Part 2
Disclaimer: Not mine… Not making
money and I don’t mean just with this story! <g>
Notes and
warnings: Thanks to my beta reader, Ihket.
Blair as a cop just ain’t my thing so you won’t see it here. This may be a little sad too but just keep
saying to yourself, “Danae doesn’t do death….Danae doesn’t do death…” Come on,
say it with me…. J Oh, and there is some language….Not much,
maybe a PG-13 thing.
And though I
started it before we got the news, I’m dedicating this story to Fran as my way
of saying welcome back to the land of the living.
“Watch that
side.” Jim instructed the deliveryman.
“That’s got it. Bring it over
here. Yeah, right there.” He watched the two men place the new chaise where
he instructed and then remove the protective plastic. “Perfect. Thanks, guys.”
He tipped them on their way out. He
smiled. The chaise was nice and
soft. Blair would be comfortable in
that. He had found it one day when he
went out to the store while the Hospice nurse was with Blair. It was in the store window on display. He had stopped and bought it. He had wanted to take it home with him then
but they had only the one on display and it was torn on the side away from the
window. Delivery only took two days but
Jim was still a little disappointed at the wait. But the wait was over.
“Hey, Chief. I got something I
want you to see.” He called as he made his way to the little room under the
stairs where his guide had spent most of the two weeks since Jim had brought
him home from the hospital. Blair was
propped up on pillows. It was hard for
him to breathe laying flat and he would not let Jim order a hospital bed for
him. It was a “sick thing.” That was what Blair called anything that Jim
bought that was designed to take care of a “sick person.” Blair did not like “sick things.” The portable toilet had to go back. Blair was so upset by it that he cried. That made him lose his breath and start
coughing. Jim was just trying to make
things easier for him. It was hard for
Blair to get to the bathroom. The
Hospice nurse told Jim to let it go for a while.
But the chaise
was not a “sick thing.” It was a piece of furniture that Jim might have bought
even if Blair had not been sick. It was
nice. The fact that it would allow
Blair to come out into the living room and still be comfortable was completely
beside the point. Now, if he could just
sell Blair on that, he would be home free.
He entered
Blair’s room. “Let’s get you out of
here for a little while.”
“What did you
do?” The voice was soft, raspy and yes,
weak, Jim admitted to himself.
“Got a new
chair. You’ll like it.”
“Better not be a
wheelchair.”
“No, Chief. No wheelchair.” Jim mostly lifted his guide
from the bed and was once again shocked at just how fast Blair was getting
worse. He could not eat solid foods
anymore. He drank Ensure and got some
nutrients from the IV that the Hospice nurse hooked him up to everyday. He was losing weight fast. “You want to try to walk or can I carry
you?” Even as he asked, he put Blair’s feet on the floor. He did not let go. Blair’s knees were not locking.
Would he admit that he could not walk?
A sad sigh cut
through Jim’s heart as sure as a knife.
“You’ll have to carry me. I’m sorry,
Jim.”
“Nothing to be
sorry for. It’s not your fault that
you’re sick. You are going to have to
stop apologizing for that.” Jim scooped
him up then and carried him into the living room and over to the chaise. Carefully, he lowered Blair into the
chair. “What do you think? You can stay out here and watch TV with me
now. I know the couch wasn’t
comfortable for you and I saw this chair.
It really matched everything here and it’s soft and you’re not saying
anything.”
“It’s a sick
thing.”
“No, Blair. It’s new furniture.”
“That you
wouldn’t have bought had I not gotten sick.”
“Well, maybe,
maybe not but I like it, and I’m not taking it back and I want you to sit in
it.” The other man was silent, his eyes
accusing Jim of betrayal. “Please, Chief.”
The eyes
softened. He nodded. “It’s nice, Jim. It is comfortable. I
don’t mean to be difficult.”
“You aren’t
difficult. Different, but never
difficult.”
“Thanks, Jim.”
“You’re welcome,
Chief.” Jim ruffled the tangled
curls. “The guys from the station want
to come over for dinner and the game tomorrow.
Do you mind? Are you up for
company?”
”Yeah, I miss them.”
“Good. Now, you just rest here while I get
your—“ He almost said dinner. A can of nasty milky liquid was not dinner. “I’ll be right back. Here’s the remote. Find something you want to watch.”
“Don’t you miss
working, Jim? You could go to work, if
you wanted.”
“I’m fine right
here, Chief.”
He did not push
the issue. When Jim came back from the
kitchen with the glass of Ensure, the TV was on Animal Planet and Blair was
halfway between watching a special on cats and sleeping. He touched Blair’s hand with the glass and
then placed it in the hand. It took
coaxing and nearly twenty minutes but finally the last of the liquid was
consumed. Jim took the glass, washed it
and put it away. He grabbed Blair’s
inhaler from the counter. If the “meal”
was a struggle, the inhaler was an all out fight. Blair hated the inhaler.
It hurt him because he had to try to breathe deeply to use it. After the inhaler, Jim took him back into
his room and gave him a shot for the pain.
He sat on the side of the bed until Blair was fully asleep then went to
make his own dinner. As was the case
lately, he was exhausted by the time he got finished cleaning up after his
meal. He checked the locks, turned out
the lights and went to bed.
There was a
knock on the door and Jim sighed. He
was trying to get Blair settled. The
nurse had just left. Maybe she had
forgotten something. He gathered up the
towels from Blair’s sponge bath and threw them in the general direction of the
bathroom hamper as he extended his senses to determine who was at the
door. It was not the nurse. It was a man’s cologne his nose picked up,
not the delicate flower scent of the woman’s perfume. It was early for Simon and the guys from Major Crimes to start
showing up. And no cigar smell so it
was not Simon. But the scent was
familiar. He opened the door and nearly
choked. “Dad?”
“Hello
Jimmy. Can I come in?”
“Oh, yeah,
sure.” Jim stepped back and let his
father enter. “What can I do for you?”
“I was worried
about you.”
“Worried about
me? Why?”
“I tried to call
you at work the other day and they told me that you were not working. Are you sick?”
Jim smiled and
shook his head. “No, Dad. I’m not sick. It’s Blair. You want to
sit down?” Jim motioned toward the
couch.
“Blair? That’s the young man that works with
you? Sandburg, right?” He sat and looked to his son for an explanation.
“Yeah. He’s got cancer. It’s terminal. They
didn’t catch it in time and he’s going downhill fast. I never knew it could happen this fast, Dad.”
“Let me get this
straight. You’re taking care of the
Sandburg boy. Jim, I can’t say that I
don’t understand the desire to lessen his suffering. Truly I do understand that, Jimmy, but you have to consider
yourself here. You are losing income. Are you covering his medical expenses? Does he even have insurance?“
“You can stop
there. Thank you for your concern. Thank you for coming by. You can show yourself out.”
“Jimmy! That boy is not your responsibility. The state has programs that will cover his
medical expenses if his family is not responsible enough to do so. He could go back to the hospital and you
could get on with your life.”
“His family is
covering his expenses. And he doesn’t
want to be in the hospital.”
”Oh, really? So you are being
reimbursed? That changes things.”
“I am his
family. I don’t expect you to
understand that but I do expect you to respect it and if you can’t, then you
need to go and not come back.”
“Jimmy, this is
ridiculous. Ruining yourself
financially is not going to keep that boy from dying.” His father stood. Jim wondered if he was actually trying to
intimidate him.
Two could play
at that and Jim was no longer a little boy.
He stood and moved into the man’s space. “Get out! Get out of my
home. Get out of Blair’s home.”
The man raised
his hand and opened his mouth but Jim grabbed him by the shoulder and showed
him to the door physically. He slammed
the door on his father and took a deep breath to try to calm down. That was when he heard it. Soft sobs floated to his ears from Blair’s
room. “You son of bitch,” he cursed,
“he heard you.”
“Blair!” Jim rushed to his guide’s room. He pushed open the door and entered. “He’s a jackass, Chief. He’s gone and he isn’t coming back.”
The words were
hard to understand through the tears but Jim’s sentinel ears deciphered them
all too easily. “He’s right. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. It wasn’t fair to you. You should just take me back to the
hospital.”
“That is not
going to happen. Didn’t you hear me out
there, Blair? You’re family to me. You want to be here and I want you to be
here. I will not let you die in that
hospital. And you will not die alone.”
The sobs
intensified then. “How? How did you know?”
“Because I know
you, Blair. And I love you.” He sat down on the bed and shifted his
friend until Jim’s back rested on the headboard and Blair lay on his chest
until sleep finally ended Blair’s tears.
Jim carefully
slid out from under Blair and arranged the man on his pillows. He slipped out of the room. With Blair asleep, he could allow himself to
express his anger. He would never let
Blair see his anger and frustration.
And right now, Jim was very angry.
He decided to work out that anger on cleaning the loft. He was scrubbing the already spotless
kitchen counter when Simon approached the door. Jim opened it before he could knock. His captain took one look at his face and asked the question that
Jim did and did not want to answer. To
tell about it would be to admit that his father was really the heartless
bastard that Jim always thought he was but did not want to admit. But to not tell about it would probably mean
that Jim would explode from the pressure inside as his emotions boiled.
“What happened?”
the man asked.
Since exploding
would be a bad thing, he decided to tell.
“My father happened. He came in
here, harping on how I was going to ruin my finances taking care of Blair and
how Blair wasn’t my responsibility and he should be back in the hospital. I threw him out of the house. And if that weren’t bad enough, Blair heard
the whole damn thing. I thought he was
asleep but I guess he woke up when he heard our voices. He was crying; saying he hadn’t been fair to
me, that dad was right.”
“Damn!”
“Yeah. But I think I got through to him. I just can’t let it go. I’m so damn mad and the more I think about
it the madder I get. Blair doesn’t need
to have to deal with me and my temper tantrums right now.”
“You need a
break? You could take a walk. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jim thought
about the offer. “Yeah. I won’t be gone long. He’s had his medication and he’s
asleep. I won’t be gone long. Thanks.”
Jim headed for the door then paused, looking at the closed French doors. He smiled briefly at Simon and left before
he could change his mind.
I won’t be
gone long. I won’t be gone long. Jim had said it twice.
As if Simon needed convincing.
He knew quite well that Jim would hardly get past the corner before he
wanted to come back. Simon hoped he
took longer though. The man really
needed a break. He wondered if Jim
realized that he had forgotten to shave or if he noticed the dark circles under
his own eyes. He sighed. He glanced around the loft. It was spotless. Jim had not forgotten to clean at least. He almost laughed. Jim forget to clean? Never happen. Simon then looked at the closed French doors himself. He swallowed the lump that immediately
swelled up in his throat and made his way over to them. Silently, he turned the doorknob and slipped
into the room.
The big captain
gently lowered himself down to sit on the edge of the bed and settled his gaze
on the sleeping man in it. Stray curls
covered Blair’s face and Simon’s hand raised of its own accord to brush them
out of way. Even in sleep, Blair
Sandburg was in pain. Simon could see
lines of tension and pain etching their way from his mouth and eyes. Simon sighed, then tilted his head back,
planning to say a prayer for his young friend.
He hesitated, trying to figure out what to pray for. For a miracle? Not likely to get that prayer.
For an end to Blair’s suffering?
That would only mean more suffering for Jim. And himself, if he were honest.
Finally, he said the only thing that he could come up with, that felt
right. “Please, God, just do what’s
best for Blair.”
“Simon?” The soft question drew his attention and he
looked down to see dark blue slightly unfocused eyes searching his face.
“Yeah, Blair,
it’s me, son. How are you
feeling?” That was a stupid question;
he knew it as soon as he said it, but what did one say in this situation?
“Bad. Simon, I have to talk to you.” He took a shuddering breath, which only make
him cough.
Simon winced at
the harsh rasping sound. “Just rest,
Blair. Jim stepped out for a few
minutes.”
“Good. Can’t rest.
I don’t have much more time here.
I have to talk to you about Jim.”
Simon
nodded. He knew that this conversation
was going to have to come. He did not
want to have it, but it was necessary.
“Go ahead.”
“My notebooks
are locked in a safety deposit box. The
key is taped under the drawer of the nightstand. My password for my computer files is Holy Grail. It’s case sensitive.”
“What the hell
is going on here?” Jim’s voice boomed throughout the loft as the door
slammed. “Simon! What are you doing? You are not interrogating him, do you hear
me?” The man stormed into the room and
shoved Simon away from the bed. “Blair,
go back to sleep. Simon and I need to
talk.”
“No, Jim,” Blair
cried as he struggled to hold onto Jim’s arm.
“He didn’t do anything. I needed
to talk to him.”
“No! We are not going to talk about this! And that’s my final word!” Jim pulled his arm away and turned to glare
at Simon.
“Jim! Please, I have to talk to him.” Blair cried
again. “I have to, Jim. I’m dying.
Don’t you understand? I have to
do this before it’s too late.”
“I don’t want to
hear this!”
“You have to,
Jim.”
Simon closed his
eyes and rubbed his temples.
“Blair, please,
you need to rest.” Jim lowered his
voice, his tone becoming as pleading as Blair’s.
“No, Jim. I’m going to die. There’s nothing I can do about that. Nothing anybody can do but I can do something for you. I have to go but I can make sure that
somebody will be there for you who understands. Please Jim, don’t make me die without making sure you live.”
Simon felt the
warmth of the tear on his cheek before he even realized that he was
crying. For his part, Jim Ellison
gasped as though he himself was in pain and swore under his breath. When he met Simon’s eyes again, Simon saw
defeat and despair staring back at him.
He watched then as Jim turned back to Blair and smoothed unruly curls
away from the young man’s forehead then swiftly placed a gentle kiss
there. “He’s tired, Simon. Try to make this short,” Jim said stiffly as
he left the room.
When Simon came
out of Blair’s room, the subject was dropped.
Simon tried to talk to him, but Jim would have nothing of it. He held up a hand to forestall the lecture
or whatever Simon had planned to say.
“Henri and Rafe are on their way up.
Just… can we do this later? I
can’t talk about it right now.”
His captain
nodded. “Need any help?”
“No, I got the
grill going on the balcony. Steaks are
ready to be thrown on.”
“Let me do that
and you get the door.”
Jim handed him
the plate of steaks. “You know, Blair
can’t eat steak. He can’t eat anything
anymore.” His eyes burned and he fought
a quick battle with his emotions. He
drove the tears back and gave Simon a crooked half-smile. The look of pity, no, that was not fair,
sympathy on Simon’s face almost did him in again so he turned away and got to
the door before the guys could knock.
“Hi, H, Rafe, come on in. Glad
you could make it.”
Simon waved a
greeting to his men then hurried out onto the balcony. The sun was setting over the bay and Simon
stared at the orange and red horizon for several minutes as he tried to get a
handle on his grief. This would be
Blair Sandburg’s last get-together with his friends at Major Crimes. No one had actually said it but they all
knew it was true. He needed to get his
game face on. Blair would have a good
time tonight. As good a time as he
could anyway. He needed to see
smiles. He needed to be reminded of
good times. He did not need to have to
comfort. It was he who needed comforting. Simon shook his head and raised his eyes
above the horizon to where the sky was still blue. He set his resolve and a smile on his face, then turned to place
the steaks on the grill. When he
re-entered the loft, he was ready to give an Academy Award winning
performance. For the sake of Blair
Sandburg.
It was Megan who
broke down. Jim had been teasing her
about that pink fur coat she was wearing when she arrived in Cascade. Blair was laughing at first until he started
coughing. Jim rushed over to his chair
with a Kleenex. When he pulled it away
from Blair’s mouth it was red with blood.
“Sorry.” Blair
whispered.
“Nothing to be
sorry for. Okay now?”
Blair
nodded. Jim was blocking Blair’s view and
Simon was grateful as he realized that Megan’s face was streaked with
tears.
“Connor, help me
in the kitchen.” He rose and gently but
firmly pulled Megan up and out of the room.
“We’re making more coffee and you are drying those eyes. Do not let that kid see you cry. He’s got enough to contend with without
having to deal with your tears. Cry
later. Smile now. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“I know. I know how you feel but just---“ He sighed and reached out to her. She came into his arms and he hugged her
gently. Jim had Blair’s attention so
Simon held her for a few moments until she pulled away.
“Thank you,
sir.” She wiped her eyes and squared
her shoulders.
“You’re
welcome. Just don’t spread it
around. I have a reputation as a hard
ass that I’d like to keep intact.”
She did smile
then. “Gotcha.”
The evening was
over too soon for Major Crimes. No one
wanted to leave but Blair had long since fallen asleep in the chair Jim had
bought for him. Jim himself was exhausted. He hated to rush them out but he needed to
get Blair to bed before he was too tired to carry him. Henri and Rafe gave Jim sad smiles then
waved, not saying a word as they left.
Joel Taggert kissed the tips of his own fingers then pressed them to
Blair’s forehead before he nearly ran out of the door. Megan kissed his guide’s cheek, causing
Blair to stir a bit but not wake entirely.
Only Simon was left and Jim watched as his gruff captain knelt beside
the chair.
“It has been an
honor and a pleasure, Blair Sandburg.
You will be sorely missed. I
wasn’t supposed to care, you stupid kid.
Why couldn’t you just go along with the plan? You are the best of us.
The world is going to be so much darker now.” He stood abruptly and
strode to the door where Jim waited.
“I’m so sorry, Jim.”
The tears came
this time. They won the battle and
formed wet tracks down Jim’s face.
“He’s not dead yet.” Jim whispered.
“Jim—“
“I know, I
know. Just let me hold on until I have
to let go, Simon. Does that make
sense? I just can’t let go.”
Simon
nodded. “I do understand. Jim, if you need me, I’ll be there.”
“I know. Good night, Simon.”
When Simon was
gone, Jim moved to the chair that held his best friend and knelt beside it as
Simon had. “Blair, Buddy, wake up a
minute.”
“Hmm?” Dark lashes fluttered and Blair turned his
head toward Jim’s voice.
“You have to
take your medicine, Chief. Then we need
to get you to bed. Okay?”
“’kay.”
The next few
minutes were miserable for them both.
The inhaler caused another bout of coughing and Blair cried. The pain medicine was well received,
however. An indication of how much pain
Blair was in. His guide hated to take
drugs. Jim sat with him until the lines
of pain around his eyes lessened a little.
Blair was never pain free anymore but the painkiller did make it easier
on him. Then Jim prepared to lift him
from the chair and take him into his bedroom.
“No,” came the
weak protest. “Stay here. More comfortable,” Blair mumbled.
“Sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
Jim rearranged
him into his original position in the chair.
“Anything you want, Chief. Can I
sit here and read for a while? Will it
bother you?”
“No.” Blair was already half asleep again.
Jim moved to the
couch. He had no intention to
read. He just wanted to be close
by. The couch would be more comfortable
than Blair’s floor so he was not going to complain. He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over him and
settled down on his side so that he could see his friend. He was asleep in minutes.