Work Text:
Make It Go Away IV: Lessons
By Natalie L
July 2000
"Blair?" Jim looked worried as his lover stared past his cooling breakfast, eyes fixated on nothing. "Blair!" He shook the younger man's arm, but to no avail. Fear began a slow crawl up his spine.
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Blair looked around. He was standing in the jungle. He turned slowly, trying to get his bearings. A movement in the undergrowth behind him snagged his attention. //You are back, young Shaman.//
Blair spun around to face the Chopec Shaman. "Incacha? What am I doing here?"
//You must tell me. Why do you come?//
"I-I didn't. Not on purpose."
//You are frightened. You have not yet learned control.//
"Control? I can control this?"
//You are in control of your visions. Learn. Your life, and that of Enqueri, may depend upon it.//
"But how? I can't control the seizures. Even the medication isn't stopping them anymore!"
//You are in control, young Shaman. Learn.//
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"Blair!"
The anthropologist blinked twice, the light of consciousness slowly dawning. "Jim?"
"What the hell just happened here? You were out for the count, but you weren't having a seizure."
"I don't know," Blair answered cautiously. "You tell me. What happened?"
"We were sitting here calmly eating our breakfast when you zoned out. You were totally gone, and I couldn't get you back."
"How long?"
"No more than about fifteen seconds, but it scared the hell out of me."
"It *was* a seizure, Jim. They call them 'petit mal'. I had another vision...."
"God, Blair. When's this going to end?"
Frustration and anger colored the young man's voice. "If I knew, don't you think I'd tell you?" He slapped his palms loudly on the table as he stood and stormed across the room to pace in front of the balcony doors. Finally he stopped, staring through the glass at the bay and the city. "Incacha told me I could learn to control the visions. By extrapolation, that means I should be able to consciously control the seizures, as well." He ran a hand through his thick mass of curls and turned toward Jim. "I just don't know *how*."
Jim walked up behind him, placing his hands on his beloved's shoulders. "If it can be done, we'll figure out how together."
Blair spun around, facing Jim with desperation showing in his eyes. "What if these seizures aren't really epilepsy? That's why the medication won't stop them. Epilepsy is caused by an electrical misfire in the brain. The Klonopin is supposed to chemically block that misfire. But what if the seizures are caused by something else? Something beyond what we understand?"
"Whoa.... Slow down, Love. It sounds to me like we're getting into *your* area of expertise."
"No, Jim. No. Burton wrote about sentinels, not guides. I'm flying blind here."
"He must have written something."
"Nothing that's going to be of any help." He turned and walked toward the couch, falling unceremoniously onto the cushions. With elbows braced on knees, he rested his head in his hands. "I'm scared. I don't know what to do. Incacha said it was imperative I learn. He said your life could depend on it."
Jim settled down next to his guide and life partner. "You know, when my sentinel abilities first woke up here in Cascade, I thought I was going crazy. Everything was so intense. I had no control. I had no idea what was going on or what I could do about it. Then a cheeky anthropologist weaseled his way into my life and my heart, and everything changed." He wrapped an arm around the hunched shoulders next to him. "You taught me the control, Blair. You saved my sanity. Maybe it's my turn to return the favor."
Hopeful eyes looked up at Jim from beneath a curtain dark curls. "You think...?"
"Yeah, I do." His words were rewarded with a tentative smile. "How about we grab something to eat on the way into work?" He slapped Blair on the back and rose from his seat. Slowly, and with determined deliberation, his partner rose and followed him to the door.
*
"Noooo...not here. Not now." The low moan was heard only by sentinel ears.
Walking over to where his friend and lover sat at his desk, processing their paperwork, Jim leaned down to whisper, "What's up, Chief?"
"Head hurts."
Jim immediately felt his body tense. Whenever Blair was that succinct, it was serious. He pulled the chair back, wrapping his arms around the pain-wracked anthropologist. He pulled Blair to his feet. "C'mon, Love. Just a few steps. You can do it." He half-walked, half-dragged the smaller man into Simon Banks' office.
"Hey, Simon." Jim stumbled in, depositing his load in the nearest chair.
"What's going on here, Jim? What's the matter with Blair?" The Captain's gruff manner did nothing to hide his concern for the young police observer.
"He's having another migraine attack, sir. I'm afraid it might...you know...."
"You're afraid he's going to have a seizure in front of God and all of Major Crimes?"
"Yeah, something like that. Could we use your office?"
"I suppose you want to be alone."
"Um...yes.... Please?"
"Hrmph," the Captain grumbled. "Take care of him."
"I will, sir. Thank you." With that, Simon Banks left the pair alone in his office.
Blair had curled himself into a tight ball, hands locked behind his head, pulling his face down into his knees. He rocked slowly back and forth, wordless moaning escaping the prison of his lips.
Jim knelt beside him, carefully prying his fingers apart, then lifting his head to look into pain-filled eyes. Brushing
loose strands of hair from his lover's face, he tried to still the incessant rocking motions. "It's okay, Blair," he said in his softest voice. "I'm here. I'm going to help." He could feel the beginnings of tremors in the shoulders that he held. "Blair, listen to me. Listen!" He shook the young man very gently. "Are you listening?" At Blair's slight nod, he continued. "Let's try the dial thing. Breathe, Blair. Deep breaths. Like you taught me. Pretend you're at home with that weird music on you like to use when you meditate. Can you hear it?"
Blair focused on hearing the music for a few seconds before replying bleakly, "This isn't going to work, man." The statement barely escaped tightly clenched lips. The rocking motions returned with a vengeance.
Jim tightened his grip, holding the young man still. "Yes. It will. Just concentrate."
"Can't. Hurts."
"I know that, Blair. I know. But you can do this. Do you hear the music?"
Blair tried again, turning his focus inward until he could finally hear the soothing melodies playing in his mind. "Yes," he whispered.
"Great. Breathe deeply...that's right," he encouraged, as Blair showed some signs of beginning to relax. "Now, picture the dial. Turn the pain down."
"Can't. Not a sentinel."
"That doesn't matter, Love. You've got pain. You can do this. Try it for me?" He tensed as the tremors became a bit stronger. He *had* to get Blair to listen to him, to cooperate. "The dial, Blair. Can you see it? Picture it, Blair!"
The quiet repetition of his name seemed to soak through the pain to settle somewhere in the higher cognitive areas of Blair's brain. "Okay." The answer came so softly that even the sentinel almost missed it.
Heartened by his progress, Jim continued. "Turn it down, Blair. Just like on the stereo when I tell you you're playing that damn jungle music of yours too loud." He was rewarded with a weak smile. "Good! Yes! You're doing it, Blair!" He could feel the muscles beneath his hands slowly begin to relax, the tremors getting weaker until they finally ceased.
Cautiously, Blair raised his head to smile at Jim as the pounding in his temples slowly began to fade. "It worked." His voice was a harsh whisper. He let his exhausted body fall into the waiting arms of his sentinel--of the man who loved him more than life itself.
Jim wrapped strong arms around the smaller man, pulling Blair into his lap. He buried his face in the mass of curls, drinking in the precious scent of his guide. "Everything's going to be all right," he sighed. "We've won Round One."
THE END
To be continued.