Friendship is not a debt that needs to be repaid. Since it's a fragile gift that's not always easily given, it should be treasured and guarded. Thanks Star and Nanny for accepting my gift and offering yours in return. It's valued and treasured.
I have learned that to have a
good friend is the purest of all
God's gifts, for it is a love that
has no exchange of payment.
~Farmer~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jim came home to a loft that was empty and cold. In just a matter of seven days, Sandburg had made the loft more than just a place to eat and sleep. It had turned into a place he wanted to come home to, because Sandburg had added laughter and companionship, something he hadn't realized was missing.
With his divorce from Carolyn and the disappearance of his partner and friend Jack Pendergrast, Jim had built a wall around his heart, keeping others out in an attempt to keep from being hurt again. But somehow a little witch doctor named Sandburg had found a crack in that shield and had wormed his way in. Jim walked around wishing he had tried to talk Sandburg out of leaving, but that had been the arrangement after the kid's place had blown up. One week....the young man had kept his promise, too. One week from the day he had moved in, he had moved back out. Not that that was a big feat. The kid didn't have that much to move. Just a box of personal items and a duffel with a few clothes. The rest of his things, that had survived the blast, had been moved into storage or his office at the University.
Jim made himself a quick sandwich, not really in the mood to cook only for himself. He ate hurriedly, without tasting, and then got ready for bed. He was anxious to get the day over with, because tomorrow would be another day with his new partner and friend.
(The next day)
Blair felt so cold. It wasn't from the temperature of the room, it was practically 90 degrees in his overheated apartment. The coldness that he felt was from loneliness. He missed the warmness of the loft, the companionship of another. In the short seven days that he had stayed with Jim, he had grown to like the older man. It was nothing that he could swear to in court, but he was sure that he had seen a change in the hard-hearted Ellison, too. He was sure he had seen a smile from the tough cop a time or two. "Change is good....it's possible.....isn't it???"
Blair leaned back into the generous spray of the shower, bumping the hot water up a notch to try and chase the inner chill away. He knew it wouldn't work, but he had to try. The only thing that his new accommodations seemed to have that the loft didn't was an unlimited supply of hot water.
"How many mornings did I have to suffer through a cold shower?....Oh, that's easy. Seven." Blair grinned even though he would gladly endure a cold shower to rid himself of the emptiness he was now feeling. After a while he turned the water to a cooler setting, allowing the spray to soothe heat-sensitive skin. He was relaxed and growing sleepy now from the shower and tired from the stress of his crazy work schedule.
He stepped out of the shower and quickly toweled off, leaving his hair to air dry. He tried to decide what he wanted for dinner. Nothing sounded appealing, being too tired to eat, so he decided to just settle down for a nap instead. Pulling on his t-shirt and an old pair of shorts left over from his track days at the University, he picked up his scattered clothing and placed them into the hamper. He was about to leave the small steam-filled room when he looked back to make sure everything was in its place. His smile of satisfaction faded. "Geez, he's programmed me to the rules of the loft." He laughed at the various "loft" rules that Jim had never tired of repeating during his short stay.
Slowly he padded out of the bathroom and into the living area. He reached into the closet and pulled out a blanket and a pillow. The blanket was thrown onto the couch, it's primary reason for being there was to cover the stains and various smells that Blair didn't even want to begin to identify. The couch had been the only piece of furniture that came with the apartment, aside from a old, wooden, ladder-back chair, so he wasn't going to complain about the bright-orange and lime-green pattern that complimented the stains that spotted it. Blair had to admit that this was the ugliest thing he had ever seen, but it sure beat sleeping on the floor.
Blair snuggled down on the couch, burying his head deep into his pillow. Beads of sweat began to form on his face and he wished there was more of a breeze coming through the window he had opened, or left open, when he came in.
He rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes, imagining he was back at the loft, snuggled in his futon, preparing to drift off. Slowly he relaxed and his mind drifted off, leading him towards slumber.
Jim sat at the station, alone at his desk. Blair had left two hours ago, just like Jim should have, but having only the empty loft to return to, he opted to stay at the station. He wondered what the kid was doing. "It might be nice to have dinner together," Jim mumbled, reaching for the phone before remembering that Blair hadn't given him a number, yet. Jim quickly dialed information and requested the number, only to receive, "I'm sorry sir, we do not show a listing for that name." Jim hung up. "He's only been there a few days, maybe he hasn't had a chance to get one installed." That made sense to the detective. Knowing the kid's schedule, it would probably be weeks before he finally had a chance to get service. "Maybe I should just surprise him. I can stop by Mister Wo's on the way." Jim had found that Blair had a real fancy for Chinese food. It was the one thing they had agreed upon for dinner during Blair's stay.
Jim stood up, pushed his chair under his desk, and grabbed his coat. For the first time since Blair had left that afternoon, he smiled.
Jim pulled up in front of the old, run-down complex. He looked at the address on the piece of paper again and verified it against the one on the building. "Geez, what is with the kid and living dangerously." Jim didn't like the looks of the apartment building, nor did he like the fact that it was located in the worst part of town. He made sure the truck was secured and the alarm was on before entering the building. Blair was on the third floor so Jim had to take the stairs. It wasn't a concept new to him, since the lift was usually out of order at the loft.
Finally, he made it to the door marked 3G. Shifting the sack of dinner in his grip, he reached to knock on the door. At his slightest touch, the door opened. Jim pushed on, entering the small room. He opened his mouth to call out to his new friend, quickly stopping himself when he heard soft sounds of sleep coming from the couch. Instead, he entered the kitchen and sat the bag down on the counter.
He took a moment to look around the *small* apartment. Walking around, he noted the bathroom and another door revealed a closet. "No bedroom?" he whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping, young man. Jim wiped at his sweaty brow, 'What's with the heat?'
He walked over to the windows where an old heater sat, heat was pouring out from the ancient device. The paint was peeling and it looked like it was in poor condition. The knob used to adjust the output was missing, trying to use his bare hand to turn the heat down, he found that the threadbare stem wouldn't turn. He noticed the open window and wondered why the others weren't open as well. Further inspection showed that they had been sealed shut by several layers of paint.
Making his way back to the front door, he pushed it closed again. Jim saw the reason that it had opened so easily. It looked as though it had been kicked open. The casing around the door was splintered and the hardware missing. ‘How is Blair protecting himself without locks?'
A soft murmur from the couch caught Jim's attention. He looked back to see Blair flip over onto his back. His t-shirt was sticking to him now as his body continued to try to cool him.
Jim went back into the kitchen, deciding to surprise the kid with dinner, when he awoke. He opened a cabinet to find two bags of rice and a bag of dried pinto beans. The next cabinet revealed plastic cups and plates, the disposable kind. 'The kid hasn't had the time to get settled in yet,' he assured himself. He pulled down several of the plates. In one of the drawers he found real flatware. He dished the contents of the boxes out onto the plates giving each a little of everything he brought. He had a few bottles of beer stashed in the bag as well, still cold from being in the refrigerated section of the corner Mapco Express. "The kid sure doesn't have much," Jim stated in a whisper. Looking into another cabinet he found a few cans of tomatoes and other vegetables. The cans were dented with prices written in bold, black marker on the tops. From the prices and dents, Jim guessed that Blair had been shopping at a salvage store. A few of the cans were missing labels.
Jim felt a little guilty for snooping. ‘I'm not being nosey. I'm a detective...I'm detecting.' He smiled at his justification.
The last cabinet wasn't really a cabinet anymore. The door was gone and Blair was using it to store his cookbooks and a few nicknacks.
One last look around and Jim wondered how much the kid was paying for this dump. ‘Whatever it is, you're paying too much.' Jim knew it had to be hard for the kid to adjust to such a small space, after having lived in the spacious warehouse.
He walked over and looked down at the still-sleeping form on the couch. The heat was making his sleep anything but peaceful. Jim had a lot of questions for the kid, but he knew he had to take his time and choose his words carefully. He didn't want the grad student to become defensive, or make him feel uncomfortable about the only thing he may have been able to afford. Taking a deep breath and putting on a smile, he gently shook Blair. "Hey, buddy, how about some dinner?"
Blue eyes blinked slowly, wiping away the sleeping world with each flutter. "Jim?" Blair asked, slightly confused. Then he bolted to a sitting position on the couch. "Oh God....We've been robbed!!!" Blair looked, around taking in the bare apartment.
Jim laughed at the expression on the young man's face, as he realized where he was.
"Oh man...Wow....I'm not at the loft." A nervous giggle passed from the shy smile that played on Blair's lips. "Jim? What are you doing here?" He pushed a few stray curls behind his ear and looked at Jim with knitted brows.
"I brought dinner Chief." Jim turned to go back into the kitchen. "You hungry?"
Blair didn't have time to answer, his growling stomach beat him to it.
"I'll take that as a 'yes.' I would have called, but I didn't have your number. Do you have a phone, yet?" Jim hadn't seen one, but he thought he should ask anyway. After all, he didn't want the kid to think he had been snooping.
"This place isn't wired for a phone, and I can't afford to have them come out and do it," he replied sleepily, following Jim into the kitchen.
"Can't the landlord do it?" Jim asked, pulling egg rolls from their container.
"Are you kidding?" Blair laughed. "This place is rented "as is" man. The landlord made that perfectly clear when I signed the lease," he added, rummaging around in a drawer for forks.
"So what are you going to do about a phone?"
Blair gestured absently to the window. "There's a pay phone down on the street. I can use that."
Jim popped the tops on the beer bottles and handed a plate to Blair, as he thought about the phone thing. 'That won't work,' Jim thought. 'What if I need the kid. I'll check with Simon and see if we can't get him a cell or something.'
Blair admired the collection of food on the bright-blue plate. "Wow Jim, I don't know what to say." Blair took the plateful of food that Jim handed him.
"Just consider it a house-warming party." Noticing that there wasn't a kitchen table or chairs, he followed Blair back into the living room and plopped down on the couch beside the young man.
"Mmmmm....Mister Wo's. I'd know this anywhere." Blair beamed as he stuck a fork full of chicken fried rice into his mouth. "This is really great. Thanks, Jim."
Jim nodded at Blair and continued eating his own dinner.
"When are you planning on moving the rest of your furniture in?"
Blair set the bottle against his lap looking at the label. "There's really not much to move." He looked at Jim and grinned.
"What about your couch and things?"
"I went to the storage place yesterday. The couch is gone. It got water-logged when they were hosing the place down and in that musty storage room, it started to mold. I had to trash it. I think the tables are okay, though. My bed burned, but I don't really have a place for one anyway. I think I have most everything else that was salvageable. I just need to find time to run by there and load up the tables. It's going to take a couple of trips in the Corvair, but I may just do it on my way home for a few nights."
"I don't mind helping, you know." Jim wondered why the kid hadn't asked for help.
"I know, I just don't want to be a burden. You were really great about letting me stay at the loft and I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage of you." Blair looked over at Jim, his eyes were soft with appreciation for Jim's friendship.
"Sandburg, I'm not one to let anyone take advantage of me. Why don't we stop by the storage place tomorrow. We can have everything loaded up and moved in one or two trips."
"Really, Jim. There's not that much...." Blair was silenced by a staying hand from the older man. "Okay, if it makes you happy. But remember, you were warned." Blair grinned, taking a pull from the amber bottle he held.
"Now that that's settled, I want to discuss security with you." Jim's face was serious as he looked at the younger man.
"Security?" Blair asked, then realizing that Jim must be talking about the door. "Oh that. Well, that's part of the reason I got this place so quickly." Blair squirmed a bit on the couch, not sure of exactly how much to tell the older man. Then seeing the stoic expression on Jim's face, he decided to go ahead and tell him everything. 'What the hell, right? I don't really have anything to worry about, It's not like we're best friends or anything.' "Ummm.....A guy kind of got.....ummm...dead."
"Dead?" Jim asked, realizing that the faint, coppery smell he was picking up must have been dried blood.
"Yeah." He laughed nervously. "Someone kicked the door in and shot the poor guy." Blair turned his gaze back to his bottle.
"Did they catch who did it?" Jim hadn't heard anything about it.
"I don't know. I didn't ask. I was too busy thinking about the guy who died in *my* apartment." Blair's brows furrowed at the thought. He hadn't been Jim's partner very long, but he knew that he was going to run across a few dead bodies along the way. However the thought didn't make it any easier to accept the inhumane way that people treated one another.
Noting the look on his sensitive, Guide's face, Jim returned the subject to the door. "How are you locking it?"
"I wedge your chair under the handle." Blair gestured to the ladder back chair that Jim was sitting in.
Jim frowned.
"Don't worry Jim. I have a security system, too. You wanna see?"
Jim narrowed his eyes at the younger man as Blair emptied the contents of his bottle with a mere swallow. Then he bounced off of the couch and to the door. "I saw this in a movie. Pretty kewl I think." Blair turned the bottle upside down and balanced it on the door handle. "Now if anyone messes with the door, I'll know it."
Jim admired the kid's creativity, but he still worried. He crossed his arms over his chest, mindful of the bottle still in his hand. "And what are you going to do if the bottle falls and someone comes through the door?"
"My ass is out that window man." Blair laughed, taking his seat back on the couch. "You'll be hearing a knock in the middle of the night, and I'll be staying at the Ellison Inn for wayward guides."
"Oh really?" Jim raised his brows teasingly at the young man. "What about when you leave? You can't position the chair and bottle from the other side of the door."
Again Blair grinned. He's going to think I'm screwy or something. "I lock it up before I leave."
"I think you've had too much beer, kid." Jim began to mentally tick of the number of beers the kid had had.
"Really Jim. I lock it up before I leave....through the window."
Jim looked at Blair, incredulously. "Through the window?"
"Yeah, I take the fire escape down." Blair stated with a matter-of-fact air, as if everyone did it.
Jim held up a hand, hoping to slow the young man down until he caught up. "So you leave the window open..." He was having a real hard time comprehending the whole situation.
"Nope, pad lock."
"I see. Now, let me get this straight. You use a chair to lock the door, and a pad lock on the window? You leave through the window instead of the door...Wouldn't it be safer and easier to put the pad lock on the door?" Jim asked, with a wise-ass attitude.
"Maybe." Blair mocked. "But, I don't have the hardware to do it and I don't get paid until next week. I'm going to find something better for the door then."
"In the meantime, aren't you afraid of being robbed?"
Blair laughed. "Take a good look around, man. There's not a whole hell of a lot to steal. Hell, I'd pay them to take this ugly couch."
Jim laughed. "It is loud."
"Stinks, too," Blair added.
Jim crinkled his nose. "I noticed."
Jim stood outside the door, listening as Blair slid the chair under the handle. He heard the soft tink of glass on metal as Blair positioned the bottle on the knob. "Sandburg Security Systems, Inc." Jim laughed. Although he found situation somewhat amusing, he couldn't help but worry about his ex- roomy. He decided to check on the murder investigation when he got back to the office tomorrow. Surely, Blair would be safe for one night.
Blair was in the kitchen, throwing away the empty boxes and carefully placing the leftovers in the fridge for dinner the next night when the sound of breaking glass startled him.
He was making a mad dash for the window when the door flew open. The window was just out of reach when one of the intruders grabbed him from behind.
Suddenly Blair was slammed up against the wall, forcing the air from his lungs. He looked, fearfully, at the three men in ski masks. Finally finding the ability to breathe again, he asked, "What do you want?" His voice cracked as more pressure was placed on his chest, pushing him harder against the wall.
"Consider us the welcome wagon. We just wanted to stop by and welcome you to the neighborhood," one man said while the others laughed.
"Gee thanks." 'Keep your mouth shut Sandburg, this isn't a game.' Blair's mouth always had a way of instigating trouble when it wasn't really needed.
"Where's your wallet," another asked, looking around the room nervously.
"Answer him!" The leader demanded, when Blair didn't speak right away.
"The bathroom," Blair gasped, as the man who held him jerked him forward and slammed him against the wall again.
Blair watched as one of his attackers came back out of the bathroom, carrying his wallet. He handed it to the leader who in turn prowled through its contents. "Ten bucks? That's it?" The leader acted as if he were appalled.
Blair's eyes were wide with fear. "Yes.....That's all I have."
The man who was holding Blair slammed a fist into the young man's midsection, causing Blair to cry out.
"Where's the rest of it?"
Blair coughed. "I don't....have any more. I mean, if I had money....do you think I would honestly stay here?"
"You work?" the leader asked, slightly irritated with the whole situation.
"Yes. But everything practically goes for rent."
"Sounds like you need a part-time job, friend."
"Part-time job?" This was beginning to piss the grad student off. He was working his ass off and here these guys were, suggesting a part-time job so that he would have something for them to steal. "Why don't you guys get the part-time job, instead?" Blair growled as blue, rebellious eyes burned holes into the leader.
The question was answered by several more blows to his already bruising ribs.
"That's enough," the leader stated.
The other man let Blair go, allowing the young man to slide down the wall and crumple to the floor, the movement causing waves of pain to surge through his stomach. Blair pulled his knees to his chest and drew in several deep breaths to calm himself and lessen the pain.
The leader squatted down, lifting Blair's pain-filled face to meet his. "I think I need to explain a few things to you. We provide a service to the good tenants of this building. For a small monthly charge, we protect them."
"Insurance," Blair whispered, "from you."
"You're pretty smart....you seem to catch on fast." The leader patted Blair's face, almost fondly. "Now, we are going to pay you another visit. The next time we come, we expect more than ten dollars. Is that understood?"
"How much more?"
"Try ninety more. I like you so I'm going to give you a break off of your first month's fee. One hundred this month and one-fifty next month."
"I can't afford that." Blair practically whimpered when the hand holding his chin tightened.
"I don't think you understand. You will afford it, or you will pay in other ways."
Blair gulped as he heard laughter coming from the other men.
"Think about it....or sleep on it. I think you'll see things more clearly in the morning." The leader stood up. "Come on boys. We've got fees to collect."
Blair watched as the three hoods left his apartment. He sat there for a few minutes in the silence of his room before getting up and pushing the door closed and securing the chair back under the handle. He sat on the couch, hugging the pillows to his throbbing ribs. "Oh God....What am I going to do?" He didn't have money to find another place. He would have to stick it out until he saved enough to move. "Maybe a part-time job isn't such a bad idea after all."
The young man spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch, watching the front door, his mind a whirlwind of thought and worries.
Blair entered the bull pen around 2:30 the next afternoon. "Hey Chief. How's it going?" Jim asked, looking up from his paperwork. He saw the dark smudges under Blair's eyes and knew instantly that the kid hadn't slept.
"Okay." Blair lied as he sat, wincing, in the chair next to Ellison.
The act didn't go unnoticed by the detective. "What's wrong?"
"I must have slept funny or something." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the perfect truth, either. Blair knew that if Jim found out about the night before, the older man would insist on him moving out.
Jim nodded, taking in his partners appearance, suspiciously. Then he turned his attention to the file on his desk. "I did a little digging on the murder that occurred in your apartment. They haven't caught those who were involved. They seem to think that it's linked to several other murders that have occurred within the last six months in the same neighborhood." Jim looked at Blair. "I really don't feel right about you staying there. Why don't you stay with me until you find something different."
The fact that Jim offered meant the world to Blair. Jim hadn't really offered the first time. He just gave into several pleas and the best puppy-dog eyes that Sandburg was capable of. "That means a lot to me, Jim, but I've already paid the man. If I leave now, I lose the money." ‘If I stay, I lose a few more ribs.'
"If you're going to insist on staying, we're going to do something about your security system. We'll stop by the hardware store, before we go to your storage unit, and pick up some deadbolts."
"But...."
Knowing what the kid was about to say, Jim cut him off. "My treat. Consider it a thank you for keeping me from getting creamed by that truck."
"Sure, Jim. Whatever you say." Blair smiled weakly. He had told Jim that he didn't owe him anything. The fact that he was allowing Blair to study him was payment enough, but the hard-headed detective just didn't want to hear it.
"Oh, by the way. Here." Jim pulled a cell phone from his drawer. "Keep this with you at all times. Just in case we need to get in touch with you."
"A cell phone?" Blair looked at Jim, incredulously. "I can't afford this, man." Blair tried to hand it back.
Jim pushed the phone back at Blair. "It's being covered by the department."
"But how? I'm only an observer." Blair had flipped the phone open and began playing with it.
"I didn't ask. Just take it, okay?"
"Sure, Jim, no problem." Blair grinned.
Blair helped Jim load the last of the tables into the Ford. "I told you it wasn't much." Blair grinned as Jim shut the gate of the truck.
"What about those boxes?" Jim pointed to two cardboard boxes that were still sitting in the storage room.
"Trash, mostly. One box is filled with broken dishes and the other has the remains of what was once my glasses. *Someone* was a little over zealous when they were moving them." He smiled suspiciously at the older man.
Jim smiled sheepishly, remembering that he had been in a hurry that night. "Oh, hey, I'm really sorry, Chief. I'm sure I've got enough at the loft to give you some to get you started."
Blair shooed Jim off with a dismissive hand and sighed. "Don't worry about it. I didn't like that pattern anyway. Dixie plates seem to suit my style better." He grinned.
Jim motioned to the tables in the back of the truck. "I'm not lugging these things up the fire escape, kid. Why don't you go home and get things ready while I run through the drive-through at Wonderburger and grab dinner."
"I do cook, you know."
"Like I said, I'll go through the drive-through," Jim teased.
Blair held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay. Wonderburger....Geez Jim, that stuff is so not healthy."
Blair hopped in his car. He could feel Jim watching him, making sure the old vehicle was going to crank before he left for dinner. On the third try the engine roared to life. Blair waved at Jim as he peeled out of the parking lot, hair whipping madly in the wind.
Blair made it up the last few steps of the fire escape panting from the exertion, steam rising from his breath in the cool night air. After allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, he popped the pad lock open and opened the window. Climbing through the window, he was unaware of the shadows moving inside the room, and the fact that the beer bottle was now fragmented on the floor. With his left foot firmly planted on the floor, he began pulling his right leg through the window when he was assisted by two large hands. He was tossed effortlessly onto the couch.
"Oh no....not again. Look guys....I *don't* have any money..." Blair began only to be silenced by a sharp smack across the mouth.
Blair felt blood trickle down his chin from the split lip. The taste of his own blood threatened to turn his stomach.
"I thought you understood the rules. We visit, you pay. Sounds simple enough, eh?"
"But you didn't give me enough time....." Another smack, this time harder, silenced Blair. This time pain and anger flashed in his rebellious eyes.
"You had plenty of time." The leader turned to the other two men. "Go ahead. Remind him of the rules."
Blair tried in vain to get over the back of the couch, but was grabbed and thrown to the floor like a rag doll. "Can't we talk about this guys?" he asked, inching his way back against the wall.
"Can't we talk about this guys?" one of the men mocked as he pulled Blair to his feet. "Hey, boss, isn't that what Patterson said before we collected his final payment?"
"If my memory serves me correctly, I believe it was."
'Patterson....Oh great, that's the guy who lived here before me.' Blair gulped. "You killed him?"
"Yeah, he gave us the same song and dance you are," the man holding Blair growled before throwing his first punch.
The leader walked around the apartment taking inventory of the young man's belongings. He spotted the phone on the floor where Blair had dropped it when he was pulled through the window. A few strides later, he bent over and picked up the small cell phone. He turned around to watch his men work Blair over. Holding the phone up, he stated, "seems to me if you can afford the monthly charge on this, you can afford our monthly charge, as well." Then with a hateful growl, "make him bleed." He sat and watched the beating until he was satisfied that Blair would remember the rules next time. "Enough! Dead men don't pay. Lets get out of here.....Bobby, get rid of the phone. It should be worth a few bucks." He handed the phone to one of the goons as they left the apartment.
Through blurred vision, Blair watched them leave. "Jim, where are you?" he whispered softly before passing out.
Jim had just pulled in front of the building as three guys came bouncing out. They looked at Ellison suspiciously as they talked, and he returned their glare.
He was halfway up the stairs when his hearing suddenly spiked and the soft voice of his guide played in his ears. "Jim, Where are you?" Jim's heart pounded at the sound of desperation in his voice and the soft sigh that followed his question. He dropped the bag of burgers and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached the third floor. He skidded to a halt in front of 3G. The door was cracked open, Jim pulled his gun, scanning the room for any signs of extra heartbeats. He only picked up the familiar sound of Blair's. He edged his way into the room, quickly locating the unconscious form on the floor. "Blair!" Jim holstered his weapon and ran to Blair's side. One look at Blair and he knew the kid was hurt pretty badly. He pulled his cell phone out and dialed 911.
"Jim, the kid is 26-years-old. Don't you think he should decide where he wants to stay?" Simon argued.
"I may let him express his opinion, but I'm having the final say so when it comes to the kid's safety." Jim noisily crushed the Styrofoam coffee cup in his frustrated grip.
Simon was about to warn Jim not to push the kid when the doctor came out of the exam room.
"The nurse tells me you are with Mr. Sandburg?" The doctor looked up from his chart to Simon and then Jim.
Jim held out his hand. "Yes, sir. Jim Ellison and this is my Captain, Simon Banks. We're with the Cascade P.D. Major Crimes Unit."
"Dr. Richard Ellingston." The doctor shook the hands of both policemen.
"How is he, Doc?" Jim shoved his hands in his pockets nervously, as he watched the doctor's face, closely. He was trying to reassure himself that the doctor wasn't holding anything back.
"I would say that your friend is pretty lucky." The doctor looked down at his chart. "A few broken ribs, several bruised ones....broken nose.....and a concussion. He'll have a headache for a day or so, but other than that, I think he'll be fine. He had a nasty cut above his eye, but it didn't require any stitches. A butterfly was all that was required."
"Will you be keeping him overnight?" Simon asked, noticing that Jim was lost in his own thoughts.
"I think it would be best. The concussion wasn't serious, but I would rather play it safe. I think we should allow him to get a good night's rest. We've given him something for the pain."
"Is he awake?" Jim shook off the thought of Blair laying unconscious with his face covered in blood.
"He was a moment ago." Then noting the way Jim stared at the examination area, "I don't think it would hurt anything if you would like to see him before we move him to a room."
"Simon?" Jim asked as he brushed past the doctor.
"Go ahead, I'll be there, shortly." Simon turned back to the doctor to ask a few more questions while Jim made his way to where his friend was.
Jim walked into the room and looked down at his buddy. He looked better now that most of the blood had been washed from his face. He watched as Blair struggled to look at him. Placing a reassuring hand on Blair's arm, Jim spoke. "Hey there, tough guy. How are you feeling?" Jim asked softly.
"Great." Blair tried to smile weakly, but winced when the act caused one of the cuts on his lip to reopen and begin to bleed, again. "Ouch."
"Shhh." Jim started looking for something to wipe the blood away and spotted some tissues.
He came back to Blair's side just as the young man was swiping at the injury with the back of his hand. "Leave it alone, let me take care of it," Jim scolded.
Blair laid his hand back to his side and allowed the older man to gently pat at the cut. Finally, the bleeding stopped.
"When can I go home?" Blair asked, careful to keep his lip from splitting again.
"Not tonight. The doctors want you to stay."
Blair yawned. The pain killers were beginning to take effect. "Sucks," he said, simply, wiping at his watering eyes.
"Yep, but that's the way it's going to be." Seeing that Blair was close to drifting off, Jim decided to ask the kid a few questions, hoping to get a lead on who did this to him. "Blair, can you tell me anything about what happened?"
Blair turned to face Jim again, his eyelids beginning to feel heavy. "They beat the crap out of me."
"That I know. What about what they looked like. Did they say anything about why they did this."
"They wore masks....ski masks." He yawned, trying desperately to fight the effects of the drug. "They were collecting protection money."
"Damn, I should have known it was something like that." Jim began to pace the room.
"Jim...."
Jim walked back over to Blair. "Yeah, buddy."
"They killed Patterson....they told me......" Blair sighed. "He didn't pay them."
"They must have used his death as a message for the other tenants in hopes of scaring them into keeping their payments timely." Jim brushed a few curls to the side of Blair's face. "Did they say or do anything else?"
Blair thought about it a minute, closing his eyes. Jim thought that Blair was just about asleep when the young man remembered something.
"They took my phone....Jim they have the phone." Blair was practically bouncing from reserve energy. Jim had to push him back into the pillows. "Can you trace it?"
"I'll get someone to check on it. Anything else?"
"The leader called one of the guys Bobby. He told him to get rid of my phone."
"Great going partner." Jim smiled. "Why don't you close your eyes and rest for a few minutes. They'll be moving you to another room, shortly."
"Where are you going?" Blair asked, his reserve energy now spent as the drugs took more control.
"I'm going to catch these bastards," Jim promised. He watched as Blair's eyes drifted shut again. He listened as his heart slowed and his breathing became slow, shallow breaths. "You just rest, Chief, and let me take care of everything."
(The next day)
Jim leaned against the wall of windows in Blair's room. "We had a trace put on your phone. It seems that you aren't the only one who likes Mr. Wo's Chinese. We met Bobby Sanders there when he went to pick up his order. Sanders is confessing to everything, and we will have the other two in custody within the hour," Jim said.
Simon shifted his weight in the uncomfortable chair. His tall frame just didn't seem to fit it. Then he looked at the younger man. "If it's of any comfort, you helped solve five other murders."
"Wow." Blair sat there shaking his head. "That's unbelievable." He looked from Jim to Simon.
"It seems they had been working the neighborhood for about six months. We think they may have been in Seattle before coming here. Several incidents have popped up and they are sending some people over to question our new guest." Slowly Simon stood up, trying to work the kinks out of his legs. He turned to go to the door and looked back at Sandburg. "All in all, kid, I think you've just earned yourself a raise."
Blair's eyes perked up and then he narrowed them at Simon. "Hey...I don't even get paid."
"Don't I know it." Simon laughed loudly as he walked out of the hospital room.
Blair turned wide, confused eyes at Jim and then just shook his head. "So? When can I get outta here? I'm ready to get home."
"We need to talk, Chief."
"Now look, Jim. I know you don't like me staying there, but I've got to stay somewhere. I appreciate your offer to let me stay at the loft, but I don't like being in debt to anyone, you know? I want to make my own way. I've done it since I was sixteen..."
Jim cut the ranting anthropologist off. "You can't go back, Sandburg."
Blair was beginning to grow frustrated and it made is head ache. "But, Jim, you're not listening...."
Jim held up a hand, hoping to calm the young man down. "I hear you, buddy. Your place has been closed down."
"Closed down?"
"Yeah, it seems the health department got a call. They found that it didn't meet up with certain codes. So they shut it down, and moved the tenants to other locations, until they decide if improvements can be made or if the place should be demolished." Jim grinned. "I think the owner has a lot of explaining to do."
"Great. This is just *freakin'* great. Do you know how hard it was for me to find something that I could afford? Now what am I going to do?" He looked at Jim, noting the huge, dumb grin that was plastered on his face. "This isn't funny, man. What are you smiling about?"
"Well, it just so happens that I know about this place over on Prospect. It's warm, cozy, and cheap. I would imagine that if you're nice to the owner, he might be able to get you in." Jim grinned at the young man. "He's one hell of a nice guy."
"I'm sure this place has a waiting list?" Blair played along.
"Oh yeah, a mile long. But he's a good friend of mine, and I'm sure I can talk to him. That is...if you're interested."
"How's the hot water? I like *hot* showers.....*long,* hot showers." Blair arched a brow at the older man.
"Oh. Well, I'm sure an arrangement can be made about purchasing a bigger tank."
Blair looked down at the blanket covering him, his voice was serious again. "Jim, I meant what I said about being in debt. I'll pay part of the rent or whatever. I want to pull my own weight."
"I own the loft, but we'll work something out. Besides, I'm the one who owes you."
With animated hands, Blair tried to reach his hard-headed sentinel. "Jim, we've been over this a thousand times. You don't owe me anything. That truck thing is history...out of the picture, understand?"
"It's not that." Jim shook his head.
"What then?" Blair cocked his head slightly with the question, allowing soft, coffee-colored curls to brush against his cheek.
Jim stepped closer to the bed. "Before we met, I was out of control. I thought that I was losing my mind. You allowed me to find myself, again. I don't think I could ever repay you for that."
"You're letting me document your Sentinel abilities, man. That's enough." Blair looked at Jim and then grabbed one of the older man's hands. "Look, let's just start over again, okay? All debts repaid. We're just friends, partners and roommates. What do ya say?" Blair waited for Jim's response, carefully watching the older man's face for a reaction.
Jim studied the warm hand holding his for a minute, marveling at how much smaller it was than his. He thought about what the kid had said and then he smiled. "Okay. All debts repaid." He looked up and found Blair beaming.
"Great. It won't take much to move my things back into storage."
"Actually, your stuff has already been moved. I think the tables look nice in the loft." Jim winced as Blair threw a pillow at him.
"That's not fair, man. You had this whole thing planned, didn't you?" Then Blair narrowed blue, accusing eyes at Jim. "I'll bet you were the one who called the health department."
Jim shrugged innocently, making his way to the door. "I'll be by to pick you up in a little bit," he tossed over his shoulder. Then he turned back to Blair. "Well discuss the loft rules then."
"Out!" Blair demanded as he heard Ellison laughing on the other side of the closing door. "Rules indeed." Blair snuggled down against the pillows and pulled his blankets back up. He looked back at the door and smiled. "I may just have a few rules of my own."
The end.
