Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/ityliana

Author's disclaimer: I have a secret for you. Come in close. Closer. Closer... okay, here you go... ::whispers:: I don't own then. Shhh....

Jim sighed and shifted in the uncomfortable, black hospital chair, his head falling reflexively into his hands as he squeezed his eyes shut. The room was quiet, eerily so, but he couldn't bear the thought of dialing up his hearing to witness the soft cries and moans and sighs of the sick. They were too real, too prophetic of what he and Blair were going through, had been going through since...

Since...

Sighing, Ellison let his hands drop and flipped his wrist over to check the time. 11:03 am. Jesus, had it been a full day already? Had it really been that long a time? That short? He couldn't remember going to sleep or waking up-- it was as if life was on hold, stopped short by impending... something.

If only I could fight this, Jim though miserably, sighing again as he scratched his brown hair, eyes glancing over at the still figure on the white bed. Sandburg had barely moved throughout the long hours that he had been unconscious, but Jim kept track of his breathing regardless-- if anything were to go wrong with his Guide, he'd know it. If I could fight it, then I could find a way to beat it. But, Jesus, how do I save Sandburg from something that I can't see?

"I could really use some guidance right now," he muttered, shaking his head. He had saved Blair from death before-- snatched him from the icy grip of the fountain and reclaimed him as his Guide and partner, but now, no matter how hard he tried, the spirit world was silent. "Something. Anything. I'll do anything."

But, as before, there was no answer.

Standing slowly, large hand cupping the hard chair-back as he swayed in fatigue, Jim made his way to the window, wincing as he flicked back one edge of the curtain to look outside, immediately dialing down his vision from where it had adjusted to the semi-darkness that permeated Blair's hospital room. The sun was shining down, yellow and distant, over the car-jammed parking lot, sparkling off the silver chrome of double-parked vehicles and golden wristwatches of men and women who made their way through the automatic doors, their faces pinched in worry or sorrow. He watched as an ambulance made its way to the overhang, doors cracking open and white-clad emergency technicians pouring out the back, body-clad gurney bleeding below the desperate hive of doctors.

Eyes zeroing in, Jim watched as the wounded man-- gun shot to the chest-- was wheeled through those open, hungry doors, bitterness rising for a long moment.

Blair had been shot before, and Blair had survived. An open wound he could see and have fixed. A wound was stitched and healed, as it had been for him so many times. This was a whole different world from that.

If only I could fight.

A soft gasp startled him from his near-zone, and Jim turned towards the bed at once, hands letting the curtain fall back forgotten as he stepped over to his Guide, eyes automatically searching his face. "Blair?" he asked softly, leaning down to see the closed eyes swiftly shifting as Blair surfaced. "Hey, buddy, you okay?"

A low moan answered him, and Blair finally opened his eyes, blue gaze dilated and disoriented as he tried to focus on the man before him. "Ah-- I..." he began slowly, his voice thick as he swallowed, eyes squeezing shut briefly before he looked back up again, mouth twisting down into a grimace. "I... define okay."

"Uh, doing good, doing fine." Jim smiled briefly, lines deepening around his eyes as he reached out to lightly pat the other man's shoulder, reassuring himself. "Doing okay."

"I'll, uh, I'll have to get back to you on that one, Jim," Blair tried to smile, but then winced, face going pale. "Damn it, it's back."

"It's back?" Jim's gaze darted around the small room, brows drawing together in confusion. "What's back, Blair?"

"That noise. It just won't leave me alone." He winced again, face squeezing tight as his pale fists balled together on the white sheets. "Ah."

"What noise?" Jim demanded, hearing dialing up, catching the cries and moans and beeping sounds of machinery that made a clashing drone through his Sentinel abilities. "Blair?"

"That noise!" Those blue eyes were on his, holding his gaze as Blair worked his mouth, a fine layer of perspiration gleaming on his brow. Offhandedly, Jim noticed that the kid's hair was tangled and in need of cleaning. "That... that... oh, the word..." He tore his blue gaze away to stare at the ceiling, as if the white tiles would give him the answer that his brain denied him. "That... bbbbzzzzz..." He looked up hopefully, lips peeling back as he continued to make the keening, high-pitched noise. "Bbbbbbbbzzzzzzzzz..."

"Buzzing?"

"That's it!" Blair grinned, half-bouncing as he sat up, blanching for a brief moment as if in pain. Jim felt himself moving forward before he stopped himself, strangely reluctant to touch the younger man, as if he were afraid of breaking him. "Buzzing." His smile was large and bright, and Jim swallowed the threatening lump in his throat swiftly, nodding along as if Blair had made a brilliant discovery.

"Buzzing."

"That's the word." Then Blair's grin faded. "And it's driving me fucking crazy."

"Oh." Tentatively, Jim brushed his fingers across his friend's hair. "Then maybe..."

"And I could really use another cannon here." He blinked. "No. No, wait, that... I didn't... Ah, bbbbzzzzz..."

"Blair?" He gripped Blair's shoulder lightly, worry coloring his voice as he leaned closer. "Blair are you all right?"

"Yes. No. Yesnoyes. I... I feel funny, man, like I've been wired on some strange shit. And I'm buzzzzing, Jim. I'm buzzzzing with the buzz. And I, I just can't stop buzzzzing, it's like I've been reprogrammed to do it, and I can't feel my legs, which really sucks, and I can't feel my hands, which sucks more, and I hate watermelons, man, I really, really hate them, and..." His pale hands knocked against Jim's arm as he leaned forward, eyes wild, "and I know I'm talking shit and not making any sense, but it's like the pod people got me and I just can't stop myself. Like when you've had wwwwaaaaayyyyyy to much to drink and you're just buzzzzing, I'm just buzzzzing here, and God I wanna fuck you, did you know that, and my skin just itches like anything and I just can't stop, I can't stop..." Tears shone bright in his eyes as he stared up at his partner, mouth working in frustration. "I can't control me anymore, I can't control, and that's all I ever had, you know, my brain? It's who I am, it's what I am. It's like if you ever lost your ability to move or act-- you'd go crazy, totally crazy, but I could take it, I could take it okay, but this is different, it's like there're things I want to say or think or... or... or something but they won't come out. They're there, but they're trapped, and if I can no longer think right, then how can you use me, Jim? How can you use me if I... if I..."

"Blair, Blair!" Jim tried to cut into the wild monologue, worry peaking sharply within him as he felt more than heard Sandburg's heart rate increase sharply. Helplessly, he reached out to try to smooth back the curly mass of hair and brush away the tears, but Blair merely shook him away, eyes widening as he babbled madly.

Finally, unable to bear the insane chatter, Jim turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him with a choked sigh, but he couldn't drown out the panicked noise that followed him out into the hall.

Damn, he growled to himself, eyes squeezing shut as he leaned back against the door. Damn, damn, damn, damn.

He was still leaning there, head back against the hard wood, when a man's voice said, "Detective Jim Ellison?" He opened his eyes slowly and straightened, facing the white-coated elderly man with a nod.

"That would be me."

"I'm Dr. Rupert Evans," the silver-haired man spoke in a low, rich tone, holding out his hand with a small smile. Jim grasped the cool hand, a bit startled by its firm grip. "I'm here to talk with Blair."

"He's... he's not doing so hot right now."

"Oh?" A dark brow-- dark brows and silver hair?-- rose as the man reached for the chart hanging alongside the door. "And why would that be?"

"He's acting delirious, Doc. Like he can't control what he's saying, and he claims he hears..."

"Some sort of tone?" Evans cut in briskly, eyes scanning the chart.

"Yes. Well, a buzzing, actually."

"I see." He flipped the page over and glanced on the other side, then shut the medical log and placed it back into its plastic crib. "Well, that's not uncommon for some forms of brain tumors. Is he experiencing some form of psychotic episode? Sudden, inexplicable changes in mood or temperament, or strange conversations?"

"Well... yes. Blair's not acting... he's not quite himself at the moment."

"Ah. I see." He sighed softly. "Well, his does complicate matters a bit. You see, Detective Ellison, we've managed to secure him a MRI scan time slot for this morning, but we'll need him to sign a release form..."

"Is this dangerous?" Jim cut in, worry gripping him. Blair had been through way too much for him to be willing to risk him to a diagnostic procedure.

Evans held up his hands soothingly. "Not in the slightest, I assure you. All we do is place him on a small table and slide him into a tunnel where a magnetic field will surround his head. The field will cause the atoms in his brain to change direction several times, and then the atoms will return to rest, giving off signals that will help us to discover the diseased tissue."

"And that's what that injection was from before? For this MRI?"

Evans nodded. "The injection was a dye used for contrast, to help with the process. It's all completely safe, I assure you."

"Oh." Jim paused, hesitant, then said, "Blair's my partner and roommate-- I'm given clearance to sign for him whenever he's... incapacitated."

"Very well." Evans handed him a hard-backed pad, pen clipped to the top. "If you'd just read over this and sign along the dashed line, I'll go get our nurses to prepare the gurney." With a nod, he headed off at a brisk pace towards the nurse desk.

"Okay," Jim muttered, leaning back against the wall as the scanned the release. It was a typically carefully worded document, but after looking over it three times, he could not discover any reason why not to sign it. Shrugging philosophically, he uncapped the pen and signed his name to the dashed line.

"Why don't you rest, Detective?" One of the nurses suggested gently, hand on Jim's arm to keep him from moving after the swiftly disappearing form of his Guide. When Dr. Evans had returned with the three nurses, Jim had fully expected to be allowed to go with Blair to view the testing, but was swiftly disabused of that notion. "We prefer to keep our examination rooms strictly for the doctors and their patients," Evans had explained as the only semi-conscious Blair had been rolled out of his room, face pale and eyes flickering. Jim had almost zoned watching his partner as he was wheeled by, and the hand on his arm was the only thing that kept him in check.

"Rest?" Her words didn't make any sense-- how was he supposed to rest when Blair wasn't with him?

"Or get some lunch. The hospital cafeteria isn't so bad, or there are some fast food chains nearby."

He shook his head, though not in denial, not really, numbness sinking through him as he caught one last glance of Blair before he was wheeled around the corner and out of sight. "Sounds good," he murmured, head bowing under the strain.

"Just go straight and follow the signs," the nurse smiled helpfully, then headed off, leaving Jim alone.

He couldn't seem to make himself move. It was as if there were weights resting upon him, thick and heavy across his shoulders and back, burning with the magnitude and spectacle of death. "Be okay," he whispered, knowing that somehow, Sandburg heard him. "Just be okay." Then, dully, he turned and reentered the empty hospital room, standing silent on the threshold to stare at the vacant bed.

Slowly, Jim moved forward, shutting the door behind him as he made his way towards the hospital bed, eyes catching on the white pillow where Blair's head had rested, leaving behind strands of curly brown hair. His hands reached out of their own violation, and Jim sighed as he felt the heat radiating from that recently vacated pillow, seeping into his hands and giving him the strength that he needed. Then, carefully, he lay the pillow back down again and crawled into the bed, his arms impulsively snaking around the pillow that held his Guide's scent buried deep within it. He pressed his face against the warmth, feeling the bright, alive presence surround him, embrace him like an aura, and for the first time, Jim let the walls slide down within himself as he curled up around the pillow and began, softly, silently, to cry.

"Be okay," he whispered, tears making silent tracks down his skin. "Oh, Blair, please be okay."

He buried his face into the soft cotton, breathing in his partner and realizing his open, desperate need for the other man for the first time.

"I love you."

Sighing brokenly, breath breaking on his tears, Jim Ellison pressed his face down into Blair's pillow and slowly drifted off to sleep.

A soft hand on his shoulder and the sweet smell of jasmine woke him from his deep slumber.

"Blair?" he murmured drowsily, swimming out of unconsciousness as he pushed himself up, blinking wearily as he looked around him. Then he saw the hospital machinery and he sighed.

"Not Blair," a woman's voice answered, and he turned his head and tried to smile warmly in welcome. "Hello, Jim."

"Sally."

"Any room for me?" she asked softly before climbing up next to him on the bed, legs tucking easily beneath her small body as she turned to look at him, plain face beautiful in empathy. "You were crying," she noted, touching his face. Jim flinched back only slightly, used to Joel's quiet wife by now, but he didn't want sympathy from anyone.

"Yeah, well," he began gruffly, looking away uncomfortably, "it happens."

"Yes. It does." The way that she emphasized those words made Jim turn to look at her in surprise, but her face was earnest and forgiving. "They sent me in here to talk to you," she added, smiling slightly as she nodded towards the closed door. "Simon seems to think that you're going mad right about now, but I knew that that weren't-- wasn't," she corrected herself, making a face at her slip, "true. On the same token, Joel thinks that you're holding up strong inside, but I know that isn't true either." A cool hand touched his shoulder as her eyes met his, large and dark. "You're a strong man, Jim-- a strong, strong man, but so much of your strength is in Blair. And that's okay, but you have to learn to be strong for yourself, too, and that involves letting go." She smiled then, lines appearing around her eyes. "Oh, my, Joel would be tickled to hear me talk now." Then she shook her head and opened her arms. "So you take my advice and be strong by showing that you're worried. It's okay to cry, ya know. God knows, I've done it often enough."

Jim hesitated, feeling foolish and young, but after a moment he gave up the struggle and let himself be pulled into a tight embrace, realizing that he needed this contact and comfort now, he needed a quiet presence to help him be strong for the kid. Otherwise, he wasn't sure that he could have kept going much longer.

He let her hold onto him for a long moment, then shrugged and pulled away with a smile, assuring Sally with a nod that he was fine. She just looked at him with measuring, deep eyes, then nodded back and stood, hands smoothing down her skirt. "If you ever need a hug again, just call," she smiled, touching his broad shoulder once before leaving, shutting the door behind her. Focusing in, Jim dialed up his hearing in time to hear Simon say: "How'd it go?"

"He'll be fine." Sally's voice was warm and honestly caring. "He just needs someone to remind him once in awhile that he doesn't have to do this alone." A pause, then, "Maybe you should try giving him a hug, Simon."

Joel's sudden, bright chuckle caused Jim to wince and dial his hearing back to normal, cutting off the rest of the conversation. "Meddling woman," he muttered without malice, shaking his head as he stood and stretched, sighing in relief as the joints in his back popped loudly. Strangely enough, he did feel better, even if he felt as if he had reverted back to childhood. He needed that short span of physical contact so very badly, and Blair, who usually was there to touch and keep him grounded, seemed so very fragile lately...

But still, stronger than him by a long shot.

"I'm not giving up on you, Blair," he half-whispered to the warm pillow as he laid it down at the head of the hospital bed, lines creasing his face in tiredness. "We are going to fight this, together, no matter what it takes. We're gonna beat this together. I swear." Then, nodding to himself as if he were reaffirming his own commitment to the battle, Jim squared his shoulders and marched towards the door, determined to track a doctor down and demand some answers.

And, somewhere in the heated jungle within his own mind, a wolf began to howl in triumph.

Author's note: I'm so sorry this took so long-- I got a pretty major thought block when exam week took over. I had meant to go on further with this chapter, but figured that brevity would be repaid in the next section where some feelings are admitted, Blair gets to go home for a little bit, and some sex is had! I had a beta all ready and waiting, but decided to ask her to look over the next section instead so that I could get this out to ya'll. I do hope you enjoyed it. Again, all comments welcome at [email protected]