Disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly.
A/N So it's finally done. I appreciate all of you who have kept up with me and commented. I do hope you enjoy this last bit. Let me know what ya'll think!
Chapter 14
THE PRESENT
Jim wearily eased himself out of the truck and slowly made his way to the stairs that would lead him home. Preoccupied with his memories, the routine drive to the loft had passed with barely the minimum acknowledgment of traffic rules. He was home and off for the next three days and that's all that mattered.
A muttered oath reached his ears and Jim paused on the steps. He tilted his head and listened intently. The mutterings came again and the Sentinel picked up on the soulful regret in the tone.
"I'm sorry, Jim. Oh, God, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me. I didn't mean to..." Blair spoke softly.
Jim's heart clenched at the sad plea of forgiveness. Whatever it is, Chief, don't worry. I won't be mad. He began to ascend the staircase once again. Jim had only gone a few steps when he smelled blood. Eyes widened in fear and concern when he connected the smell with the words.
He wouldn't, Jim thought as he took the stairs two at a time. He reached for the handle of the front door only to find it was locked. Cursing, he fumbled for his keys. "Blair! Blair! Hold on, buddy. Hold on!" Jim's voice cracked with emotion as he threw open the front door and raced inside.
He stopped short. The stench of blood filled his nostrils making him dizzy. Unerringly, Jim pinpointed the source like a bloodhound. He focused on the figure kneeling on the kitchen floor with his back to Jim. The precious fluid belonged to Blair and the Sentinel felt his heart crawl up into his mouth.
Blair was rocking back and forth, his shoulders trembling slightly. He gave no indication of having heard Jim practically knock down the door. The younger man wouldn't take his eyes off the floor and he kept muttering, "Please forgive me, Jim. Don't be disappointed in me. I didn't realize I could do so much damage. Please don't hate me. I couldn't stand it if you hated me."
The tear-filled voice unlocked Jim's immobility and in three quick strides he was behind his partner. Afraid of what he might see, Jim knelt down and wrapped his arms around his friend, gently grasping the bloodied wrists. Surprisingly, there wasn't as much blood as he thought. However, the detective was still stunned and shaken to see the crimson drops staining the floor amidst the broken pieces of his favorite mug.
Blair stiffened as he felt strong arms go around him. Momentarily forgetting his guilt in the face of a potential threat, he began to struggle. "Let go of me!"
The arms became steel bands and he felt himself drawn against a hard and unyielding chest. "Take it easy, Blair. Don't fight me." Jim's voice rumbled in his ear.
Blair immediately relaxed. His Blessed Protector had him and that was the safest place to be. "Man, you scared me."
Jim didn't release his hold. I scared you?! Blair, what were you thinking? I thought we talked about this. You promised me you'd never do this." His tone held a note of anger.
Blair hung his head in shame. "I know, Jim, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was an accident."
Jim yanked Blair's wrists upward. "You call this an accident?!" The Blessed Protector vented, getting even angrier as Blair's blood ran in rivulets down his arms, staining the rolled up sleeves of his flannel shirt.
Blair's eyes widened as if realizing his injuries for the first time. "Oh, man. I'm so sorry." He looked down at the blood on the floor. "I'll clean it up. I promise. Just give me a minute. You'll never know it was there."
Jim's jaw clenched a few times before speaking. "I'll always know your blood was there. Sentinel or not, I will always see and never forget it."
The deadly, quiet voice had Blair swiveling his head to gaze up at his friend. "I know I've been saying this a lot, but I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break your mug and I didn't mean to get blood on the floor."
Jim's eyes narrowed and he convulsively clutched his roommate, causing Blair to wince. "You mean to tell me that--that the only thing that happened here was that you broke my favorite mug?"
Blair nodded. "Wh-what did you think happened?" His mouth dropped as an idea occurred to him. "You didn't think that I--that killing my--" He blinked. "No way, man. Never. I told you that."
Jim broke into a relieved smile. "Glad to hear that, Sandburg. I didn't mean to jump to conclusions, but I heard you and smelled blood. After what you've gone through this week..."
"I understand," he said softly. "I--I've just been pretty emotional lately and the concussion didn't help. Guess I'm wigging out."
The detective turned serious and indicated the broken mug with his head. "Breaking something that you thought was precious to me was the final straw, huh, Chief?"
"Yeah, I know it's stupid, but I knew it meant a lot to you because it was a gift from Jack." He ducked his head. "I really am sorry, Jim."
Jim's face hardened and Blair, still trapped in the Sentinel's arms, waited for the axe to fall.
Instead, Jim suddenly rose to his feet, dragging Blair up with him. Walking as one, Jim marched them into the bathroom.
"Jim?" Blair tried to turn, but the arms encircling him wouldn't allow it. "Jim? You gonna let me go, man?"
The arms around him trembled slightly and Blair thought he heard Jim mumble, "Never."
"Huh?" Blair wasn't sure he'd heard the detective correctly.
"I said, not until we get something straight, Chief." Jim replied, forgiving himself the slip.
"Okay." Blair nodded as they both faced the bathroom mirror. If the situation weren't so weird, he would think this was funny. Jim stood behind him, holding him and clutching at his arms. The blood had begun to clot and the tracks had dried. As for himself, he looked pale and tired.
"You see what I see, Chief?" Jim asked softly.
"Yeah. Two overworked, emotionally bankrupt people who need sleep," Blair replied dryly.
"That's not what I see." Again, Jim's voice was quiet and Blair stared intently at their reflections in the mirror, wondering what the older man saw.
"I see something precious, something special." The grip on his wrists had become painful, but Blair was too mesmerized to notice. Jim continued, "And if it were to break, I'd be devastated. I mean it, Blair, I'd totally lose it."
The tears that had flooded Blair's voice earlier pricked at his eyelids, but did not spill. Of that, he was glad. For the most part, he had been bottling his emotions for Jim's sake. Unfortunately, the anthropologist no longer had the strength to fight his feelings. Keeping them at bay was getting harder to do and when he broke the mug, Blair almost couldn't take it. Now, with Jim as close to verbalizing his feelings for Blair as he would probably get, the younger man felt the emotions wash over him again and threaten his speech, but at least he wasn't crying.
"Chief? You understand, don't you?" Jim released his wrists and turned him around.
Facing the Sentinel, Blair nodded. "Yeah, man, I understand." He paused and sighed. Looking up into the intense blue eyes of his friend, he continued. "You know, I've had good friends before and I mean really good ones. People who would help me in the dead of night if my car broke down or stay with me during the break up of a relationship. Those friends are rare, but I've been privileged to have a few." Blair took a breath. "The thing is, none of them compare to you, big guy. You're in a league all by yourself. Thanks for being the best friend I've ever had, Jim." He finished, earnestly.
Jim smiled. "I feel the same way, Chief. Just remember, I don't care about material things. They aren't what I treasure."
"I'll remember," Blair said softly, quite aware of what Jim meant.
Jim's tone abruptly changed and he was all business. "Have a seat," he waved at the toilet. "We've neglected those cuts long enough."
"Hey, they're okay, Jim. It looks worse than it actually is. The cuts aren't that deep." Blair protested, but sat anyway as Jim opened the bathroom cabinet and took out the first aid supplies.
"I know, but they still need to be cleaned up." Jim knelt in front of Blair and took one of the wrists in his hand. "What in hell happened, Sandburg?"
"I was going to make some tea. I sorta still have a headache and I thought it would help." Blair paused.
"Still have a headache? Did you think about taking the medication the doctor gave you?" Jim asked as he dabbed at Blair's cuts with an alcohol swab.
Blair hissed in pain, but didn't pull away. "Actually, I did take some pills, but they weren't working. Anyway, I guess I was more tired than I thought because when I reached behind your mug for mine it fell. Things just sort of went downhill after that." He watched Jim examine his left wrist critically. "It's okay, Jim, really."
"Yeah," Jim returned. "No need for stitches." He bandaged the wrist carefully.
"Thank you, Dr. Ellison," Blair said sarcastically as he watched Jim wrap gauze carefully around his wrist before going on to the right one. "Isn't this a bit much? I mean, come on--"
"Shut up, Sandburg," Jim ordered as he dabbed the other wrist with the alcoholic swab none too gently. "I was a medic, remember? I know what I'm doing."
The sting of the alcohol momentarily robbed Blair of speech. Glaring at the bent head in front of him, he muttered, "Sure you do."
Jim looked up. "Sandburg..."
"Yeah, yeah, Jim. I know. Medic." Blair rolled his eyes as the older man bent his head again to bandage Blair's wrist.
Jim was happy to note that Blair was beginning to sound like his old self. Gone was the voice soaked with tears and spots of color were now visible in the once pale face. He knew it would still be a while before Blair would come to terms with what had happened this week. It wasn't something that could be worked out in a couple of days, but the Sentinel was glad that his friend was finally taking those first few steps forward.
"Man, are you through yet?" Blair's voice broke into his thoughts. "I'm starved."
Blair's hungry. That's a good sign, thought Jim as he finished securing the bandage with medical tape. Lifting the wrists upward, he eyed his handiwork. "Yeah, Chief, I think we're all done here."
"About time," Blair cocked an eyebrow. He smiled slightly. For all his complaining, it really was nice to know Jim cared so much. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to kiss it all better."
Jim grinned. "Whatever it takes, Sandburg. Whatever it takes." The detective lowered his head.
"Jim?" Blair tried to tug his wrists out of the other man's hands. "Hey, man. I was just kidding!" His eyes widened as the close-cropped head drew closer to his injuries. "Jim..."
Lips hovering over the bandaged wrists, the Sentinel smiled.
The End.