Some Days…
By
SA August themefic
I want stories with Jim
owies and Blair comfort
You can hurt Jim as little
(a hangnail or paper cut) or as much (life-threatening injury or illness) as
you want. All I ask is NO death fics.
Bonus points if you can work
in any or all of the following:
a) Blair has to help Jim out
of a zone
b) Blair is on the verge of
exhaustion
c) Blair is hurt also to
some extent
Now I
like Jim owies, so that wasn’t a problem, I think I got a, b, and c covered as
well. Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair parked his Volvo next to Jim’s truck and turned off the ignition. He sat there for a long moment staring out into the drizzle. It wasn’t quite rain, but it was enough to get him soaking wet from here to the door of 852 Prospect.
He closed his eyes, then jerked his head back suddenly as he realized he’d almost fallen asleep. God, what a long day. Of course, it probably just seemed longer than normal due to a cumulative effect. He’d been up late and out of bed way too early all week. Between helping Jim at the station, his own classes and teaching, plus grading, Blair felt like he’d had no more than four hours of sleep per night. In truth the number was actually closer to three. And cat naps in the truck and his office just didn’t count.
Blair decided that the drizzle wasn’t going to let up. He grabbed his back pack, pushed open the car door, slammed it shut and took off at a run for the building. That was a mistake. His foot hit something slippery in one of the many puddles and Blair ended up face down on the sidewalk.
“Shit,” he said with less conviction than he could have. Somehow this seemed like the final straw. Blair put his hands flat on the ground to push himself up and couldn’t quite contain a yelp of pain as his left wrist complained about the abuse. He rolled into a sitting position cradling his left arm against his body as he slowly levered himself off the ground.
Blair hoisted his back pack onto his right shoulder and trudged the rest of the way to the front door. He was already wet, so why rush? Of course the elevator was out, or running so slow that Blair just gave up and took the stairs. All he wanted was to get home, take a hot shower and go to bed.
Confident that everything would be fine once he entered
~~~~~
Jim heard Blair’s Volvo splutter into the parking lot. Blair had been working too hard, helping him out at the station on top of his normal school schedule. Jim was quite aware that his partner was working himself to the edge of exhaustion. He grinned knowing that for once this week he had good news. The bad guys had been caught so their night was free and his Guide could rest.
The Sentinel listened as Blair parked and then made his mad dash for the door. He almost went down to meet his friend when he heard the younger man fall and cry out, but the muttered epithets convinced Jim that it was a minor injury and he continued to work on dinner. Hopefully the hot stew would go far to dispelling the cold in Sandburg’s bones.
Blair’s footsteps finally echoed down the hall. Jim put a few last ingredients into the pot and dashed to open the door when it sounded as though Blair was unable to get it opened on his own. An evening of peace and well deserved quiet was on its way for his brother.
~~~~
Blair fumbled one handed with his keys. He finally managed to get the right one in. He turned the handle and pushed the door open a bit as he tried to extract the key. It wouldn’t come out of the lock. In a fit of pique, Blair grasped the key firmly in his right hand and gave the door a vicious kick. The key popped out and the door slammed opened.
A hollow thud was quickly followed by a scream of pain. Blair grabbed at the door as it bounced back toward him. “Jim?” he called moving into the room, suddenly wide awake with the adrenaline the scream had sent rushing through his system.
Jim sat on the floor holding both hands over his nose, his eyes scrunched shut. Blood dripped freely through his fingers.
“Oh God! Jim? Did I do that?” Blair exclaimed as he dropped his pack and knelt beside his friend. “I’m so sorry, man. Lean your head back and let me see. Is it broken?”
“um hmmm,” Jim moaned, following Blair’s instructions. He tilted his head back and lowered his hands a bit. Blood dripped from his nose down the side of his face.
“Ah, Jim. I’m sorry. Stay here, let me get some ice. We’re gonna have to get this set, man,” Blair said as he stood and went to the fridge. He reached for the freezer door with his left hand and cried out as his injured wrist reminded him of its presence.
“’lair?” Jim called turning his head slightly.
“No, I’m fine, stay there, big guy.” Blair opened the freezer door with his right hand. He carefully placed a bag of peas on his left wrist and grabbed a bag of corn with his right hand. “Looks like we both get to see the doc today,” he sighed snatching a dish towel with a couple of fingers under the bag of corn.
He knelt beside Jim again and wrapped the corn up the best he could one handed then gave it to Jim. “Slowly put this on your face, Jim. I’m gonna let you do it so you can control the pressure. You might want to turn your sense of touch down a few notches.”
Blair watched as Jim did as he instructed, then the younger man went to turn off the stove. He opened the fridge door again and reached back to grab the pot from the burner so he could hopefully salvage their meal. The stew smelled wonderful, but they wouldn’t be eating it any time soon. If the Fates were done with their fun, they might be able to reheat it when they got home.
Blair grabbed another dish towel and went back to Jim. “Hey, buddy, do you think you could wrap my wrist for me? I need to be able to drive and it’s a bit sensitive. I think a little support will help.”
Jim gave a slight nod. “Hol’ my cor’ for me?”
Blair grinned. “Okay. I’m going to let the bag of peas drop to the floor beside you,” he warned before letting them fall.
Blair held the bag gently on Jim’s face so that the Sentinel could wrap the towel around Blair’s injured wrist. Jim ghosted his fingers over Blair’s wrist so carefully that it didn’t even hurt. Blair was concentrating on not putting too much pressure on Jim’s nose, so it took him a second to realize that Jim had stopped moving.
“Jim?” He looked down at his wrist and saw that Jim’s hands were still. “Jim, answer me. Ah, man, did you zone on me?” Blair’s gaze moved back to Jim’s face and he sighed. “Should have seen that one coming. All right, Jim, come on back man. The floor is not that comfortable, I’m soaking wet, you have a broken nose and my wrist is killing me. Please, Jim? Follow my voice back,” Jim took a deep shuddering breath. “That’s it, Jim. Wakey, wakey.”
Jim jerked his head back as he came out of the zone to a close up view of the bag of peas, then he moaned at the renewed pain coming from his nose.
“Sorry, Jim. You zoned,” Blair explained. “You with me?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” Jim replied. He moved his hand down to find the towel and deftly wrapped Blair’s wrist. “Tha’ goo’?” Jim asked.
“Yeah, thanks. Come on, Jim, let’s get you up. I just cannot believe this day.” He helped the older man to his feet and grabbed his keys before leading Jim out the door. “I just knew that once I got home everything would be okay. I can’t believe I broke your nose with the stupid door. I am so sorry, Jim.”
“’lair. S’okay. I’ was an acci’en’,” Jim said walking carefully with his head back, one arm stretched out in front of him and the other latched onto Sandburg’s good right arm.
“I know, but I really am sorry.”
They pushed the button for the elevator and waited for the car to arrive. Jim could hear the mechanism working and convinced Blair to wait for it.
Driving ever so slowly and carefully, Blair got them both to the hospital where they waited for almost an hour to see a doctor. Treatment took another hour and finally with prescriptions for pain in hand the duo headed home.
They both sat down gingerly on the couch and leaned back into the cushion.
“Do you think the stew will reheat okay?” Blair asked. He was hungry, but not sure if he could stay awake long enough to eat.
“It was almost done. Should be okay,” Jim replied. He started to stand, but a hand on his arm stopped him.
“No, the doctor said you might have concussion. Stay put, I’ll put it in the microwave,” Blair said guilt lacing his voice.
Jim helped him off the couch then leaned his head back. He did feel pretty awful at the moment, though he was sure Blair felt just as bad. “What a pair we make, eh Chief?”
Blair chuckled. “Yeah. The guys are gonna wonder what bad guys we ran into tonight,” he teased as he started the microwave. After a few quiet minutes Blair opened the microwave and then started it again.
“They might think we had a fight,” Jim suggested with a wry grin as Blair came back to the couch carrying two mugs.
“Nah,” Blair replied, “if we had a fight it definitely looks like I won. Here,” he said handing Jim a coffee mug. “Careful it’s hot.”
Jim tried to sniff it, then rolled his eyes. “What is it?” he asked suspiciously.
Blair grinned. “My special hot chocolate. Although I’m sure we’d both rather have a good stiff drink, alcohol is not on the menu for a few days.”
His friend chuckled and took a sip of the hot chocolate. “Mmmm, good.”
“Dinner should be ready in a bit. I’m sorry Jim. I should have been more careful.”
“Leave it Blair,” Jim insisted. “It was just a long series of unfortunate events. I don’t blame you.” Blair sat beside him and sipped at his own chocolate. “How’s your wrist?” Jim asked.
Blair shrugged. “Okay. The doctor said it’s just a bad sprain.”
“If I’d followed my instincts and come down when I heard you fall, we could have avoided all this,” Jim said with an abstract wave of his hand.
“You heard me fall?” Blair asked.
“Yeah,” Jim admitted sourly. “But you got right back up, so I figured it couldn’t be all that bad.”
“Well, you were right, it didn’t require the Blessed Protector,” Blair affirmed, “but I wish you had come down. I’m so…”
Jim put his hand over Blair’s mouth. “No. Don’t apologize any more, Chief. If you need to do something to make me feel better, go dish up our dinner. It should be hot by now.”
“Okay, but maybe we should come up with a story for the guys,” Blair suggested as he went to the kitchen and ladled the stew into two bowls. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“What’s that? The part where you fell flat on your face or the part where I ran into the door?” Jim teased.
Blair looked back over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. “Both.”
“Well… we didn’t file a police report, so that rules out any type of criminal act like kidnapping, robbery, etc.”
“Aliens?” Blair offered.
Jim chuckled. “They don’t like to leave physical evidence.”
“True. But if I tell them that you ran into my fist with your face, they might charge me with domestic abuse,” Blair said setting a bowl and spoon on the coffee table for Jim.
“It would explain both injuries,” Jim replied, one corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.
“Yeah, your head’s hard enough to sprain my wrist,” Blair said hopping out of the way of Jim’s gentle swat. He collected his own dinner and sat back down beside his friend. “Guess we’ll just have to come clean.”
“Well… we could say that we were helping two beautiful models change a flat in the rain and suffered the injuries in the line of duty,” Jim suggested slyly.
Blair’s eyebrows rose. “I like it.” He frowned. “They’ll expect proof, a phone number or something.”
“It got lost in the rush to get to the hospital?”
“That’s good!” Blair said enjoying the game they were playing. “We should go over our story in detail so they don’t catch us unprepared.”
Jim grinned. He was beginning to look a bit like a raccoon with his two black eyes set off by the white tape on his nose. “Great. Let’s start with the models. Mine was a red head…”
“Ah man. Why do you always get the red head?” Blair complained good-naturedly.
finis
Feed the muse. Judy
Comments are always welcome, please let me know what you think. Judy
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