, please," Blair pleaded, tears streaming down his face. He felt a soft hand upon his face, caressing and wiping the tears away.
"Please, Blair, trust me and open your eyes." Jim's voice urged as the hand continued to stroke his face.
Slowly, afraid of what he might find, Blair opened his eyes and looked into the gentle blue's of his partner. Jim had both of Blair's hands in one of his, crushed to his chest, while his other hand softly stroked the tears from Blair's face.
"Jim?" Blair sobbed, not quite believing his eyes.
"Yeah, Chief, I'm here and alive. It was just a dream, buddy." Jim shifted, letting go of Blair's hands and clasping Blair's shoulder with the freed hand. "I told you, Blair, I'm okay."
Blair sat, not moving for a moment as if in a daze, then his hands began to trace Jim's body. Jim sat quietly as Blair's hands frantically moved over his body. Trembling hands ran up his bare chest then down his sides and back, searching for the wounds Blair's dream laden mind told him should be there.
A gust of air left Blair's lungs in a relieved sigh.
"You're really all right, it was only a dream," Blair whispered, still afraid to believe the dream over, lest it begin again.
"Yeah, Chief, I'm all right. Well, as all right as I can be seeing as how 10 years were scared off my life a few minutes ago. Hearing your partner screaming to let him go then pleading with you not to die isn't exactly my favorite way to wake up in the middle of the night." Jim smiled to take the bite out of his words, "How about you tell me what all this was about, while I check you over and make sure all the thrashing about you just did didn't tear any of your stitches, okay." Jim put a foot on the floor and gently urged Blair to lay back.
Blair tensed as the nagging pain he'd been feeling finally registered as belonging to him. As though Jim's reminder of the wound inflicted it again, a raging fire traveled up Blair's right side, his breath coming in pain-filled gasps as he tried to get a handle on the pain and relax his abused muscles. Jim's hands rubbed soothing circles on Blair's chest, trying to help his partner relax and ride the flow of pain. It took a few minutes of deep breathing and soothing touches before Blair could untense his muscles and allow Jim to check the bandage covering his stitches. Jim carefully pulled back the bandage. Though Jim was being as gentle as possible, when the pad was removed it pulled at the healing skin. Blair flinched, then moaned as the sudden movement brought back in full force the fire that had only just subsided.
Jim quickly retaped the bandage, his hand resuming the soothing circles on Blair's chest when he hissed at the movement.
"It's okay, Chief, I'm done." Jim said softly, "Sorry, but I had to make sure you didn't tear anything with your earlier acrobatics. Now, why don't you tell me what that was all about?"
Blair sighed, not really wanting to talk about it but realizing the Sentinel wouldn't let it, or him, rest until he had.
"I, um... I guess you could say I had a flashback from the other night in the ER." Blair replied, his heart speeding up. "Only this time Marty didn't stab me, he was stabbing you and I couldn't do anything to stop him." Blair closed his eyes against the images of the still too fresh nightmare that were assaulting his mind, his hands clenching the sheets. "I couldn't stop him, Jim. He was stabbing you again and again and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, something was holding me prisoner while that bastard murdered you, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it."
Jim frowned, both at the nightmare and Blair's accelerating heartbeat and respiration as he relived the nightmare.
"Come on, Chief, you need to calm down," Jim's hand continuing its massage as he talked. "It was just a nightmare. You're safe, I'm okay, and Marty is in jail, where he will be for a long time. You didn't fail me, you've never failed me. Blair, you've always been there when I've needed you and, somewhere deep inside, I just know you always will be."
Blair slowly relaxed at his friends calming words and opened his eyes, releasing his grip on the sheets. He looked up into his Blessed Protector's eyes, stunned at the trust and depth of emotion there, then moved his hand to clasp the one still rubbing his chest. His breath slowly returning to normal, Blair whispered, "Thanks, man, me too," and smiled, giving Jim's hand a quick squeeze.
They remained that way for a few minutes, their bond an almost physical thing in the room, then Blair yawned and winced, breaking the mood and causing Jim's eyes to tighten.
"OK, Chief, time for you to go back to sleep, and for me to get some more." Jim smiled as he rose from his position on the bed. As he turned to go, Blair's grip on his hand strengthened.
"No, wait, Jim," Blair said his heart's beat picking up once more. "I'm not ready to go back to sleep, I want to stay up a little longer." Blair shifted and tried to get up, but the painful moan he was unable to suppress had Jim back at his side in an instant, trying to push him down.
"Sandburg," Jim growled, "What are you trying to do, tear a new hole in your side?" Jim asked crossly as he resettled Blair on the bed then got up. "Just wait there a minute, and don't move, I'll be right back." Jim tossed over his shoulder as he turned and walked through the French doors.
Blair laid on his bed and listened to the sounds Jim made as he traveled through the loft. A few thumps up the stairs, some rustling around in the kitchen, the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, then the sound of running water met his ears as he waited for Jim to return. Jim came through the doors a moment later, his arms full. He carefully placed the glass of water on the nighttable, turning and dropping his sleeping bag and pillow on the floor near the wall, before returning to his perch on the side of the bed. Jim opened his hand, twisting of the cap and jiggling two out, before setting the bottle of pills on the table next to the water.
"Here ya go, Chief," Jim insisted trying to hand the pills to a reluctant Blair.
"No, way, man, you know I don't like putting that stuff in my body. I took two a little while ago, I'm not taking anymore. Besides, if I don't move around too much, I'm fine." Blair insisted, a small pain filled gasp destroying the illusion he'd sought to create. "Okay, so maybe breathing tends to sting a little too, but I'm working on it."
Jim sighed and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Chief, there's no reason for you to be in pain." Jim said once again offering the pills and then the glass of water. "Do it for me, just to save a few of the hairs I have left on my head, buddy. Having to rush you back to the ER in the middle of the night because you popped your stitches would probably be just enough to cause the remaining follicles to give up the ship."
Blair grudgingly took the pills and the water, swallowing both while glaring at Jim. "There, are you happy now?" He asked crossly, handing the glass back to Jim.
"Yes, very," Jim chuckled as he once again left the room, returning the now empty glass to the kitchen. Blair watched as Jim walked out of his room, then returned, unrolled the sleeping bag, and climbed in.
Blair's brow furrowed, the drugs already beginning to take effect and fuzzing his brain. "Uh, Jim, what ya doin?" Blair asked drowsily, laying his head down on his pillow.
"What does it look like, I'm going to bed." Jim replied as he pounded his pillow into submission.
"Yeah, but um why here, on my floor, in a sleeping bag?" the confusion clear on his face.
"Because you're having nightmares, Chief, and I'd rather be within jumping distance so I can wake you quickly should you have another." Jim turned on his side and looked at Blair thoughtfully. "I don't know how much thrashing your stitches can take, and I'd really rather not find out."
"Jim, thanks, man, but I'll be okay." Blair sighed and gently snuggled into his blankets. " I mean, it's not like Marty is worthy of a Lash, or even a Kincaid. I think he's down for the count."
"I'm sure he is, Chief, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Now go to sleep, I'll be here."
A smile was the only response Jim got as Blair lost the fight against the meds and drifted into what Jim hoped would be a healing sleep. Jim sat where he was for a moment, looking into the pain-free face of his best friend and thanked whomever was responsible for watching over wayward grad students and Guides. With a sigh Jim got up and walked over to the bed. Leaning over, he rested a hand on Blair's head, using his senses to run a final check on his Guide's body.
"Well, Chief," Jim addressed the softly snoring body. "We made it through once more." Jim shuddered thinking about the possible outcome had the knife gone a little to the left or right upon entry. Jim gave one last caress to Blair's face before straightening up and leaving the room to make his final rounds of the night. Certain that their home was secure, the Sentinel returned to the small room and resumed his place on the floor, looking once more at his Guide.
"We've got to be a little more careful, buddy," the Sentinel whispered quietly to his slumbering Guide from his position on the floor. "I really don't know what I'd do anymore should something happen to you, and I have no desire to find out." Jim's sigh echoed through the quiet loft and, with a final prayer to those watching over them, nestled into his sleeping bag and drifted into the first really restful sleep he'd had in almost a week.
For any of you brave souls who attempted the mission impossible and are waiting for your
final grade. The inspiration for the title is...................................Jim didn't drop his gun ONCE
during the writing of this Fic