Disclaimer: Ain't mine, I know that and I'm trying to cope. Just leave me alone for a minute. Okay, I've managed at least to stop crying but I still say it ain't fair.

Warnings: PG-13 or R for language and violence. Only spell-checked.

It's not long… another not quite story, not quite snippet thing. And believe it or not, I don't think Jim's a jerk… well, not all the time but sometimes it helps the angst factor if he does something jerky. Know what I mean?? I welcome feedback. Thanks!

Danae

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Blessed with a Curse

by Danae

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"Hi, Jim," his roommate greeted him as he stepped into the loft and flung his keys in the basket by the door. Blair was cooking. Good, he was too damn tired to even think about having to prepare anything.

"Hey, Chief," he grumbled as he walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. Jim stuck his head in and sighed in disgust. He stood and slammed the door. "You drank the last beer, didn't you, Sandburg?" He glared at the younger man.

Blair bit his lip and smiled a little in chagrin. "Well, not all of it." He nodded toward the half empty bottle on the counter. "Besides-"

"You know," Jim cut off the supposed explanation. He did not want to hear it. "If you knew it was the last one, you could have stopped by on the way home and picked up some more. All I want is to come home and relax, have a beer, watch a game. Instead, I guess I'll be going to the grocery store because my -roommate-- decides to help himself to the last beer."

Blair had flinched at the way he had stressed the word "roommate" but Jim just could not bring himself to care. His day had really sucked, to use said roommate's words. He was tired; he was irritable and he wanted a damn beer.

"No, Jim. You don't have to go. I'll go. I'll just get this started and run down to Angelo's market and pick up some things. Beer included, of course. I'm sorry, Jim. This should keep until I get back." Blair removed the "Kiss the cook" apron he was wearing and moved swiftly past Jim to the door. "Anything else you want?"

Blair was angry but he was going to get beer so Jim did not comment. "No, just beer."

Blair turned quickly, grabbed his keys and was gone. He had been gone for about five minutes before Jim remembered that Blair's car was in the shop. That meant that his partner was walking to Angelo's. The market was not far, just three blocks, but suddenly Jim felt like a jackass. He sighed and walked out onto the balcony. He decided to try and track his guide's progress. He closed his eyes and used his ears. Knowing Blair, he would be talking. If not to others on the street, then to himself about what a jerk Jim was being. Sure enough, he located the young man and what he heard increased his shame and guilt.

".selective damn memory. He has a bad day and forgets that he was supposed to get the damn groceries on the way home. I even offered but NO! He could do it, he said. Not a problem, he said. If you'll start dinner, he said, I'll get the groceries. I think I even said, don't forget the fucking beer. He better have remembered to call in the order like he said he would. If he forgot that too, then I hope his damn dinner burns. And don't think for a minute that I'm gonna let him off the hook. I'm gonna wait until he's enjoying his precious beer and THEN he is SO gonna hear it. Jerk." The monologue went on in the same vein until he reached Angelo's. There he took a deep breath and released it slowly. Jim could almost see him placing a genial smile on his face before opening the door. Jim listened as Blair greeted Angelo and his wife Julia with all the carefree happiness that was usually present in his voice. Angelo and Julia would think that all was fine and dandy in Blair's life with that greeting. Jim knew better. He resigned himself to the reprimand that he was going to get when Blair got home. He deserved it, after all. Angelo had the groceries ready. Jim had not forgotten to place the order. It was something they did when neither of them had time to really shop for themselves. He listened as Blair paid the shop owner, collected the groceries, bid the couple good night, even agree to say hello to Jim for them, and then leave the store. Oddly, however, his partner stopped outside the store. "What is that?" he heard Blair mutter. His partner then turned the opposite way from the loft. Jim focused his ears ahead of Blair's location and he heard it. There was apparently an assault in progress.

"No, Blair. Don't," he ordered aloud to the man who could not possibly hear him.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" his partner exclaimed. Jim would not be able to recall the details of the next horrifying minutes later. The only thing that he would recall until his dying day was the sound of an iron pipe connecting with his guide's body. Jim was on his way to the truck before Blair fell to the sidewalk.

He cranked the truck with one hand while the other fumbled for the radio. "Signal 7, Prospect, alley between Floyd and Williams, I need backup and an ambulance." He threw the mic down without even identifying himself, and concentrated on driving. He had to get to Blair. It was only three blocks. Jim remembered thinking earlier that the store was only three blocks, not far at all, but now, it seemed like 300 miles. He thought he would never get there. After the eternity of only moments, he swung the truck into the alleyway, the rear-end fishtailing and clipping the corner of Fisher Furniture. He did not notice. He jumped from the truck and ran. Five men raced to the other end and scattered, never knowing that Jim was not interested in them at all. He slid to his knees next to his prone guide. His hands shook as he carefully turned Blair over. A gash at the hairline allowed blood to obscure the precious face. Jim lifted his best friend onto his lap and held him. "Blair, buddy, can you hear me?" he whispered softly.

Blair stirred slightly. His eyes opened just a bit. "mm-J-jim?"

"Yeah, Chief, it's me. Just lay still, Blair. Help's on the way."

"I'm s-sorry."

"What for, buddy?"

"I dr-dropped the beer. Br-broke." Blair shook his head sadly.

Jim drew a quick breath and clamped down on the wave of emotion that threatened to bring tears to his eyes. "I don't give a damn about the beer, Chief. I'm so sorry for this whole thing."

"S'okay. The old m-man?"

Jim glanced at the old bum that had obviously been the original victim. He was moving around a little and muttering to himself. "He's alive, Blair."

"Good. Tired, J-jim."

"Stay awake for me, okay?"

"Try."

The black and white finally came and the ambulance arrived soon after. Jim walked with the gurney, one hand on his partner's arm as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance. "I'll be right behind you, Chief. Hang on for me."

A slight nod was his response.

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He was so focused on what was happening to Blair behind those closed doors that when Simon entered the waiting room and sat down beside him, he was startled. He tried to smile but it was not convincing. "Who called you?"

"Addison. He was the officer that responded. What happened?"

Jim explained what he had heard from his balcony three blocks away. Then he put his head in his hands so that he would not have to see the look of pity on Simon's face. "It's like being blessed with a curse, Simon. I could hear him from three blocks away but I couldn't do a damn thing about it when he was attacked. He was only trying to help that old bum and look what he gets for it. And why was he out there? Go ahead, ask, why?"

"Why was he out walking to the market after dark?" Simon obliged.

"Because I'm a jackass. I forgot to go by and get the groceries and then laid into him for drinking the last beer. He got pissed and went after the groceries even though his car was in the shop." Jim chuckled ruefully. "He was processing, see? He wanted to take my stupid head off but instead he left. He was going to give it to me good once he got my beer for me. I heard him planning it on his way there."

"How is he?"

"Bruised, concussed, a couple of broken ribs. I'm pretty sure that they're going to let him go home though. He's alert and answering their questions. He had to have a few stitches in the cut on his head. From what I've heard, it wasn't as bad as it looked. It looked bad. Scalp wounds bleed a lot, I know but-"

"But this was Blair bleeding and as his-- what does he call you?"

"His blessed protector."

"Right. As his blessed protector, your good sense and medic experience went right out the window and all you could see was blood."

"You know me too well, Simon." He paused and let his attention drift back to his guide. They were giving Blair instructions. "You know, he apologized for dropping the beer."

Simon laughed. "He would."

"Yeah, just like he'd try and help some old bum and get himself beat up for the trouble."

"That's Sandburg."

Jim nodded, distractedly, as he noticed the doctor coming toward him. He listened to the instructions for the second time since he could not admit to having heard them the first time. He nodded and agreed at the appropriate places and followed Dr. Temple back to collect his best friend.

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Blair was asleep before Jim got the covers over him. He tucked the edges close around his guide and sighed. "Why do you put up with me?" he whispered. "But you know, you shouldn't have walked, damn it. And you shouldn't have tried to take on five guys by yourself. But you wouldn't be you then, huh?" Jim brushed a stray curl from Blair's forehead. "Still, I was a jackass. But you'll pay me back when you're better."

"You better believe it, Jim."

Jim laughed as dark blue eyes opened and pinned him with a stern, if somewhat unfocused, gaze. "Good night, Chief."

"Night, Jim. And thanks for being my blessed protector." Those eyes slid closed again as Blair slipped back into slumber.

Jim felt a twinge in his chest. "Blessed. Blessed to have you." Jim turned off the light and went upstairs to bed.

The End

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