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.