God I was uncomfortable. Hospital chairs are one step removed from torture devices. My face hurt from being pressed on the wood armrest, My back and arms were twisted and pined in a uncomfortable way, and I was twisted like a pretzel. I looked over at Jim. He was curled up pillow over his ears and eyes. Dam wish I had remembered to bring his earplugs and eye mask. Knowing that he had a hard time sleeping in the hospital.

And then I remember. Last night. Jim. Being dragged off. Bound and all but raped.

I tried to uncurl carefully but ended up falling on the floor. Got up trying to be quiet. Jim did not move. The IV bag hanging next to the bed was not in Jim's arm. I looked at the Notes on the bag. Dam Codeine. They had given him Codeine. That could explain last night.

Man I hurt. I touch Jim's arm. At least his fever was nearly gone.

My arms hurt, my denim jacket was gone. The tee I had on was backwards, inside out.

Stepping into the bathroom, an inspection of the rest of my body. I had a bruise on my left side of my face, and scratches on my hands and arms. Unzipping, I found the trace remains of last night I could smell Jim and myself on me, Dried seamen. Even if most of it was removed. Dirt and grass stains on my jeans. I ached all over, A truly bad hair day. I had dirt and grass in my hair. No question that this was real.

The question was how was I going to deal with this. Rape. Consent. It had been taken from me the choice of consent. I had been love with my friend for a long, long time. But I knew that nothing could ever happen. Not mister macho Jim Ellison.

God this sucked. Why did it have to be like this? And I could not even be upset with Jim. He had been out of his head with fever when he came in and on top of that the drug. He could not have known what he was doing.

I splashed water on my face, contemplated jumping in the shower. I so wanted to be clean.

Violated. I only wanted to forget what had happened. But that is the last thing that I could let happen.

I.... we had to deal with this. For no reason than Jim had to be aware of what this drug could do to him. And on some level. Some deeply repressed cave man level, He must have wanted me.

But punching me? That was so out there for him. Force. Bound. Raped. Violence. I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. This was so not how I wanted any one. I fought with my stomach. I won but only just. I had to know what had been going on in his head.

If I was ever going to trust him. Hell If I was ever going to trust myself. I had wanted him. Hell, I had kissed him. Responded to him, held him, encourage him; shot my load when he did his rub off on me. I might have even told him that I loved him. But I did not remember.

Oh God. How was I going to face him? What if he remembered, or worse if he did not?

Guild Pain, remorse. I know that we needed to talk, but not now. I wondered what had happened to my Jacket, as I grabbed Jim's leather one, and my back pack and headed back to the loft, to grab a shower and some time.

A last look at Jim. He was still curled in a ball; pillow still stuffed over his eyes and ears.

Blessed Protector. Somehow I had to protect him from this. An urge to drop a kiss on his wide forehead was squelched. By the knowledge that I could wake him, and have to deal with it before I was ready.

Jim POV Hospital. Medicated

Fire.

Fire in the Jungle. Had to get away from the heat. Had to save the tribe. Vines were all around me. Had to tear them away, fight my way out from the cage that was holding me. Trapped.

Had to save him.

Waking silent. Have to get out. Fire. Too hot. Blood burning. Boiling. Companion coming. Have to save him. Fire is licking all around us. Have to get out. He doses not see the fire. I have to save him. He is fighting to go back, back into the flames. Have to stop him. I must protect him. He wants to go back to the place of demon fire. I have no choice. He slumps in my arms. And I. Cary
him away into the safety of the cool night. I will do what I must to protect him from the fire.

Protect him from his self.

Fire almost took him once. I stand guard.

He is bound and safe. No one will take him. He is safe even from himself.

But the fire has come back for me.

It burns and fills. Combusts. My blood is on fire.

I hear him.

The fire demon are after him. The fire licks at him. The fire covers him. I am the fire.

Then we are fire.

I taste the fire on him, in him, burning. I have no choice but to burn with him. His kisses are fire. He gives me leave with his mouth to quench the fire. I taste his need, I smell his want. We are a part of each other.

I cannot hurt him.

I free him. Comfort him. We save each other in the night. We are a bonfire burning bright.

We strive together, passion filling, building. Fire drips off of us. Flame is in his fingertips. Fire is in his kisses. I taste the smoke in his hair.

And in a moment we are both consumed.

And the fire that is we fades, and slowly slips away.

Returning.

Oh Dear God. What have I done? What have we done? I have a hospital band on my wrist. Blair is under me. Can't think about that now.

Have to get back.

What have I done?



Blair POV At the Loft.

Oh man. I am not sure what to do. I am just too ... Dam. confused. Showered and changed at the loft, have the bag with things that Jim will need packed, keys are in my hand.

Why cant I get off of the couch and go back to the hospital?

I know that he needs me. The nurses told me that he has not woken up all day. That can be a zone, or just a reaction to the meds.

Still absorbing what happened. I know that Jim was out of his head with fever and drugs. Wonder if I could press charges agents the hospital.

That would be an ugly court battle. I was raped by my best friend due to the screw up that gave him Codeine. Right. Oh God. How was I going to deal with this?

I mean I was not hurt. Just violated. And Kidnaped. And sucker punched. Dam my face still hurt. Cant believe that he hit me. Somehow that is the worst thing about it. The rest, well that I could blame on different things, I was the one that kissed him after all. Hell. I cant lie to my self. He was going to take me. I just made it easy for him, and for my self. The fact that I wanted it, well, hell..

But I did not want it that way.

Even if Cave Man Mode Jim was the hottest thing that I have ever hoped to see. Even if in the middle of it all, he was still taking care of me, Why would he do that? Yes, I know the drugs. But what was working in him that he had to play it that way? Did he somehow pick up that is what I wanted? Every one has Kidnap and rape fantasy. No one gets hurt. You can relax, and know that you are helpless, free to enjoy, the guilt of doing the dirtiest things, taking away from you. No sin, or repercussions. Zipless fuck. Dam. I can still remember the way his hands felt on me. His kisses. The Jungle in his eyes. the heat of his touch. Being taken down, fucked into insensibility, Oh man. I was getting a guilty hard on just thinking about it.

Had an odd urge to stock up on cough medicine, the kind that you DR prescribes? I could slip him some, see what happens...

I want to let the Kitty out of the cage. I want to be at the whim of fangs and claws, and feal fur rubbing over me. I want the hot blood scented breath of a cat in heat in my face.

Oh man

I want to be overpowered, taken, shaken to the quick. Pined plundered, violated, stated, and loved.

I wanted to be kidnaped to some deserted island, and made the helpless play thing. I wanted to be helpless. Bound, tied, wounded raw, beyond hope, vulnerable.

I wanted to give myself to this man.

But I have given myself to him. He just did not see. Dam. With all of his heightened senses, he has a wonderful way of not seeing what is in front of him. After all of the hints, from the first night in the loft, how can he not see? Courtship rituals. That is what this has been all about.

I can't put it off any more. I have to go to him. Have to remember it is not my fault. Hell. It is not even his fault.

I wish I could hate someone. Wish I could love someone.

Not sure how I should deal with this. Will see how Jim is and work on it from there.

######################################################

I hate Hospitals. Hell of a place to take a sick person to. What was Blair thinking, bringing me here? I am not shot. Just the Flu. He was doing OK taking care of me. Wish that I could block out the memory of standing on the railing of the balcony, balanced feeling the rain on my skin, cooling the heat. He talked me back off from that. I was going to fly. I knew that I could do it. Just had to think good thoughts.

I am so screwed. Blair. what have I done? Why can I remember this so clear? I was out of my head when it happened.

But he Kissed me. That has to mean something?

Have to make it right.

######################################################

Jim is much like I left him. Curled in a ball. He dose not sleep that way. He is most of the time a back sleeper. If he sleeps on his side he snores. Found that out on one of the camping trips. But he is not snoring. Ergo, he is not asleep. He has to know that I am here. Not sure how to play this, not that it makes this any different. It has always been by ear, walking a tightrope with him. Never knowing what I would have to cope with each day, what new experiences, or challenge that we would have to face.

That we would have to face. Have to remember that I am not in this alone. Now we have to decide if we were going to deal with it, or if this would be one of the number of things that Jim shoved into his back shelf of stuff. I am not sure that I could do that.

**********************

The nurse has been in and out. I have been playing possum. I do not want to deal with anyone. Need Blair. How can I ever face him?

Hell. I am in hell. I hear Blair come in. He is just standing there. His heart is a bit faster than normal, but not pounding. I relax just a bit. I can smell the clean sent of his soap and shampoo, the dry smell of jeans fresh out of the dryer.

But no fear. I would have died if I had scented fear on him. Perhaps we could get past this.

"Hay Jim, how are you feeling?" Blair sat in the chair at my back. "DR said that you can go home tonight, If you wake up."

"I am awake."

"Good man! that is Great! Just Great. You want to go home?"

"You think that I am OK to go home?" pause. I have been sort of out of it.

"Sure. Think that we can handle it." Tosses bag on the bed. Brought you your stuff."

"Thanks Chief." Turning to look at Blair. Seeing the bruise on his cheek. But his eyes are clear. Looking at him. Look at his eyes, not the bruise.

"You OK?" Jim nods. "Cool. Going to take care of the paper work. Be right back."

Blair touches a shoulder, just a whisper of a touch. Reassurance.

Perhaps it was going to be OK.

Blair was taking him home. That had to mean something.

But this was far from over. He rang the buzzer for the nurse. Blair had not stayed to help him. Had not asked the questions. Had not looked at him the way that he usually did. Like something under a microscope, this time it was more like an animal in a cage. Dam.

Jim Droped his head into his hands. He was so screwed.

*

The trip home was quiet. Too Quiet. No Blair babbling about Tribal elders or non traditional healing, on louse too loud music blaring, He parks the truck and runs into the drug store to fill my prescriptions, not asking if I want any thing. The debate of joining him in the store is cut short by his all but leaping back into the truck holding the white bag of prescriptions and a second bag that has a hint of a smell of chocolate and the shifting slitty slithering sound of chips sliding in the bag. The bulge in the bottom must be some soda,

"So.. what kind did you get?" The open ended question startles Blair who was intent on backing out.

"Ah.. Soda, Canada Dry. Your dehydrated. Your stomach might be up set. Bluesky soda would be better, but the Trader Joe's is too far away. Chips are Wise, and got you some Snickers. Packed with Peanuts. You need the protein." His eyes are fixed on the road.

"OK." I pause. "Thanks." I don't know what to say. Blair normally makes this easy for me. It is not going to happen this time.

at the loft he is not fussing over me. He puts the pills and candy on the counter, and the Soda in the frig,

"I kind of tired. You should get some rest too." He looks at me at last. His eyes are haunted, hollow. The shadow of the bruise on his face a mute accusation.

"Right. I am going to crash on the couch. Closer to .. things. Bathroom. frig, " And You, I want to say. This silence is tearing me apart..

"Good Idea. Ah.. Sleep well Jim." Blair all but flees into his room.

Oh God. If I had just taken that step off of the balcony this would not be happening now.

The couch is cool and hot at the same time on my still slightly fevered skin. The antibiotics are upsetting my stomach. The Ginger ail has helped some. I long for some soup, but lack the will to make it, or even one of Blair's noxious nasty teas. Or his voice. or just to see him look at me without that kicked dog look. I struggle to sleep, and the old training kicks in and helps.

Fire. All around me. Burning. The smell of hot metal, of Kerosene of flesh, Burning burning..

I wake with a start, coming to my self, rolling off of the couch, on hands and knees, defensive, fight or flight, I do not scream. I know that I do not make a sound, but Blair heard me, and he is there.

"Jim? Man.. are you OK?" Blair;s eyes are wide. Troubled. He has not been sleeping. His hands comes down slowly, gingerly, on my shoulder, like a quieting touch on a nervous horse, and I shudder under that touch, so needed so feared at the same time.

"Just give me a second." So weak. I pull my self up on the couch, and with Blair helping, sit up. I am shaking. Blair is there. holding me up, checking for a fervor, frowning in concern.

"I'm OK. I can handle this." I can't, not really, But I have to say the words, make the act. It is all about being Jim Ellison. It is all about being so macho, so in-controle.

"Your fervor is coming back. I knew you were getting out of the hospital too soon!" Blair punches his thigh in frustration. Agitated he looks at the windows to the balcony, I can see his fear. If I should decide to do my Peter pan act one more with, without any fairy dust..

"I am not going back to the hospital." I am firm with this. But even to my ears it sounds childish,

But Blair understands. Nodding he thinks for a moment. "Last time they could have killed you. I have every thing that they can do for you here. Its just that.. if you start to.. Get out of control, I don't know what to do.

"What did they do in the hospital if some one is a threat to them self's or others? "

Four point restraints. Some times a jacket, but most hands and feet"

"I can feel the fever coming. You had better hurry."

Blair looks around the loft his quick mind considering and discarding ideas and places, ways to keep me safe, keep him safe.

"The futon in my room. I can use the frame. Come on."

He makes a quick trip to the bathroom. Forcing Aspirin and OJ down my mouth, a quick sponge bath, as I sit on the toilet, trying to imagine that this dose not matter, that this will pass..

His room is the same as usual but his sheets are clear for a miracle. Grateful I lay down on the cool sheets, feeling a touch of warmth from were Blair had been sitting, For a moment I wrap my self around that spot, Then Blair himself is stretching me out, pulling me down, arranging the covers, making me relax, as I find my self full flat, and the sensation of cloth and leather on my wrists and ankles, the whole time Blair is soothing me, even as he threads the rope through the links that hold me down.

I am held down, made fast, a prisoner to my body to my fever and Blair.

And I am grateful.

The fervor takes me, as I feel a soft natural sponge start to stroke my body with cool water and witch hazel. Blair's eyes are filled with tender understanding, understanding that I do not deserve, but need all the same.

No matter what happens, Blair will keep me safe. I close my eyes and feel the fire come, but I am not alone.

END