Death Comes Stalking

Part 2

 

Danae

 

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. 

 

 

“Watch that side.” Jim instructed the deliveryman.  “That’s got it.  Bring it over here.  Yeah, right there.”  He watched the two men place the new chaise where he instructed and then remove the protective plastic.  “Perfect.  Thanks, guys.” He tipped them on their way out.  He smiled.  The chaise was nice and soft.  Blair would be comfortable in that.  He had found it one day when he went out to the store while the Hospice nurse was with Blair.  It was in the store window on display.  He had stopped and bought it.  He had wanted to take it home with him then but they had only the one on display and it was torn on the side away from the window.  Delivery only took two days but Jim was still a little disappointed at the wait.  But the wait was over.  “Hey, Chief.  I got something I want you to see.” He called as he made his way to the little room under the stairs where his guide had spent most of the two weeks since Jim had brought him home from the hospital.  Blair was propped up on pillows.  It was hard for him to breathe laying flat and he would not let Jim order a hospital bed for him.  It was a “sick thing.”  That was what Blair called anything that Jim bought that was designed to take care of a “sick person.”  Blair did not like “sick things.”  The portable toilet had to go back.  Blair was so upset by it that he cried.  That made him lose his breath and start coughing.  Jim was just trying to make things easier for him.  It was hard for Blair to get to the bathroom.  The Hospice nurse told Jim to let it go for a while. 

 

But the chaise was not a “sick thing.” It was a piece of furniture that Jim might have bought even if Blair had not been sick.  It was nice.  The fact that it would allow Blair to come out into the living room and still be comfortable was completely beside the point.  Now, if he could just sell Blair on that, he would be home free.

 

He entered Blair’s room.  “Let’s get you out of here for a little while.”

 

“What did you do?”  The voice was soft, raspy and yes, weak, Jim admitted to himself.

 

“Got a new chair.  You’ll like it.”

 

“Better not be a wheelchair.”

 

“No, Chief.  No wheelchair.” Jim mostly lifted his guide from the bed and was once again shocked at just how fast Blair was getting worse.  He could not eat solid foods anymore.  He drank Ensure and got some nutrients from the IV that the Hospice nurse hooked him up to everyday.  He was losing weight fast.  “You want to try to walk or can I carry you?” Even as he asked, he put Blair’s feet on the floor.  He did not let go.  Blair’s knees were not locking.  Would he admit that he could not walk?

 

A sad sigh cut through Jim’s heart as sure as a knife.  “You’ll have to carry me.  I’m sorry, Jim.”

 

“Nothing to be sorry for.  It’s not your fault that you’re sick.  You are going to have to stop apologizing for that.”  Jim scooped him up then and carried him into the living room and over to the chaise.  Carefully, he lowered Blair into the chair.  “What do you think?  You can stay out here and watch TV with me now.  I know the couch wasn’t comfortable for you and I saw this chair.  It really matched everything here and it’s soft and you’re not saying anything.”

 

“It’s a sick thing.”

“No, Blair.  It’s new furniture.”

 

“That you wouldn’t have bought had I not gotten sick.”

 

“Well, maybe, maybe not but I like it, and I’m not taking it back and I want you to sit in it.”  The other man was silent, his eyes accusing Jim of betrayal. “Please, Chief.”

 

The eyes softened.  He nodded.  “It’s nice, Jim.  It is comfortable.  I don’t mean to be difficult.”

 

“You aren’t difficult.  Different, but never difficult.”

 

“Thanks, Jim.”

 

“You’re welcome, Chief.”  Jim ruffled the tangled curls.  “The guys from the station want to come over for dinner and the game tomorrow.  Do you mind?  Are you up for company?”

”Yeah, I miss them.”

 

“Good.  Now, you just rest here while I get your—“  He almost said dinner.  A can of nasty milky liquid was not dinner.  “I’ll be right back.  Here’s the remote.  Find something you want to watch.”

 

“Don’t you miss working, Jim?  You could go to work, if you wanted.”

 

“I’m fine right here, Chief.”

 

He did not push the issue.  When Jim came back from the kitchen with the glass of Ensure, the TV was on Animal Planet and Blair was halfway between watching a special on cats and sleeping.  He touched Blair’s hand with the glass and then placed it in the hand.  It took coaxing and nearly twenty minutes but finally the last of the liquid was consumed.  Jim took the glass, washed it and put it away.  He grabbed Blair’s inhaler from the counter.  If the “meal” was a struggle, the inhaler was an all out fight.  Blair hated the inhaler.  It hurt him because he had to try to breathe deeply to use it.  After the inhaler, Jim took him back into his room and gave him a shot for the pain.  He sat on the side of the bed until Blair was fully asleep then went to make his own dinner.  As was the case lately, he was exhausted by the time he got finished cleaning up after his meal.  He checked the locks, turned out the lights and went to bed. 

 

 

There was a knock on the door and Jim sighed.  He was trying to get Blair settled.  The nurse had just left.  Maybe she had forgotten something.  He gathered up the towels from Blair’s sponge bath and threw them in the general direction of the bathroom hamper as he extended his senses to determine who was at the door.  It was not the nurse.  It was a man’s cologne his nose picked up, not the delicate flower scent of the woman’s perfume.  It was early for Simon and the guys from Major Crimes to start showing up.  And no cigar smell so it was not Simon.  But the scent was familiar.  He opened the door and nearly choked.  “Dad?”

 

“Hello Jimmy.  Can I come in?”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure.”  Jim stepped back and let his father enter.  “What can I do for you?”

“I was worried about you.”

 

“Worried about me?  Why?”

 

“I tried to call you at work the other day and they told me that you were not working.  Are you sick?”

 

Jim smiled and shook his head.  “No, Dad.  I’m not sick.  It’s Blair.  You want to sit down?”  Jim motioned toward the couch.

 

“Blair?  That’s the young man that works with you?  Sandburg, right?”  He sat and looked to his son for an explanation.

 

“Yeah.  He’s got cancer.  It’s terminal.  They didn’t catch it in time and he’s going downhill fast.  I never knew it could happen this fast, Dad.”

 

“Let me get this straight.  You’re taking care of the Sandburg boy.  Jim, I can’t say that I don’t understand the desire to lessen his suffering.  Truly I do understand that, Jimmy, but you have to consider yourself here.  You are losing income.  Are you covering his medical expenses?  Does he even have insurance?“

 

“You can stop there.  Thank you for your concern.  Thank you for coming by.  You can show yourself out.”

 

“Jimmy!  That boy is not your responsibility.  The state has programs that will cover his medical expenses if his family is not responsible enough to do so.  He could go back to the hospital and you could get on with your life.”

 

“His family is covering his expenses.  And he doesn’t want to be in the hospital.”

”Oh, really?  So you are being reimbursed?  That changes things.”

 

“I am his family.  I don’t expect you to understand that but I do expect you to respect it and if you can’t, then you need to go and not come back.”

“Jimmy, this is ridiculous.  Ruining yourself financially is not going to keep that boy from dying.” His father stood.  Jim wondered if he was actually trying to intimidate him.

 

Two could play at that and Jim was no longer a little boy.  He stood and moved into the man’s space.  “Get out!  Get out of my home.  Get out of Blair’s home.”

 

The man raised his hand and opened his mouth but Jim grabbed him by the shoulder and showed him to the door physically.  He slammed the door on his father and took a deep breath to try to calm down.  That was when he heard it.  Soft sobs floated to his ears from Blair’s room.  “You son of bitch,” he cursed, “he heard you.”

 

“Blair!”  Jim rushed to his guide’s room.  He pushed open the door and entered.  “He’s a jackass, Chief.  He’s gone and he isn’t coming back.”

 

The words were hard to understand through the tears but Jim’s sentinel ears deciphered them all too easily.  “He’s right.  I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.  It wasn’t fair to you.  You should just take me back to the hospital.”

“That is not going to happen.  Didn’t you hear me out there, Blair?  You’re family to me.  You want to be here and I want you to be here.  I will not let you die in that hospital.  And you will not die alone.”

 

The sobs intensified then.  “How?  How did you know?”

 

“Because I know you, Blair.  And I love you.”  He sat down on the bed and shifted his friend until Jim’s back rested on the headboard and Blair lay on his chest until sleep finally ended Blair’s tears.

 

Jim carefully slid out from under Blair and arranged the man on his pillows.  He slipped out of the room.  With Blair asleep, he could allow himself to express his anger.  He would never let Blair see his anger and frustration.  And right now, Jim was very angry.  He decided to work out that anger on cleaning the loft.  He was scrubbing the already spotless kitchen counter when Simon approached the door.  Jim opened it before he could knock.  His captain took one look at his face and asked the question that Jim did and did not want to answer.  To tell about it would be to admit that his father was really the heartless bastard that Jim always thought he was but did not want to admit.  But to not tell about it would probably mean that Jim would explode from the pressure inside as his emotions boiled. 

 

“What happened?” the man asked.

 

Since exploding would be a bad thing, he decided to tell.  “My father happened.  He came in here, harping on how I was going to ruin my finances taking care of Blair and how Blair wasn’t my responsibility and he should be back in the hospital.  I threw him out of the house.  And if that weren’t bad enough, Blair heard the whole damn thing.  I thought he was asleep but I guess he woke up when he heard our voices.  He was crying; saying he hadn’t been fair to me, that dad was right.”

 

“Damn!”

 

“Yeah.  But I think I got through to him.  I just can’t let it go.  I’m so damn mad and the more I think about it the madder I get.  Blair doesn’t need to have to deal with me and my temper tantrums right now.”

 

“You need a break?  You could take a walk.  I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Jim thought about the offer.  “Yeah.  I won’t be gone long.  He’s had his medication and he’s asleep.  I won’t be gone long.  Thanks.”  Jim headed for the door then paused, looking at the closed French doors.  He smiled briefly at Simon and left before he could change his mind.

 

 

I won’t be gone long.  I won’t be gone long.  Jim had said it twice.  As if Simon needed convincing.  He knew quite well that Jim would hardly get past the corner before he wanted to come back.  Simon hoped he took longer though.  The man really needed a break.  He wondered if Jim realized that he had forgotten to shave or if he noticed the dark circles under his own eyes.  He sighed.  He glanced around the loft.  It was spotless.  Jim had not forgotten to clean at least.  He almost laughed.  Jim forget to clean? Never happen.  Simon then looked at the closed French doors himself.  He swallowed the lump that immediately swelled up in his throat and made his way over to them.  Silently, he turned the doorknob and slipped into the room. 

 

The big captain gently lowered himself down to sit on the edge of the bed and settled his gaze on the sleeping man in it.  Stray curls covered Blair’s face and Simon’s hand raised of its own accord to brush them out of way.  Even in sleep, Blair Sandburg was in pain.  Simon could see lines of tension and pain etching their way from his mouth and eyes.  Simon sighed, then tilted his head back, planning to say a prayer for his young friend.  He hesitated, trying to figure out what to pray for.  For a miracle?  Not likely to get that prayer.  For an end to Blair’s suffering?  That would only mean more suffering for Jim.  And himself, if he were honest.  Finally, he said the only thing that he could come up with, that felt right.  “Please, God, just do what’s best for Blair.”

 

“Simon?”  The soft question drew his attention and he looked down to see dark blue slightly unfocused eyes searching his face.

 

“Yeah, Blair, it’s me, son.  How are you feeling?”  That was a stupid question; he knew it as soon as he said it, but what did one say in this situation? 

 

“Bad.  Simon, I have to talk to you.”  He took a shuddering breath, which only make him cough. 

 

Simon winced at the harsh rasping sound.  “Just rest, Blair.  Jim stepped out for a few minutes.”

 

“Good.  Can’t rest.  I don’t have much more time here.  I have to talk to you about Jim.”

 

Simon nodded.  He knew that this conversation was going to have to come.  He did not want to have it, but it was necessary.  “Go ahead.”

 

“My notebooks are locked in a safety deposit box.  The key is taped under the drawer of the nightstand.  My password for my computer files is Holy Grail.  It’s case sensitive.”

 

“What the hell is going on here?” Jim’s voice boomed throughout the loft as the door slammed.  “Simon!  What are you doing?  You are not interrogating him, do you hear me?”  The man stormed into the room and shoved Simon away from the bed.  “Blair, go back to sleep.  Simon and I need to talk.”

 

“No, Jim,” Blair cried as he struggled to hold onto Jim’s arm.  “He didn’t do anything.  I needed to talk to him.”

 

“No!  We are not going to talk about this!  And that’s my final word!”  Jim pulled his arm away and turned to glare at Simon.

 

“Jim!  Please, I have to talk to him.” Blair cried again.  “I have to, Jim.  I’m dying.  Don’t you understand?  I have to do this before it’s too late.”

 

“I don’t want to hear this!”

“You have to, Jim.”

 

Simon closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. 

 

“Blair, please, you need to rest.”  Jim lowered his voice, his tone becoming as pleading as Blair’s.

 

“No, Jim.  I’m going to die.  There’s nothing I can do about that.  Nothing anybody can do but I can do something for you.  I have to go but I can make sure that somebody will be there for you who understands.  Please Jim, don’t make me die without making sure you live.”

 

Simon felt the warmth of the tear on his cheek before he even realized that he was crying.  For his part, Jim Ellison gasped as though he himself was in pain and swore under his breath.  When he met Simon’s eyes again, Simon saw defeat and despair staring back at him.  He watched then as Jim turned back to Blair and smoothed unruly curls away from the young man’s forehead then swiftly placed a gentle kiss there.  “He’s tired, Simon.  Try to make this short,” Jim said stiffly as he left the room.

 

 

When Simon came out of Blair’s room, the subject was dropped.  Simon tried to talk to him, but Jim would have nothing of it.  He held up a hand to forestall the lecture or whatever Simon had planned to say.  “Henri and Rafe are on their way up.  Just… can we do this later?  I can’t talk about it right now.”

 

His captain nodded.  “Need any help?”

 

“No, I got the grill going on the balcony.  Steaks are ready to be thrown on.”

 

“Let me do that and you get the door.”

 

Jim handed him the plate of steaks.  “You know, Blair can’t eat steak.  He can’t eat anything anymore.”  His eyes burned and he fought a quick battle with his emotions.  He drove the tears back and gave Simon a crooked half-smile.  The look of pity, no, that was not fair, sympathy on Simon’s face almost did him in again so he turned away and got to the door before the guys could knock.  “Hi, H, Rafe, come on in.  Glad you could make it.”

 

 

Simon waved a greeting to his men then hurried out onto the balcony.  The sun was setting over the bay and Simon stared at the orange and red horizon for several minutes as he tried to get a handle on his grief.  This would be Blair Sandburg’s last get-together with his friends at Major Crimes.  No one had actually said it but they all knew it was true.  He needed to get his game face on.  Blair would have a good time tonight.  As good a time as he could anyway.  He needed to see smiles.  He needed to be reminded of good times.  He did not need to have to comfort.  It was he who needed comforting.  Simon shook his head and raised his eyes above the horizon to where the sky was still blue.  He set his resolve and a smile on his face, then turned to place the steaks on the grill.  When he re-entered the loft, he was ready to give an Academy Award winning performance.  For the sake of Blair Sandburg.

 

 

It was Megan who broke down.  Jim had been teasing her about that pink fur coat she was wearing when she arrived in Cascade.  Blair was laughing at first until he started coughing.  Jim rushed over to his chair with a Kleenex.  When he pulled it away from Blair’s mouth it was red with blood. 

 

“Sorry.” Blair whispered.

 

“Nothing to be sorry for.  Okay now?”

 

Blair nodded.  Jim was blocking Blair’s view and Simon was grateful as he realized that Megan’s face was streaked with tears. 

 

“Connor, help me in the kitchen.”  He rose and gently but firmly pulled Megan up and out of the room.  “We’re making more coffee and you are drying those eyes.  Do not let that kid see you cry.  He’s got enough to contend with without having to deal with your tears.  Cry later.  Smile now.  Is that clear?”

 

“Yes, sir.  I’m sorry.”

 

“I know.  I know how you feel but just---“  He sighed and reached out to her.  She came into his arms and he hugged her gently.  Jim had Blair’s attention so Simon held her for a few moments until she pulled away.

 

“Thank you, sir.”  She wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders. 

 

“You’re welcome.  Just don’t spread it around.  I have a reputation as a hard ass that I’d like to keep intact.”

 

She did smile then.  “Gotcha.”

 

 

The evening was over too soon for Major Crimes.  No one wanted to leave but Blair had long since fallen asleep in the chair Jim had bought for him.  Jim himself was exhausted.  He hated to rush them out but he needed to get Blair to bed before he was too tired to carry him.  Henri and Rafe gave Jim sad smiles then waved, not saying a word as they left.  Joel Taggert kissed the tips of his own fingers then pressed them to Blair’s forehead before he nearly ran out of the door.  Megan kissed his guide’s cheek, causing Blair to stir a bit but not wake entirely.  Only Simon was left and Jim watched as his gruff captain knelt beside the chair. 

 

“It has been an honor and a pleasure, Blair Sandburg.  You will be sorely missed.  I wasn’t supposed to care, you stupid kid.  Why couldn’t you just go along with the plan?  You are the best of us.  The world is going to be so much darker now.” He stood abruptly and strode to the door where Jim waited.  “I’m so sorry, Jim.”

 

The tears came this time.  They won the battle and formed wet tracks down Jim’s face.  “He’s not dead yet.” Jim whispered.

 

“Jim—“

 

“I know, I know.  Just let me hold on until I have to let go, Simon.  Does that make sense?  I just can’t let go.”

 

Simon nodded.  “I do understand.  Jim, if you need me, I’ll be there.”

 

“I know.  Good night, Simon.”

 

When Simon was gone, Jim moved to the chair that held his best friend and knelt beside it as Simon had.  “Blair, Buddy, wake up a minute.”

 

“Hmm?”  Dark lashes fluttered and Blair turned his head toward Jim’s voice.

 

“You have to take your medicine, Chief.  Then we need to get you to bed.  Okay?”

 

“’kay.” 

 

The next few minutes were miserable for them both.  The inhaler caused another bout of coughing and Blair cried.  The pain medicine was well received, however.  An indication of how much pain Blair was in.  His guide hated to take drugs.  Jim sat with him until the lines of pain around his eyes lessened a little.  Blair was never pain free anymore but the painkiller did make it easier on him.  Then Jim prepared to lift him from the chair and take him into his bedroom.

 

“No,” came the weak protest.  “Stay here.  More comfortable,” Blair mumbled.

 

“Sure?”

 

“Uh-huh.” 

 

Jim rearranged him into his original position in the chair.  “Anything you want, Chief.  Can I sit here and read for a while?  Will it bother you?”

 

“No.”  Blair was already half asleep again.

 

Jim moved to the couch.  He had no intention to read.  He just wanted to be close by.  The couch would be more comfortable than Blair’s floor so he was not going to complain.  He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over him and settled down on his side so that he could see his friend.  He was asleep in minutes.