© February 1997
Blair stood in the
shower, letting the hot water run over him, soothing him. It was over. *Over,
over, over.* He kept chanting that to himself, figuring that eventually he'd believe
it. Of course, lying to yourself didn't work quite as well as lying to someone
else... He jumped slightly when he heard a noise outside the shower--wood
against metal; then the door opened a bit, and he heard Jim's voice.
"You okay,
Chief?"
"Yeah. I'll be
out in a little bit, Jim."
"Okay. Holler
if you need anything." The door closed again, leaving Blair alone in the
steamy closeness of the bathroom. He sighed, and leaned his head against the
cool tile of the shower.
It'd started so
innocently; of course, all of the times he'd gotten himself into a fix had
started innocently... He only wanted to help Jim out--be there for him, guide
him through whatever it was he was facing. *Now who's really lying?* That
insidious little voice in his head spoke up, reminding him that his intentions
weren't always completely honorable when it came to Jim. He shook his head to
clear those thoughts out, preferring not to deal with that. When lying didn't
work, sometimes total lack of acknowledgment would.
Caldwell was in
custody. *Way* in custody. The Feds had taken him away that same
afternoon--he'd been too hot of an item to leave hanging out in a Cascade
holding cell. *Over, over, over.* Blair chanted his mantra again, remembering
the man's leering face coming closer to his; tongue gagging him as Caldwell
forced him into a parody of a kiss...
"Blair? Sure
you're okay in there?" Blair jumped, and hit his head on the tile.
"OW! Geez,
man--couldn't you warn me, or something?" Blair's voice reflected his
irritation. There was a slight pause, then Jim's concerned voice.
"Sorry, Chief.
You sure you're okay?"
It suddenly
occurred to him that the water pouring over him was ice cold, and he shut the
faucet off, gooseflesh breaking out on his arms and legs. "Okay--I'll be
out in a minute. You don't need to keep babysitting me, man."
"Just
checking, Chief. You were in here a while." He heard the door close again,
and leaned against the shower wall. It was useless to stay in here anyway--no
amount of soap and water would ever make him feel clean again. He felt the bile
rise up in his throat, and turned toward the toilet, helpless to stop it.
Jim heard the
retching begin, and turned back toward the bathroom. He opened the door and
looked into the small room, and saw Blair crouched over the toilet, vomiting
into it. He frowned in concern, and grabbed a wash rag that was hanging on the
towel bar next to the door. Blair looked up at him when he heard the water
faucet come on, but seconds later he started throwing up again--which quickly
turned into dry-heaves.
"Here,
Chief." Jim ran some water into a small cup and handed it to Blair.
"Take tiny sips. It might help." Blair shook his head, and closed his
eyes. Jim pressed the water glass into the hand closest to him, then wiped the
sweaty forehead off with the damp cloth. "Blair...what's wrong?" Jim
didn't even know where to go with this one. Blair never got sick...
Blair leaned back
against the tub. His stomach had quit twitching for the moment. "Nothing.
Just nerves, man. I'll be fine by tomorrow."
"You sure,
Chief?"
"Yeah. Sorry
you had to come in and--" He waved his hand expansively.
"No sweat.
Glad you're back, partner."
"Thanks, Jim.
Me, too."
Blair emerged from
the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, white and shaking. Jim frowned. Blair
looked as rotten as he had when he was throwing up. He hoped there wasn't
something wrong that the medic had missed. When he and Simon and the backup had
arrived at the vacated logger's cabin, Blair had appeared to be okay. A little
bruised-- that bastard had hit him several times--and a little shaken, but he
seemed all right. He watched as Blair walked toward him, then veered off to sit
on the other couch.
"Chief?"
"What."
That *really*
didn't sound like Blair. "Do you...are you okay?" Jim felt like he
was on shaky ground here. Normally it was Blair asking *him*, pestering him
with questions about his emotional well-being.
"Fine."
Blair looked up at him defiantly. "I'm just tired, man. I didn't get much
sleep while...while he had me." *'Cause he kept me too busy doing other
stuff...* The thought rose up again, and frantically his brain tried to push it
down; he wasn't quick enough. Blair jumped to his feet, a panicked look on his
face, and ran for the bathroom.
Jim followed him,
and stood outside the door, listening in concerned confusion. What the hell was
going on here? Blair had been kidnapped; held for ransom. Granted, those
weren't activities that happened to the average person (assuming you could
ascribe "average" to Blair Sandburg, his mind threw back); but Blair
had been through more rigorous, dangerous situations before, and had never
reacted this strongly. Maybe the kid was suffering from PTSD -- Post Traumatic
Stress Disorder. He'd check with Simon tomorrow, and see if they couldn't get
Blair an appointment with the staff shrink. Jim rolled his eyes then, thinking,
*As if Sandburg would go!* He heard the sounds of water being swooshed around,
and of spitting, and knew Blair would be out momentarily. He moved back,
anticipating the door to open; and was surprised when he heard the sound of
indrawn breath, and quiet gasps instead. Blair was...crying? Shit.
"Chief--open
up." He turned the knob on the door. Locked. "Dammit, Sandburg--talk
to me. What's wrong?"
The gasps stopped
then; silence. Then, "Nothing. Leave me alone, Jim. I'll work it out on my
own."
"Sandburg,
what the hell is going on?"
The door did open
then, and Blair stood there--eyes slightly red, but looking the same otherwise.
"Leave it, man. I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to bed." He
brushed past Jim, and headed for his room.
Jim returned to the
living area, and settled back down on the couch. Something was wrong. Something
was very wrong. But he couldn't think of any way to get Blair to talk unless he
*wanted* to talk. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better, and he could get some
answers. He turned the TV on, and downed the volume; then dozed off as the
events of the last several days caught up with him.
*******************************
Blair lay in bed, staring
at the ceiling. He could hear the quiet, muted tones of the TV overlaid with
the soft sounds of Jim snoring. He smiled slightly to himself; these were the
sounds he'd grown used to over the last year...the sounds that meant comfort
and home to him. It had been so quiet at that cabin... He felt his hands clench
around the covers, balling the material into his fists. *NO! It's OVER. OVER.*
His brain thought frantically, willing the thoughts down.
Caldwell was gone,
he couldn't hurt him anymore. Shouldn't have hurt him in the first place. Blair
knew he was somewhat disadvantaged physically--his height (or lack of) made him
an easy target; but it wasn't like he was totally defenseless. He should have
tried harder, fought more. Of course, in the end that probably would have made
it that much worse. He shook his head, rolling it back and forth on the pillow.
Once upon a time, he'd thought about telling Jim how he felt about him--how
he'd grown to feel. Jim would have either accepted or rejected him; and he'd
have dealt with it. After all, people did eventually get over unrequited
love--sometimes it just took a while. But that option had been snatched from
him before he'd had a chance to make that decision. No way could he go to Jim
now--he'd been contaminated. Damaged goods, so to speak. Blair lay there in the
darkness, silent tears streaming down his cheeks; crying for something he'd
never had, and never could have.
*********************************
Jim woke suddenly
in the pre-dawn light, sentinel senses reaching out for the noise that had
caught his attention. He was surprised to find himself fully clothed, laying on
the couch; but left those thoughts as he searched for the noise. There it
was...it was...
"Noooo!!!"
Jim leapt to his feet as the wail curled through the apartment; chilling his
insides. "No! No more! Leave me alone..."
"Blair!"
Jim called out Blair's name as he pushed through the door. Blair was sitting up
in bed, staring straight ahead with sightless eyes; arms stretched forward
pleadingly, in supplication.
"No
more...please...don't. Leave me alone--"
"Blair."
Jim sat next to him and spoke softly, although he didn't touch him. As tense
and tight as Blair looked, Jim was afraid he'd shatter if he touched him.
"Blair. Wake up."
Blair's shoulders
relaxed slightly then, and his eyes gradually focused. They widened with
surprise to see Jim sitting on the edge of his bed, but he didn't say anything.
"You were
having a nightmare, Chief. You okay?"
"Yeah, I guess
so." Blair looked down at his hands, which were worrying at the blanket.
"I'll manage. Sorry I woke you, man."
"It's okay. I
crashed on the couch--good thing you did, or I'd never had gotten up this
morning." He hesitantly touched Blair's arm. "Want to talk about
it?"
Blair's face closed
up. "No," he answered shortly. "I don't."
"Okay."
Jim stood up. "We've got to be down at the station at eight to finish the
paperwork the Feds left for us. I'm gonna get a shower. Do you need in the
bathroom first?"
"No."
Jim searched his
face for a minute, looking for anything that might reveal a chink in the armor
Blair had erected. Nothing. "All right. How 'bout making us some breakfast
then?"
"Sure. Eggs
okay?"
"Fine."
***********************************
Jim stared into the
mirror, shaving forgotten as he listened again to the sounds of Blair crying.
He found his hands shaking in rage as he wondered what in the hell that bastard
had done to Blair. His reflection stared back at him, mocking him. How in the
hell was he supposed to fix something he knew nothing about? What had happened
to being Blair's Blessed Protector? He was supposed to *be* there for the
younger man. He *should* have been there. Whatever had happened, he should've
been the one it happened to. Not Blair.
Jim smiled ruefully
into the mirror, and began shaving again. Blair wasn't a little boy to be held
back from the world, wrapped in cotton. He was a full-grown adult who was
surprisingly capable of taking care of himself -- when he was paying attention
to the world around him. Blair's problem was that he was usually so wrapped up
in the thousands of ideas bouncing around in his brain he forgot to notice what
was going on around him. Still, that didn't mean that anything bad should
happen to him; Jim felt guilty that he hadn't been there--to stop whatever.
The eggs and toast
were done, and sitting dished up on plates on the table, and Blair was pouring
orange juice when Jim walked into the living area. The younger man looked pale,
but his hands were steady, Jim noted. He didn't seem to be quite as upset as
he'd been earlier. Maybe it had just been the nightmare getting to him. The odd
thing though--what was it...something was off kilter here. His hair! Blair had
his hair...
"What the hell
did you do to your hair?"
Blair looked up at
him. "I cut it."
"Why in the
hell did you do that?" Jim was totally stunned.
Blair shrugged.
"It was something I needed to do."
"Since
when?"
"Since now.
Jim...please. Just leave it alone, okay? Stop bugging me, man." He sat down
at the table and picked up a fork, forcing some of the eggs into his mouth. Jim
saw the shudder as Blair swallowed, but didn't comment on it. Something
*really* weird was going on.
"I'm going to
have Simon make an appointment for you with the Force's shrink." Jim
offered the comment casually as he sat down, wondering what Blair's response to
that would be.
His head shot up in
surprise, eyes wide with concern. "Why would you do that?"
"Because
you're acting...strange, Blair. C'mon, Chief. Since when would you cut your
hair? You've been throwing up since we got home--your hands are shaking. I
think you're suffering from PTSD--and need someone to talk to about it. If you
don't want to talk to me, fine. I understand. But you need to talk to someone."
"I don't need
to talk to anyone. I just need everyone to leave me alone for a while, and let
me calm down."
"You're not
calming down though--that's the point. You've been home for almost 24 hours,
and you're turning into a basket case. The Blair Sandburg *I* know wouldn't
ever have cut his hair--no matter what was going on."
"Maybe you
don't know the real Blair Sandburg," Blair shot back recklessly. "I'm
not seeing the shrink. Period, end of statement."
"Wrong, Chief.
You are." Jim sat back and looked at Blair, real concern in his eyes.
Blair was sitting there, staring back at him--blue eyes totally unfocused.
Almost like a zone out.
Jim concentrated
and he could hear Blair's heartbeat--racing out of control. He knew almost at
the same time Blair did that Blair was going to throw up again, and he was only
a couple of steps behind when Blair bolted for the bathroom.
"Oh...shit."
The softly spoken words filled his head. Blair hadn't closed the door this
time, so Jim poked his head in the door, foreboding clenching at his stomach.
With a sense of shock that ripped through him like lightening, Jim saw the
blood staining the toilet red.
"All right.
That's it. Come on." Jim grabbed Blair, and hauled him off the floor.
"Let's go."
"Where? Hey,
let go, man. You're hurting me--" Blair struggled with Jim, then gave up
as the bigger man only pulled him along.
"We're going
to the hospital. Jesus, Blair. You're throwing up *blood*. Doesn't that bother
you at all?" He looked back at Blair, who gave him a stony look.
"Well, it's scaring the shit out of me. Come on." Blair followed
along, reluctantly, and Jim pushed him into the truck.
**********************************
"Detective
Ellison?" Jim looked up as the nurse called him.
"Yes. How is
Blair?"
"Mr. Sandburg
is resting comfortably right now. Would you like to see him? It'll be a few
minutes before the doctor can speak with you."
"Yes."
"Follow me,
please."
Jim stood up and
followed the nurse down the hallway, and out of the emergency/trauma area.
"Where are we going?"
"Well, the
doctor admitted Mr. Sandburg for observation. He's on the second floor."
Shit. He'd have to
call Simon again. "What's wrong with him?"
"You'll have
to wait and talk to the doctor, Detective."
She led him up one
flight of stairs, and into a small, private room. Blair was laying on the bed,
almost as pale as the sheets, with two IVs feeding into his arm. He rolled his
head restlessly, but didn't open his eyes. "The doctor has given him
something to relax him, and help him sleep. He'll fill you in on everything in
a few minutes."
"Thank
you." Jim watched her fidget with the IVs, then leave the room. He hooked
a chair with his foot, and pulled it over to the side of the bed.
"Sandburg...what have you done to yourself this time?" He wondered
out loud.
**************************************
It took the doctor
almost 20 minutes to get to him. Blair had moved restlessly, and mumbled a
little, but hadn't wakened. Jim was pacing the floor of the room when the door
opened, revealing a tall, thin man in a white coat.
"Hi. You
Detective Ellison?"
"Hi, yeah. You
are?" Jim stuck his hand out, and the doctor grasped it.
"Doctor
Hamish. Nice to meet you. How well do you know our young friend here?" Dr.
Hamish gestured to where Blair was sleeping.
"Well enough. We've
been--partners for the last two years."
"Okay. That's
why you're listed as his emergency contact?"
"Yes.
Why?" There was a long pause as the doctor considered what to say.
"Dr. Hamish--what in the hell is going on?"
"Let's go talk
out in the hallway, Detective." The Doctor gestured to Jim to proceed him,
and closed the door behind them.
Jim folded his arms
over his chest, and leaned against the wall. "Well?"
"Mr. Sandburg
is suffering from extensive stress-related symptoms. The most notable is the raw
stomach--which caused the bleeding when he vomited." At Jim's impatient
nod, he continued.
"He also
appears to be suffering from dehydration--understandable if he's not keeping
anything down--and from exhaustion. He says he was a kidnap victim." The
doctor paused for a moment, waiting for Jim's reply.
"Yes--he was
kidnapped when I was decoyed from the kidnapper's trail. As far as we know, he
was knocked around a bit--the medic at the station checked him out and said he
was fine."
"Fine."
The doctor repeated the last word, and looked at Jim. "Detective--Mr.
Sandburg shows evidence of having been the victim of both physical and sexual
assault."
Jim stared at the
doctor, shock blurring the edge of his vision. "You mean raped? Are you
sure?"
Dr. Hamish suddenly
looked older. "Yes. In addition to extensive bruising over a large portion
of his body there is evidence of some soft tissue damage--he's not bleeding
internally, but there is some underlying swelling. He also exhibits signs of
forced anal penetration--there was some tearing that we repaired." Dr.
Hamish stopped talking for a minute, pausing as if deciding what to say next.
He took a breath and continued. "Mr. Sandburg confirmed the assault for
us. We are, of course, required to notify the police in such situations. Since
you are--"
"I'll take
care of it." Jim closed his eyes at the thought. "What
about...tests."
Dr. Hamish looked
confused for a moment. "Tests? Oh, you mean...Yes, we ran a blood screen,
and an HIV test. The results won't be back for several days. Mr. Sandburg can
come back and get his results in person, or he can call in."
Jim just stared at
the Doctor, listening without hearing. Why the hell hadn't Blair said
something? For that matter, why hadn't *he* tried harder to find out? Or made a
few guesses. He knew what some of these monsters were capable of. He shook his
head, feeling the weight of enormous guilt pressing down on him.
"Shit."
So much for the Blessed Protector. No wonder Blair had been acting like he
had--if he couldn't rely on Jim to keep him safe...
"Detective.
I'm going to keep him here for a while for observation, but physically he's all
right to leave the hospital. Just needs some rest, and some fluids. He *is*
however, going to need some counseling. Can you take care of arranging that, or
should I send a counselor in to talk to him?"
Jim shook his head.
"No, I'll take care of it. It's my fault--I should be the one to fix
it."
"That sort of
thinking isn't going to do you or him any good, Detective." Dr. Hamish
wrote a few things down on a prescription pad, and handed it to Jim.
"These are some relaxants. Until he gets going with the counseling--and I
recommend you get it started as soon as possible. The rape crisis center is a
good place to start. Anyway, you can get the prescription filled downstairs at
the pharmacy."
"Thanks,
Doctor. Can I go in and see him again before I leave?"
"I don't see
why not. I don't recommend talking to him about the assault yet though--let him
rest and calm down a little."
"Okay."
They shook hands,
and Jim went back into Blair's room. His eyes were open, and although his gaze
was a little unfocused, his eyes zeroed in on Jim.
"What's goin'
on, man?"
"Hey, Chief.
How you feel?" Jim sat down in the chair, and reached for Blair's hand. He
felt the tremor that ran through Blair, and let go after giving it a squeeze.
"Like hell.
What happened?"
"You were
throwing up blood, so I brought you to the hospital. I guess whatever they gave
you to make you sleep was pretty potent. You've been here for about four hours,
asleep for most of that time."
Blair's eyes
widened, and Jim felt himself drawn into that gaze. He wished it had been him
in Blair's place...wished he'd had one last chance to smash his fist into Caldwell's
smirking face. Now he understood that smirk. It made him even madder.
"Jim?"
"Yeah,
Chief?"
"Are they
going to keep me here?" Blair looked around the room. "I'd rather be
home."
"The doctor
wants to keep you for observation for a while--he said you could probably go
home this evening." He moved his hand to place it on Blair's shoulder, but
pulled away as he saw the younger man flinch. He pretended he hadn't noticed,
and smiled. "Until then, you need to rest." He looked at Blair laying
there, and had to resist the impulse to run his fingers through the shorn hair.
Poor kid. How was he ever going to fix this one? "Okay, Sandburg?"
Blair waved his
hand, actually looking like himself for the first time in a few days.
"Yeah, whatever. Just get me out of here as soon as you can. I am so *not*
into hospitals, man. They really give me the creeps."
"And this is
the guy who was telling me to relax for my physical?"
Blair grinned for
the first time since Jim had found him, and he felt his heart stop beating for
a second. "Yeah, well, that was you...this is me." He yawned.
"If I can't leave right now, I guess I'll take another nap."
"Whatever you
say, Chief." Jim grinned at him. "I've got to get down to the station
now, and do *our* paperwork. I'll call later, and see what time the Doc's going
to let you out."
"Okay."
Blair looked down at the sheets for a minute, then back up at Jim.
"Thanks, man. I guess I was stressing out. No big deal, and I fall apart.
Sorry."
Jim winced
inwardly. No big deal. Right. "No problem, Chief. Happens to the best of
us." He smiled again, and stood up. "Call me at the station if you
need anything. I'll stick around there today."
"Okay."
"Okay.
'Bye."
"'Bye."
***********************************
Blair watched Jim
leave, wondering why he didn't say anything about the rape. Maybe the doctor
hadn't told him. After all, there was that privacy act thing, and he was
certainly a legal adult. He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of Jim's hand
holding his...squeezing it...the feeling of comfort that washed over him with
that gesture. If only he could have that all the time--he'd feel safe then. He
didn't blame Jim; not exactly. He had known the whole time that Jim was trying
to find him, knew he *would* find him. But he hurt so bad--not just physically,
but emotionally too...it was hard not to affix some of the blame. Maybe he was
doing that so it wouldn't hurt so bad thinking about how much he loved
him...loved him, and now could never have him... He sobbed quietly with the
pain, and cried himself to sleep.
***********************************
Jim drove to the
hospital; looking at but not seeing the sun setting over the harbor. He'd
talked to Simon when he'd returned to the station. He didn't like disclosing
confidences, but felt this was warranted. Blair was going to need help, and Jim
wanted to be there for him. Simon had agreed and granted him two weeks
unofficial leave--as long as he came in from time to time for appearances. Jim
had agreed to that, it was more than fair. After talking with Simon he'd gone
to see the psychiatrist assigned to the Force, and explained the problem
without using Blair's name. The psychiatrist had recommended several counselors
who had specialized in rape trauma, and echoed the doctor's warning to get
Blair into counseling as quickly as possible. Now, he was going to pick up his
partner...He swallowed down the feelings of rage and guilt. The doctor was
right--it wouldn't do Blair any good to have him beating himself up over this.
Still, he couldn't help but wish he'd been there; had gotten there earlier...or
had just *seen* the signs. He was a cop, for Chrissakes! He should've seen what
was wrong...
Blair was waiting
in front of the hospital for him, and Jim was shaken by the strong urge he
suddenly had to wrap Blair in his arms and hold him until they both stopped
shaking. He shook his head. *Kid's really gotten to me.* He brought the truck
to a stop, and opened the door for Blair; wondering all the while how he was
going to bring up the subject of the rape.
***********************************
It took exactly 24
hours for things to come to a head, and force the issue. Blair had wondered why
Jim was hanging around the condo--and had finally asked him point blank about
it. Jim told him just that he felt like he needed a few days off, and was going
to keep an eye on Blair until he got his strength back. He didn't add that he
was now fighting an almost constant desire to wrap Blair in an embrace and
never let go. He'd given up trying to figure out where the urge was coming
from. Blair had grown on him. This was obviously a manifestation of that. Blair
retorted that he didn't need a babysitter, and could take care of himself-Jim
should get back to work.
"I need to
stay here, make sure you're okay."
"Aren't you
carrying your Blessed Protector role a little far, Jim? You need a life, man.
Go out, get some dinner or something." Blair was curled up on the couch,
looking better than he had in days, but not yet ready to try the world. He was
irritated that Jim was staying so close--it was hard enough to love someone you
couldn't have from a distance; when that person closed the distance, and got
all touchy-feely on top of it, it got damned hard to deal with. And what was
*with* all that touchy-feely stuff? It wasn't like Jim had never touched him
before, but this was...different. Fear seized him again for a minute--fear that
Jim knew about the rape, and was treating him differently because of it. He
still hadn't said anything though, so maybe not.
Jim heard Blair's
heart rate increase; could see the perspiration slide down the side of his
face, and wondered what had brought this panic on. He touched Blair's leg, and
started at the jolt of energy that surged through him. Just as quickly as he'd
touched him, he pulled back. Didn't want Blair to get the wrong impression.
"I don't want
to go out--I'm fine staying in for a few days."
"Well, it's
your loss, man. I'm tired. I'm going to bed." He walked out without another
word, and Jim sighed. This was going to be harder than he'd thought. He needed
to bring up the rape--he had an appointment for Blair the day after tomorrow.
That was the earliest any of the doctors could get him in; which was fine with
him, it gave him a chance to talk to Blair about it. Jim turned out the lights
and went upstairs. He might as well go to bed, too.
***********************************
"Oh GOD,
NO!!!! No! Don't...please, no..." The scream of terror, followed by
tearful pleadings brought Jim bolt upright in bed, reaching for his gun. It was
Blair--he bounded out of bed and down the stairs, expecting someone to be
there, physically assaulting his guide. There was no one in sight. A nightmare
then. He set the gun by the door; then went to Blair's door, and knocked
softly. No answer, beyond the whimpering sounds of Blair pleading with the
monster in his dreams.
"Blair."
Jim opened the door, and walked in. Moonlight streamed through the crack in the
curtains, and Jim could see the blue eyes open wide, a terrified look in their
depths. "Blair. Hey, Chief. Wake up." He sat on the bed, and put a
hand on Blair's shoulder, to shake him gently. It was a mistake--Blair reacted,
and he wasn't prepared. Before Jim could do anything Blair had grabbed hold and
flipped him over, hands reaching for his neck.
"Nooooo...No
more! Not again!" He wailed, over and over. Jim reached up and grabbed at
his hands, wrestling to break the hold that Blair could never have managed, had
he not been enraged with terror.
"Sandburg!
It's me! Me, Jim. C'mon, Blair. Hear my voice...you know me." Jim panted
the words out. He wondered what he'd do if he couldn't get through to
him--Blair's hands were like vice grips on his neck, and he couldn't seem to
pry them loose. "Blair...Blair, it's me. You're safe. Come on..."
He felt the hands
loosening, then heard the sobs starting. Jim sat up and gently wrapped his arms
around Blair; held him almost on his lap, and let him sob. As the sobs abated
somewhat Jim could feel Blair's body tense up, and he quickly let go of him.
Blair sat back slightly, looking askance at Jim.
"Oh,
God...man, I could have killed you. I thought you were..."
"You thought I
was Caldwell."
"Yeah. I'm
sorry, man." Blair sniffed some, and shifted slightly, changing position
so he was next to Jim.
"You
okay?" At Blair's nod Jim continued. "Chief, I know about the rape.
The doctor told me."
Blair froze. Oh,
God...it had all been true then. Jim had been hanging around out of pity...
"Blair?"
He refocused on
Jim's voice. "Yeah?" Was that his voice sounding so rusty? His
shoulders slumped.
"Want to tell
me about it?"
"Not
especially."
"How about you
do anyway, huh? You need to talk about it."
Blair sighed, then
trembled when he felt Jim pick his hand up. "Jim...d-don't touch me,
okay?"
Jim released his
hand. "Okay, Chief. Whatever you want." He paused then continued,
"I'm right here, Chief. You're safe, and I'm going to keep you that
way." There was an odd quality to Jim's voice, but Blair shrugged it away.
He needed to keep his thoughts tightly focused, if he was going to do this.
Blair pushed down the wave of nausea that was trying to engulf him, and began
to talk.
***********************************
"He got me
when I stopped home to get those papers I'd left here." He'd been grading
papers for another teacher, helping out since the guy'd just had a personal
emergency. In a hurry to get to school to post the grades for his class, he'd
forgotten them. Caldwell was waiting for him in the hallway. "He told me
later how he gave you the slip, but I wasn't really listening, at that
point." Jim felt the body next to him stiffen further in remembrance, and
he lightly touched Blair's hand briefly, for comfort and support. Blair sighed,
and continued. "He gave me a drug--you know, a shot? And it knocked me
out. Well, not totally--I was, like, awake but not awake. You know?
"Anyway, when
I came to we were in this cabin, and he was sitting there watching me. I wasn't
tied up, or anything, but I couldn't move. He told me it was the drug...that I
wouldn't be able to move until it wore off. Then he said, 'you're gonna to be
mine for the next couple of days, pretty boy. You've got the prettiest ass I've
seen since I got out of prison--figure it's time I got a taste of ol' Jim's
boy-toy.' Then he leaned over and kissed me. Or actually, he shoved his tongue
down my throat...and...and--" He choked on the words, and Jim felt the
tremors shaking Blair's body, radiating off of him in waves. He wanted to reach
over and take Blair into his arms, just hold him, comfort him.
He settled for what
he hoped was a reassuring tone. "I don't need the details, Chief," he
told him softly. "I get the picture."
"No...you
don't. He wouldn't settle for just...for just raping me. He had to have sex
with me, and make me want it too."
"How?"
"Well, he said
the stuff he gave me contained a--a mixture of things. One of them would make
me...not willing, maybe...but pliable. So I wouldn't resist as much. And he
did...s-stuff, and I...I...oh, shit, Jim--I *liked* some of it..." Tears
began streaming down his face again, and Jim reached up to wipe them away,
pulling back when Blair flinched away from him. "I'm sorry, Jim..."
"It's okay,
Chief." He ached again to hold him and give him some measure of comfort,
settled once more for a soothing tone. "Shh. It's okay."
Blair resisted the
verbal comfort, scrubbing angrily at the tears on his face. "No it's not,
dammit. I couldn't help having to lay there--I didn't *have* to respond!"
"Chief, sometimes
our bodies betray us. We're not always in control--especially when it comes to
sex."
"That doesn't
make it all right," Blair muttered. "There was more. He
would...he...really liked my hair--kept running his fingers through it; played
with it...one time he made me...he wrapped himself...in it..." Blair's
heart rate had reached a incredible speed and volume. Concerned, Jim looked
closely at his face--he appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating.
"Blair. Calm
down. It's okay--you're safe..." A thought occurred to him suddenly.
"Was that why you cut your hair off?"
Blair nodded
mutely. "I couldn't stand the thought of touching what he'd
touched..." He froze, then flinched away violently as he felt Jim's
fingers touch the short curls. "What are you doing?"
Jim pulled his hand
back, his fingertips aching to touch the curls...to stroke that silky-looking
hair. "I'm sorry. I--wish you had told me this, Blair. Your hair
was..." Jim broke off, shaking his head. *This is nuts,* he told himself.
"I loved your hair," Jim finished softly, figuring, In for a penny,
in for a pound. He paused, waited a beat, then asked in an even gentler tone,
"How many times did he rape you, Blair?"
There was dead
silence for a long moment, then Blair quietly said, "Rape? Once, I guess.
Sex? I lost count."
Jim found himself
shaking with the rage that was going through him. He drew his hand away from
Blair's hair, and clenched his fists, waited for the shaking to stop--so he
could think coherently again. "I should have been there for you. It should
have been me he was--"
Blair cut him off.
"It's not your fault, man. I was the stupid one who came back here after
you told me not to. I was the one who laid there like a...like a *whore* and
took it from him! I could've fought back--I should have tried harder."
"Sandburg--how
could you fight back if you were drugged?"
"I wasn't
drugged the whole time--just at the beginning."
"Still. You
were being victimized--I saw some of the bruises--he beat the shit out of you,
where we couldn't see, didn't he?"
"Yes."
Blair bowed his head, the uneven bangs falling into his eyes. "How could
you even stand to touch me, man? It makes me sick to my stomach to look at
myself in the mirror...and you..."
"Because it
wasn't your fault. Christ, Chief--that's like blaming an elderly person who has
an accident because they can't get out of bed. Its. Not. Your. Fault." He
leaned a little closer to Blair, and snared his eyes. Dark blue eyes, troubled
and scared, looked back at him. "I love you, Chief. There's nothing *to*
stand. *You* were victimized. *You* were assaulted. *You* *haven't* done
anything wrong. Got it?"
Blair stared at
him, uncomprehendingly, and Jim sighed. He leaned forward and brushed his lips
across Blair's, then pulled back before the younger man could panic. Blair was
looking up at him with a mixture of shock, sadness, and regret in those big
eyes. "Oh, God...Man, you shouldn't have kissed me, Jim." He hugged
his arms to himself. "Oh, you shouldn't have done that...I can't..."
"What, Chief?
You can't what?"
"I can't let
you do this...I'm damaged goods, man. You can't love me--" He broke off,
startled, when Jim's hands clamped down on his shoulders and swiveled him
around to stare at him.
"You listen to
me, Blair. You are *not* damaged goods. I do love you. I've loved you for a
long time, I think--I was just never aware of it. If you've got some
ill-conceived notion of not being "good enough", or some other shit
like that--just get it out of your head. Okay? I love you."
"I love you,
too." It was whispered, and though Jim's sentinel sense heard it, his
brain couldn't quite believe it.
"What?"
"I love
you." Blair's voice was still low, and he looked down at his lap.
"I've loved you for so long now... It was like an ache that didn't go
away--you know, like a toothache you get used to? I got used to loving you; and
knowing you didn't feel that way about me...but I could still be near you. I
thought about talking to you about it, but then Caldwell came, and I..."
"You assumed I
wouldn't be interested because of that." Blair nodded. "Nice opinion
you have of me, Chief. As for not feeling that way about you--how the hell
could you know what I didn't even know?"
"I don't know.
I just figured you wouldn't be interested..."
"Do me a
favor? Next time you have an idea about me, let me know so I can give you *my*
thoughts about it, okay?" He smiled at Blair.
"Sure."
Jim removed his
hands from Blair's shoulders, letting them lay in his lap where they fell.
"So...where do we go from here, Chief? It's your call."
"I don't know,
Jim. I don't know what to do." He shrugged. "Get on with life, I
guess."
Jim dipped his head
and snagged Blair's eyes with his own. "I love you, Chief. Nothing's going
to change that. I loved you before you were raped; I love you now. If anything,
I love you even more--you're a strong person, Blair. Don't let anyone sell you
short on that."
"I'm not
strong," Blair protested. "Man, I ended up in the hospital! That's
not strong."
"You needed to
be in the hospital--you needed medical attention. That's not weakness,
Chief--that's being human. Look, if we'd all been doing our jobs--me, Simon,
the medic--we'd have seen that there was more than just a few bruises wrong
with you. You'd have gotten care right away."
Blair sighed and turned
his head away. "I didn't want you to know."
"I know
that." Jim remained silent then until Blair looked at him again. "You
survived, Chief. That makes you strong."
"If you say
so."
"I do."
Jim narrowed his eyes. "What's it going to take to convince you?"
"Time, I
suppose." Blair returned Jim's gaze, before dropping his back down to the
hands clasped in his lap. He opened his mouth, but Jim had to engage Sentinel
hearing to catch the whispered "And you."
"We've got
time, Chief. And you've got me. I have an appointment for you--and me--with a
counselor who specializes in rape."
Blair winced
slightly. "Do you have to keep saying that?"
"It happened,
Chief. We have to deal with it. Not saying it isn't going to make it go
away."
Blair sighed.
"I know..."
"Even if *you*
don't think you need a counselor, *I* do--we're going to have to deal with this
together, because it affects us both. Got it, Chief?"
Blair looked up at
Jim, astonishment shining in his eyes. "You--" He stopped and licked
his lips to wet them. "You're going to go to counseling with me?"
"I don't think
there's any other choice here. If we're ever going to be able to have a
relationship together we need to work together to heal you."
"Okay,"
Blair said in a weak voice. How could he refuse? It would seem so selfish. He
slowly reached a hand out to Jim, and clasped the one offered to him. Sentinel;
protector; friend; and maybe, someday, lover. This man was so special to him he
didn't even know words to describe it. "It's going to be all right,"
he whispered to himself, looking down at Jim's hand, held in his.
Jim's voice, strong
and sure above him. "Yes, it is. Now."
*******************************************
"It's been
almost two months! How the fuck long is this going to take? Huh? How long
before he can lean in towards me--*touch* me--without me flinching away?"
Blair had raised his voice until he was nearly shouting the final word.
"Blair--"
Jim started to interrupt, to protest that he didn't care *how* long it took;
but Dr. Peli caught his attention and shook his head. Jim closed his mouth, and
sat back; watched with concern as his partner paced the room. Blair never
swore.
Well, maybe not
never--but certainly not like he'd been swearing lately.
Dr. Peli was trying
to calm Blair down. "It takes as long as it takes, Blair. Every person is
different. What you went through is unique unto you--even if I had someone else
who'd experienced the exact same thing, their reaction would be different
because we're all different."
Blair snorted with
disgust. "Fine for you to say. But man, this really sucks. Are you even
doing me any good? I mean, what's the point in coming here and talking to you,
if I don't feel any different?"
"You don't
feel any different at all?"
"No."
Sullenly.
"Are you still
having nightmares?"
"Sometimes."
"But not every
night?"
Pause.
"No." The sullen look on Blair's face changed slightly, and Jim felt
his heart stop for a measure of beats. He almost looked--peaceful--for a
minute. Then the sullen look was back. He checked his watch and noticed that
their session was almost over.
Dr. Peli noticed
the motion, and turned his attention to Jim. "Did you have any concerns
you wanted to bring up, Jim?"
"No--not right
now." He didn't. Nothing beyond the 'when-is-Blair-going-to-be-all-right'
variety.
"Well, if
you'd like to leave then, I'd like a moment with Blair." Dr. Peli gestured
toward the door.
"Sure Doc.
Chief, I'll see you outside in a little bit, okay?"
"Yeah, whatever,
man." Blair wouldn't even look at him this time, and Jim sighed.
"Okay."
He let himself out the door, and paused for a moment, hearing Blair's voice
raise again. He shook himself, tempted for a minute to give in and tune in what
he was saying; then moved down the corridor to the lobby.
Jim found a seat
and got settled, then leaned back and closed his eyes. It had been a long hour
today. Blair was so angry right now--at himself, at Jim, at the world. He cast
his mind backwards to reflect on the last couple of months. Blair had been
going to counseling twice a week--once on his own, and once with Jim. Jim was
also going on his own once a week, although that was going to stop after the
next session. He didn't require on-going sessions by himself any longer...the
ones with Blair would be adequate for whatever would arise. He snorted softly
to himself, trying to convince himself that this was true. Blair had been on an
emotional roller-coaster for the last month, he'd taken Jim along for the
ride--and the ride didn't appear to be over yet.
Jim settled himself
more comfortably into his chair, and thought back to those first weeks...
***********************************
Those first couple
of weeks had been the scariest. Blair had nightmares every night, often more
than once. Jim camped out on the couch, so he could be closer to him. They
tried once--just once--to have Blair sleep in bed with Jim, but it was too
much--just the proximity of Jim's body to his set off a panic attack as soon as
Blair closed his eyes. Jim woke to the sound of Blair gasping for air;
screaming incoherently and striking out at anything and everything. It had
taken most of the rest of the night to get him calmed back down--and settled in
his own bed...with Jim on the couch again. That week had seemed endless...even
after counseling started.
After seeing that
panic, the anger was almost welcome. At least it was an emotion Jim could deal
with--even when Blair aimed it at him. And anger was sure a damn sight better
than the guilt that Blair insisted on pulling around with him.
Doctor Peli had
warned both of them that there would be rough seas ahead--that this wouldn't be
easy. Trauma from sexual assault was a hard thing to deal with; there were so
many variables that combined to bring up so many different feelings. Jim was
having a hard time understanding why Blair was feeling so guilty. "It
wasn't his fault! Doesn't he understand that?"
Dr. Peli hadn't
said anything, as usual. He liked to make Jim work for his answers. Jim
continued, "Then there's this enjoying thing. He told me that he enjoyed
parts of it. I guess...Well, I have to admit--that bothers me, too, Doc."
Jim had said, feeling a weird tightening in his gut. "I mean...is that
normal?"
"What do you
mean, Jim?"
"Is it normal
to--enjoy it?"
"That would
depend on what 'it' would be, I suppose. And your definition of
enjoyment."
"Okay,
and..." Jim raised his eyebrows at the doctor.
"And what,
Jim?"
"How can he
think he enjoyed non-consensual sex?"
"What if it
weren't considered non-consensual?"
"*What*?"
"What if Blair
didn't consider it be non-consensual? How do you feel about that?"
"I'm
not--sure." Actually, it made him feel sick inside.
"It...sounds
weird to me."
"Does that
sound like Blair?"
Jim looked at the
doctor, surprised. "No--but how in the hell did you know that?"
"I've been a
rape counselor for years, Jim. Blair isn't the first person to come in here and
say that such-and-such wasn't really forced, and therefore maybe
enjoyable...simply because they knew that struggling wouldn't help."
"You're saying
that Blair thinks that because he didn't fight back it was consensual--and
that's why he says he enjoyed it?"
"Yes."
"That's crazy!
That's--" What? Jim thought helplessly. How did you counter such
convoluted logic as that?
"*That's*
normal," The doctor emphasized. "That's what he and I will be working
on. Among other issues." The doctor leveled a look at Jim that made him
want to squirm in his seat. "You are an issue yourself. Are you going to
be okay knowing we're talking about you?"
"I--yes. Yeah,
I can deal with it."
"Are you
sure?"
"I have to
be."
"You love him
very much, don't you?"
"Yes." He
nearly whispered the word. "I want him to be able to get over this...not
for me; although I want that too, but for him. I want Blair back--not...whoever
this is."
"Blair is
never going to be the same, Jim. All of our experiences change us, on a
day-to-day basis. Some have the ability to make more profound changes in a
short period of time. Sexual assault is one of those experiences. We will work
through the emotions and feelings associated with that experience; but Blair
will never be the Blair you've known in the past. Neither will you--this has
changed your life as well."
*********************************
"Jim."
Jim opened his eyes.
He was in the medical center. A voice calling him...
"Jim?"
Blair's voice. He
refocused his attention to the present.
"Hey, Chief.
Ready to go?"
"Yeah."
"Station or
home?"
"Home, if you
don't mind. I have some things I need to think about."
"Sure, partner."
Jim got to his feet and followed Blair out of the building. The wind had picked
up while they were inside, and there were clouds gathering in the distance. Jim
shivered. "Think it'll rain tonight?"
Blair shrugged.
"Does it matter?"
"Guess not.
Just trying to make conversation."
"Sorry, Jim.
I'm just...all in my head right now. I have some things I have to think
about."
"It's okay,
Chief. Don't worry about it." He unlocked the truck and climbed in, then
reached over and unlocked the passenger side. "Want to stop and pick up
some lunch first?"
"No."
"Okay."
*Just leave it alone, Jim,* his mind counseled. When Blair was ready to talk,
he'd talk.
He dropped Blair
off at the loft, waiting until he saw his head poke out the window to know he
got inside okay. Then he put the truck in gear and headed for the station.
Half-way there he knew he wasn't going to be any use to Simon after all, and
called in to his long-time friend, explaining that he needed some time off
today to do some thinking.
Blair was at home, which
meant he couldn't go there. Where, then? He settled on a coffee-house near the
harbor, and turned the truck in that direction, his mind returning to that
first week.
***********************************
He remembered how
he'd gone into the station one afternoon, about a week after he and Blair had
started counseling. Simon had needed his input on some things, and wasn't
comfortable discussing it over the phone. Blair was sleeping when Jim left, so
he wrote him a note and headed out. He'd returned to the loft about three hours
later to the sounds of screams from within. Afraid that someone was in their
apartment, Jim drew his gun and crept up to the door. He shouldered his way
inside; and drew up short at the sight of Blair, huddled in the corner of the living
room by the patio door, clutching a pillow to his chest. Screaming.
Jim dropped the gun
on the table; slammed the door shut and ran over to him, only to come to a
sudden, screeching halt. *Don't touch me*, rang in his mind. Blair hadn't rescinded
that order yet, given the first night they'd talked. He approached the younger
man slowly, talking in a calm, soothing voice. "Hey,
Chief...shhh...shhh...it's okay, Blair. I'm home...shh...you're okay.
Blair?" Jim moved in cautiously, slowly, until he was next to Blair. He
dropped to his knees, then sat down completely. Blair had stopped screaming,
but was rocking back and forth, a faraway expression in his eyes.
"I dreamed he
was here, Jim..." His voice sounded faraway, too. "He was here and
you weren't...you said you'd always be there for me..." A tear slipped
down Blair's cheek, and Jim was surprised to feel moisture on his own.
"You weren't here, Jim. Where were you? Why'd you leave?"
"I had to go
to the office, Chief. You were sleeping. Didn't you see the note I left?"
"I saw the
note...why'd you leave, Jim? Why'd you leave me with him?"
"Blair...what
are you talking about? Caldwell is gone. *Gone*."
"I know."
Jim shook his head.
"Chief--what's wrong? Is it because I didn't wake you up?"
"I had a dream
and woke up and you weren't here, and I could still see his face..." The
tears were coming faster now, and Blair reached up to wipe them away. Jim felt
a tide of helplessness rising in him. What could he do? His hands clenched to
keep from reaching for Blair; he ached to hold him and comfort him--offer him
the support of himself to lean on.
"I'm sorry,
Chief. I won't do that again."
"Promise?"
"I promise.
I'm sorry, Blair. So sorry." Jim leaned his head down towards Blair, and
touched his forehead to the younger man's. Blair leaned into him slightly, and
they remained that way for several minutes; foreheads resting against each
other, tears sliding silently down two sets of cheeks.
******************************
A loud horn blaring
brought Jim back to the present to realize he was sitting at a green light. He
waved to the driver behind him, and wondered with grim humor what that guy
would've thought if he'd known Jim was a cop.
The coffee house
was just another block up, so Jim parked the truck at a meter and headed up. He
pulled the collar of his jacket up, and turned into the wind. It was with no
small amount of relief that the coffee house quickly came into view, and he
picked up his pace. The place was kind of slow today--maybe since it was a weekday--and
for that he was grateful. He sat down and placed his order for a pot of
Columbian and a ham and roast-beef sandwich, then resumed his train of thought.
*******************************
By the time the
fourth week of therapy was in full-swing Blair was able to spend the day alone
in the loft--as long as Jim checked in occasionally. He told Jim he wanted to
return to work as soon as possible, and the doctor backed that up. The sooner
Blair was able to return to a normal schedule, the sooner he would heal
himself.
"What's
everyone been saying about me?" Blair asked one night at dinner.
"Huh?"
Jim had been concentrating on some papers he'd brought home, and had missed the
question.
"What're they
saying about me at the station?" Blair had looked away from Jim as he
asked that, and Jim realized that he was embarrassed.
"No one's
saying anything, Chief. The only person who knows what happened to you is
Simon. As far as everyone else is concerned, I just told anyone who asked that
you'd needed some time off. True enough, and it's not anyone else's
business."
"Someone will
find out."
"And if they
do?"
Blair shrugged,
casually, as if he didn't care; but Jim knew he did. He set his fork down, and
sat back in his chair.
"Chief--it's
nothing to be ashamed of. *You* didn't do anything wrong--the blame here rests
squarely on Caldwell's shoulders."
Blair stirred his
food around with his fork. Jim wished he'd eat--he was getting so thin his
clothes bagged on him. "How do you know I didn't do anything? What if I said
or did something that made him think I wanted it?" His voice was so soft
that Jim could hardly hear it without engaging his sentinel sense.
"Blair--people
don't do things that encourage rape. Look at me, Blair...Please?" Jim
waited until Blair looked back up at him. "You didn't do anything wrong,
Chief. Please believe me on this one. Please." Jim could hear the fervent
pleading in his voice, and hoped it was getting through. He stretched his hand
across the table, and Blair picked it up. He squeezed gently, and felt a tremor
run through Blair's system; so fine that only his extra senses detected it.
Blair hung on though...and didn't release the hand. Jim smiled slightly. They'd
just taken a big step forward.
*******************************
"More coffee?"
"Oh,
yeah...Thanks." Jim glanced at his watch. 1:45pm. How long would Blair
need to 'think some stuff through'? Could he hang out in the coffee shop for
that long?
"Need anything
else, hon?"
"No, I'm fine.
Thanks." Jim picked up a spoon and began stirring his coffee, just to give
his hands something to do. The waitress smiled and walked away, a suggestive
swing to her hips; but Jim's thoughts were already refocused on the next week.
*******************************
Anger. That would
be the defining emotion for the next several weeks. And its focus bounced
around like a wild animal suddenly caged. Anger at himself; anger at Jim; anger
at the world in general...and anger at Caldwell. Jim returned home one night
from a late-night call to find Blair sitting on the couch, yelling at the
television. He noticed, surprised, that the news channel had a special report
on one who'd made FBI's ten most wanted: Tristan Caldwell. The news reporter
was saying that Caldwell had been killed in a prison riot earlier in the day...
Jim tuned out the TV and tuned in to what Blair was saying...
"...son-of-a-bitch!
It's not enough that he goes and fucking screws up my life, he's got to fucking
go and get himself killed...and doesn't even pay back society! FUCK!"
Jim's mouth gaped open--he'd never heard much in the way of cuss words come
from Blair. An occasional expletive spoken in moments of extreme trial...but
regular run-of-the-mill cussing? No. "Why? Why, Jim! Why'd the
no-good-rat-fucking-son-of-a-bitch die like that? Too easy..." And the
anger evaporated as quickly as it had come, leaving Blair gasping on the couch,
tears in his eyes. "God, Jim...it hurts. It hurts to know that he never
got what was coming to him..."
"Actually,
Chief...it sounds like he did. Dying in a prison riot probably wasn't how
Caldwell viewed the end of his life."
Jim settled himself
on the couch next to Blair and offered his hand for support. Blair entwined
their fingers, and Jim could feel the tremors shaking his body through them. He
squeezed Blair's hand and nearly stopped breathing when Blair returned the
squeeze. "C'mere, Chief." Jim gestured toward himself.
Blair's eyes got
huge. "What?"
"C'mere.
Remember the night you had the major panic attack?" Blair nodded.
"I'd like to...do whatever that was. I wasn't holding you, but we
were...touching." Jim frowned slightly as Blair's face turned pale.
"Only if you want to, Chief. Nothing you don't want to do."
Blair managed a
tremulous smile. "I love you, Jim. God, I love you..." He leaned his
head toward Jim, until their foreheads met. Jim stayed perfectly still, and
could feel Blair's warm breath on his face and lips. He closed his eyes and
inhaled that breath, reveling in the scent--the scent of Blair; basking in the
sensation of actually being able to touch Blair, to offer his support and love.
"I love you
too, Chief."
"Why's this so
*hard*, man? I want to..." Blair closed his eyes as a shudder tore through
his body.
"Chief?"
Jim pulled back from him. "You okay?"
"I think
so."
"What were you
saying? You want to--what?"
"I want to
kiss you. So bad...but I'm afraid..."
"Then we wait
until you're not afraid."
"What if that
never happens? What if I'm always afraid? I don't want to be afraid anymore,
Jim. This is taking so long...why's it taking so long?"
"One day at a
time, Blair. That's all we can do. One day at a time. You'll heal--you're
already stronger than you were before."
"You're just
saying that, Jim." The sullen angry tone was coming back into Blair's
voice, and Jim had to resist sighing. This was a test for his patience. Blair
had more personalities these days than Sybil'd had.
"No, I'm not.
Two weeks ago you couldn't even be here alone. A week ago you couldn't touch me
without shaking like a leaf in a wind storm. You're getting there, Chief. It
just takes time--and we have as much as you need."
Blair watched him
for a long time, those smoky blue eyes boring into his; until Jim had the idea
that Blair was trying to see into his soul. Whatever he was looking for he must
have found, because a small smile broke across those lips that hadn't smiled in
far too long; then Blair sighed, and leaned his head down so that it rested
lightly on Jim's shoulder. Jim sat frozen to the spot, unwilling to move lest
he startle Blair. Blair had voluntarily made contact with him! Had *initiated*
the contact!
He felt like
jumping up and down and screaming with joy--his Blair was getting better! He
finally remembered to breathe then, when his brain kicked back in. He glanced
over to Blair who was sitting quietly next to him; a small smile still on his
face. They sat like that, Blair's head on Jim's shoulder, fingers still
entwined, for the next hour.
*******************************
Which brought them
up to the present. Jim shook his head as got up from the table. He tossed some
coins down on the table for a tip and headed for the cash register. The
waitress was also cashiering, and she had the most predatory smile he'd ever
seen, on her face as she watched him approach.
"Need anything
else, hon?" She practically purred at him.
Jim repressed a
shudder and managed a civil No, Thanks answer. Time to go home. Hopefully,
Blair would be done doing whatever it was he had to do. It was, after all,
nearly 3:00pm...
**********************************
Dr. Peli says I
should keep a journal of my feelings. That it's a long journey I'm embarking
on, and I might want a road map; or some shit like that. I think it's a dumb
idea, but I promised I'd cooperate. This one's going to cover the first couple
of months, to be added to as necessary. Here goes.
Journal Entry #1 -
I wish I was dead. I wish
Caldwell was dead. I wish Jim didn't love me. I can't ever love him now and get
it right.
Journal Entry #2 -
I wish I was dead. I hate
the pain that fills me every day. I hate being afraid of noises, and smells. I
can't eat--food makes me sick. My head hurts. My heart hurts. Why me?
Journal Entry #3 -
I panicked today. Tonight.
Whatever. Jim left while I was asleep - why'd he do that - and I had a
nightmare--Caldwell was coming to get me...he was here, and Jim wasn't. I hated
Jim for that. Hated him for making me want him and need him so bad. I don't
even have a life anymore...I hate life right now.
Journal Entry #4 -
Jim touched me last night
and it was okay. We put our foreheads together, and... He cried with me...I
could feel the tears. I love him so much...
Journal Entry #5 -
I can't stand to have Jim
look at me anymore--it's too embarrassing. He knows too much about what
happened. How can he stand to live in the same house with me? What will happen
to me if he leaves? Or decides I need to leave? How can he still say he loves
me?
Journal Entry #6 -
I went outside today by
myself--and was okay. I stood on the patio and watched the sunset. I've missed
that.
Journal Entry #7 -
It's been a little over a
week. Dr. Peli says I'm making progress. I don't see it.
Journal Entry #8 -
Maybe this journal thing
isn't so bad...although I still don't like doing it. It hurts to have to write
this stuff down--bad enough to have to live through it without having to
analyze it...
I'm tired. I wish I could
sleep...all night. I don't have the nightmares every night anymore, but never
knowing when they'll come is keeping me from sleeping well. Jim's gone back up to
his own bed, and he seems so far away...further than when he was down here on
the couch. I could ask him to stay down here, but that seems so stupid, so
weak.
Journal Entry #9 -
I hate life. I hate me. If
I have to see Caldwell's face one more time when I close my eyes I might just
lose it.
Journal Entry #10 -
Everyone says it's not my
fault. I suppose deep down I know it too. But it's so hard to remember that--so
hard. I get so angry these days--at everyone, everything. I get angry at Jim,
and then feel guilty about it on top of everything else. He's been so good, so
patient...and I'm nattering on like an idiot. There are days I just want to
scream in his face to get the hell out of mine...then there are days I want to
beg him never to go away again--don't go to work, or the deli, or anywhere. No
where that he has to leave me. I hate feeling so dependent. I hate it.
Journal Entry #11 -
Naomi called today. I told
her what happened. She cried on the phone--I could hear it. I hate that I'm
causing so much pain to the people I love. How do I stop this?
Journal Entry #12 -
My bruises are all gone
now...no more physical signs that anything happened to me. I wish the
non-physical signs would go away too. Jim looks me like he's afraid I'm going
to break. Maybe I am.
Journal Entry #13 -
I almost wish I was back
in school right now--it would give me something to do. Sitting around here is
starting to make me feel worse.
Journal Entry #14 -
I'm going to start going
back to work with Jim in a day or so. I hope I can do this. Even part time. I
need to *do* something, before I lose what's left of my mind.
Journal Entry #15 -
It's been several weeks
now, and it's getting easier to do this, but I'm never going to like it. I'm
counting the days until I can stop...
I feel so out of
control--I react to everything, no matter how mundane it is. It's my fault if
the toast doesn't turn out; or the hot water is gone, or whatever. I'm so sick
of this--I'd like to go punch the shit out of someone--or something.
Journal Entry #16 -
How long is this going to
last? Dr. Peli and Jim both keep insisting I give it time...it hasn't even been
quite a month yet. Maybe, but they're not the ones who feel torn up inside...
Dirty. Used. I wish I could just start life over again--maybe I wouldn't even
look for Sentinels this time...if I hadn't, I'd never had met Jim...and
wouldn't have had this happen. No, that's not fair. It's not Jim's fault this
happened. Or is it?
Journal Entry #17 -
Jim caught me unaware
coming out of the shower tonight. How embarrassing. Worse, I could see his
reaction to me--to my body. How can he want me? Doesn't he see how awful I am?
Journal Entry #18 -
I went for a short walk tonight--the
moon was out, and everything looked clear and perfect. It's almost July. When
will I get to enjoy my summer?
Journal Entry #19 -
I'm having nightmares less
and less now. Maybe I'm finally starting to get better?
Journal Entry #20 -
I took Jim's hand
tonight--and held it. We touched foreheads again, and I put my head on his
shoulder. Caldwell is dead. I love Jim. Life is...?
Journal Entry #21 -
I laughed today. It felt
good. I haven't really laughed since before the...before it happened.
Journal Entry #22 -
One month down...how many
more to go? How long until I feel normal again? Will I *ever* feel normal
again? Have normal thoughts and feelings...?
I heard Jim this
morning--masturbating. I woke up early, and went out to the couch...he didn't
hear me. Is it me he's thinking about?
Journal Entry #23 -
I wish I could let Jim
touch me--I feel myself pull away from him anytime he gets too close. Which
isn't often--he's learned. It makes me so... It pisses me off. How long's it
going to take to get over this? So Caldwell fucked me. Worse things have
happened to people--why can't I let go of this?
Journal Entry #24 -
I asked Jim why he never
gets mad at me--I yell at him; why doesn't he yell back? He said he goes to the
gym and works out. He also said he has enough people at the station he can yell
at; why take it out on me? I laughed at that.
Journal Entry #25 -
I want to kiss Jim. I want
it so bad I can't stand it. But the thought of ever kissing anyone again tears
me up inside. I can't stand the thought of...of what that leads to. Oh,
God...please make all this stop.
Journal Entry #26 -
I went to my office
today--it was good to be back on campus. I'm going to teach again this fall.
Maybe.
Journal Entry #27 -
Jim's not doing counseling
by himself anymore. He's going to keep going with me though, as long as I want
him there. I told him I want him with me for as long as I can have him. He told
me I could have him forever.
Journal Entry #28 -
Naomi called again today.
!!! Two calls from mom in a month. She offered to come out, I told her not to.
I couldn't deal with her, too. I love her, but there's enough for me to have to
deal with right now.
Journal Entry #29 -
Jim called my name this
morning--he was masturbating again. He didn't call *to* me, just called my name
out. I don't think he realizes how early I wake up now. I had a hard time
looking at him when he came downstairs. I wish I could...
Journal Entry #30 -
I'm going to kiss Jim
today. I am.
*******************************************
Jim opened the door
to the loft and entered the stillness. All those sounds outside... "Chief?
You here?"
"In here,
Jim." Jim followed Blair's voice and found him staring into the mirror in
the bathroom.
"What're you
doing?"
"Just checking
things out. My hair's starting to grow out some."
Jim looked over the
cropped hair. Yeah, he could see where it'd begun to grow again. "Looks
good, Chief." *Like you.* Jim felt his gut tighten up. "Why?"
"Beg
pardon?"
"Why are you
checking things out?"
"Oh...just
curious. Plus, my new assignment, for the journals. I'm supposed to take some
time everyday to look at myself...write down what I feel when I do that, that
sort of thing." Blair turned away from the mirror, and gazed quizzically
at Jim. "What are you doing home so early?"
"I never did
go back to work, actually. Had some thinking to do myself. I went down and sat
around the Harbor-side Coffee House, but that got old. Plus the waitress was trying
to come on to me..." He trailed off as he realized what he'd said, but to
his relief Blair only laughed.
"You got
charm, Jim. Women from miles around can sense it."
Jim smiled.
"Let's get out of the bathroom, hmm? Unless you're not done--" He
gestured toward the mirror.
"No, I'm
finished." Blair motioned for Jim to go ahead of him, and they walked into
the living room. Jim sat down on the couch, and Blair continued into the
kitchen. "Want anything?"
"No,
thanks." Jim closed his eyes and listened to the sounds from the
kitchen--clinks, rattles...water running. "Blair? What are you
doing?"
"Making tea.
Want some?"
"No--I was
just wondering." Jim hesitated a moment, reluctant to say anything--Blair was
in such a good mood, which was such a change from moods lately--he wasn't sure
he wanted to be responsible for ruining it. "Chief?"
"Yeah,
Jim."
"About
today--in the session."
"Uh-huh?"
"Why'd you get
so mad about--" Damn, this was hard!
"About
what?"
"Exactly."
"Huh?"
"What were you
so mad about? We're not in any rush here--I'm content to wait until you're
ready to move to the next level in this relationship. Am I putting some kind of
pressure on you?"
Blair's face
appeared in the doorway. "No. I'm just sick and tired of being scared of
any kind of contact other than holding your hand. I want to hold you...and hug
you...and kiss you..."
"I want it
too--but not until you're ready for it."
"I want to be
ready for it, now! How long's it gonna take, man? I've been dancing around you
for months now. Aren't you tired of waiting?"
"No."
The quiet
simplicity of the answer brought Blair up short, and he gaped in surprise at
Jim. "What do you mean, 'No'?" Jim smiled slightly in amusement.
"Which part didn't you understand, Sandburg? No, I'm not tired of waiting.
You're worth waiting for. I love you, and I'm not going anywhere. Quit trying
to make me."
There was stunned
silence, then the sound of the water kettle boiling. Blair ducked back into the
kitchen, and Jim leaned back against the couch cushions, eyes closed wearily.
He *was* tired of waiting, but he'd continue to wait until the end of time, if
necessary.
The couch shifted
next to him, and he opened his eyes to see Blair settling in next to him. They
regarded each other for a moment, then Blair reached his hand out to grasp
Jim's. He twined their fingers together, and Jim felt his body relaxing. He
loved to sit here like this, Blair next to him, hands clasped together. He
closed his eyes again, concentrating on the scents in the air--what was Blair
drinking? Peppermint...thyme... and something else he couldn't identify.
Another scent then; this one sharper...more pungent. Almost like fear--he
opened his eyes to see Blair watching him closely; he could hear his Guide's
heart thundering in his chest, could hear the increased respirations--could see
the sweat gathering on his brow. "You okay, Chief?"
"Yeah..."
Blair leaned forward and placed his cup on the table. "Fine." He
settled back onto the couch, and Jim could feel the pulse hammering through
Blair's veins. Whatever it was, Blair would either calm down in a moment, or
tell him. He knew better than anyone what Jim's senses were capable of. To his
surprise, Blair leaned slightly towards him then, increasing the pressure on
the hand he held. "Jim..." He almost sighed the word, then brushed
his lips across Jim's, and pulled back quickly.
"Blair..."
Jim sat there, feeling an idiotic grin spreading across his face. Oh,
God...Blair had just kissed him!
They sat there on
the couch, neither one saying a word; Blair shaking like he had chills. Jim
couldn't believe Blair had taken such a huge leap forward; Blair couldn't
believe Jim hadn't pulled away in disgust. He examined Jim closely. The
expression in his eyes--combined with the dopey grin that hadn't gone away
yet--were Blair's best clues that Jim really *did* want to kiss him. He wished
it were easier--he'd spent most of the hour with Dr. Peli talking about how to
go about doing something that took about ten seconds to complete. And it wasn't
even a real kiss...
"Chief?
Whatcha thinking about?"
"You.
Me."
"Ah. And what
about us?"
"Is there an
'us'?"
"Chief--there's
always been a us. The dynamic is still there--it's just changing form. Just
because we were *just* friends before didn't mean we weren't an 'us'."
Blair stared at him
in disbelief for a minute, then snorted with something suspiciously close to
laughter. "Man, you really have been with me too long. That sounds so like
something I'd spit out..."
"Consider it a
good influence, Chief. Now, what were you thinking about?"
"Kissing
you."
"You just
did." The dopey grin was back.
"No, I mean
really *kissing* you." The shaking was back, too.
"Blair...you
don't have anything to prove--"
Blair pulled away from
Jim and jumped to his feet. "Yes I do! I have to prove it to myself! I
want a normal life again! I want to be able to think...feel...love...all
without hurting because of something some asshole did to me. Especially since
that asshole's dead now!"
"Blair--"
Jim tried to interrupt the tirade, but Blair wouldn't let him.
"NO! *Listen*
to me, dammit! I'm tired of this. I want to kiss you so bad, Jim. I want to
hold you; touch you; feel you...I want to make love to you...and I'm so afraid
I'm never going to be able to..." Blair turned and ran into his room,
slamming the door behind him.
Jim sighed as he
settled back onto the couch, ears prickling with the sound of choking sobs. He
wasn't going to go after him. The events of the last couple of months had taught
him that his presence was unwelcome until Blair was ready to talk. What had
happened, though? Blair had kissed him. Then what? He shook his head, not sure
he even followed all aspects of the conversation they'd just had.
*******************************
He sat there for
over an hour, just staring out the window. The sobs had tapered off, then quit
all together; still Blair hadn't emerged from his room. He listened closely and
could hear the slow, deep sounds of sleeping respirations. Maybe a nap wasn't such
a bad idea. Jim shifted himself down on the couch, and shoved one of the small
pillows under his head. After scooting around for a minute he finally found a
comfortable position, and closed his eyes, drifting off in minutes.
He woke sometime
later to the feel of fingers on his face...tracing the outline of his lips and
cheeks, moving slowly, learning the planes and angles. Blair was kneeling on
the floor next to the couch, and started a bit when Jim opened his eyes, but
left his fingers where they were.
"You're so
beautiful." The fingers skimmed past his lips again, moving upward toward
his brow ridges.
"Thanks."
What else was he supposed to say to that? "Blair? Can I...I want
to...touch you. Your hair. Can I?"
Blair nodded,
almost shyly. "Yeah--I think it's okay." He held himself still,
hardly breathing, while Jim brought a hand up, gently twining the short curls
through his fingers. After a moment he started breathing again, and although
Jim could tell his heart rate had increased it didn't sound unduly stressed.
Jim closed his eyes
at the sensation of Blair's hair on his skin. It was soft...it felt like raw
silk moving over his fingertips. He breathed in, noting the scent--which was
one that combined to make up "Blair"--it smelled faintly like aloe
and evergreen. There was another scent, a little more elusive...but strong in
its own right. It was...
Lips on his. Warm
lips, pressing down on his. The sound of an increasing heartbeat. A tongue
slipping past his lips, to be removed just as it touched his own. Then the
warmth was gone, and Jim's eyes were flying open to look at Blair--who was
staring down at him, an unfathomable expression in his eyes. Pheromones. That's
what he'd been smelling.
Jim let go of the
curls he'd been playing with, and slowly brought his hand around to cup Blair's
cheek; telling him with his eyes that all he had to do was say no. To his
surprise Blair leaned into his hand. Jim could feel Blair shaking--hell, *he*
was shaking--but Blair didn't pull away. Instead, he pulled Jim's head down
towards him, and tucked it into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. Blair
held Jim there, rocking slowly back and forth, until he stopped his shaking.
Then he just held him, savoring the ability to do so after so long. God, he'd
loved this man for so long...and to finally be able to express it in some way
other than verbal... He hugged Jim tighter to him, unaware of the tears
slipping down his cheeks.
***********************************
Summer was moving
past them quickly, but it was okay with Blair now. He was making real
progress--some days he felt almost like his old self again. Giving himself
permission to touch Jim had helped immensely. All he'd needed to do was get
past the fear...and the support was there.
He'd resumed his
place at Jim's side full-time now--or as full-time as it had ever been. Jim had
been right--no one remarked about his absence, or even the fact that he
appeared skittish when first he reappeared. Only one person had asked about his
health--Elsie, a file clerk whom he'd had in one of his classes a couple of
semesters back. And even that was just a casual question--he didn't detect any
particular prying in it.
Things had been
fairly quiet in Cascade for the last couple of months, something that Jim was
going to be eternally grateful for. Looking back now, he knew he never would
have been able to deal with a heavy work load as well as try to be there for
Blair. And since they had to eat, and needed a place to stay...well, he was
just grateful he hadn't had to choose which one he'd have dealt with. Simon was
his friend, but that didn't mean preferential treatment. Blair was settling
back into routine, and appeared a lot more relaxed and at ease with things
again.
They had not
progressed beyond cuddling, and occasional kisses; but Jim wasn't pushing. He
had told Blair that night, after Blair first kissed him; he was letting him set
the pace. The control was Blair's--how fast or slow they went.
"I've gone for
a year or more at a time without sex, Chief. A few months...six
months...whatever, isn't going to kill me. I'm not some 16 year old kid who
can't keep his pants zipped. And if the tension gets too much--I know how to
relieve it."
Blared had stared
at him after this frank commentary. "I still feel like a tease..."
"Well, don't.
Any contact I have with you is heaven. I don't care if you kiss me--or just
hold my hand. When you're ready for more, we'll do more. Until then, Don't.
Worry. About. It. Got it?"
Blair had shaken
his head, not quite able to believe what Jim was telling him, but unwilling to
disbelieve. "Sure, man."
*******************************
That familiar
heartbeat was now within his range of hearing, heading toward him. His body tightened
up with the slightly uncomfortable sensation that he'd grown used to, and he
willed it to relax. This was definitely not the time or the place. It wasn't
that he cared so much what other people thought--who he was involved with was
his own business, not theirs--but he didn't feel a need to flaunt his private
life. And he *hated* people who gossiped; hating providing grist for the mill.
The elevator pinged open, and the object of his attentions bounced off, proving
to him just how attuned his body was toward Blair.
"Hey,
Jim."
"Morning,
Chief. Car running okay?" Jim took a drink of his now-cold coffee, and
watched his partner settle down in the chair next to his. The scent that made
up Blair surrounded him, and he felt dizzy for a moment.
"Yeah--finally.
Didn't want to turn over this morning." Blair made a dismissive gesture.
His car was an antique that would probably just up and die one day. "What
do we have today?"
"Nothing yet.
Simon said he'd have something for us in a little while--paperwork is still
being processed on something." Jim regarded Blair--he
looked...happy...this morning. That was something different. "You doin'
okay, Chief?"
"I'm fine,
Jim. I haven't felt this good in a long time."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah--I think
I'm finally over it all. Put it behind me."
"Really."
Jim felt his heart thud to a stop. Dr. Peli had cautioned him this might
happen. It could be for real, but probably wasn't. Not denial, exactly; but a
false feeling of readjustment, followed by a more intense period of *actual*
readjustment. Jim sighed. He hoped this was the real thing; but given how
skittish Blair still was around him he doubted it.
"Yep. Never
felt better. Might even cancel the appointment this week."
"Don't do that
Chief. Not yet, okay?"
"Mmm."
"Chief--"
He didn't get to finish his comment when he was interrupted by Simon.
"Ellison,
Sandburg--my office!"
They exchanged
looks, and hurried in to see the Captain.
"What've you
got for us, Sir." Simon was rifling through a file on his desk, and didn't
look up when they entered the room.