Blair Sandburg skidded to a halt near the corner of the building and pressed his back against the bricks. The wall created one side of the dark tunnel Jim had just run into. Late evening offered little light overhead, and he squinted around the corner into the nearly black alley beyond.

Call for backup, Chief, and stay with the truck.

Dammit! He was so tired of being relegated to phone boy. Pressing his lips together in an unconscious display of anger, Blair took two quick breaths to steady himself then dove into the inky blackness. A cat screeched to his left and he jumped, then grinned shakily to himself for flinching.

Come on, Sandburg, if you’re going to take the responsibility upon yourself to follow the man, at least act like you’ve got some backbone.

His eyes finally adjusted to the gloom and he navigated carefully around a pile of junk that he expected to clatter immediately to the ground and give away his position. When he passed the obstacle safely, he sighed with relief. Now all he had to do was keep his head and find Jim.

Would have been nice for you to leave cookie crumbs or something for me to follow, man.

Jim answered in his head as if he were standing there, hands on his hips, a look of frustrated exasperation wrinkling his forehead. I didn’t want you to follow, Sandburg. Which part of ‘stay with the truck’ did you have trouble understanding?

A nervous, high-pitched laugh leaked out of his mouth, and Blair clamped his lips together in chagrined embarrassment. Never listen to yourself laugh. The inane thought barely darted through his mind when another followed: then never get yourself in this kind of situation! Geeze.

Arguing with himself was pointless, he knew, but there was no one else available, so he kept the running conversation going in his head. He’d just won a point when a hand reached out and grasped his wrist to jerk him roughly into a doorway that was even darker than the alley.

"Wha--?" Another hand clamped down on his mouth, grinding his lips painfully against his teeth. All hope that this was Jim, yanking him from the jaws of danger, plummeted with his stomach down to his toes.

Something unyielding poked hard into his ribs, and Blair grunted against the fingers pressing against his mouth. His brain caught up with his body and he kicked backwards, twisting his shoulders and struggling to break free. One quick yank from the man holding him and his wrist erupted with pain.

"Arrggggh!" His muffled shout of agony broke off when the hands let go of him. The shoulders of his coat were fisted and he was shoved hard against another wall. The air was driven from his lungs in one explosive breath.

"Shut up!" The command was a whispered shout against his ear and Blair froze. The feel and stench of the stranger pressing hard against him leached all strength from his bones. He labored to draw air back into insistent lungs and felt the rise of his chest compress between them. Something gleamed in front of his eyes and the object coalesced into the shape of a gun.

The man lifted his hand again and pressed it to Blair’s mouth. Sandburg flared his nostrils, still trying to breathe past the hard thump of pain in his chest. "One word, little mother fucker, and I send you straight to hell."

Oh god. Dammit! The irony of mixing curses and blessings struck Blair as hysterical and he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard to smoother the nervous laugh that tickled his throat. Wonder if a poll’s ever been taken of how many sidekicks get taken hostage? Bet I’d win.

You’d win that bet, Junior. Again, his mind supplied Jim’s sardonic reply.

Somewhere in the distance, a metallic sound clattered in the stillness and Blair opened his eyes wide when he felt the stranger move. For the first time, he got a clear glimpse of his assailant. No stranger, this man. He was Miles Donner, the man Jim was after. He looked like a cartoon caricature of a criminal: large, crooked nose, small, beady eyes, thinning pate with dark, greasy hair combed over it to hide the encroaching baldness. He was the kind of man you would expect to hear scream, "Come and get me, copper!" as he ran in the other direction, shooting back at his pursuers. Predictable. Too bad Blair hadn’t done what he was told. Also predictable.

What I’ve been told? The incredulous thought seared through him and Blair felt his dander begin to rise. True, he was arguing with himself, but that didn’t sway the anger beginning to boil within.

"Where is he?" Donner whispered urgently, peering fearfully into the darkness of the alley.

Blair knew the question to be rhetorical, but his scattered thoughts wouldn’t let him concentrate enough to keep his mouth closed.

"Why don’t we ask him?" Frustration quickened his voice with boldness, and he grabbed the hand holding him and shoved it away. "Hey Jim! You out there, man?"

Instant retaliation sent him crashing back against the wall. Donner still had one of Blair’s arms in his steely grip. Bone gave way and broke beneath the strain. Electrifying agony bolted through him, searing away his strength. Blair felt as if he’d been vaporized. He sagged helplessly into the trash and debris around him and Donner let him drop to deal with the bull that was apparently crashing his way. Somehow, Blair found the presence of mind to gently cradle the throbbing limb to his chest. He folded over to hold the pain close.

Reality narrowed down to one long tunnel. Blair looked up once to check on his partner and felt as if he were looking up from the bottom of a well. Darkness crowded around him in curving walls and shrank his vision to a pinprick hole of sight. The throbbing settled down to a steady beat and the heat in his arm spread out to warm his body. All he had to do was remain perfectly still and breathe as softly as he could, and everything would be fine.

"Blair, look out!"

Jim’s warning hit him about the same time as what felt like a huge sack of dried cement slammed into his shoulder. He was pummeled into the ground. Contact with his broken arm set off a chain reaction of pain that pounded through his mind like waves crashing on a storm-tossed beach, intent on eating away the shore to reveal the bare rock beneath. He felt flayed, inch by inch, until there was nothing left but a thought. The pain grew into a crescendo that lifted him far above himself, then dropped him into nothing.

When he awoke, he rolled his head. Adjusting his shoulders, he felt a soft surface beneath him. An irritating whine buzzed in his ears. He tried to lift a hand to swat the giant fly away but couldn’t find the strength. Reality suddenly jolted into place, and Blair came awake abruptly. An ambulance. He was in an ambulance again, by god. Damn.

Didn’t we just leave this party? He raised his head in time to see Jim turn away from the paramedic he was talking to and lean closer.

"Hey."

"Hey." The croak in his voice shocked him, and he wondered if he knew any frog jokes, but one look at the worry and irritation vying for dominance on Jim’s face and all thoughts of smiling melted away. He cleared his throat and tried for sympathy instead. "Arm hurts."

"I know, Chief. We’ll be at the hospital soon and they’ll give you something for the pain. You’ll be floating on clouds before you know it."

Blair lowered his head back to the thin mattress. "Been there, done that. It’s nice, until you come back to solid ground again."

Jim’s answering chuckle overrode some of the warning klaxons blaring through his head. Stand down from red alert.

"You get Donner?"

"Yeah. But not until he got you. He broke your arm. How are you feeling?"

Resisting the urge to deliver a very childlike "duh" in Jim’s face, Blair swallowed and closed his eyes. Too early to complain yet, he figured. Tread carefully. "It’s not so bad now. Feeling a little sick to my stomach, though."

He watched as Jim nodded. "That’s to be expected. It's a pretty bad break."

Silence between them accentuated the loud siren of the speeding ambulance. Blair searched for something to say. A nervous laugh bubbled out of his mouth. If he'd been standing, he would have kicked himself. Why did he do that?

"What’s so funny?"

He shrugged as best he could in his position and looked away. "Nothing, really. Just that you should have seen the look on Donnor’s face when I yelled for you." Now why did I bring that up?

"Yeah. We’ve got a few things to talk about here, Chief ---"

The vehicle slowed and swayed a bit. The attendant turned to them. "We’re here, detective. Would you move as far as you can over to that corner while we unload your partner?"

Jim nodded and glanced down at Blair, and the young man knew that look well enough to understand he wasn’t off the hook, injury or no injury.

At least the dressing-down would wait awhile.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Blair drifted, content and at peace. The only bad thing about contentment: it doesn’t last. The mind inexorably gets enough and struggles its way back into the waking world, whether you’re ready for it or not.

Opening his eyes, he nearly yelped when he caught sight of Jim looming over him. What a way to wake up. Blair forcibly clamped down on his ungrateful thoughts and grinned, knowing most females would gladly trade places with him.

"’Bout time you woke up. I was beginning to think you were going to sleep a week."

Blair lifted his good arm and yawned then raised his head and patted around the bedcovers. "Good morning to you too, partner. Where’s the remote for this thing?"

"You mean this?" Jim stood languidly and picked up the devise hanging from the side bed rail. "Up?"

"Yeah. Thanks." When the bed had been lifted to Blair’s specifications, Jim reached behind and grabbed the always-present chair. Shifting it forward, he settled down next to the bed.

"Ready to talk?"

"Now?" The squeak brought heat to his face and Blair ducked to hide the blush. "Don’t I get a last meal first or something?"

"You hungry?"

"No."

"Need to go to the bathroom?"

"No."

"Then yeah. Now."

Resigned to his fate, Blair slumped back against his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. "Okay. So, I didn’t stay with the truck. I did something that not only endangered my life, but the life of my partner, and I got myself hurt in the bargain. I should do what I’ve been told and stay where my partner tells me too, and everyone will live happily ever after."

When only silence greeted his confession, he turned to look at Jim. The man sat with his eyebrows raised, his head turned just to one side, as if he were saying, "and . . .?"

"What? Did I miss something?"

Jim’s face relaxed and he folded his arms across his chest. "No, Chief, I think you just about covered it."

"Good."

"Except for one thing."

Blair lifted his head and looked over at the older man. When no explanation was forthcoming, he raised his good hand in a one-armed shrug. "What? Give me a clue here, man, because I really don’t know what you want." Exasperation rung clear in his words and he didn’t try to tone down the look of helplessness he knew sat on his face.

Jim stood up and lowered the rail, then sat on the edge of the bed, facing Blair. "You took a chance, Blair."

"Ah, man." Blair’s outburst died when Jim touched him on the shoulder. He looked up into blue eyes that shown and his breath caught in his chest with the care he found mirrored back.

"I’d like to say I’m the only one allowed to take chances in this team, but I know that’s not true. We’re partners, and we look out for each other. I just wanted to thank you for backing me up."

Speechless for the first time in his life, Blair stared at Jim. Finally, the words came to him. "You’re welcome."

"That doesn’t mean you don’t do what I tell you to, though." Patting Blair’s arm, Jim rose with a smile that belied his qualifier. "Get some rest. They’ll be releasing you in a few hours."

"I will." Waiting until the door shut behind Jim, Blair settled back on the bed and marveled at the feeling of friendship he felt swelling in his chest. You’re still phoneboy, y’know. Yeah, he knew. But he could live with that. After all, Jim was a reasonable man, he could be swayed to Blair’s way of thinking. Eventually.

Yeah, right.

THE END

Shellie

MAGNIFICENT SEVEN FANFIC