Death Comes Stalking

 

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. 

 

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.

 

 

“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.