by K Ryn
Disclaimer: All the usual disclaimer's apply: I don't own these characters, and no money has exchanged hands in the writing/posting of this story. It was just cheaper than therapy.
Author's Notes: This was originally written for the "In the Woods" challenge. It's my first attempt at this, so be gentle. My sincere thanks to a wonderful beta-reader, Kareila, for her "Guide"-ance, encouragement and suggestions.
The Gift
by
K. Ryn
[email protected]
.
Blair Sandburg slid his room card into the door as quietly as he could, flinching at the soft click of the lock as it sprung open. He peered around the door, scanning the interior of the room. There was a jumbled pile of clothes on one of the beds and he could hear the running water from the shower. Beyond that, there was no sign of his roommate. Smiling, he moved inside, easing the door shut with another soft clicking noise. He crossed to his own bed and dropped his backpack. Glancing at the other bed he saw his partner's suitcoat and tie balled into a tight wad. His smile faltered. No doubt about it, Jim Ellison was in a bad mood.
Normally the signs of Jim's temper would have sent Blair scurrying off to his office to find refuge in the unending stacks of term papers and assignments that littered his life; or into the kitchen, hoping that the fragrant smells of lasagna might lighten his roommate's bad mood. At the moment, neither was an option.
You have a plan, remember? All you have to do is set it in motion.
The smile returned, quickly turning into a wide grin that reached his twinkling blue eyes. Excitement channeled through his body and he found himself bouncing in anticipation. From the bathroom, he suddenly heard an exclamation of disgust, followed by the sound of the shower being shut off -- rather forcefully shut off.
Blair allowed himself a knowing smirk. Now you know how I feel when I run out of hot water at home. Forcing as much of the excitement out of his face as he could, he quickly plopped down onto a chair, pulling one of his books into his lap.
He looked up with what he hoped was his best expression of innocence as Jim stormed into the room, dripping water, a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Hey, Jim."
His partner flashed him a look that would have frozen ice from across the room, grunted something under his breath, grabbed a shirt and jeans from the closet and stomped back into the bathroom.
Blair let out the breath he'd been holding. A really bad mood. Must have been an incredibly awful day. Maybe this surprise wasn't such a good idea. Blair's gaze shifted to the window. He could see the twinkling of lights coming up all over the city -- well, in Las Vegas they never really went down, not even for a second, but they were certainly more obvious now. Somewhere in the distance he knew there were hills, purpling in the sunset. Maybe he would just make a run for them...
He shook himself. No, he had a plan. He'd expected some resistance anyway. Jim's bad mood would just make it more of a challenge.
Even without Sentinel senses, he could hear his partner stewing in the bathroom and he sighed, his eyes flickering to the window once more.
Five days in Las Vegas. It had sounded so good two weeks ago. A special police convention, all expenses paid for the top ranking team in the department. That had meant Jim and Blair, although Blair's observer status had initially raised a few questions about his eligibility. Surprisingly, it had been Simon who'd gone to bat for him. Blair wasn't sure what his motivation had been -- if it was the opportunity to get the aggravating neo-hippie out of his hair for a few days or Simon's desire to make sure that Jim got the recognition that he deserved. Either way, after a month where the rain had never seemed to stop falling and the caseload had been worse than normal, five days in the sun of Nevada sounded like paradise.
Had sounded. Sun, sand, stimulating seminars, no psychos targeting them, a chance to see whether Jim's Sentinel abilities had any bearing on the craps tables... what could be better? Perception had quickly turned to reality. What had seemed like a perfect break for a weary Sentinel and his Guide had turned out to be the assignment from hell.
His partner was miserable, and he knew it. The hotel was like a living nightmare of sensory complications. The air conditioner in their room wasn't working right -- it either turned the room into an igloo or didn't function at all -- and Jim claimed he could smell a freon leak. The beds were lumpy, the TV got one channel and the in-room movie selection... well, best not to go into that at all.
The hotel brochure boasted that the olympic sized swimming pool was "designed to maintain a perfect balance to the Las Vegas climate". Blair's skin still tingled with the dose of chlorine he'd gotten from the quick dip he'd taken the first day. Jim hadn't even gone near it. The complimentary morning coffee tasted like burnt rubber and the food seemed to carry the same subtle tang.
Even mother nature seemed to have it in for them. The desert winds had been blowing since they'd arrived, kicking up dust and sand storms that had Jim sneezing every time he walked out the door. Which had pretty much trapped them in the hotel. The one convention-arranged outing that they'd attended had left Jim wheezing and Blair contemplating the location of the nearest oxygen tank.
Topping off everything was the convention itself. First of all, there was a dress code, and Jim had made it clear when they'd packed that Blair was going to follow it. Blair had gotten him to compromise on a pair of black jeans, a red woven shirt and his better leather jacket -- too hot for the Las Vegas heat, but it was the closest thing to a suitcoat that Blair would agree to. He'd hoped to escape the whole tie issue, but Jim had plunked two of them down in his bag before he'd had time to close it. The jeans, shirt, coat and tie had been his uniform for the past three days and Blair was eagerly contemplating burning them in celebration the minute they hit Cascade. Not that Jim was anymore comfortable in his suit. Blair had seen him pulling at his tie and easing his fingers under the button-down shirt collar more than once.
Uncomfortable as it was, the dress code was something that he could have lived with if the sessions themselves hadn't been so terrible. Familiar with the whims of academia, Blair had been through his share of maddening seminars, but they were nothing compared to this. The speakers would have put everyone to sleep if it hadn't been for the torture devices that the hotel called chairs. Absolutely nothing ergonomic about those things. They would have been more comfortable sitting on the floor. Blair had threatened to make that his position of choice more than once on the first day. A stern look from Jim forbade it, although Blair was certain that he'd eyed the floor longingly himself. They'd sat through three days of discomfort, Jim's knees knocking against the seat ahead of him, with no room to stretch his longer legs; Blair trying to contain his normal energy level to sit still and find a balance point on what he swore were chairs with only three legs.
As a teacher himself, Blair found it excruciatingly painful to listen as ill-prepared presenters fumbled through their notes. The malicious spirit that seemed attached to the hotel affected the sound systems as well, reducing some of the speaker's comments to bare whispers with intermittent bursts of blaring sound. He'd seen Jim wince in pain several times and his own eardrums hurt even now.
By noon on the second day Blair was ready to call it quits. After all, there were museums to visit, research libraries at the University to bury himself in. He'd suggested it cautiously as they'd picked through an unappetizing lunch, and he'd run smack into the Jim Ellison "do your duty" wall. No, Jim was uncomfortable, but he was intent on sticking it out, and as his partner, Blair was going to stick it out with him. The look in his eyes and the set to his jaw told Blair that there would be no moving Jim on this issue.
So they'd suffered through it: Jim with a face that turned grimmer by the hour and Blair trying to sit still and not embarrass his partner.
Pure torture. On the third day, Blair had tried to sneak in some of his own books, hoping to catch up on his reading, but the look he'd caught from Jim made him stuff them back under his chair.
It wasn't until that night, after they'd returned from having a few beers with some of the other attendees, that Jim had relented -- making a grumbling comment that "one of us might as well get something beneficial out of this trip." Blair had been ecstatic, feeling as if Jim had just commuted a life sentence. He'd started to babble excitedly, but Jim had just growled "turn off the light, Sandburg," and rolled over to sleep. Blair had sat awake in the darkness for hours, planning his next day.
The long night had finally given way to this morning. Sensitive to the reprieve his partner had granted him, Blair had been up and moving early. No late sleeping if his partner had to go back into the seventh level of Hell. He'd held his breath, certain that the wrong word would change Jim's mind, but the big man only nodded and muttered "See you tonight" through gritted teeth as he'd left.
Packed and ready, Blair had practically bolted from the room, flagging down a cab at the entrance and heading across town to the University. He'd spent the first few hours happily engaged in hunting through the stacks of the anthropology library, dragging out a dozen ancient books to a study table. He was halfway through the second book when his thoughts began to stray back to his partner. He pushed back a strand of long curly hair, took off his glasses and gazed out the window.
Jim would be sitting through another one of the lectures right now, he realized guiltily. Blair could almost imagine his partner's jaw clenching, his teeth grinding together as he toughed it out. Blair grinned at the thought. The man was going to give himself an ulcer, or at least make some dentist very rich if he kept that up. Blair's smile started to fade as he flashed on the image of Jim's face -- tension lines across the brow, dark circles of fatigue under eyes squinting against the intense sunlight. He had a sudden glimpse of just how very miserable his partner must be, especially with his Sentinel senses heightening even the smallest discomfort. Blair looked down at the books in front of him and shook his head. Jim's sense of duty was all well and good, but he needed a break.
What kind of a break? Jim thrived on green space; on the quiet of the forest, the softness of a gentle breeze shifting down off the mountains. Blair had seen it rejuvenate him. He'd never said anything to Jim, but his own opinion was that the need to reconnect with nature was an instinctual healing mode for a Sentinel. It certainly was for his Sentinel.
Okay, green space. Blair looked out the window again and shook his head. Las Vegas was as far removed from anything resembling nature as you could get. Neon and concrete. Yellow-brown desert and dust. In the intensity of the blazing sun even the leaves on the palm trees looked brown. Discounting the plastic foliage in the casinos, there was not a trace of green in sight.
His gaze flickered down to the table and he sighed. Just once he would like to do something for Jim. Something that really mattered. Give him something he really needed. Usually it was Jim doing things for him -- letting him move into the loft, putting up with what were major life-style changes, even dealing with Blair's, at times, completely opposite belief system. Granted, he got Blair's help in exchange. Help dealing with senses that were right now driving him crazy, although Blair knew he'd never admit it out loud. Stoic. Just that jaw clenching, teeth grinding stuff that Blair had learned to watch for. Little clues, and right now there were a lot of them.
Green space. That's what he needed. A forest, preferably, but Blair would take anything that came close. With a decisive thud he closed the book he'd been looking at and pulled out the map of the University that he'd picked up earlier. Scanning the legend he started to smile, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind.
Sounds from the bathroom alerted him to the fact that Jim was nearly finished. He shifted out of the chair and pulled a cold beer from the small refrigerator -- one of the few things that actually seemed to work as designed. Placing it on the night stand next to Jim's bed like a peace offering, he managed to settle into his chair again just as his partner reentered the room. Jim sent a quick glare in Blair's direction, then swiveled his head as if he'd picked up a strange scent. Blair saw a shadow of a smile as Jim picked up the beer and took a long pull, acknowledging the gesture with a nod and a soft "Thanks."
Blair watched as Jim stared at the wrinkled clothes on the bed, shook his head and pushed them aside. Grimacing as he sank onto the lumpy mattress, Jim leaned back into the headboard. He closed his eyes and took another drink.
"I take it I shouldn't ask," Blair murmured after giving his friend a few minutes of quiet.
"You're right," Jim answered flatly, his tone implying that no discussion would be forthcoming.
Blair swallowed hard. He'd heard that sound in his partner's voice before. Those hills were looking better all the time... No, the plan. Stick to the plan, remember?
"So, you have anything going tonight? Dinner? More tales of the force with the other guys in blue?" Blair almost winced as the words left his mouth. Great Sandburg, get him even angrier. That'll help.
Jim's response was surprisingly calm, which made Blair even more determined.
"No. I'm just going to stick around here, try to get some sleep, I guess."
Blair rubbed his hands nervously on his jeans. Just keep calm. This will work.
"Out with it Sandburg." Jim's comment caught him off guard and he almost choked on the deep breath he'd been taking.
He looked up in surprise to see Jim staring at him suspiciously. Pasting his best look of feigned innocence on his face, he forced himself to meet Jim's gaze. "Out with what?"
"Chief, you're like an open book. Even with my senses dialed down I can tell you're up to something," Jim replied evenly, never shifting his gaze.
"Hard to operate in this environment with your sensitivity level, huh?" Blair responded curiously, his face still maintaining what he hoped was his "concerned Guide" look, while inside jumping up and down at the opening he'd gotten. Stick with the plan...
"Don't try to change the subject, Sandburg."
"Well, actually, I'm not," Blair hedged. "I was just thinking..."
"I knew it," Jim groaned.
"I was just thinking," Blair continued, unfazed. "Since you don't have anything planned for tonight, and since we're checking out tomorrow, that this would be a good time to do that experiment you promised me."
"I never..."
"Oh yes you did," Blair interrupted him, letting some of his excitement animate his features. "'ONE experiment and ONE only,' that's what you said. I sit through the third degree with you in that monkey suit you pushed on me and you do one experiment of my choosing."
"You didn't sit through the whole thing," Jim pointed out smugly.
Blair stared at him wide eyed for a moment, then his eyes narrowed angrily. "That's why you let me... Oh man."
He rocketed off the bed and stalked to the window. His back to his partner, Blair almost smiled, but he knew if he did it would ruin the effect. Oh Jim, sometimes you're so easy... He forced the smile away and pasted his "disappointed" look on his face as he turned around.
"You gave me your word, Jim."
He could almost hear the mental groan from his friend. Got ya, big guy.
"Look Chief, I'm tired and I've got a headache that's ready to take off the top of my head. This trip has been..."
"Ugly," Blair interjected. "I know. That's why I think if we do this experiment..."
"I'm not some lab rat for you to run tests on, Sandburg. Do you understand that? Can you keep that babble quiet for five minutes and listen to me for a change?" Jim snapped angrily, slamming the beer onto the side table with enough force to send it foaming all over the surface. Blair bit back an angry retort as Jim physically winced at the noise.
"I do listen," he said very quietly, the tone of his voice drawing Jim's startled attention back to him. "I have been listening. I know the housekeeping staff uses enough
disinfectant to 'take out a small army.' I know that the noise level here must be driving you crazy, 'cuz it never stops. I know the sun and the lights in the hotel hurt your eyes. I know that the food here sucks and you'd 'kill for a halfway decent cup of coffee.' I know you're not sleeping because the sheets feel like they've been dipped in starch -- I've heard you tossing and turning all night for the past three nights. And I know that you're putting up with all of these discomforts and sitting through what I've irreverently called the 'convention from Hell' because it's your job and you always, always man, do your job."
He paused and took a breath, the genuine concern and understanding he held for Jim softening his voice even farther.
"I'm listening to you now. I know what you've got to be going through if you're constantly trying to keep your senses dialed down. I mean, if I've been uncomfortable, you've gotta be in serious pain here, man."
Jim held his gaze for a moment, then looked away, his face softening a bit. "Guess I have been a little hard to live with the past few days. You're right. This trip has been ugly. At least you got out of today's session. On a scale of one to ten this one ranked at about minus fifty."
Jim looked up and gave Blair a wry smile. "How'd it go at the University? Find anything interesting?"
"Yes, I did, but now you're the one who's trying to change the subject," Blair reprimanded him gently. "We're talking about the experiment you promised me."
Blair held his breath, wondering if he'd pushed this too far, too fast. Jim closed his eyes, jaw muscles spasming. He almost gasped in relief when the older man took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, as if in surrender.
"Okay. What's it going to be?" Jim asked, his eyes flickering open to lock on Blair warningly. "Thirty rounds with the roulette wheel? Listening to a hundred tosses of the dice on the craps table to see if I can hear snake eyes when they roll?"
"Wouldn't do any good to hear them as they roll, Jim. You're supposed to place your bets before the dice leave your hand."
