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.

“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.

Sounds invaded his troubled dreams of an injured wolf. Terrible sounds of pain that at first Jim had attributed to that wolf. Jim crawled his way to wakefulness to discover that Blair was struggling for breath. The wheezing of his labored breathing were the sounds that had woken Jim. He was awake and by Blair’s side instantly. “Blair?” Jim grabbed the inhaler and tried to put it to Blair’s mouth but he pushed Jim’s hand away. “Come on, Blair.”

“No--- good.”

“Oh Jesus. Not now. It’s too soon. Please, Blair, try to use this.”

Blair only shook his head slowly as he gasped for air.

“I’m calling Hamilton. Hold on.”

“Too---late. Don’t---- go.”

“I have to, Chief.”

“Jim—“

“I’m not ready, Blair. I’m not ready. God, help me. I wish I were stronger but I’m not. Please, don’t make me let go yet.”

Blair met his eyes. A shaking hand caressed Jim’s face. “Call.”

“Thank you.” Jim raced to the phone. He tried every number he had for Hamilton. There was no answer at his office. But the man’s home number was disconnected. Jim hung up the phone, confused. He tried again. Still the same message, the phone was disconnected. “Other doctor,” he muttered to himself. “Name? What was his name? Miller. Royce Miller.” He grabbed the phone book. Frantically, he searched the yellow pages until he found it. Miller’s voice was sleepy as he answered the phone. Jim was not sure what he managed to say to the man. He doubted that it even made sense. Miller tried to dissuade him, tried to tell him to let Blair go. Jim screamed at him. That much he would later remember. He screamed and screamed until the man agreed to meet them at the hospital. He threw the phone down and scooped his guide up in his arms and left, the door unlocked and open behind him.

“Mr. Ellison, the only thing I can do is put him on a respirator. It will only prolong the inevitable. He’s in pain, Detective. Let him go.” Miller pleaded as Jim stood holding Blair’s hand in the emergency room. Unconsciously, Jim tightened his grip. Blair raised his other hand a bit to get the doctor’s attention and Jim noticed that somehow he had managed to end up with the inhaler in that hand.

“Do it,” he gasped.

Miller took the inhaler out of his hand. “Blair, you and I talked about this. You didn’t want this.”

“Changed--- mind.”

Miller looked down at the inhaler. A puzzled look crossed his face. “What is this?”

“The inhaler Hamilton gave him. It’s supposed to help him breathe.” Jim explained.

“It’s not marked.”

“Hamilton was giving him samples because it’s so expensive.”

“But it should still have some sort of label. I can’t imagine why he might take the label off.”

“He called it Azmacort, I think.”

“Hmm, Janine, take this down to the lab and give it Libby. Tell her to analyze it. Tell her it might be Azmacort. I want to make sure. And tell her to rush it, please. And tell Frank to bring in some oxygen. Thank you.”

“You think something’s wrong?” Jim’s cop instincts kicked in.

“Probably not. Especially since the original decision was not to try to prolong Blair’s life, just make him comfortable. Azmacort isn’t very strong actually. It’s usually used in patients with Asthma or bronchitis. I just don’t want to give him anything else until I know what’s in his system. How long ago did he use the inhaler?”

“Um, four, no five hours.”

Miller nodded. “Blair, as soon as I know what’s in there, we’ll proceed. As for now, I’m going to put you on oxygen. When I get the test back, if you still want to go on the respirator, we’ll put that into motion.”

Blair nodded. An intern came into the room then pulling an oxygen tank behind him.

“Detective, could I see you outside?”

Jim knew the lecture was coming. He took a deep breath and promised himself that he would not lose his temper. He stepped into the hallway. “I know what you are going to say.”

“Too bad. I still want the satisfaction of saying it so you’re going to listen. He’s agreeing to this because of you. This is what you want and he’s going to give it to you, regardless of the pain it’s causing him. Stop being a selfish prick and let him die in peace.”

“Well, that was professional.” Jim mumbled.

Miller ran one hand through his salt and pepper hair. “You think I like this? He’s a kid. I hate to see kids die but I hate to see them in needless pain even more. Just think about this, okay? That’s all I’m asking. We haven’t done anything yet. It’s not too late to give him a peaceful, dignified death. I can give him something for the pain, something strong so that he’s comfortable. You can call his friends if you want and they can say goodbye and he’ll just go to sleep.”

Jim closed his eyes. He wanted to hit something. He had to hit something. Not the doctor. Blair needed the doctor. He spun and slammed his fist into the wall. Two orderlies and a security guard started toward him but Miller waved them off.

“Come on, Detective.”

Jim nodded.

“Okay, make your calls. We’ll wait.”

Royce Miller watched the devastated man move to the pay phones right outside the ER doors. Some days he hated his job. Some days, he could tell a mother that her child was cancer free. Some days, he could tell a woman that she would not have to lose her breast. Some days, he could tell a man that he could ask his girlfriend to marry him after all because he was not going to die. And then some days, he had to watch someone die. Some days, he had to break someone’s heart when there was no hope for a loved one. Today, he would watch Blair Sandburg die and he had broken Detective James Ellison’s heart.

“Dr. Miller?”

He turned to Sharon who was standing behind the nurses’ station. “Yeah?”

“It’s Libby.” She held up the phone to him.

He took the receiver from her. “Yeah, Libby. Is it Azmacort?”

“Dr. Miller, this is definitely not Azmacort. There are some steroids present but there’s also something that looks like an amino acid at first glance but if you look closer, and break it down into its component parts, there’s something hidden---“

“Whoa, hidden? Cut to the chase, Libby. What does it do?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly.”

“Best guess, Lib. A man’s life is at stake here.”

“It’s a toxin of some kind.”

“Toxin?”

“Yes, Royce. I’ve already called Poison Control and faxed them the information. They’re ---”

“Son of a bitch!” Miller slammed the phone down. “Sharon, call x-ray. Tell them I need some x-rays on the patient in Exam 2 like yesterday. And get me a respirator in there just in case I need it. Now!” He headed for the ER doors.

“Dr. Miller! Where are you going?”

“I think I have to report a crime.”

Ellison was on the phone. Without a thought, Royce hung it up. “What the hell?”

“You may want to put out an APB on Dr. Russell Hamilton.”

“What? You just hung up on my captain. Is something wrong with Blair?”

“Oh yeah. I think he’s been poisoned.”

“Wha—when? Here?”

“No, by Hamilton. Look, Detective, I don’t really understand this myself yet but Libby says that the inhaler I sent down to her has a toxin in it. She’s contacted Poison Control and we should hear back from them soon. In the meantime, I think I want to do a thorough exam of Blair, including new x-rays.”

“Hamilton did this?”

“I think so. I don’t want to think so but it’s more than possible. It’s likely. Blair’s symptoms are indicative of cancer but they could also be indicative of certain types of poisons. I don’t want to get your hopes up but I think we should make sure.”

“Go. Do it.”

Royce nodded and ran back through the doors. Maybe this day could be saved after all and Blair Sandburg right along with it.

Twenty minutes later, Royce Miller threw down the set of x-rays and beat his head against the wall nearest him. “How could I have been so stupid?” He picked up the x-rays again. Blair Sandburg’s liver was clean. There was no bone cancer. He looked at the chest x-rays. The young man had a bad case of pneumonia but no cancer. Not a single tumor. “That bastard. I hope Ellison rips his nuts off and stuffs them down his throat.” The nurse next to him gasped. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I trusted him. I should have taken my own x-rays.”

“You didn’t know, Dr. Miller.”

Royce tried to smile at her. “Well, I know now.” He strode out of the darkened room and went to find Jim Ellison. He tried to formulate some plan of how to tell Ellison what he had found out. He rehearsed opening phrases, all starting with the words, “I’m sorry.” But when he found Ellison surrounded by people who were obviously his friends, all he managed to do was hand the man the x-rays he still held and announce, “There is no cancer.”

Ellison drew a shuddering breath. “It was the inhaler, then? Just the inhaler?”

“Yeah.” Then the words came, “I’m so sorry. I should have been more thorough. I trusted a colleague. I believed that the x-rays he sent me where Blair’s. I examined him, confirmed the symptoms, but I didn’t do any x-rays of my own. I would have caught it if I had.”

“I made him use the inhaler. He said it hurt. That it burned. And I still made him use it.” Ellison put his hands to his head.

Six people, including Royce, rushed to assure the man that it was not his fault.

“I want Hamilton, Simon. I want him.”

“We’ll find him.” The big black man snapped and Royce believed him.

“Dr. Miller? Poison Control is on line four for you.” Sharon told him.

“Thank you. Hopefully, this will be the answers we need to proceed.” He touched Jim Ellison’s shoulder before going to answer the phone.

“He doesn’t have cancer.” Joel sounded incredulous.

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean he’s okay.” Rafe looked to his captain.

“But there’s hope where there wasn’t any before.” Simon put one hand on both Jim’s and Rafe’s shoulders.

“I’m going to go sit with Blair. I have to tell him.” Simon watched him go. Jim did not want to hope yet. Miller had convinced him to let go and now he was afraid to grab hold again.

“Chief? You with me?”

Pain-dulled blue eyes fluttered open. Blair nodded. “Jim, I can’t do it. I thought I could. Hurts.”

“Blair, I’m sorry. I have news though. Blair, you don’t have cancer. Do you hear me, Chief? Please hold on for me, Blair. They might be able to help you. You don’t have cancer.”

“What? No, Jim. I’m dying.”

“Blair, listen to me. Hamilton poisoned you. It was in the inhaler. I don’t know why yet, but I will find out. In the meantime, you have to hold on. Let them try to help you, please. Chief, I’m begging.”

He only nodded.

“Miller will have to use the respirator. Say yes, Buddy.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Jim placed his hand on Blair’s forehead.

Three hours later, Jim sat at Blair’s bedside. Blair had lost consciousness and Miller had hooked him up to the respirator an hour ago. Now, they were waiting for the experts. It seemed that the poison had been red tagged. Two doctors were flying in from Sacramento. Jim did not have the full story yet but supposedly, these doctors had an anti-toxin. The rest of Major Crimes had hit the streets looking for Russell Hamilton. Simon would join them after he swung by the loft to lock it up.  Jim knew he left the damn door open. Simon had promised to call him if they found the man, in spite of his captain’s concerns that Jim would kill him on sight. Jim wanted an explanation too badly to kill him. He would have his explanation first. Then the man might just have to be resisting arrest at the very least.

Jim closed his burning eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. When he opened his eyes again, the sun was coming up. He had not meant to fall asleep. He sat up straight and stretched his sore back. He yawned, then nearly jumped out of his skin as the curtain of Blair’s little ICU corner was flung open. Three men entered. Jim only recognized Miller. They swarmed over Blair and Jim stood to object. Miller intercepted him.

“It’s okay, Jim. This is Dr. Patterson and Dr. Miles. They’re the toxicologists from Sacramento.”

One man pulled a syringe from his lab coat pocket and quickly plunged it into Blair’s IV port.

“What’s he doing?”

“It’s the anti-toxin. We need to start treatment as soon as possible.” The doctor with the syringe announced as he turned to face Jim. “I’m Max Patterson. This is George Miles. Can we talk, Mr. ?”

“Ellison. Detective Jim Ellison. That’s my partner.”

Patterson nodded. “Let’s get some coffee.”

“I don’t want to leave for long.”

“I understand. But you need to know some things about Roger Hallman.”

“Who?”

“I think you might have known him as Russell Hamilton from what Dr. Miller has told us.”

“I see. Yeah, we need to talk.” Jim motioned for the man to proceed.

“We were supposed to be searching for a drug that would only attack cancer cells and leave the healthy cells intact. That was what the grant was for, you see. But Roger had his own agenda. He was diverting money from our research to create biological weapons, toxins with no antidotes, things that could be used over a period of time and mimic symptoms of other aliments and be hard to trace. This particular one actually paralyzes muscle tissue. It works particularly well on the lungs, like in your partner’s case. The lungs just stop working a little at a time. And it’s easily introduced to the lungs through inhalers as you know. When we discovered what he was doing, we called the FBI but somehow Roger escaped them. He took most of the toxin he had made with him but he missed a few vials. We immediately began to work on an antidote. We sent the chemical signature of the toxin to every Poison Control Center in the country and the FBI red flagged it. They have been trying to find him but with no luck until your friend’s case was reported.” Patterson explained.

“Why? Why Blair? I don’t understand.”

“Wish we could tell you. All we do know is that the FBI believes that Hallman had some connections to a militant group in this area and that he was probably planning to give the toxin to them to use as an assassination drug. I mean, it would be relatively simple to replace an inhaler of someone who uses one or get Hallman in a position to treat the person and prescribe the inhaler, like he did with Mr. Sandburg.” Miles told him.

“Militant group? No, it can’t be. The Sunrise Patriots, was that it? The group?”

“I’m not sure. They never told us. There should be agents contacting your department soon if they haven’t already though. They could tell you I’m sure.”

“Son of a bitch. Kincaid. It’s gotta be. Dr. Miller, do you still have that inhaler?”

“No, we gave it to one of the other detectives as evidence. Why?”

“Can you get me one of those samples of the stuff Azmacort or whatever it was called? Better yet, a couple of syringes.”

“Yes, but I ask again, why?”

“Because I’m going to see someone. And I’m going to have to motivate him.”

“Is that legal?”

Jim did not answer.

The guard ushered Kincaid into the room. Jim watched the man’s face. The smug smile told Jim that he was right. “Well, well, Detective Ellison, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this honor?” The guard handcuffed Kincaid to a ring on the table. Jim thanked the man and the guard smiled slyly before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. “What’s this? Where’d the guard go?”

“He had to go to the men’s room. What’s the matter, Kincaid? You don’t trust me?” Jim walked around to stand behind the man who tried to turn to keep him in sight.

“What do you want, Ellison?”

“Well, something happened to my partner.”

The heart rate jumped. “Mr. Natural? Gee, ain’t that sad.”

“I’m glad to hear that you feel that way. Because what happened to my partner is about to happen to you.” Jim plunged a syringe into Kincaid’s arm.

“What the hell! You can’t do that!”

“I just did.”

“I’ll take you down, Ellison! You’ll take my place in here!”

“How do you figure that? I’ll be long gone before you kick off and that guard is not likely to believe you over me.”

Kincaid started laughing. “What am I worried about? This stuff is slow acting and you have to be re-exposed over and over for it to work.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention? This is a new type. It’s concentrated. Patterson and Miles, you remember them, the guys that Hallman double-crossed, they worked on Hallman’s little concoction some. You’re dead in, oh I’d say, four hours tops. Unless—“

“Unless, what?”

Jim removed a second syringe from his pocket. “This is the antidote. You tell me where I might find Hallman and I’ll give you this.”

Kincaid stared at the syringe. “I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Do you have a choice?”

“You won’t let me die as long as you don’t have Hallman.”

“Wrong. I’d like a piece of Hallman, that’s true. But the truth is, you are ultimately responsible. Your death will be enough to satisfy me.”

“None of this will hold up in court.”

“In a little while, you won’t need a court.”

Silence. “Okay.” Jim got up and headed for the door.

“Wait. Some of my people are going to get him out of the country tonight, Cascade Harbor. The boat’s called the Rising Sun.”

“How quaint. What time?”

“Midnight.”

“Just one more question. Why Blair?”

Kincaid smiled again and made Jim wish that he really had poisoned the bastard. “He’s inferior stock. A bleeding liberal hippie. You, I understand. You were just doing your job. You’re the kind of man that I would like to convert to my side. But him? He’s trash. He had no business disrupting my operations. He had to pay.”

“You worthless bastard. You know, for inferior stock, he sure shut you down pretty effectively. But I’ll leave you to your delusions and your boyfriends. They must be missing you by now. I’ll go and let you get back to them.”

Kincaid was enraged. He tried in vain to get free of the table but it was no use.

“See you round, Kincaid.”

“Ellison! The antidote! You promised!” he screamed.

Jim laughed. “It was sugar water, Kincaid. Just like this one.” Jim emptied the syringe in front of the man and then knocked on the door. The guard opened the door and Jim left Kincaid sitting there threatening to kill him.

Jim arranged to make sure Kincaid was kept separate from the general population and not allowed any outside contact until it would be too late for him to warn his people. The warden, a former cop, was more than happy to help out. As Jim drove away from federal prison, he called Simon. He relayed the information and told his captain he was going back to the hospital but he would be joining the arrest team that now consisted of both Major Crimes and FBI personnel to take down Hallman. Then he called the hospital. They put him through to Patterson immediately. Blair was stable. They had started antibiotics to combat the pneumonia and were continuing the antidote. Blair’s lungs were responding well but they were keeping him on the respirator for the time being.

Satisfied that his guide was in good hands, he turned his focus to piecing together the puzzle he had been presented with. Hallman put himself in a position to treat Blair. Did he wait until Blair got sick or did he have something to do with Blair getting sick to start with? He would have to check Blair’s office and car for any signs of tampering. The toxin could have been piped in to make Blair sick. So, Hallman put himself there on campus under the guise of being a dedicated doctor volunteering time. Then he convinced Blair that something was seriously wrong and proceeded to fake or “borrow” some x-rays. Suddenly, Blair was dying. Miller was duped into confirming the diagnosis and Hallman started slowly killing his best friend. He thought of Blair’s suffering. The man deserved to die, but he had to live because he would point a finger at Kincaid. Even if Jim had to break the other nine to make sure he did.

Jim put down the book he had been reading aloud to Blair and looked at his watch. It was time to go. He stood and leaned over Blair’s bed. He touched Blair’s face gently. “I’m so sorry, Chief, but I have to go get the bastard that put you here. I’ll come back as soon as it’s over. You hang in there.” He kissed the fevered forehead, grabbed his jacket, and left quickly.

He met Simon and the others at the appointed time at the station and they went over their plan once more. The FBI would have boats in the harbor to make sure that escape route was cut off. Major Crimes and a few feds would wait until Kincaid’s men and Hallman got out on to the docks and then move in. Hopefully, they would see that they were trapped and give up without a fight.

The best laid plans often got screwed up by fanatics, however and that was exactly what happened. The ensuing firefight was short as Kincaid’s Sunrise Patriots were easily taken down. Jim moved out among the downed men looking for a familiar face. It was not there. “Hallman! Come on out! You can’t get out of here. You’re caught in a good tight net.”

“Detective! I can save your partner. I have a cure. You cut me a deal and it’s yours.”

Jim looked at Simon. “Fucker.”

Simon actually chuckled a little.

“How do I know you’re not lying, Hallman?” Jim played along while zooming in on Hallman’s position. The man had given him a general area with his offer and now Jim was able to pinpoint the man’s frantic heartbeat and heavy breathing. He pointed to a small boat to the left of Simon. “In the hold,” he whispered to his captain.

“I’m not lying. I can help him.”

“How do you want to do this? We go after him and he’s armed, he gets a shot at us. We let him think we’ll deal and he comes out---“

“Let him think we’re dealing.” Simon told Jim.

“Okay, Hallman. I’ve talked it over with my captain. We’ll deal. Come on out.”

Hallman was smiling when he emerged. The others did not need Jim’s sentinel sight to see that maniacal grin in the harbor lights “I knew you’d see reason.” He held up a gun.

“Toss the gun.” Jim instructed.

The gun hit the water. “Kneel down.”

He did. Jim and Simon approached him. Simon handcuffed him while Jim kept him covered. When Simon was done, Jim turned to the federal agent behind him. “He’s all yours.”

“What! We had a deal, Ellison! Are you going to let your partner die?”

“Thanks to Dr. Patterson and Dr. Miles, your former partners, my partner is going to live. You? Well, you, on the other hand, do not strike me as the type that lasts in prison.”

“I’ll give you my employer!”

“I know you will.” Jim smiled as the federal agent led the frantic man away.

Jim holstered his gun and sighed.

“You wanted to kill him.” Simon stated.

“Oh yeah. Badly. But I don’t have to. He’ll die, and he’ll suffer before he does. He rolls on Kincaid and he won’t last a month in prison. He’s too stupid to realize that. In the process, Kincaid gets a conspiracy to commit murder sentence tacked on to what he’s already got. When he gets out, he’ll be too damn old to lead his rebellion.”

“We may have trouble with that conviction, Jim, after your visit to the prison.”

“What visit to the prison, Simon? I wasn’t out at the prison. Just ask the guards on duty, or the warden. Better yet, look at the visitor’s log. No Jim Ellison there.”

Simon shook his head. “Do I want to know?”

“No. If it did come out, you’d then be an accessory. I wouldn’t want that, sir. My luck, they’d make us cellmates. At least Blair doesn’t smoke cigars.” Jim left his captain with his mouth hanging open in the attempt to come up with a proper retort.

He nearly swallowed a moth before he settled for his old stand-by. “You must want to work traffic for the next month, Ellison.”

Patterson met Jim outside of Blair’s cubicle. “What is it?”

“It’s good news, Detective. He is most definitely responding to the anti-toxin. Fortunately, since our drug goes straight into the bloodstream and works faster, he is getting better much faster than he got sick. We’re getting ready to remove the respirator. He is capable of breathing on his own and the faster we get him off that respirator, the faster his lungs will heal.”

“That’s great news.” Jim’s knees felt weak as relief swept over him.

“Then let’s get on with it, shall we?” Patterson slapped him on the shoulder.

“…im?”

It was sentinel soft. Ordinarily it would not have even been loud enough to wake even the sentinel but Jim had been waiting on this moment for a day and a half. Sleep was not going to rob him of being there when Blair rejoined the world. His senses were all tuned to the man in the hospital bed, and so the soft whimper that was only part of his name did wake him. He had Blair’s hand in his in an instant. “Hey there, Lazarus. Welcome back to living.”

“Is true then?”

“Oh yeah, Chief. It’s true. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, you still have a ways to go before you’re well. You just rest and feel better, okay?”

“Thought… dream.”

Jim shook his head. “You’re going to live, Blair. There is no cancer. You are going to be fine. Of course, I think you used another of your nine lives but you got a few left yet.”

Blair tried to smile. “Uh-uh, you’re the cat. ‘Member?”

Jim laughed. “I remember.” Blair’s eyes drifted closed. “Sleep, Chief. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Epilogue

It was so damn hard not to try to do everything for him. He was still weak after all, but Blair insisted on doing things for himself. And Jim felt useless. He did not have enough to do without the things that he had done for Blair. Blair went to the bathroom by himself. He got dressed by himself. He bathed himself. He fed himself. He walked out of his room and plopped down in his chair all by himself and took himself off to bed without Jim’s help. Jim should have been happy. He had his fiercely independent, self-sufficient roommate back. A little longer yet and he would have his partner back. He was already going back to the university next week. Blair had been in the hospital for a week and he had been out of the hospital for two weeks. He was gaining the lost weight back and he was stronger everyday. Still, Jim wanted to take care of him. He realized the fear-based response for what it was. Funny that he had actually accepted that little not-so-desirable truth about himself now. He was driven so often by fear. And the fear of losing Blair was still too fresh in his mind. The younger man was more than just his guide and partner. He was family. He was the one person that Jim would not want to be without. Simon had been right. If Blair were lost, the world would be a darker place.

“Jim, are you going to stand there staring at me or are you going to set the table? The guys will be here any minute. Get the lead out.” Blair scolded as he finished up the stir-fry he was making. He looked flushed.

“Are you getting winded, Chief. I could do that.”

Blair glared at him. “I’ve got it. Set the table.”

Jim sighed and got the plates out of the cabinet. “Sorry, Chief.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just want to do this. Last time---“ he paused. “Last time, I couldn’t really do anything. I want to make dinner for my friends. I’m tired, I admit, but I’m almost done.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jim put the plates on the table and moved back to his friend.

Blair smiled. “You kept saying that when I was sick.”

“Well, you kept apologizing for being sick.”

“I was a lot of trouble.”

“No. Never.”

“Thanks.

“You’re welcome. It’s what family does.”

The spoon in Blair’s hand hit the floor and the wok clattered on the stove as Blair released it. “God, Jim, do you know what that means to me?”

“I think so. I just figured it out myself over the last couple of months.” Jim grabbed him and hugged him tight. He smiled at the bewildered look on Blair’s face before grabbing a handful of silverware out of the drawer and dropping it unceremoniously on the table. He then made his way over to the overstuffed chaise lounge that he had bought for Blair and collapsed into it.

“Jim! You didn’t set the table! A stack of plates and a pile of forks is not a set table!”

“It’s just the guys. They can get their own plate and silverware. And they’ll be drinking bottled beer. No need for glasses. I’m done.” He closed his eyes. Maybe he was adjusting to normalcy faster than he thought. Damn, this chair was comfortable.

A shadow fell across him. He opened his eyes and focused them on a very irate guide with a huge fork in his hand. “Jim.” Funny, he sounded harmless. “I love you dearly but if you don’t get your ass up and set that table, I’m going to check and see if you’re done, clear.”

“Damn, you’re crabby.”

“Don’t think I don’t know how to use this, Jim.”

“Okay!” Jim got up and Blair followed him into the kitchen.

“And that’s my chair. Keep your ass out of it.”

“Hey!” A knock at the door cut off his protest.

The party ended with Blair asleep in his chair. The scene was familiar; the mood just happier as Major Crimes filed out of the loft. The smiles were bright, instead of sad. Simon was last once again.

“I was afraid to ask for a miracle. I was afraid I wouldn’t get it. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Well, I forgot something very important.”

“What’s that?”

“That kid is a miracle.”

Jim grinned. “Yeah, I guess he is.” His captain left then and Jim ambled over to the couch. He lay down and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over him. He settled down on his side so he could see his guide, his friend and brother. He listened to the precious heartbeat. It was strong. He listened to the rush of air through healing lungs. He sighed. Blair was alive. Jim was asleep in minutes, a smile on his face.