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Dreams of Loneliness

Summary:

Blair hits rock bottom, and finds even there he's luckier than some. Jim finds Blair.
This story is a sequel to Bridge Over Troubled Water.

Notes:

A/U. Drug use, explicit sex, and violence warning. Fleetwood Mac, this time.

Work Text:

Dreams of Loneliness

by Mona Ramsey


"Dreams of Loneliness"
by MonaR.
[email protected]

now here you go again
you say you want your freedom
well who am I to keep you down
it's only right that you should play the way you feel it
but listen carefully to the sound
of your loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad
in the stillness of remembering what you had
and what you lost
and what you had
and what you lost

Blair paced the darkened alley, nervously feeling the crumpled bill in his pocket. He was down to last bit of his cash - Jim's cash, it be exact, but he refused to let himself think about it that way. He needed the money, and if Jim had just realized how badly he'd needed it, things wouldn't have had to happen the way they did.

A figure stopped in front of him, startling him out of his reverie. "Ah, Blair. Back so soon?"

"If you sold me better shit, I wouldn't have to come back as often. You keeping the good stuff for the first-timers again?" Blair held out the bill to the man who had grown to become his closest personal acquaintance over the past couple of weeks - John, his connection.

John shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Such insults. And I've told you enough times what the price is. Don't waste my time if you're not serious about purchasing some merchandise." He turned to exit the alley, but Blair grabbed his arm.

"It's all I've got, man," he said, desperately. "Can't I get a half - "

John shook him off. "I've explained it before, it's all or nothing. I'm not a discount warehouse."

Blair stopped him again. "Look, you've got to help me out, here. Advance me a little. You know I'm good for it. Come on, you know me."

"I know you're a junkie, and I trust junkies as far as I can throw their skinny asses. Come back when you've got some real money."

"Where the hell am I supposed to get it?"

John looked at him slowly, raking Blair's entire body with his gaze. "I'm sure there's lots of things an industrious young man like yourself can do to raise a little money around here." He stepped closer, his next words whispered directly into Blair's left ear. "You suck cock, don't you?"

A tiny flicker of shame rushed through Blair's body, and he stepped away from John. The other man, taller and heavier than himself, was still looking at him speculatively, a feral grin curving his mouth into a mockery of a smile.

"Suck me off, and you can have your advance."

Shaking, Blair was too stunned to move for a moment, but his knees buckled when he felt an insistent hand on his shoulder, pushing him down. His hands raised automatically to undo the belt of the man in front of him.

"Yeah, that's right," John crooned. "Do it just like that, baby. You know you love to suck cock, don't you?"

A sick wave of strong male musk hit Blair directly in the face, and he wrapped his hand around the base of the still-soft cock, hesitantly drawing his lips near to the tip, taking a first tentative lick. He drew away again, closing his eyes, as he felt the organ start to lengthen in his hand. /You can do this, Blair. It's just like every other time. Pretend it's Jim, and it will be all right./

He moved his head forward again, and captured the head of the cock in his mouth, tickling the slit with his tongue. His mind blocked out the sounds that were coming from the man that he was pleasuring, and instead replayed a scene he knew off by heart.

/Blair,/ Jim said, /your mouth feels so wonderful on me./ This whispered encouragement was coupled with a gasp, and a small buck of his hips up off the bed. The fact that Jim was having such a reaction to Blair's first, tentative blowjob, galvanized him to further action, determined to give Jim the orgasm of his lifetime.

/Yes, there, Blair./ Jim's voice was shaking, the words coming in short bursts of air. /Blair, please, let me - /

Blair took the entire length into his mouth, concertedly relaxing his throat muscles, the mantra of /for Jim/ a roar in his ears. Before he could even finish the fantasy, his mouth was filled with bitter, acrid fluid, and he drew back, trying to escape. But John's strong hands held his head in place, and he had no choice but to swallow all that he was given.

Finally John finished and jerked away, fastening his trousers. "I knew you could do it, kid. Your mouth was made to suck cock." His movement away had dropped Blair back on his ass, now that the other man was no longer supporting him. John threw a small plastic baggie down on the ground. "Don't come back again unless you've got cash, Blair. I only allow such a special favour once to a customer."

Blair reached for the baggie, startled to realize it was only half a supply. It would probably only last him a day and a half at most. "What the hell is this? Where's the rest?"

"Rest?" John asked. "You think because I let you blow me I'm gonna give you a bonus?" He started to laugh. "It was a privilege for you, Blair. You could be a little more grateful."

/Grateful. I'm supposed to be grateful for - / A sudden wave of nausea hit Blair, and he turned on to his knees, heaving, but nothing would come out.

"Quit acting like it was such a hardship, Blair." John squatted beside him, brushing a lock of stringy hair out of his eyes. "I know someone who could set you up. You could probably bring in a hundred a night, with that mouth. Twice that if you peddled your ass, too."

"Get away from me."

"Hey, all I'm saying is that if you need some money, there are ways of making it. All this time you've been giving it away for free, why not get something back?"

"Shut up."

"Blair - "

"I said shut up!" Blair pushed the man off of him, rage increasing his strength. John, caught off balance, fell and hit the brick wall behind him, his head connecting with a sickening crack before he slumped over, unconscious. Blood oozed from the back of his head. He was motionless.

Blair stared at him for a good thirty seconds before he moved, reaching forward to run his hands through the still dealer's pockets. In one he found various plastic baggies of stuff - powder, vials, pills - and he pocketed them all. Whatever he didn't use he could always sell. The other pocket held a roll of cash - a couple hundred dollars, at least, - and he took that, as well. He stood up, checking to make sure that no one saw him, and fled the alley. He didn't stop running for a good ten blocks, then flagged a taxi to take him home.

He patted the bulging pockets of his coat. It was going to be a very, very good night.


thunder only happens when it's raining
players only love you when they're playing
they say women they will come and they will go
when the rain washes you clean you'll know


"H, man, you here?"

"Blair, Jesus. Where the hell have you been? It's been ages." H held a hand up to him, waving him in. "What's up?"

"I brought you a little present, man." Blair reached into his coat and pulled out some of the stuff he'd taken off of John.

H raised an eyebrow, whistling softly at his haul. "Jesus. What did you do - no, wait a minute, I probably don't want to know. The opportune question should be - who's after you?"

"Nobody. Just call this an early Christmas present."

"And I didn't get you anything." H opened up one of the bags of powder and dipped a finger in for taste. "This is pure shit, not even cut. And here I'd stopped believing in Santa Claus."

"Ho ho ho. Are you going to admire it all night, or are you going to use?"

"In a hurry for something?" H grinned, then reached for his paraphernalia. "Mr. Happy, coming up."


The dreams came again - or maybe they were blackouts. Blair wasn't quite sure where he was, just that it somewhere very cold and small. He knew that there was a sun in his world, but he couldn't find it anywhere, it had disappeared for him. It was like he was inside a very small box, and he had to fight his way out of it, pushing desperately on the walls and lid of it to try to get out. Nothing would give way, so he fought harder and harder, finally managing to smash one of the walls, only to discover that the sun wasn't out there, either. Only more and more coldness came in, until he was shivering in a tiny ball, turning in on himself. He didn't think that he'd ever be able to find his sun again.


now here I go again, I see the crystal visions
I keep my visions to myself
it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams and
have you any dreams you'd like to sell
dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad
in the stillness of remembering what you had
and what you lost
and what you had
and what you lost


Simon came to Jim's desk just as the detective was about to call it a night. It wasn't very often that he got stuck on a late night shift, but he'd been volunteering for it lately. Somehow, it was easier for him to go to bed during the day and sleep, now that the nights reminded him too much of Blair being there in his arms.

"We just got a call in, Jim," Simon said. "It looks like an o.d. case but - "

"Tell it to someone else, Simon," Jim said, holding up a hand. "I'm off duty, and I'm going home."

"Jim, wait." Simon stopped him. "I think you should take a look at the address that came in on the call. I wasn't sure, but it seemed familiar to me."

Jim took the piece of paper that Simon held out, his knees giving way as he read it. "Oh, god. Blair."

"I thought so. Look, Jim, I'm going to put someone else on it. We don't even know that it's him."

"I have to go, Simon."

"At least let me drive you. Jim - "

Jim was already halfway out of the room. Simon sighed helplessly as he watched his best friend tear out of the squadroom.


There was a squad car and a car from the coroner's office still in front of the building by the time he got there. They were loading the body onto a gurney when he stopped them and pulled back the sheet that covered the corpse's face. He couldn't mask the sick wave of relief that shot through him when he saw the face of a stranger there, and he waved the medical team on.

"Is there anyone else in the building?" he asked one of the uniformed officers on the scene.

"We haven't had a chance to check the place out thoroughly. The neighbours said that between five and twenty people stay here on any given night. It's a real mess inside - it looks as though someone was making sure that this was their final blowout. We've been waiting for the meds team before searching the rest of the house."

"I'll go upstairs," Jim said.

He took the stairs slowly, straining his hearing to catch any tell-tale heartbeat that would signal another person in the building. It was a disgusting mess inside - rotting food and garbage everywhere, scattered mattresses on the floors, covered with stains and dirty clothing. The place smelled so bad that he could barely stand it, his enhanced senses almost making him sick.

But underneath it all, it was there - bare and shallow, but nevertheless the steady beat of a heart. He followed it like a beacon, leading him straight to Blair.

He found him huddled in the bathroom, leaning against the tub, shivering. The window behind him was smashed, and the broken glass from it littered the floor. He holstered his gun and called out softly. "Blair?"

There was no response. Blair was shaking the way he had been when he'd been in Jim's apartment - /god, was it just last week?/. He was dirty, his hair matted to his head, his eyes hollow and dead-looking. Jim was able to get right next to him and kneel down without him even seeming to notice that there was another person in the room.

"Blair, it's Jim. I'm going to take you out of here, okay?"

Blair lifted his head, and Jim winced from the look he gave, only half-alive. /At least he's not dead,/ Jim thought. /Yet./

"Jim?"

"That's right, it's Jim." He looked around in vain for something even relatively warm and clean to wrap around the kid, and finally stripped off his own jacket and put it around Blair's shoulders. He felt even thinner than he had been only days before. "I'm going to pick you up now. Let me know if I'm hurting you." He lifted the younger man carefully and started back out of the house.

"Where you taking me?"

"I'm going to get you some help, Blair. I'm going to take you somewhere you're going to be safe."

"I knew you'd come back for me." Blair was still shivering in his arms. "It's going to be all right this time, I promise. I just need some sleep. I just need to be with you, and it will be all right."

"Yes, it will, Blair. You're going to make it all right again."


There was an ambulance outside the building when they emerged. Apparently there'd been a girl in one of the downstairs rooms, too, and she was being bundled inside. He carried Blair over and set him down inside. "He's going to have to go with you, too."

"Are they the only ones?"

"All that I could see, yes," Jim said, adding, /or hear/ to himself.

"Okay."

Blair was only now seeming to realize what was going on, as one of the paramedics strapped him down to the gurney. "Wait a minute, what's going on? I'm not going with you. He's taking me home." The medic tried to soothe him, but to no avail. He cried out, "Jim, no, you can't let them take me. Jim please."

Immobile, Jim nodded to the paramedics. "Take him away. He's gonna need detox for a while, from the looks of him."

"You charging him?"

"Only if I have to. We don't have anything to stick on him, yet. It looks like he and his friend were just partying and it got a little too much for the other guy."

"We'll take him to Cascade General. He'll most likely end up on Ward Three, if you need to question him."

"Thanks."

"Jim, no - "

He could still hear Blair crying out from the back of the ambulance. He was strapped down to the gurney, manic but less and less coherent. Jim peered in the back window of the vehicle. "Is he going to be all right?"

"We can only keep him in so long unless he's charged with something. If we're lucky, he'll decide to stay and get some help after he's detoxed. If so, he might just end up better off than his friend did."

Jim nodded. "You'd better take him, then."

The medic nodded. "Oh, we didn't get a name on him, no i.d."

"Sandburg," Jim said. "Blair Sandburg."

thunder only happens when it's raining
players only love you when they're playing
they say women they will come and they will go
when the rain washes you clean you'll know

The End
MonaR.
[email protected]/[email protected]

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