Work Text:
Would You Lay With Me?
by Melinda aka Rebel
`I hate country music.'
Jim Ellison dourly stared into his glass of beer and winced as the band on stage threw themselves into their own unique version of Rocky Mountain Breakdown. He was glad no one would think to look for him in a country and western bar. He didn't think he could stand the teasing.
Sighing, Jim downed the rest of the beer and motioned the bartender for a refill. He knew he would pay dearly for his drinking in the morning...if not sooner. Ever since his senses came fully online, he hadn't been able to tolerate very much beer except for the specialty microbeers that Sandburg had found for him.
But sometimes a man just needed to drown himself in good old Budweiser.
`Drown. Now there's an interesting choice of words.' It was one month to the day that he'd found his partner, Blair Sandburg, lying face-down in the fountain at Rainier University. One month since he'd seen the disillusionment in Blair's eyes after he'd been caught on a Mexican beach kissing Alex Barnes. One month since he'd been confronted with the fact that Blair was his `light'.
Jim nodded his silent thanks to the bartender and tossed some bills on the bar. "Keep whatever's left." As he swallowed the beer, he scowled. `My light. And just what is that supposed to mean? I admit he's my anchor. I need him in order to use my senses, don't I? But my light?'
"Thanks, everybody. We appreciate it."
Jim glanced towards the stage where the band was bowing to the scattered applause of the audience.
"Now we'd like to do a very familiar song by one of our favorite singers. Kenny Rogers."
Jim closed his eyes as the singer began warbling the words of The Gambler. `Yep. I hate country music. So why am I sitting here listening to this crap instead of being at home?'
Because Blair's at home.
`Okay, so much for asking stupid questions.' Jim ruefully shook his head. `And for the record, I hate it when my mind answers them.'
He and Blair had sat down after their return from Mexico and hopefully cleared the air. There was no escaping that particular conversation. Not if they wanted to repair the damage to their partnership. Not to mention repairing the damage to their friendship.
So why didn't you tell Blair that he's our light?
`Are you crazy? Doesn't he have enough power over me as it is? Well? Answer me!'
Why should I answer another stupid question?
Jim grunted and swallowed half of the beer remaining in his glass. `He'll leave once he has his PhD. You know that. He can't be a successful anthropologist without going into the field for years at a time.'
Do you plan on giving him an option? Give him a reason to stay?
`Go to hell.'
Too late. We've been there. Fountain at Rainier? Remember?
`It wasn't a suggestion when I said go to hell.'
Jim glanced over his shoulder towards the stage as the band concluded The Gambler.
"Thank ya'll once again. Before we take a break, I'd like to bring up my gal, Lori Sue. Sugar, come and do us a song by Tanya Tucker."
"Oh dear Lord," Jim muttered.
"Yeah, well, at least it's just before the break."
Jim turned to look at the bartender who was wearing a slight grimace. "She can't sing?"
The bartender shrugged, then faced Jim. "I'm gonna have to ask you for your keys."
"I've only had two beers," Jim protested. Then he glanced at his half empty glass and added, "Okay, almost three."
"Yeah, and you've been mumbling to yourself since I brought you the second one."
Jim rubbed his jaw. "I have, huh?" When the bartender solemnly nodded, Jim reached into the pocket of his jeans and put the keys on the bar. "I'll call my roommate to get me. Okay if my truck sits in the parking lot until tomorrow?"
The bartender hesitated then nodded. "Give me your name and phone number. I'll make sure the day crew knows you're gonna pick it up. They won't be here until around two, though." He took the keys and put them in his pocket. "I'll put them in the office on my break." He leaned across the bar. "Thanks for not being a jerk about this."
Jim waved his hand. "No problem. But since I'm not driving, bring me another." He quickly drained the glass.
The bartender nodded as the girl behind the microphone began to sing.
`Oh, God, I hate country music. I'm gonna need that last beer for sure.'
The bartender set the glass on the bar, then glanced towards the stage. He exchanged a sympathetic grimace with Jim, then began getting ready for the intermission crowd.
`Would you go away
To another land
Walk a thousand miles
Through the burning sand.
Wipe the blood away
From my dying hand
If I give myself to you'
Well, would you?
Jim scowled as he downed the beer. `What the hell am I supposed to do. Just ask him if he'd give up everything to stay with me? Be with me?'
Well, unless you've developed the ability to read his mind, you'll have to ask him in order to get an answer, won't you?
`And when he says no?'
What do you think handcuffs are for?
Jim chuckled and carefully stood. He waved to the bartender. "Gonna go outside and call my roommate for a ride home. The air will do me good."
The bartender smiled in return and nodded.
Jim walked through the crowd, edging his way towards the front door. Outside, he took several deep breaths then reached into his pocket for his cell phone. "If this doesn't work, I swear I'm kicking my own ass," he muttered as he dialed the Blair's cell phone number.
"Sandburg."
"Hey, Chief, I need a favor."
"Jim, where are you? Your message said you'd be a little late, but it's almost midnight, man! I was starting to get seriously worried!"
"Yeah, I...uh...I'm sorry about that, buddy. Look, can you pick me up?"
"Sure. The truck quit on you?"
Jim heard Blair pulling on his jacket. "Not exactly. Can I ask you something?"
"Jim, are you okay? You sound a little...strange."
"Can I ask you something?" Jim repeated. He smiled as he heard Blair's feet pounding down the stairs of their apartment building.
"You know you can." Blair's voice was a little hesitant.
Jim took a deep breath. "Will you lay with me in a field of stone? If my needs were strong, would you lay with me? Would you go away to another land? Walk a thousand miles through the burning sand? Wipe the blood away from my dying hand? If I give myself to you? Would you still love me when I'm down and out? In my time of trials, will you stand by me?"
Jim waited for several seconds, hearing the motor of the Volvo idling in the background. "Blair?" he cautiously asked.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Don't talk about dying. Would you really? Of course. Already done that."
Jim sighed. "Blair, I'm not completely drunk, but I have had too much beer to be able to unscramble that answer. Give me a break, okay?"
"Did you hear a no in all of that? And where are you, by the way?"
"The Wild Coyote on Route 17." Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "And, no, I didn't hear a no."
"What were you doing in a redneck bar?" Blair sternly questioned. "Are you in one piece?"
"Of course I'm in one piece," Jim sighed. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I've heard your opinions about country music, that's why," Blair chuckled. "Okay, I can be there in about 25 minutes."
"Drive carefully," Jim automatically cautioned. Then he softly added, "Are you sure?"
Blair chuckled a second time. "Jim I was sure that I would stay with you when I made the decision to jump out of that plane over the Peruvian jungle. Nothing has changed that."
"Not even...Alex?"
"Jim we hurt each other all the way through that mess," Blair sighed. "We each made decisions that we thought were in the best interest of the other. You didn't tell me about your vision and pushed me away because you thought it would keep me safe. I didn't tell you about Alex because I wanted to protect you as much as possible by controlling how the two of you would meet."
Jim heard the angry blare of a carhorn. "You didn't just run a red light, did you?"
"It was still yellow," Blair defended himself. "Anyway, we both screwed up by not communicating. And that's not going to happen again, is it?"
"Never again," Jim promised.
"So, to summarize. Yes, I will lay with you. Stand by you. Thick and thin. In civilization and in the wilderness. Good times and bad. Understand?"
"Yeah, I understand," Jim softly answered. "Please drive carefully, okay? So we can...communicate about all of this? Start living again?"
"Right. No more running yellow lights. I promise, big guy. See ya in a few."
Jim closed the cell phone and took a deep breath. He stared up at the stars and half-moon. "Yeah, he's my light," he accepted with a slow nod. "And I'm stepping out of the darkness."
End
Melinda Holley
May 2006
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