Title: Raising Blair 2

by Dark Angle

Fan Fiction - The Sentinel

Characters - Blair, Naomi, some oddly familiar guys (note - this is NOT real people fiction)

Rating - G

Spoilers - None

Category - General Smarm

Archive: Sure, just include a link back to http://www.angelfire.com/wa2/cascadePD

Disclaimer: Blair and Naomi Sandburg and belong to Pet Fly, Paramount, and currently SCI-FI. I claim NO rights to them, or THE SENTINEL and no profit will be made from this work.

This story is a WORK IN PROGRESS - The other parts can be found here
http://www.angelfire.com/wa2/cascadePD/Raising.html

Raising Blair 2
by DarkAngel

1976

Blair wandered out to the yard where a large black man was sitting on the grass, strumming a guitar and welcoming the dawn. "Henri?"

The man looked around and smiled. "Hey little B, what are you doing up so early?"

"I don't feel so good, man."

"No?" Henri slung his guitar over his back and stood, his 6'4" frame towering over the child. Blair, at seven, was a little small for his age, 3'6". "What's up with my man this morning?"

"I just keep throwing up and I don't have anything left to throw up anymore, but I'm still throwing up." Blair explained. After a moment he added, "My belly hurts."

Henri dropped to his knees and felt Blair's forehead. "Mmm-mmm-mmm, you got yourself a nice fever going too, sugar."

"It doesn't feel too nice, man."

Henri chuckled and lifted the child into his arms, carrying him back into his house. He'd met Blair's mother, Naomi, six months ago at a concert, and she and her son had been living with him for four months now. Naomi was working nights at the local paper as a print setter, a job she wouldn't keep long once they found out who kept putting phrases like "liberate yourself" and "equality now" in the recipe section. "Mama won't be home for a while yet, so let's see what the witch doctor can do, huh?"

"You're not a witch doctor, " Blair grinned, resting his head against Henri's chest.

"Wha? Not a - ? Boy, I oughta - you calling me a liar?" Henri gave Blair a gentle shake.

Blair just giggled.

Henri took Blair into the bathroom. "You wouldn't know a witch doctor if he bit you on the butt," he mumbled rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. After searching all the shelves he sighed and frowned, thinking. "I don't know, little B, I haven't got any baby aspirin."

"I don't need baby aspirin!" Blair said, in an insulted tone, never having had any other kind in his life.

"Yeah?" Henri filled a Dixie cup with water then set Blair on the sink while he reached in and pulled out the aspirin bottle. Shaking a pill into his hand, he offered it to Blair. "Here ya go, then."

Blair popped it into his mouth and chewed. Immediately he made an awful face and spit it into the sink. "YUCK!"

"Well you don't CHEW them!" Henri laughed. He gave Blair the cup. "Take this water and rinse your mouth out."

Blair obeyed.

"That's right. Do it again."

"Blech! I still taste it." Blair said, wrinkling his nose.

"I guess that's what you get for putting down the witch doctor," Henri teased.

Blair opened his mouth to reply, but then a panicked look crossed his face, he pushed himself off of the sink, and stumbled to the toilet where he began dry retching.

"Oh, baby B," Henri said sympathetically. He reached down and held Blair's stomach as the little muscles spasmed.

When it was over, Blair was panting and sweating. Henri picked him up and rubbed his back.

"My belly hurts, " Blair complained again.

"I know SugarBlair," Henri said sympathetically. He thought he had a bottle of Pepto-Bismol somewhere. "Come on, let's see what we have in the kitchen."

He flipped through the cabinets with one hand, holding Blair in the other. Finally he found it, in the refrigerator. "Ah ha! Let's have some of this pink stuff, here. You hold this bottle for me?"

Blair took the bottle.

"That's a boy, thank you." Henri opened a drawer and grabbed a spoon. Then he settled at the table with Blair on his lap. "Gimme that," he said, taking the bottle and shaking it. "Here we go now, this is the stuff we should have had in the first place." He poured a spoonful, "open wide for me."

"No," Blair refused mildly, "I don't like that stuff, Henri."

"Please, baby, it'll make you feel better."

"I don't like it, Henri!" Blair insisted, crankily.

"Now, Blair, come on," Henri cajoled. "Just one spoonful and that's all."

Blair's eyes teared up. He began to sniffle.

"Oh come on now, don't give me the water works." Henri rubbed the child's back. "Just take this one spoonful, SugarBlair? For me? Huh? You can just swallow this little bit for Big H, can't you?"

Blair closed his eyes, wrinkled up his nose and opened his mouth. Henri dumped the spoonful in as fast as he could.

"That's it, all done. See, not so bad, right?"

A tear fell down Blair's cheek. "I want my mom."

"I know, B," Henry said gently, "just a few more hours, little man."

Blair put his arms around his mother's boyfriend's neck, and cried. Henri took Blair to the rocking chair in his living room. He sat down, tucking the boy beneath his chin and slowly rocked, singing.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home.

"I looked over Jordan and what did I see, comin' for to carry me home, a band of angels comin' after me, comin' for to carry me home.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home.

"If you get to heaven before I do, comin' for to carry me home, tell all my friends I'm comin' there too, comin' for to carry me home.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home.

"I'm sometimes up and sometimes down, comin' for to carry me home, but still I know I'm freedom bound, comin' for to carry me home.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home.

"If I get there before you do, comin' for to carry me home, I'll cut a hole and pull you through, comin' for to carry me home.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home."

Blair had slowly quieted, but he wasn't asleep. "That's a nice song."

"You like that? My grandmama used to sing that to me."

"Can I meet your grandmama?"

"No, little B, she's not with us anymore, she's in heaven, now."

"How do you know she wasn't reincarnated?" Blair asked.

"Reincarnated? Uh . . . oh, well, see, I don't believe in that one."

Blair's eyes grew large as saucers. "You don't believe in reincarnation? Not at all?"

"No, baby, I believe that when we die we go to heaven to be with Jesus and the angels."

"Oh," Blair nodded, familiar with the concept. "So do you believe in hell?"

"Yes, I do." Henri nodded.

"Do you think I'll go to hell?"

Henri was shocked. "NO, Blair, of course not! Only bad people go to hell, you're not a bad boy, you're a good boy." Henri dropped a kiss on Blair's forehead.

"But I'm Jewish. I thought that everybody who believed in Jesus thought that Jews were going to hell."

"Who told you that, sugar?"

"My Bubbe, she's MY grandmama. She said that Jesus made up heaven for Christians and you have to be Christian to get in. But Zaida says Jesus stole it from the Amorite Sumerians, and everybody is gonna get a big surprise when they get up there expecting Saint Peter, and they get Hammurabi instead, and he won't let them in because they ripped off his "eye for an eye" thing." Blair giggled. "But mom doesn't believe in heaven, she believes in Nirvana, but you gotta get reincarnated a whole lotta times and get rid of all of your bad karma before you can get there. My Uncle Aaron says that there is life after death and everybody who dies really keeps on living in this other place, no matter what they believe or what church they go to or anything. But my Uncle Benj says that's not fair and he sure as hell isn't gonna spend his eternity with Hitler and George Wallace. My Auntie Leah says that - oh man, I think I'm gonna throw up again!"

Henri was almost too overwhelmed by the theology lecture to catch that last sentence but they made it to the bathroom just in time for Blair to expel the Pepto-Bismol.

Henri wiped his mouth with a damp cloth. "Okay, baby, it's alright."

"I'm hot," Blair said, kicking his pajama bottoms off.

"You are?" Henri went to the tub and opened the taps. "Let's have a bath, then."

"I like showers more."

"Baths are better for fevers."

"No, they aren't." Blair whined.

"Yes, they are." Henri tested the water. "Okay, boy, skin out of your skivvies and dive in here."

Blair pulled his underwear down and off one foot, nearly falling over in the process. Henri caught him and picked him up, letting the little Y-fronts slide off the other leg on their own, then put him in the tub.

"I hate baths," Blair announced.

"Jeez, you're grouchy as an old woman today!"

"Am not!" Blair splashed the older man.

"Are too!" Henri swept a tsunami over Blair's chest.

"Am NOT!" *SPLASH*

"Are TOO!" *SPLUSH*

"Not! Not! Not!" *Splish splish Splish*

"Too! Too Too!" *SPLOOOSH*

Blair giggled, "You're a too-too twain!"

Henri rolled his eyes and handed Blair the soap and a washcloth. "Okay let's see some scrubbing here. You want me to wash your hair?"

"Yeah, you do it better than mom."

"Your mom just needs to learn a little bit more about curly hair." Henri poured shampoo into his hands and worked up a lather. "Duck your head and get it wet."

Blair did and Henri rubbed the lather through his hair. "Mmm, feels good. My head kinda hurts."

"Does it? Well, you just relax here and let me take care of that." Henri rinsed the shampoo out, them massaged in conditioner. Just as he rinsed the last of it out, they heard Naomi's voice from the doorway.

"What in the world happened here? A flash flood?"

"He Did It!" Blair and Henri said.

"Uh-huh," Naomi came in and knelt down to kiss Henri. "Hon, you're clothes are soaked!"

"Guess you'll have to help me get 'em off," he purred.

She winked at him then leaned over to kiss Blair. "Oh, Sweetie, you feel hot!"

"I'm sick, mom." Blair told her as he stood, holding his arms up.

Henri wrapped him in a towel and lifted him out of the tub.

"Sick?" Naomi asked.

"Yeah, he's been throwing up." Henri explained as he carried Blair to his bedroom. "I gave him Pepto-Bismol, but that came back up too."

"You got him to take Pepto-Bismol!" Naomi whispered.

"I'm good." Henri mouthed. He sat Blair on the bed and began rubbing him dry while Naomi rummaged through his dresser for some pajamas.

"Sweetie, you want your Snoopy jammies?"

"No, mom, they're too hot. Can I have the Batman ones? They have shorts."

"No, honey, they're in the wash."

"Can I have the Spidey ones? They're shorts too."

"Sure, sweetheart, just let me dig them out. Henri, love, why don't you go get into something dry before you come down with something too?"

"Sounds good." Henri nodded. He stripped off his shirt and headed toward the bedroom he shared with Naomi.

"Okay, Bear, here are your Spideys." Naomi held them out.

"Just the bottoms, okay mom?"

"Yes, that's okay. Do you want underwear?"

"Uh-uh."

Naomi scrunched up the pajama shorts and helped Blair into them. "How's that?"

"Good." Blair reached for his mother.

Naomi picked him up and sat on the bed. "What hurts, sweetie?"

"My belly and my head."

"Oh, honey." Naomi kissed his tangled curls. "We'll have to get you combed out, mop top."

"Can Henri do it?"

"I think he would." Naomi smiled.

"He might not." Blair snuggled into her shoulder.

"Why not, Bear?"

" . . .I grumped at him," Blair confessed quietly.

"Oh, I see," Naomi nodded. "Because you didn't feel good?"

Blair nodded, tears came to his eyes once more.

"Are you sorry?"

Blair nodded again and sniffled.

"Well, now, don't cry, sweetie. We'll just go tell him you're sorry and everything will be alright. 'kay, Bear?"

"'Kay."

Blair was a little too heavy for Naomi to carry anymore, so she took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom.

"Hey, handsome."

Henri turned around, "Hey, foxy."

"Blair needs to tell you something."

Henri smiled and looked down. It was only then he noticed that Blair was half-hiding behind his mother, looking down at his feet. Henri knelt down, almost eye-level with him. "Whatsa matter little B?"

"I'm sorry," Blair said.

"Sorry?" Henri took the child in his arms. "What you sorry 'bout, SugarBlair?"

"Cause I grumped at you before."

"Aw, that's okay, my man." Henri kissed Blair's cheek and rubbed his hair. "How 'bout we drag a comb through this rat's nest, huh?"

"Okay, but don't pull hard, my head really hurts."

"Now, Blair, do I ever pull hard?" Henri hefted Blair on his hip and gathered a comb, a cup of water and bottle of No More Tangles, then settled Blair on his lap in the living room.

"Listen, while you do that, I'm going to make some chamomile tea." Naomi filled the tea pot.

"Hey, hot stuff, you got any, uh, " Henri glanced down at Blair, "b-a-b-y aspirin in your purse?"

Blair looked up at Henri in annoyance. "I can spell BABY, Henri! Jeez, I'm not two years old!"

"Yeah, Henri!" Naomi teased. "He's not two years old!"

Henri held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

"Anyway, " Naomi produced a bottle of the little orange pills from her bag. "I do." She shook two out, and walked over to pop them in Blair's mouth. "Chew those up, sweetie. I'll bring you some tea in a minute."

"'Kay, mom."

Naomi put the water on to boil and mixed the dried tea ingredients; chamomile, spearmint leaves, lemon grass, orange blossoms, rose hips.

Usually she would have heard her son and her boyfriend chattering back and forth. It was a sign of how sick Blair was that all she heard was Henri singing "Let It Be".

After the tea steeped, she removed the tea ball and added a generous amount of honey, then stirred until the tea cooled.

She returned to see Blair, eyelids at half-mast, barely awake in Henri's lap. His silky hair combed out, tangle free, and just beginning to dry into spiral ringlets.

"Here sweetie, drink this for me." She held the cup to Blair's mouth and he took a long drink. "Very good."

Henri took the cup from her. "Why don't you go shower and change? You haven't even taken your shoes off yet." He kissed her.

"Mmm, thanks, I still have ink under my fingernails, too. You two will be okay?"

"I think I got it under control here." Henri smiled.

Naomi shed her clothes and went through her usual after-work cleansing rituals - light sage, bathe, short meditation.

She returned to the living room, refreshed. She found Henri singing a lullaby to a sleeping Blair.

"Sleep, my child and peace attend thee, all through the night.

"Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night.

"Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and vale in slumber sleeping; God His loving vigil keeping, all through the night."

"Knocked him out, huh?"

"Yep, poured the rest of the tea down him too." Henri showed her the empty cup. "And I think it's gonna stay there."

Naomi, put her hand to Blair's head. "He feels cooler."

"Mmm-hmm," Henri kissed her.

"You think it's serious?"

"No, mama, just a little flu bug biting him." He nipped her bare shoulder. "What he needs now is time to let the aspirin and the tea get to work, and some sleep. He'll be okay." He nuzzled her.

"Mmm," she smiled. "Then let's tuck him in so I can rock you to sleep, baby."

"Sweet dreams, mama, sweet dreams."

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