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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
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1,656
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1/1
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Leaving 01: Waiting

Summary:

Blair waits for Jim to pick him up. Blair POV
Number 1 in the Leaving series

Work Text:


Leaving 01

Waiting

I'm waiting.

Standing outside Hargrove, just watching the normal campus activities around me, and waiting. Kids cross the commons, cars come and go, a plane passes overhead leaving a trail of white in its wake.

And me?

I'm waiting.

For a change, Jim's truck is in the shop and I'm the one with wheels that work. So, between teaching classes and taking classes, office hours and research, I was going to be tied up here all day. I told him to take the car and he could pick me up.

So ...

Here I am.

Waiting.

It's only just getting to be four o'clock now, so I really don't have any reason to be concerned, but already my stomach has begun to knot up and I can feel the tension in my shoulders. I look at my watch and see the big hand advance, sliding over slowly to rest exactly on the first little mark after the twelve and now Jim is officially late.

Late.

Late to pick me up.

And I am waiting.

God, I hate this!

I hate this sudden reminder of my past that has slipped through my walls and ambushed me here in the late afternoon sun as I stand -- waiting.

I hate that these feelings can still hold such sway with me.

I mean ...

I'm an adult, for Christ's sake -- I'm not a kid anymore.

I'm an independent person.

If Jim doesn't show -- I have lots of options.

I can call a friend.

I can take the bus.

I can get a cab.

I'm not stranded here or anything.

It's not like I'm four and my mom left me behind at a park when some protest rally was over. Not like I'm too scared to move, too afraid to ask for help. And I'm certainly not going to curl up in some bushes and cry myself to sleep.

No, sir. No way. I'm an adult. This is not a big deal.

I'll just -- wait -- until Jim gets here.

He'll be here -- I know he will.

I mean, this is Jim we're talking about. Mr. Anal Retentive himself. Jim doesn't forget things. He's probably just running behind. Got caught up in something at the last minute. I look at my watch again -- five after. Bet my phone is going to ring any second now and it'll be him, saying, "Hey, Chief, I'm running late, but I'm on my way." And I'll laugh and say, "No problem, big guy. I'm here. I'll be waiting."

And I will be.

Because Jim won't forget me.

It's not like I'm still some kid. Not like I'm seven again, and suddenly finding myself alone on a beach with the tide coming in and the sun going down and my mom and the other people we were with nowhere in sight.

No, indeed.

This is nothing like that. I'm right here, in my own safe and familiar environment. I know where everything is. I can go back inside Hargrove and go down to my office. Or I can go over to the library and do some research. Or I could run over to the student center. There's bound to be someone I know that I could talk to or grab a bite to eat with.

I'm not stuck on a beach with no place to go and no one who cares where I am. I'm not cold and wet and afraid of the dark and I'm certainly not going to curl up behind an old driftwood log and cry myself to sleep.

And anyway, none of that matters because Jim will come for me. He told me he'd pick me up at four, and he'll be here. Jim won't forget.

He won't forget me.

I look at my wrist again and watch the big hand slide around the face and now it's ten after. I don't know why I'm letting myself get so upset about this. It's ridiculous. So what if he's ten minutes late? That's no big deal. I'm late all the time. I seem to have being late down to art form, actually. Never can seem to keep track of time.

Except when I'm waiting.

But Jim? Jim's never late. Jim's very conscientious that way. He probably got a last minute phone call. Maybe got held up in records or down at the evidence room. Simon may have needed to talk to him. He's gonna pull up any second and hop out and walk over here. He's gonna reach out and take my pack and say, "Here, Chief, you look tired. Let me give you a hand." And I'm gonna say, "Thanks, Jim. It was a long day," and I'll let him have the pack and I'll be grateful that he cares enough to notice I'm a little stressed out.

But just in case --

I can always call Simon. Simon would come and get me.

Or Joel. Joel's a good friend and he wouldn't mind a quick trip to give me a ride.

Or Rafe.

Or Brown.

I mean, it's not like I'm eleven and I got left behind at a rest area when I went in to use the bathroom and everyone else just took off without me. I'm not gonna end up hiding in the men's room for a whole day. I'm not going to be hungry and wondering when I'm going to eat again and how I'm going to find my mom.

It's not like that at all.

I've got money in my pocket. Hey, it's not a lot, I grant you, but I can afford a hot dog if I get really hungry. Or a bowl of soup at that diner down the road. And I know where I am.

If I have to walk, at least I'm not in foreign territory and I know where I'm going. And I sure as hell am not going to take any rides from strangers now -- learned that lesson all too well.

And besides. It's not like that. Jim's going to be here any second now. He's gonna come walking up behind me and say, "Hey, Chief. The Volvo didn't want to work for me either, so I caught a ride with Simon." Or Joel. Or Rafe. Or Brown. He's gonna laugh because I'm gonna look surprised and then he's gonna ruffle my hair and joke with me and say, "You didn't think I'd leave you stranded, did you?" And I'm gonna hit him on the arm, not so hard, mind you, just enough so he'll know I care, and I'm gonna say, "You, man? Never. I know you wouldn't forget about me." And we're gonna laugh and then we'll stop on the way home and get pizza and beer and this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach will go away and everything will be right with the world again.

I mean, it's not like I'm fifteen getting off a bus in a strange city where I don't know anyone but my mom. My mom who said she'd meet me but isn't anywhere to be found. And this is Ranier, not some seedy bus depot. And the people around here are my friends, not perverts who think they can recruit me into things I still don't even want to have to think about.

I may be waiting, but I'm waiting for Jim, and Jim always comes.

I sure as hell am not going to have to spend tonight in some damned alley, huddled under a cardboard box after having run I don't know how far to get away from one guy who just wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

Hell, no.

I'll just stand here and -- wait.

Because this is Jim we're talking about. And Jim would never forget me.

So I'm just standing here, waiting, working on breathing and keeping it together when it happens. There's a hand on my shoulder and I jump, but his voice is in my ear and he's saying, "Hey, Chief -- you okay?"

I'm swallowing hard to get past the lump that's suddenly in my throat and I'm nodding, not trusting my voice yet.

And he's saying, "You sure? 'cause I gotta tell you, your heart's going a mile a minute. Somebody bothering you? Something happen?" He's still got one hand on my shoulder, but his eyes have narrowed and he's scanning the campus like he's gonna find whoever it was that upset me and he's gonna Do Something About It.

I'm smiling now, because he's here. I haven't been forgotten. He didn't forget me. And the fierce protectiveness he shows makes me feel safe. Like I'm important. "I'm fine, Jim," I say and then I laugh a little when he reaches out and takes my pack.

"You look tired," he says and I feel a wave of emotion I'm not sure I can name wash over me.

I just nod and hand it over, letting him carry the pack, his hand on my shoulder as he prods me a little and we start moving towards the Volvo.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Chief," Jim says as we walk. "Your damned car didn't want to start for me, but I convinced it I had someplace important to be."

"Important?" I squeak. Did Jim have a meeting I didn't know about? Have I made him late?

"You, Chief," he says softly as he gives me a strange look. "I had to pick you up."

"Oh," I say, nodding again. "Thanks, man."

He's still staring at me with that Sentinel look, and I wonder what he sees. He walks with me to the passenger door and opens it, watching me carefully as I get in. "You weren't worried, were you, Blair?" he asks quietly. "You knew I was coming, right?"

I just look up at him and smile. This is Jim. What was there to worry about? "Nah, man. I wasn't worried. I was just, you know -- waiting."