Title: Good Fortune 9
Author: Grey
Fandom: The Sentinel
Pairing: J/B/S
Rating: NC-17
Status: New/Complete
Archive: Yes
Email: Grey853@aol.com
Series/Sequel: The Ninth in the Good Fortune series.
Date: July 2000
Website: http://grey.ravenshadow.net/

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Blair's convalescence isn't completely restful.

Notes: Thanks to XFreak for all her support.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort and angst for those who enjoy that sort of diet.

Good Fortune 9
by Grey
Grey853@aol.com

Blair groaned, tight lines furrowed across his forehead, his eyes still squeezed shut.

"Hey, Chief. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Yeah, I can see that." Jim stood up and stepped to the bedside. "You want me to get the nurse?"

"No. I'll be all right." The younger man shifted to turn on his side, his shaky hand holding onto the bed rail. He gasped as he suddenly went more pale and held his stomach. "Shit. I'm going to be sick again."

Grabbing the emesis bowl, Jim held Blair up and steady, but the gagging brought up only some air and water. The heaving continued for several long moments before Blair coughed and settled back. Jim wiped his mouth with a damp cloth, his chest tight from watching his friend suffer. "I thought they gave you something for the nausea."

"They did."

"It's not working."

"No shit, man. God, my head hurts."

"I know." Jim palmed Blair's forehead, wishing he could take the pain away, absorb it into his own body. "We should tell the nurse you need something else."

"I need to go home."

"The doctor said you're not ready. Maybe tomorrow."

Sighing, Blair opened his eyes, the blue dulled and the pupils not quite as they should be. "I miss Simon."

"He wanted to stay, but he had to go to the meeting with IA. He'll be back before I have to leave."

"I know. I could hear you two talking this morning, but I just couldn't wake up and say anything. It was a weird feeling."

Jim reached over and picked up Blair's free hand, tracing his fingertips along the veins, the thin skin stretched out over the bridge of bones. Blair had such strong, sturdy hands. He marveled at the way they worked especially when he spoke, so agile and graceful at the same time. "You heard us talking?"

"Yeah, some." Blair paused and turned his head on the pillow, his face still strained. "I'm a little jealous, you know."

"Jealous?"

Blair smiled and squeezed Jim's hand gently. "Yeah. I wanted to be there when you two first got together."

Flushed, Jim grinned sheepishly as he remembered the delicious first session with Simon. "I wanted you to be there, too, Blair. In fact, I always figured it'd just be the two of us."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but after we left last night, we were just so tired, all we did was sleep. Then this morning, well, you know how it is in the morning, Chief. It just sort of happened."

"Oh, yeah, especially with Simon. The man's ready right out of the gate and hung like nobody's business."

Jim resisted laughing out loud, embarrassed by the frank discussion of his new lover's assets. "Yeah, he is, but I can't believe we're talking like this about Simon. I mean, I'm still trying to believe it's real. He's my captain for christsakes. This is going to take some getting used to."

Still holding his partner's hand, Blair's voice softened. "It's real, Jim. And, I swear, when I get out of this place, I want to show you how we can all three make it even better."

"It's already better, Chief. You're alive."

Suddenly somber, Blair nodded and immediately regretted it. "Man, I can handle the pain, but this spinning business sucks."

"Spinning?"

"Vertigo. Every time I move, it's like I'm spinning around. Makes me want to puke again."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." Blair took a deep breath before he met Jim's eyes. "Might help if I had my glasses though."

"Your glasses?"

"Yeah. They were in my leather jacket, but nobody can find it. My clothes are pretty much trashed, too."

"Fuck." A memory slapped home and Jim stood straighter, his hands suddenly balled into fists. "Son of a bitch."

"Jim, what is it?"

"Mansfield. He had on your jacket when I shot him."

"Guess that means I need a new one, huh?"

The replay of the moment flashed, Mansfield falling back, the red flower of the shot going through the black jacket, Blair's jacket. "Fuck. I didn't even realize it was yours."

"It's okay, man. It's just a jacket."

"And your glasses. Bastard had no right to do that."

"He didn't have a right to do a lot of things." The quiet tone pulled him away from his own anger and brought him back to Blair. Bruised eyes contrasted against the pale skin and reminded him again of how close he came to losing the man he loved. "I'm sorry, Chief. I'll get a new pair made this afternoon, okay?"

"Thanks. I'd appreciate it. If you go to Cascade Optical, they've already got the prescription and frames I used last time. I'll pay you back later."

"Don't worry about it."

"I can pay my own way."

"It's not about that."

"I'm too tired to argue, so thanks."

"You're welcome. You want anything else while I'm out?"

Blair hesitated, his face drawn and sad. "Could you find out about the arrangements for Hugh's funeral? I mean, he wasn't with anyone right now and he's got no family that I know about. I hate to think of him just lying in the morgue with nobody looking out for him."

Nodding, Jim stroked Blair's bare arm as he spoke. "I'll take care of it. I really am sorry about Burke."

"I know." Closing his eyes, Blair took several long breaths. "I promised he'd be safe."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't yours, either, but I still feel like we let him down somehow. This shouldn't keep happening."

As a tear slipped down his partner's cheek, Jim wiped it away. "No, it shouldn't, but at least the son of bitch who killed him is dead now."

Opening his eyes, Blair met Jim's gaze. "I know that's supposed to make me feel better, Jim, but it doesn't. It just makes me feel really sad inside, you know?"

"Not really. I see it as justice."

"Well, you would."

Pulling back, Jim frowned at the tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, man. Forget it."

"No, I want to know what you mean. Am I supposed to feel guilty for killing the bastard who beat your friend to death and almost killed you?"

"I didn't say that, Jim. I'm sorry."

Suddenly enraged, Jim stepped away and walked to the window, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. His gut knotted, he worked to keep his words even. "I didn't mean to snap like that. It's just I've got to see the shrink this afternoon about the shooting and I always hate having to pretend that I feel remorse for doing my job."

"Your job's not about killing."

"No, but sometimes that's part of it."

"And that really doesn't bother you?"

"Not when it's right. Not when a motherfucker like Mansfield pays for what he's done."

Blair studied him, his voice soft and incredibly solemn. "That's a part of you that scares me sometimes."

"Scares you?"

"Yeah. Sometimes. I know you didn't have a choice about killing Mansfield. I also know you wouldn't kill without a reason, but I have a hard time dealing with the fact that you can do it so casually."

Snorting, Jim rubbed his mouth with his right hand before he trusted himself to speak. "There's nothing casual about it. He hurt you. I wanted him dead. I was glad he pulled the gun so I wouldn't have to bother arresting his sorry ass. No, I wouldn't call that casual."

"Jesus, Jim."

"What? You want me to apologize for wanting him dead? I can't do that."

Covering his eyes with his forearm, Blair whispered. "I'm really tired. Could we just forget about it for now?"

"Sure." Jim turned and stared out the window, his heart still racing, his muscles pumped.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Leaning his forehead against the cool glass, Jim gave a sigh of relief. "I love you, too, Blair."

"Do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

"Don't tell the shrink what you just said."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"How's he doing?"

"Sleeping. They changed the medication for the nausea and the headaches, but he still can't keep anything down. He may be here longer than today and tomorrow, but I'm not telling him that."

"Damn."

Jim sagged down into the chair in the waiting area and took the offered coffee from Simon. "How did the session with IA go? Any news about Thompson?"

"All hell's breaking loose. They want someone accountable. Thompson's nowhere to be found and the Chief is about as pissed as I've ever seen him. On a happier note, they've postponed our meetings about the shooting until tomorrow morning. Seems the Thompson mess is taking top billing."

"What about Anderson? Has he said why he had Burke killed?"

"No. In fact, he's denying all the charges. He's got a damn good lawyer, too. Charlie Walsh."

"Fuck."

"That's what I said. But we've still got Richards. Hopefully, his testimony will be enough to indict and get a conviction."

Jim nodded and sipped the coffee, scrunching his face when the bitter liquid burned his tongue. "Damn. This stuff is nasty."

"You've been spoiled with the good stuff down at the station."

"Only your good stuff, Simon." Lifting his head, he flushed slightly as he met knowing dark eyes. He lowered his voice. "I've been thinking about this morning."

"Me, too."

"I keep thinking it was just a dream."

"It wasn't."

"I know." Swallowing hard, Jim looked away and played nervously with the soft, squishy edges of the cup. "I'm not used to thinking of you like that."

"Get used to it."

"Easier said than done, Simon." Jim clenched his jaw before he shook his head. "Sleeping together is one thing. Working together and staying friends is something else. I don't want to fuck this up."

"Then don't."

"It's not that simple."

"I know that. We've got to keep the personal and the work separate and that's going to be hard on everybody, especially Blair. It's not impossible, but it's going to take conscious effort. You and I, we've got experience with compartmentalizing our lives, but Blair doesn't. As soon as he's better, we've got to sit down and talk about what we need to do."

"Teamwork?"

"If we don't want this blowing up in our faces, yeah."

Nodding, Jim took a deep breath. "I hate seeing him like this."

"Me, too."

Jim stood up and drained the coffee before tossing the cup into the trash. "Are you going to stay here until I get back later this evening?"

"I can only stay for a few hours. The guys have all volunteered to take shifts when we can't be here. He won't be left alone or unguarded."

"You think Thompson might really come after him?"

"I doubt it, but I don't want to take any chances. Besides, I don't like the idea of him being alone when he's hurting."

"I guess I should head out then. I'm going to take a crack at Richards again before I see the shrink."

"Good idea. Call me if you find out anything useful."

Turning to leave, Jim hesitated. He wanted to kiss him, to hug him, to show some sign of the change between them. Instead, he just did what he usually did and followed orders. "Very good, sir."

Simon took a break from the pile of folders on his lap and pinched the bridge of his nose just under his glasses. After clearing his vision, he focused on Blair's sleeping form. The younger man needed shaving, his heavy beard neglected for too long. The dark whiskers made his light skin even more pale and sickly. Curly hair escaped the loose tieback and fanned out, the brown a stark contrast to the white pillow and the bandage on the left side of his head. Simon's gut tightened as he remembered the matted and bloody wound when they'd found him, the brutal image slamming home his fear of losing one of the men he loved.

Clearing his throat, he distracted himself with another folder for several minutes before he heard Blair's voice. "Hey, Simon."

Glancing up, he smiled. "Hey, sleepyhead."

Blue, drug-dazed eyes blinked several times before staring back and Blair managed a stubborn tongue. "Can't seem to stay awake."

"It's the medicine." Putting the files on the floor beside him, Simon stood up and stepped to the bedside. He took Blair's hand, clasping it tenderly as he petted back his hair. "Feeling any better?"

"I guess." Wetting his lower lip, Blair struggled with speaking. "Everything's fuzzy."

"What about the pain and vertigo?"

"Not as bad." Blair turned his head and tried to sit up, but closed his eyes quickly. "Shit." He squeezed Simon's hand hard as he took several quick breaths.

"Just stay still, Blair. It'll pass."

"God, I hope so."

They stayed quiet for a few minutes longer, Simon stroking Blair's head, the cool touch soothing. Eventually, Blair opened his eyes again. "Thanks."

"I wish I could do more."

"Just being here helps."

"I'd stay here the whole time if I could. So would Jim."

"Yeah, I know." Blair smiled and met his gaze. "I'm glad Jim and you finally had a chance to be together. He needs you."

"He needs us."

"Yeah, he does." Almost shyly, Blair bit his lower lip, his voice quiet. "I want this to work, Simon. I can hardly wait for us all to be together."

"I feel the same way, but I think we're going to have to be patient. Right now he's open to the idea because he almost lost you. He needed me last night and this morning, but I'm not so sure that's going to last."

"Has he said something?"

"No, I just think Jim's got some serious demons about being loved. We just have to be careful not to scare him too much."

Blair thumbed the top of Simon's hand, his eyes still not quite clear, but more focused. "I've thought about that. Makes me glad I had Naomi growing up. No matter what kind of shit I pulled, she'd still hug and kiss me to make sure I knew I was loved."

"My mom and dad made sure I knew it, too, just not always with hugs and kisses. Still, no matter how loud they yelled, I always knew they cared."

"I don't think Jim's ever had that. Throw in the trauma of Peru plus the isolation his senses caused, well, it makes me wonder how he's survived at all."

Simon smiled, his voice husky. "Because he's one stubborn son of a bitch, that's how."

"Which is a double-edged sword, Simon. I know he loves us, but we have to make sure he trusts us, too."

"We will." Caressing and patting his cheek with affection, the older man then stood straighter. "Now, why don't you try getting some more rest? I'm going to stay right here until Jim gets back."

"From the shrink?"

"Yeah and meeting with Richards."

"Richards?"

"You remember? The guy who was with Mansfield when we found you."

Frowning, Blair squinted and fingered his forehead. "I remember. Something's bugging me."

"What's that?"

"One of the times I woke up, I heard them talking and making out."

"Making out? You're kidding?"

"No, but that's not what's bugging me. They mentioned a name, somebody named Harrison. It had something to do with why Hugh was killed. They said Anderson wanted to know what Hugh knew about Harrison and who he'd told."

"Did they say who this Harrison was?"

Closing his eyes, Blair pursed his lips, his face tense as he tried to remember. "No, I don't think so. I was sort of in and out of it. But it might be important."

"Yeah, it could be." Simon's voice softened. "Now, go back to sleep for awhile. Maybe when you wake up, you'll feel like trying to eat or drink something."

Blair made a face and held his stomach. "Just the thought makes me queasy."

"They won't let you out until you do."

Grimacing, Blair complained. "Yeah, I know. It sucks." He took a deep breath and looked up at Simon. "Just because I'm still puny doesn't mean you and Jim have to suffer. Why don't you two go out tonight and get away from here for awhile? Go to dinner and have a good time."

Simon shook his head. "That can wait until you're better."

"But it doesn't have to, not because of me."

"Forget about it. We'll wait. Besides, I have a feeling Jim's going to be in a pissy mood anyway."

"He usually is after those mandatory sessions."

"Last time he spent three hours in the gym before he could even speak."

"Thank god for punching bags."

"And weights."

Blair smiled, his face suddenly mischievous. "I just had a really nasty thought."

"What's that?"

"All that energy wasted on the gym. Wonder if you could redirect it to your advantage?"

Simon feigned shock, but grinned. "Are you suggesting that Jim Ellison could work his frustrations out on me in a sexual manner?"

"Works for me."

"I like the way you think, Sandburg."

"I thought you might."

The end