Rated: probably PG - R
Warnings: Blair angst galore, AU-land, this sure isn't Kansas (or Washington) anymore.

Blair raised up on his elbows then, and saw blue puddles and mini-ponds on the concrete floor. The color was a little darker than Jim's eyes. Then he became painfully aware that he lay in a strange bed, not his old futon that'd been put away in the basement, no; this was a hospital bed, with white sheets and spread. And I'm naked!

He grasped the spread to cover his body all the way up to his chilled shoulders.

I remember rolling in quilts when I was little, even in summer, and Mama laughing at me every morning before she said good morning. Naomi. Naomi would giggle, "Oh, silly Blair. You're so cold-natured, yes you are, baby." And she'd unwrap him from the covers, tickling his ribs and underarms and neck, 'til he was chortling and kicking his little heels on the mattress.

Mama would clasp his curly head to her soft, soft breast and he'd smell lavendar and mint and a lot of grasses he knew but couldn't name yet. "Are you ready to greet the day, little dove?"

"Mama," he'd giggle. "You always talk so funny!"

Naomi grinning, and making snorting pig noises, flashing her eyes and sticking out her tongue and wagging it at him. "I'm funny for my bunny. My little Bunny Blair!" Mama, Mama, MAMA! NAOMI! Mama, come help me! I'm not home, wanna go home. This is an awful, awful place. Jim needs me...he depends on me...I need him, too...Mama, Mother? Please, I'll be good, from now on, I'll be good, as good as I can? I won't ask you for toys in the grocery store any more! I won't drink from the carton ever again! I won't say mean things to your boyfriends. Find Jim for me. I need him. I need him.

The walls are blue. There is nothing in this room but my bed and a chair next to it. An ugly baby shit yellowish chair. Maybe one leg is rickety.

The door opened, and there stood Joel. Wonderful Joel, with his sad, wise brown eyes. Blair loved brown, every shade from camel to earthtone. Those eyes. Those eyes, yes, comforting him.

"May I come in?"

Blair pressed his fist against his mouth to keep from sobbing. A kind voice, here? A caring and sweet voice. Oh, God, can I be home now? But where is Jim?

Tears trickled freely and he began to choke, gasping for breath. I'm happy!

Yeah! Joel will make Jim come to get me. But...is it...am I home...

"May I come in?"

"Oh, yeah, man. Finally a friendly face around here. God, I was dying for..."

Joel glanced back at the door, then shut it firmly. After he reached his bedside, he glanced up at the ceiling, prompting Blair to follow his eyes. Did he see the blue, too? It was painted an institutional white, but at the corners the blue began dripping and flowing. "Do you see it, too, man...Nobody says anything about it. That's too weird. And I..."

Joel interrupted by clasping Blair's hand in his, rubbing the knuckles. "How are you, son? Got a few bruises, but Doc Lash says you'll be fine..."

"NO!" the man yelled, springing up in bed, remembering he was nude, clasped the spread even more tightly around him. "Lash is dead, Joel. Dee--ee--aye--dee, dead. Jim killed that fucker, shot him. I was there and Carolyn said...There's no way...Wait a minute, we're not talking about the same guy, are we...the serial killer...yellow scarf fetish...drowning, duck shit...Nah, just the same last name..."

Blair, calm down and be quiet. Sweetie, you're getting too worked up, you mustn't have a panic attack now. Think, Blair, think. "Mom? Mom? NAOMI!"

Startled, Joel jerked his head around, but knew there was no possibility of anyone else in this room. The door was locked from outside, and Rafe was guarding it.

"Why do you think she's here, Bl...Is that your name, son? What should we call you?"

Blair's hands flew to his face, covering it, blocking out the blue flowing gently, like a trickling brook. He rubbed his eyes. Sandpaper eyes. I need to wash. Where's Jim? Where's my mama?

"'Course, I'm Blair. And...are you the real Joel? You look like him...you even lost weight like him...but you don't know me, do you?"

"Son, I *am* Joel. Joel Taggart, I'm a detective with the CPD, the former head of our anti-terrorist unit. Your name really is Blair?" He knew the rumors were true. This was not Guide to their Sentinel.

Blair began to laugh. His head was hurting and he was laughing. Am I turning into a mad scien...mad anthropologist? God.

"Where's my mother? I need her. I'm...lost and I need my mama! Where's Jim, why doesn't he come and take me home. I wanna go home, Joel, wanna go...to the loft, would you take me, iddn't far, just to Prospect...or I could go...you gotta robe?...I'm bare Blair..."

Blair heh-hehed, a nervous little laugh. Joel patted his arm. "Bla...Blair, Ms. Sandburg has been contacted, and she's on her way. She's coming to the hospital, so there's absolutely no need for you to get up. Why don't you let me get you some water?"

"Mom's on the way? Yeah, Joel, I need a drink, and could you get me a rag...I need to wash my face, and I need to pee, and shave...I need a robe on before she gets here. Where's Jim, why doesn't he come? Get me a phone...is he on a case? Maybe Simon will let him...you sure Naomi's coming?"

Joel's sad, chocolatey brown eyes blinked at the rapid-fire change of subjects. And, where to start with this pitiful young man?

"And Joel, if I have to stay here, can I have another room? All this blue paint on the walls and floor, didn't think a hospital allowed..."

"Blair, there is no blue."

There was a knock on the door. Blair was astonished at how fast Joel moved in response. He blocked the doorway and Blair couldn't tell if the visitor was medical, or...Mom?

The door opened just wide enough for Naomi Sandburg to enter. Joel exited without a goodbye. Silently.