Disclaimer:
Not mine… Not making money and I don’t mean just with this story!
<g>
Notes and
warnings: Thanks to my beta reader, Ihket.
Blair as a cop just ain’t my thing so you won’t see it here. This may be a little sad too but just
keep saying to yourself, “Danae doesn’t do death….Danae doesn’t do death…” Come
on, say it with me…. J
Oh, and there is some language….Not much, maybe a PG-13
thing.
And though I
started it before we got the news, I’m dedicating this story to Fran as my way
of saying welcome back to the land of the living.
Okay, I think
that’s it. Let’s get on with
it…
“Hey, Jim. Something’s up with Sandburg. He’s just sitting at your desk like he’s
in a trance, man. I tried to talk
to him but he hardly acknowledged me,” Henri Brown fell in beside him as he
exited the elevator. “Do you know
what’s up?”
Detective Jim
Ellison shrugged. “No, but I’ll
find out. Thanks,
H.”
“No
problem.” Brown peeled off and
headed in the opposite direction.
Jim entered the
bullpen to find exactly what Henri said he would. His partner and best friend sat behind
Jim’s desk unnaturally still, with a shell-shocked, blank expression on his
usually expressive face. It was
bad, whatever it was. Jim took a
deep breath, said a silent prayer that he could help, and strode over to the
desk, with a hopefully believable smile on his face. He expected Blair to look up but he did
not. That non-reaction made Jim’s
heart beat faster and he was tempted to try and get a reading on his friend’s
heart rate. Instead, he dropped a
hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezed it a little. “You in there,
Chief?”
“Jim.” The eyes that looked up at him were
suddenly brimming with tears.
“I—“
“What the hell
is happening, Blair? Are you all
right? Is Naomi okay? What? Tell me.” Jim felt panic welling up in his
chest. This was really
bad.
“I need to tell
you something but not here. I don’t
want to say it here.”
“I’m not going
to like this. I can tell
that.”
“I’m sorry,
Jim. Can you come home
now?”
“Shift’s over in
ten minutes. I’m sure Simon won’t
mind. I’ll go ask
him.”
Sandburg only
nodded. Jim’s heart was now trying
to pound its way out of his chest as he made his way to his captain’s
office. He opened the door without
knocking.
“Simon,--“
“Jim,
something’s seriously wrong with the kid.
Get him outta here and find out what the hell it is. It’s damn scary watching him sit there
like that.”
“Thanks.”
Simon waved him
out. He turned back to his guide
and just stared for a moment as he tried to mentally compile a list of all the
things that could have gone wrong in the young man’s life to cause this kind of
reaction. He got fired. His mom is hurt or sick. Something with the dissertation went
wrong. No, the dissertation would
not cause that kind of pain, he decided as he searched the stricken
countenance. Even getting fired
would more piss him off than upset him like this. Guessing games were not getting him any
closer to finding out what was really going on. He marched over to collect the object of
his worried mind.
This was not
happening. He refused to believe
it. In all his speculations he
could never have, would never have let his mind even conceive of this. He paced in front of the couch as Blair
studied his own hands in his lap.
Jim shook his head. Sandburg
had just announced it. Two words
had effectively turned Jim’s ordered little world on its ass. I’m dying, he said, as though it
was just fact, like the fact that the Jags had lost the game the night
before. No, it was not
happening.
“Jim, it is
happening.”
Jim looked at
him. He had not realized that he
had said that out loud. “No, how
can you have cancer and not know it before now? How could it get so bad without you
getting sick already? What about
radiation or chemotherapy? People
don’t necessarily have to die of cancer anymore. There’s treatment,
Blair!”
“I was
sick. I am sick. Remember, I told you I haven’t been
feeling too great. And all the
coughing I’ve been doing.”
“That was
from--, it was from the fountain.
The doctor said that you’d be prone to chest colds and bronchitis for a
while. If you had cancer, he would
have seen it!”
“It’s not just
in my lungs, Jim. It’s spread
already. It’s in my lymph nodes and
my liver and my bones. Dr. Hamilton
says it’s very aggressive. It’s too
late. Please, Jim, I’m sorry. Maybe if I’d gone sooner but I thought
what you thought and… are you mad at me?”
“M-mad? Are you crazy, Blair? How can I be mad? Oh Jesus! I’m sorry, Chief. I’ve been freaking out here and I’ve not
even--- Oh shit, Blair. I’m
sorry.” Jim’s legs gave out on him
and collapsed onto the couch next to his guide. He sighed as he turned and gathered the
younger man into his arms, and for
long minutes, they cried together.
“Blair, I need
to know some things.” Jim sat back
and held his friend by the shoulders, looking into the red-rimmed blue
eyes.
“Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, Jim. I have all my notes together and I’ll
talk to Simon about finding you a new—“
Jim cut him off with a hand over his mouth.
“No, Blair. That’s the least of my worries right
now. This is about you, Buddy. Now, who is this Hamilton and shouldn’t
we get a second opinion? I’d like a
second opinion, Blair.”
“He’s an
oncologist that was doing some volunteer work at the university. I went to the clinic like I told you I
would about being so tired all the time.
He did some tests and said he thought I might need some more tests and
offered to do them. I went to his
office and he ran tests and took x-rays and even an MRI. I saw them, Jim. There are tumors and he says that if
they tried to operate, it would just make it worse and that it was just too
late.”
“I still want
another doctor to tell me that, Chief.
I have to hear it.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Dr. Hamilton and see if he can
recommend somebody.”
“Okay,
good. In the meantime, what did he
tell you to do?”
“Jim, I don’t
think you’re getting this yet.
There is nothing I can do.
When—when the pain starts, he’ll give me something for
it.”
“Pain. Yeah, I guess there would be pain.” Jim cursed God
silently.
“I’m sorry,
Jim.”
“Damn,” Jim
whispered as he pulled Blair to him again.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Chief.”
“Hello?”
“Detective
Ellison?”
“Yeah, how can I
help you?”
“This is Dr.
Miller. Dr. Hamilton referred Mr.
Sandburg to me. Dr. Hamilton
dropped the x-rays by my office today.
I was told by Mr. Sandburg to contact you with my diagnosis. I’m sorry to tell you this but I must
concur with Dr. Hamilton. To try to
operate would only make the situation worse and chemo and radiation are very
unpleasant procedures that I think we should spare a patient if there is no hope
that they may help. I really don’t
think they would help. He’s going
to be extremely sick soon enough.
I’d like to spare him more pain.”
Jim could not
breathe. The air had been sucked
out of the bullpen.
“Detective?”
“Thank you,
Doctor.” He hung up without another
word. The walls were closing
in. Suddenly, Simon’s face appeared
before him, very close. The man’s
lips were moving but Jim could not hear his words. He gasped for air. Hands were pulling at him. Joel Taggert was there on the other side
of him. They were moving him
somewhere. Simon’s office. He looked beyond the door of it, and out
the window. It was a sunny day in
Cascade. What an injustice. The sky should be crying like Jim was
crying. His guide, his brother was
going to die.
Joel tried to
put the paper bag up to his face again and Jim gently pushed it away. It had taken nearly ten minutes before
Jim could bring himself to tell Simon and Joel about Blair. Between hyperventilating and choking on
the words, he finally got it out.
Blair Sandburg was dying of cancer.
The silence that followed the words was suffocating and Jim struggled to
breathe normally in the stale, thin air. Joel was insistent with that damned bag
and he had to resist the urge to snatch it away and rip it to shreds. But the man was crying silently and he
was after all just trying to help.
“How—uh, long
does he have?” Simon’s eyes were
glassy with unshed tears of his own.
The big man cleared his throat.
“Did the doctor say?”
“Weeks, maybe a
month or two at the most. This
stuff is eating him on the inside.
It’s spread to his lymph nodes, which would normally help his body fight
it. He’s going to go downhill fast,
Simon. And there’s nothing anybody
can do. Nothing I can
do.”
Joel swore
softly and turned away. Jim heard
the sob that came before the softly spoken words. “I need to go, Simon, Jim. Tell Blair—“
“I understand,
Joel,” Jim whispered.
The big man left
the office. Jim’s sentinel ears
tracked him as he made his way through the bullpen. “Hey, Joel, what’s up, man?” came
Henri’s worried voice.
There was no
answer and the bullpen doors swung shut announced Joel’s departure. Jim raised his eyes to his captain. “I’m going to need time off when he gets
really sick, Simon. I have plenty
of time saved up. I don’t want him
to be alone when—“ he paused,
unable to say the words again. “He
can’t find Naomi. Chances are he
won’t find her in time. He’s left
messages everywhere. Only because I
made him, but nothing yet. He’s
told the university. They’ve been
real supportive, amazingly enough.”
“Jim—“
“He’s going to
work as long as he can. You know
how he is.”
“Jim—“
“And he’s
obsessing about me. He thinks he
has to find me another guide. Can
you believe it? The kid is dying
and all he can think about is me.”
Jim surged up from the chair.
“Son of a bitch! It’s not
fair, Simon! I eat the junk
food! I’ve got close to ten years
on him! He drinks algae shakes and
eats bean spouts! He’s a kid, damn
it! I should go first, Simon! God! Now I sound like that woman in that
movie. You remember that,
Simon? That movie about those
Southern women and the daughter died.
Sally Field was in it. A
real chick movie. I took Carolyn to
see it. She cried. It was a sad
movie.”
“Jim.” The sigh
that followed his name was sad.
Life was sad. Death was
sadder.
“I’m losing my
mind, Simon. Blair’s dying and I’m
falling apart. He’s my family. More so than the one I got by default at
birth.”
“Why don’t go on
home, Jim? I’ll come by later. I’d like to see Blair, if you don’t
mind.”
“No, no, of
course not. He’d like that,
Simon. He admires you, you
know.”
“I admire
him. I think it may be time I told
him so.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. Maybe you could handle telling the rest
of the guys? Please.” Simon nodded. “See you for dinner then.” Jim ignored the stares in the
bullpen. He held up one hand to
ward Henri and Rafe off. Blair
would be home from the university by now.
He would go home and spend time with his best friend. While he still
could.
Screaming. Blair was screaming and crying and
throwing things. Jim raced up the
stairs and flung open the door to the loft. He was in his room. Jim nearly broke down the French doors
in his haste. Blair whirled around
and met his eyes for a split second then it was as if he was a puppet whose
strings had been cut. He dropped to
the floor and buried his head in his hands, rocking a little as he sobbed. His meditation candles were scattered
everywhere. The mirror over his
dresser was shattered. Pieces of
ripped pages from a tattered book were strewn over the floor and
bed.
“Blair, Buddy,”
Jim whispered as he lowered himself to the floor behind Blair. “What’s happening here? Talk to me.”
There was a long
pause and Jim was beginning to think he would have to push a little. Just as he was about to ask again, Blair
rubbed his face across his sleeve and gave Jim a weak, trembling smile. “I’m sorry,
Jim.”
“Nothing to be
sorry for, Chief. Hope you didn’t
need that book though. Come on,
tell me.” Instinctively, Jim’s hand
rose to smooth back unruly curls.
“I was trying to
meditate. I couldn’t. It was awful. I was trying to find some peace, you
know? But all I could feel was
something eating at me. It was like
I could feel the cancer spreading in me.
It’s stupid.”
“I’m sorry,
Blair.”
“Not your fault, man.
I made a mess. I’ll get it
cleaned up. Sorry.” He started to get up but Jim pulled him
back down.
“I’m not worried
about the mess, Chief. I’m worried
about you. Just sit here with me
for a minute, will ya?”
“Okay.” Blair relaxed into Jim’s arms. Jim closed his eyes and focused on the
heartbeat of the man leaning against him.
He listened to the surprisely strong beat. Shouldn’t it be weaker or slower? Then Jim berated himself. Why was he rushing it? He wanted that heart to beat strong for
as long as it could.
“That’s
funny.” Blair
mumbled.
“What’s that,
Chief?”
“I can’t feel it
now.” Then his guide was
asleep.
Jim put a finger
to his lips as he let Simon into the loft.
“He’s asleep,” he whispered.
“He didn’t have a very good day.”
“Is he
sick?”
“Not the way you
mean. He’s upset. I made spaghetti. Have you
eaten?”
“No. I was hoping to get dinner out of
you.”
Jim smiled. “You can set the table then.” Jim pointed to the cupboard where the
plates could be found. “Did you
tell the guys?”
Simon did not
hesitate. He retrieved the plates
and moved to the table. “Yeah. Connor cried. So did Rhonda. Henri was pretty torn up. I think Rafe’s in shock. You saw Joel’s reaction. I sent him home right after you
left. Sam came in when I was
telling them. I didn’t tell her,
she overheard. Couldn’t read
her. Her face was just blank.
Shock, I guess. I know that she and
Blair finally gave up the attempts at a relationship. Personally, I was glad. She wasn’t the girl for
him.”
“Now we’ll never
find out who is the girl for him, huh?”
Simon winced at
the half-angry, half-despondent tone. “How are you holding
up?”
Jim shrugged as
he drained the spaghetti. “I’m
pissed. I’m freaked out. Scared. And I hurt, Simon. I hurt for him. He should have years, decades ahead of
him. He should get his doctorate
and teach thousands of kids and have a few of his own and have grandchildren
around when he goes to sleep one night and just doesn’t wake up. I don’t want to see him in pain. I don’t want to watch him die. You know, in Sierra Verde, in that
grotto, I was asked what I feared.
One of the answers to that question is watching Blair die. I always worried that it would be
working with me that would kill him.
I worried that I wouldn’t be fast enough or good enough one day to keep
him alive. It made me careful. I was gonna make sure that I wouldn’t be
the cause of his death. And now
this. And it pisses me off. All I’ve tried to do, all I can do and
I’m still not fast enough, not good enough to keep him
alive.”
“Jim, you can’t
take the blame for cancer. It’s one
of those things that happen that are totally beyond our control. It really sucks, to use Blair’s words
but it happens and to good people as well as bad.”
“No, Simon. You’re wrong. The bad ones, they catch the
breaks. The good ones suffer. Blair’s going to suffer and it’s not
right. It makes me want to make
someone else suffer just as much or more.
I don’t know who but somebody.”
“Jim?”
The soft inquiry
was barely audible to Simon.
“Chief.” Instantly, the tone
of Jim’s voice changed. Gone was
the angry man who needed to punish someone. In his place was a gentle caregiver who
needed to comfort. “Simon’s here,
buddy. And dinner’s ready.” Jim
moved to the French doors.
Blair Sandburg
appeared at the doors and shuffled out into the loft’s main area. “Hi, Simon.”
“How are you
feeling, Blair?” Simon asked,
unable to keep his emotions from seeping into his
words.
“Guess Jim told
you, huh?”
Simon took two
steps and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, one hand pulling the curly
head to his chest. “Damn it,
kid. I’m
sorry.”
“Yeah,
thanks. Me too. I need to get you all my notes so you
can help Jim.”
“Chief, we are
not talking about that now. We are
having dinner and watching a game.
We have time for all that later.”
Blair pulled
away from him and Simon let go. “We
don’t have that much time, Jim.”
“Well, we have
at least tonight to not deal with this.”
“Jim—“
“I said I don’t
want to talk about it!”
Blair
blinked.
“That’s quite
enough, don’t you think, Jim?” Simon scolded.
“Blair, I’m
sorry.” Jim apologized
immediately.
“It’s okay,
Jim. Let’s eat then. I hope that’s the real stuff and not the
stuff out of the can. I’d really
like to have some of your special sauce.”
The smile was stiff; the words artificially light. Only the blue eyes held truth and that
truth was painful to see. Blair
Sandburg was dying. Simon swallowed
the lump in his throat only to have it rise up again. He hoped he could eat around it. He did not want Blair to worry about him
not eating. And the young man
would. It was just his way. Simon would truly miss him when he was
gone.
One week turned
into two and Jim was feeling the strain of waiting for the other shoe to
drop. Blair was tired. He slept when he was not working and his
work hours had dropped drastically.
The university found other TA’s to take over two of Blair’s classes. He only taught one class now. He had dropped one of his classes. He had to keep the other two to keep his
position as a TA and thus the pitiful excuse for insurance they gave him. And he rarely had the energy to spend
time at the station. When he did,
it was only an hour or two. In that
time, he was inundated with his friends’ attempts to take care of him. Jim smiled briefly at that. At any rate, Blair went to the doctor’s
office, taught class, went to class, ate when Jim could make him, and
slept.
Jim did not like
Hamilton. The doctor seemed
knowledgeable, sure. But he was
cold and clinical. He treated Blair
not with kindness but with a strange fascination akin to a sadistic child who
had captured a bug and was planning on dissecting it, starting with pulling off
its wings. Blair’s wings were gone,
that was for sure. The bounce was
gone. The smiles were few. The words fewer still. Blair went about getting ready to die,
quietly, solemnly. And Jim was
going insane, quietly, but with a smile on his face. He could not let Blair see him losing
it. He had enough to deal with
without trying to save Jim. So Jim
hovered and smiled and Blair tolerated him and apologized.
Jim had checked
around, however and Hamilton had a good reputation as an oncologist. The medical community in Cascade thought
he was God’s gift to cancer patients.
It just did not gel with what Jim felt around the man. Maybe he was just being paranoid because
this man had been the first to announce Blair’s impending death.
Jim shook his
head and realized that he had been staring at the same line on the same report
for over twenty minutes. He sighed
and got up. He decided to hit Simon
up for some of that new dark roast coffee he had in his office. He had only taken two steps when his
phone rang. He frowned at it but
picked up the receiver anyway.
“Ellison.” The panicked
voice on the other end rattled off exactly what Jim had been afraid to
hear. “I’m on my way. Tell him, I’m coming.” The receiver was tossed, landing with a
thud on the floor beside the desk but Jim never turned to right it.
“You could have
at least told us what was happening before you went running out.” Simon’s face
was marked with a disapproving scowl.
Jim looked up at
him from the waiting room chair.
“Sorry, I freaked out. One
of his students called. He started
coughing up blood in class. They
called the ambulance.”
“How is
he?”
“Dying. Next
question.”
“Don’t make me
kick your ass right now, Jim, because I will feel guilty later and I hate
feeling guilty. Now what has the doctor said?”
“His Highness,
the great and powerful Dr. Russell Hamilton has not told me one damn thing. Fortunately, thanks to Blair, I don’t
need him to. He told Blair that he
has to stop working now. He needs
to rest. Blair admitted that he’s
been hurting for a few days. I knew
he was coughing, Simon. I just
didn’t want to face it so I didn’t say anything. He wants to put Blair in the hospital
but Blair doesn’t think it’s time for that yet.”
“What about
you? What do you
think?”
“I don’t know,
Simon. He’s gasping for breath and
coughing right now. He doesn’t have
any energy. I just don’t
know.” Jim reached with his ears
into the exam room. “Hamilton is
coming out.”
The two cops
waited for the doctor. He appeared
a moment later. He strode over to
Jim. “I feel that you are a man of
few words that prefers that others are straightforward with him, so I’ll be
brief. He may last a few more weeks
or he could die tonight. I have no
way of knowing. I think he should
stay here where we can keep tabs on him and make sure he’s not in pain. He’s arguing. I’d like you to back me on this. What do you say,
Detective?”
“I’ll talk to
him but I’m not promising anything.
If he still wants to go home, then he goes
home.”
“Well, it’s not
exactly what I wanted to hear but I’ll take it.”
“You’ll have
to.” Jim moved past the man and went in to talk to his partner. “Hey, Chief,” he said softly as he
entered the cubicle where Blair lay on an exam table with his eyes
closed.
The eyes opened
and Blair held out one hand to him.
Jim took it and moved closer.
He stroked the wet curls from the hot forehead. “You have a fever,
Buddy.”
Blair nodded.
“I’m sorry, Jim.”
“Chief, how many
times do I have to say it? You have
nothing to be sorry for. Blair, the
doc wants you to stay in the hospital.”
Blair was
already shaking his head. “I can’t,
Jim. I can’t afford it. You know my insurance sucks.” He paused
to catch his breath. “And I don’t
want to leave you with these bills.
I only have a five thousand dollar life insurance policy and it’ll take
all of it for the funeral arrangements.
Besides, they can’t help me.
And I—never mind.”
“No never minds,
Blair. What is
it?”
“It’s just that
I don’t want to die here. I’d go
stay with Naomi if I could find her.
I know it’s not fair to ask you for this, Jim, but I want to die at
home. Please Jim, don’t make me die
here.”
For a long
moment, Jim could not speak. His
vocal chords seemed frozen even as his heart seemed to be on the urge of burning
to a cinder. And Jim cursed God
again. “Where are your shoes? Let’s get you outta here.” The words burst through the ice in his
throat. Suddenly, he could not get
Blair out of that hospital fast enough.
He found Blair’s missing tennis shoes on the floor on the other side of
the table. He tried to put them on
but his guide batted his hands away.
“You can do that, huh? Okay,
I’ll go tell Hamilton we’re leaving.
Wait for me here, Chief.
Okay?” He held Blair’s chin in one hand and made him look at
him.
“’kay.”
A quick hug and
Jim was off to tell Hamilton he was not getting what he wanted. The reaction was not as bad as he
thought. Hamilton went quiet for a
minute then nodded.
“I suppose
that’s understandable. I’ll tell
you what we can do. I can give him
some samples of the inhaler I want him to use. It’ll help to control the coughing
some. The thing is expensive if you
have to buy it. This will replace
the other one I had him on. I’ll
also call Hospice and get daily visits from a nurse arranged and a morphine pump
for the pain when he needs it.”
Jim was almost
certain that he was talking to a different man. Hamilton had never shown this much
concern for Blair before. He wanted
to ask what happened to the other guy but decided that he should not look a gift
horse in the mouth. He thanked the
man and went back to the waiting room to ask Simon to go bring his truck around
so Blair would not have to walk far.
That done, he went back to his best friend.
“We’re going
home, Buddy,” he announced and was gifted with one of Blair’s now rare
smiles.