Author’s Note: My heartfelt thanks to Suzanne who is my unending source of encouragement. As always, I lay no claim to characters owned by Paramount/Pet Fly and am not profiting from this little tale. I do own Ike, however, so make me an offer... Comments always welcome.
Contains spoilers for "Blind Man's Bluff"
For most of the children, the three o’clock school bell was something that was eagerly anticipated. It was the sound that liberated them from a long day of sitting still and keeping quiet and paying attention, setting them free to run and laugh and play. But for Blair Sandburg, it was something to be dreaded. For when that bell rang, the rest of his classmates tore happily out of the room with the teacher shooing out any stragglers, just as eager as the kids were for the day to be finished. But though school ended at three, the bus Blair took didn’t arrive until three thirty. And for a lonely, outcast boy, half an hour was an eternity to wait.
He’d been grade tested when Naomi had first brought him here to enroll him, for transcripts and records were things she didn’t ever think about and obtaining said records were written off as too much bother once the principal determined Blair hadn’t had much consistent schooling in his short academic career. But to everyone’s surprise, apart from Naomi who had loudly protested that her son was brilliant, Blair had scored quite highly. So high, in fact, they placed him in a fifth grade classroom, even though he was only eight years old. The fact that he was younger and smarter than the other kids did nothing to win him any friends, and from the first day of school Blair became painfully aware that he didn’t fit in with them and never would. Luckily, he managed to escape any major bullying. There were some taunts and jeers but for the most part the other kids just tended to ignore him. He was weird, dorky, and someone they just could not relate to, not that any of them tried.
And while Blair was grateful that he was spared the trips and shoves and thefts of lunch money, the isolation he felt was almost as painful. It hurt to watch the other kids interacting, playing, sharing camaraderie and companionship. Trading baseball cards, exchanging friendship bracelets, passing notes and whispering secrets. It was what he desperately wanted; a friend to talk to, to play with, to sit with at lunch and trade sandwiches. But instead he was forced to eat alone, pretending not to care when he was picked last for teams in gym and never raising his hand in class so as not to be labeled ‘teacher’s pet’ and further compound his problems. When he was younger, he had a host of imaginary friends to keep him company, but he was too old for that now. His only resource was to read, to lose himself in books and the rich, colorful world they created. Which was why he’d started spending that dreaded half hour waiting for the bus in the library. It didn’t do much for his science nerd reputation, but he preferred losing himself to a fantasy world over having his nose rubbed in the fact that he was lonely and friendless.
However, on this day the library was closed, due to the floor being stripped and refinished. So Blair, deprived of his refuge, cringed when the three o’clock bell rang but gathered up his books and dutifully trooped outside with the other students. Kids were milling around in front of the school, the lucky ones boarding the early buses and the rest passing the time with any manner of diversions. Blair plopped down on the stairs that led from the street up to the school and prepared to wait, trying not to look pathetic as he pulled out his math book and started whizzing through his homework problems.
“Hey! New kid!”
Blair suppressed a sigh at the name. Naomi had moved them to San Francisco six months ago and he’d been at this school for almost all of it. At what point, he wondered, would he cease to be the new kid?
“What?” he responded guardedly, looking up from his work to see a kid named Kenny standing before him, flanked by five or six others from his class.
“We’re going to play Blind Man’s Bluff,” the boy told him. “Want to play?”
Blair studied the group nervously for a moment. They were all fifth graders and a lot bigger than he was. Kenny seemed sincere enough, but Blair knew that there was a very real chance this was a set up of some kind. Some trick to humiliate him. But if it wasn’t and he refused, then he’d be quashing the only olive branch that had been offered him in six months and he wasn’t likely to get another. It was a risk he had to take. Besides, if it was a trick, how bad could it really be?
“Ok,” Blair answered, quickly stashing his book inside his backpack. “Sure.”
“Come on.”
They led him over to the grassy yard that stretched alongside the school.
“You have to be it,” Kenny told him in a matter of fact voice.
Maybe that’s it, Blair thought to himself as a bandana was centered over his eyes to serve as a makeshift blindfold. Maybe they’d asked him to play not to trick him, but simply because none of them wanted to be ‘it’. Well, that was fine with him. He’d be it every time as long as he could be included. The bandana was tied around the back of his head, tight but not uncomfortable. Then he was spun around a few times to disorient him and then the game was on. He half expected the other boys to take off running and ditch him, laughing at him with the other students as he wandered blind and unaware through the field. But Blair heard swishes of fabric from their clothing as they moved around him, along with the occasional giggle and whisper. It was such a simple game, but once he realized it was for real, he began playing wholeheartedly, delighted to have been included in it.
He walked the yard unafraid, lunging and grabbing whenever he sensed one of his targets was near, but coming up empty handed every time. After a few minutes of this, the other boys began to make noise, clicks and whistles and raspberries to give him hints about where they were. Grinning, Blair turned to his right and moved forward. A catcall sounded almost right in his ear and he spun around and reached out but his fingers closed around air. Undaunted he threw himself forward, determined to find his prey. The whistle sounded again, behind him this time. Blair turned around and hurried forward, arms out and flailing as he swept the air. He was close, he just knew it. And then a hand slammed unexpectedly into his back, shoving him roughly so that he hit the ground hard and rolled.
The laughter of the other boys filled the air, but it was drowned out by a much more ominous sound. His gut clenching in fear, Blair ripped the blindfold from his eyes, horrified to see a furious swarm of yellow jackets streaming out of the ground nest that he’d just stepped on. Clambering to his feet, he pulled the light jacket he was wearing up over his head, wrapping his arms around his face to protect it as he took off running back towards the entrance to the school, yelping in pain as the angry insects attacked. And the laughter behind him quickly turned to screams as the other boys realized the safe distance they thought they’d kept was not so safe, their prank backfiring on them in a buzzing swarm of karma.
“I’m here for Blair Sandburg.”
Blair’s heart skipped a beat as he heard the loud declaration from his vantage point in the nurse’s office, which was little more than a large closet leading from the main office. It was a voice he recognized immediately, and one he never thought he’d hear again. Ike. Naomi’s ex-boyfriend and the reason they had moved to San Francisco in the first place. They had been living with Ike when Blair had enrolled in school, and Naomi had given his address and phone number as her contact information. And apparently never updated it when they had moved out after the couple had broken up. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together and figure out that since he’d missed the bus, the nurse had tried to call Naomi to come and pick him up. The real question was, why had Ike come for him instead of just setting the nurse straight?
“Are you a relative of his?” A sharp, nasally voice. The principal, out of her office to intercept the visitor. Blair could picture her staring down her nose, her lips thinning in disapproval. She was a conservative woman and openly looked down on the unconventional. He often got that look from her for his long hair and some of the outfits he wore, but he was smart and a good student and respectful, so she tended to let it slide and didn’t give him any trouble. Ike, however, was far from respectful where authority figures were concerned.
“What do you think?” Blair couldn’t see his face, but he could picture him giving the austere woman a cold sneer. Wait a minute. Was Ike alluding that he was Blair’s father? He almost could have been; with his blue eyes and long, curly, dark hair they looked enough alike. But why would he do that? Blair really wanted to go out there and find out, but he was loathe to move. His quick thinking with his jacket had protected his head and his jeans had seemingly been impenetrable to the attacking yellow jackets, but their stingers had gone right through his T-shirt and his back and his hands were liberally covered with painful welts. The nurse had insisted on washing all the wounds, which hadn’t helped, and Blair decided the less he moved, the better off he’d be. Although he did reach a hand up to scrub at his cheeks, wanting to erase any lingering tearstains before Ike could see them.
They were arguing now, several voices at once. It was hard to follow them all, but it seemed like they were fighting about what had happened. The principal was calling it an accident and one of the teachers was refuting that, saying that she saw the whole thing from her window and naming the other boys involved. They had all run off after the attack, proving their guilt, she cited. Ike grew angry, demanding punishment for the kids. But the principal with her prejudices was not going to see justice done, brushing off the incident as mild horseplay. Ike argued that the consequences could have been deadly if Blair had been allergic to the stings, using several obscenities to make his point and throwing in a few derogatory names for the principal while he was at it. Blair closed his eyes, wishing he would just shut up before he managed to get the cops called on himself. He just wanted out of there, and having his ride home led off in handcuffs was not going to be his ticket.
Finally the arguing ceased. Blair had mostly stopped listening and didn’t know what, if anything, had been resolved, although he was moderately sure threats had been exchanged on all sides. But he didn’t care, as long as he was allowed to leave with Ike. And apparently he was, for the man then stepped through the door of the nurse’s office and hunkered down next to the cot on which Blair was lying. He was a big man, well muscled, dressed as he always had in jeans and a leather jacket. His black curls were pulled into a ponytail that hung halfway down his back and a dark scruff of a beard shadowed his face, but the blue eyes that gazed at him sparkled fondly, with no trace of the anger he’d so verbally displayed a few moments ago.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Hey, Ike,” Blair greeted, unable to hold back a grin. The man didn’t have a job, hustling pool for money and running with a biker gang. He drank too much beer and probably did drugs, too. But Blair loved him. He had been good to Naomi - good to the both of them. He’d been a friend to Blair in the four months they’d lived with him, and not just because he had to be nice to his girlfriend’s kid. No, Ike had really liked him, was kind to him. And while Blair had learned long ago not to get attached to the men in Naomi’s life, he couldn’t help but be upset the day his mother had packed up their things and moved them out. Away from someone who cared about him and into a communal house of artists and expressionalists who were determined to hold onto the ‘67 Summer of Love. Everyone there was nice enough, but didn’t pay him much attention. Ike had promised him that they could still see each other, but Blair knew from experience that was never going to happen. So it was a surprise to see the man there now, and he just had to ask why. “What are you doing here?”
“They called and said you needed a ride home,” Ike replied with a shrug.
“Sorry,” Blair murmured. “I think they were looking for Naomi...”
“They were, but I don’t mind coming to get you,” the big man assured him. “How is your mom?”
“She’s fine,” Blair told him, hesitating as he debated how much to divulge. “Actually, she’s in Berkley.”
“What the hell is she doing there?”
“She went to a rally or something with some friends. She’ll be back Saturday.”
“And she just left you here in that flophouse with those freaks?”
“It’s not a flophouse,” Blair protested, but he lacked any real conviction.
“All right,” Ike sighed. “Let’s just get you out of here. Sit up and put your shirt on.”
Very slowly, Blair rose up from the cot where he’d been lying on his stomach, sitting up and reaching for his shirt, pulling it on over his head. Ike helped him with the armholes, easing the garment down over his torso without touching his back. He studied the boy, noting the gritted teeth and tight expression.
“You want me to carry you?”
“No!” Blair protested quickly, his expression becoming one of horrified indignance.
“All right,” Ike said mildly, holding up his hands to deflect any offense. “Just asking.”
“I’m fine,” Blair insisted. “It’s just a couple of bee stings.”
“All right then, tough guy,” the big man grinned, gathering up both the jacket the boy declined to put on and his backpack. “Let’s blow this joint.”
The principal frowned at the both of them as they walked through the office, but she remained silent and they were allowed to leave the school unimpeded. Ike steered him out to the parking lot toward an old, beat up Chevy.
“Where’s your bike?” Blair asked in confusion, never having known the man to travel by car when he could take his Harley.
“Safe at home,” Ike replied, opening the passenger door for him. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be up for the ride, so I borrowed this rust bucket from a friend of mine.” Blair climbed into the car, perching himself on the edge of the seat and deliberately not putting on his seat belt. Ike didn’t comment, merely handing him his things before getting in behind the wheel and coaxing the sputtering engine to life. They drove a few blocks before pulling up outside a corner store. “I need some beer and a pack of smokes,” Ike explained. “You want to come in?” Blair shook his head. “All right, then stay right here in the car and wait for me. Stay right here, understand?”
Blair nodded, unable to move even if he wanted to. It was probably only a few minutes, but it seemed like a long, long time to the boy before Ike finally came out of the store with a handful of bags which he tossed into the back seat. He got back in behind the wheel, popping the last cigarette out of the pack in his coat pocket as he pushed the lighter in on the dash of the car. Glancing over at his passenger, he noted the way the boy was sitting rigidly in his seat.
“You ok?”
“I feel sick to my stomach,” Blair confessed haltingly.
Ike didn’t comment, but when the lighter popped out of the dash he glanced at it, then took the cigarette out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear, deciding to spare the nauseated kid the smell of smoke. He started the car and they drove a few more blocks in silence. Blair rode with his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing and desperately trying not to be sick in the borrowed car. So it wasn’t until they parked that he opened his eyes and saw where they were. The street was familiar, but it wasn’t the one on which he currently lived. He turned questioning eyes to the biker.
“I’m not going to leave you with those freaks at the flophouse when you’re like this,” Ike told him firmly. “You can stay with me tonight.”
He got out and retrieved the bags from the back seat before going around and opening the passenger door. Blair started to get out, but he was moving slowly. Too slowly for the biker, apparently, as the big man shifted his bags to one hand and reached down to scoop him up with the other. It took the boy by surprise, but he didn’t complain, relaxing instead against the man’s chest and dropping his head down to rest on his leather clad shoulder.
Ike carried him inside his apartment after somehow managing to juggle his load and get the door unlocked. When he’d lived there, Blair had slept on the couch, so he was a little surprised when the biker bypassed the living room, taking him instead to the only bedroom and depositing him gently down on the bed, presumably giving it up to him.
“How you doing, buddy?” he asked as put his hands behind him and stretched out his back.
“Ok.” Blair’s voice wavered slightly.
“You sure?” Ike pressed as he rested the back of his hand against the boy’s forehead. “You feel a little warm.”
“I’m good.”
“You know, same thing happened to me when I was a kid,” the biker began conversationally as he sat down on the bed next to him. “I threw some rocks at a hornet nest one day and they didn’t like that too much.”
“Why would you do that?” Blair asked in astonishment.
“Not as smart as you are, I guess,” Ike grinned. “Got stung a bunch of times. Hurt like hell and made me sick as a dog.”
Blair really tried to suck it up and put on a brave face, he really did. But he was just so utterly miserable. He still felt like he was going to throw up and his head hurt and he kind of ached all over. His hands were swollen and sore, and his whole back was just a mass of agony. So when he looked into those kind blue eyes commiserating with him, his facade cracked. He tried to hold it back, but his lip started to tremble and fat tears began to spill from his eyes.
“Come here,” Ike invited with a warm chuckle, opening his arms. Blair crawled into his lap and leaned into him, embarrassed by his tears but relishing in the comfort of the embrace, of the hands that stroked his hair and his arm without touching any of the sore spots. He let himself cry for a minute, then gulped heavily and forced back the tears, wiping a puffy hand over his eyes and nose. But he stayed where he was, cuddled up against the big man, feeling eternally grateful that he was there with someone who cared about him and who would watch over him when he was vulnerable. The biker rested his chin on the top of the boy’s head briefly before dropping a quick kiss on his wild curls. “I know you don’t feel good, but we’ll fix you up. My grandma took care of me when I got stung so I know what to do. Here, just sit tight for me for a minute and I’ll go get something that’ll help you feel better, ok?”
The big man eased the boy off his lap and onto the bed, then rose and left the room. Blair slid to the floor, moving stiffly to the corner to kick off his sneakers, stacking them neatly out of the way with his folded jacket and his backpack. Then he sat back on the bed and waited, looking around him as he listened to Ike rummaging through the bags he’d left by the door and puttering in the kitchen. The place hadn’t changed any since they’d left. It was furnished with just the basics and the design scheme consisted mostly of stolen metal signs and fancy ashtrays. But it was reasonably clean and he’d always been made to feel at home there. Blair sighed as he tucked his legs up under him, realizing he was very glad to be back, even if it was just for the night.
Ike returned in a few minutes carrying a glass of water, a small bowl, and something tucked under his arm. He sat back down on the bed next to Blair, putting the bowl on the floor and handing him the water. With his hands free, he pulled the small box out from under his arm and opened the lid, extracting a bottle of Children’s Tylenol. Squinting at the small print on the label, the biker checked the dosage and then fed two spoonfuls into Blair. The boy didn’t complain, but his stomach did. The medicine left a bad taste in his mouth so he took a couple sips of water to wash it down before pressing a hand to his belly with a slight moan.
“Not sitting too good?” Ike asked, taking the water glass from him. Blair shook his head and the big man clucked in sympathy. “Try to keep it down, if you can. It’ll help with the fever and pain. Here, let’s get your shirt off.”
With his assistance, Blair managed to extract himself from his clothing. Ike turned him around and picked up the bowl from the floor. It was baking soda paste, he explained to the boy as he began dabbing it over the red welts covering his back. What his grandma had done for him and before long he was good as new. Blair hunched in on himself a little, curling over his churning stomach and wincing inwardly at the pain in his back. Touching the stings hurt, but he was surprised at how gentle those big hands could really be. Ike was taking his time, going slowly and using the utmost care not to hurt him any more than he had to. And when he was done with his back, he took each of the small hands in his own and treated them, too.
“How’s that?” the biker asked, wiping his hands off on his jeans when he was through.
“Good as new,” Blair parroted miserably.
Ike just laughed and pulled down the covers, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder to direct him toward the pillows.
“But it’s too early to go to bed,” Blair protested. He would have been more convincing if he hadn’t had to stifle a yawn while speaking, but as any self respecting 8 year old would do, he had to take objection over being sent to bed at dinnertime.
“You don’t have to sleep,” Ike reassured him calmly. “Just maybe lay down and rest for a little bit until your stomach feels better, ok?”
He wanted to stubbornly resist, but it actually did sound like a good idea since he felt so sick and was starting to shiver with a slight chill. So with only the slightest pout, Blair eased himself down to the pillow after deciding not to put his shirt back on. He toyed with the idea of taking off his jeans, too, but it seemed like too much effort so he just curled up on his side with his swollen hands in front of him. The biker pulled the covers back up over him and tucked him in carefully.
“I’ll be out in the other room,” he told the boy.
“Thanks, Ike,” Blair murmured. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“No problem, kiddo. If you need anything, you just call me, ok?”
Blair nodded, his body relaxing and his eyes closing as the last bit of adrenalin from the attack wore off and the medicine started to work.
“Damn it, I told you to keep your voice down!”
The sounds of arguing woke Blair, and for a minute he thought his principal had followed them home to pick up where they had left off at the school. But the female voice that was rapidly rising in volume was coarser, less flinty. And much more inclined to use swear words. But Blair wasn’t listening to what they were saying. He had broken out into a clammy sweat and his stomach hurt worse than ever. Desperately he needed to get to the bathroom, but his swollen hands struggled with the sheets covering him and even trying to sit up made the agony in his back flare up again, that pain further aggravating his already turbulent tummy. Swallowing hard, Blair called out for Ike. Then again, louder and more urgently. The biker opened the bedroom door, sticking his head in.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” But when the boy clasped a hand over his mouth, Ike immediately understood. “Shit!” He disappeared from view, then hurried back into the room with the small wastepaper basket from the bathroom, sliding in behind Blair, propping him up and getting the receptacle into position just in the nick of time.
“Jesus, that’s just great!”
Blair looked up over the rim of the can that Ike was holding for him, panting as his gaze landed on a woman standing in the doorway. She was in a waitress uniform and had big blond hair like Farrah Fawcett. Pretty, or she would have been if she hadn’t been scowling at them.
“Blair, that’s Heather,” Ike said calmly, making the introductions as casually as if they’d met on the street corner. “Heather, this is Blair.” She sneered at him, and at that moment another wave of nausea spiked and the boy again retched helplessly into the wastebasket. The waitress was speaking but he couldn’t hear her as his insides heaved once more. Finally, the cramping in his stomach eased up and he flopped bonelessly back against Ike, aggravating the sores on his back but too exhausted to care. The biker extricated himself, laying Blair back against the pillow and smoothing the damp curls back from his face. “You ok?” The boy nodded. “I’ll be back in just a second.” He picked up the wastebasket and strode out of the room.
Blair could hear arguing, more hushed this time, but he caught enough of the words to get the gist of the fight. The front door slammed and all went quiet, except for some soft movements and water running. After several minutes, Ike returned with, among other things, the cleaned wastebasket which he set on the floor next to the bed.
“Is she gone?” Blair whispered as the big man eased back down to the bed next to him and wiped his face with a damp washcloth.
“Yeah,” Ike told him. “Heather has her... talents, but unfortunately being good with kids isn’t one of them.”
“Especially not with the kid of your ex-girlfriend,” Blair murmured with a downcast gaze, wise beyond his years. “I’m sorry, Ike.”
“Hey,” the biker said sharply, grasping the boy gently by the chin and tilting his head up to look right into his eyes. “You did nothing wrong, you hear me? It’s not your fault.”
“I got sick,” Blair protested weakly, thinking that for someone who didn’t like kids to begin with, there could be no bigger turn off.
“It’s all right, buddy. You couldn’t help it.” Ike released him and reached over for the glass of water on the small bedside table. “Here.” Blair took a couple sips to rinse his mouth, and when that seemed to settle more or less ok he took a few more.
“Do you think she’ll come back?”
“Eventually,” the biker answered, not seeming too concerned about it. “But don’t worry about her. If she can’t be nice to my friends, then I don’t want her around.”
“What time is it?” the boy asked suddenly.
“Close to six, I guess,” Ike told him, taking the glass from him and wiping his face once more. “You weren’t asleep for very long. Did Heather and I wake you up or was it the stomach pains?” Blair wasn’t sure and shook his head. “How’s your belly feeling now that you emptied out? Any better?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Do you think you can try a little more medicine? I know it’s hard on your stomach but it’ll help you feel better.”
“All right,” Blair agreed reluctantly. “But I have to go to the bathroom first.”
Ike helped him up, following him to the bathroom to make sure he was steady. The boy shut the door but after a minute sheepishly called the big man in when he found that his fingers were so swollen he couldn’t undo the button on his jeans. Ike helped him out of his pants and gave him one of his T-shirts to wear as a nightshirt. It was ridiculously huge on the small boy, a tent around his torso and dragging on the floor around his feet, but Blair didn’t mind for the loose material was less abrasive on his sore back. Once he finished in the bathroom he returned to the bedroom and climbed back up into the bed. The biker met him there with another spoonful of the Tylenol.
Blair looked at him evenly, hesitating but not because he didn’t want to take the medication. It was just weird. Naomi, well, she loved him. Was there for him. Cared for him. But she treated him like an adult, trusting him to read labels and follow instructions for much more than medications. Sometimes Blair felt like he was the parent and she the child, the way he had to take after responsibilities that she was just too free spirited to worry about. But he was responsible, he was mature, and he could take care of himself. So it was just a little odd to have Ike treating him like... a kid. Like an 8 year old boy. On one hand he wanted to point out that, despite the limited mobility of his fingers, he didn’t need to be coddled, but on the other hand.... It felt good. A relief to give up adult responsibilities and let somebody else worry about things for awhile. Nice to just be cared for and taken care of for once. A little swell of loneliness crested inside him, making him shiver, and Blair decided to quell his independent tendencies and just be a sick 8 year old boy, so obediently he opened his mouth and let the biker spoon the medicine into him, supposing he should just be glad Ike wasn’t making airplane noises while he did it. That thought made him laugh and then choke on the second spoonful, and the big man grabbed up the wastebasket as he gagged. But Blair pushed it away, swallowing the medicine and then coughing a little, but keeping it down. He had another sip of water from the glass that Ike had to help hold because he couldn’t keep a good grip on it and then glared in frustration at his uncooperative digits. Using his forearm, he swiped at his brow to push his hair back from his face, and his arm came back damp with perspiration.
“Why do I have a fever?” Blair asked, hearing a hint of a whine in his voice. But he couldn’t help it. He was just so tired and felt awful.
“Bees have venom just like snakes,” Ike explained, wiping his face with the cloth once more. “They inject it in you when they sting. One or two isn’t going to hurt you, but you got a lot of stings which means you got a lot of venom. You’re going to be a little sick until your body gets rid of it, but you’ll be fine. Just be sure and tell me if your throat starts to hurt or if you start feeling like you can’t breathe, ok?”
“Ok,” the boy answered, his eyes going wide. “Is that going to happen?”
“No,” the biker assured him. “But if you start feeling any worse, just tell me and we’ll get you some different medicine. Do you want to come out to the couch for awhile and watch some tv or something?”
He did, but at that moment moving just seemed like too much trouble.
“Maybe I’ll just rest here for another minute,” Blair said softly, curling up on his side.
“All right,” Ike agreed, pulling the covers over him and sliding the wastebasket closer to the edge of the bed. “I’ll leave this right here, just in case. Yell if you need me, buddy.” The boy nodded and closed his eyes and was asleep before the big man had even left the room.
The warm covers being pulled away from him was enough to wake Blair up, and he blinked his eyes open to meet Ike’s apologetic gaze.
“Sorry,” the biker murmured. “I was just checking to make sure you weren’t swelling up on me and I thought I could do it without waking you up.”
Blair yawned but obligingly presented his hands for inspection. His fingers were still stiff and tight, but the swelling actually seemed a little better and he could flex his digits a little more.
“That’s good,” Ike rated, resting his big hand against the boy’s forehead. “Your temp’s down, too. How are you feeling?”
Blair thought about the question and took a silent inventory. The general yuckiness seemed to be gone, and he was overall much less achy. His back and hands still hurt, but the pain was duller, less acute. But mostly he felt...
“Kinda hungry,” he replied around another yawn.
“I’d call that a good sign,” Ike grinned, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Come on.”
They went out to the living room and Blair was treated to a big bowl of ice cream. Deciding he could definitely get used to this kind of coddling, he ate it eagerly, finding that the cold bowl he clutched in his hands had the added benefit of further easing the swelling in his fingers. Since it was still early, once he ate his fill of the creamy sweetness he settled on the couch next to Ike to watch t.v. He didn’t want to push his luck, but the biker amiably indulged his tentative request and turned the dial on the set to “CHiPs”. Blair didn’t say it out loud as Ike tended to share Naomi’s unfavorable views on law enforcement personnel, but sometimes when he was playing he imagined he was out there riding with Ponch and John, doing his part to keep the California highways safe. But despite his zest for the show, his eyes started to close and his head started to droop by the time it was halfway over. The next thing he knew he was in Ike’s arms, being carried through the apartment and then tucked into bed. He was too tired to even argue such indignation, and in the back of his fuzzy mind he figured it was probably the medicine that was making him so sleepy.
“What was that?” Ike asked, not able to understand the boy’s mumbles.
“I said I have to go to school tomorrow,” Blair repeated, managing to rouse himself slightly.
“We’ll see how you feel in the morning,” the biker said wryly as he headed for the doorway. “You can stay home if you want. Frankly I’d love the chance for another round with your principal.”
“You let her think you’re my dad, didn’t you?”
“I never said so outright, but I had to let her assume that because I was worried she wouldn’t let you come with me otherwise.”
“But you’re not, are you?”
“You know I’m not.”
“But... you are my friend, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Ike sighed and took a step back toward the bed. “Look, kiddo, I know I promised you when you left that we could still hang, but it just didn’t work out that way.”
“I know,” Blair said quietly.
“But we’re here now, right?” the biker continued. “And that’s what friends do. They are there for you when you need them. And I’ll always be here when you need me, buddy. That IS a promise.” He paused, studying the boy lying so still on the bed, curled so tightly under the covers, and then the big man knelt down on the floor beside him, reaching out to grip his shoulder gently through the blankets. “Those little s.o.b.s that did this to you today... are they all like that? Do you have any friends there your own age?” The silence was all the answer he needed. Ike sighed again and rubbed the boy’s arm in comfort. “If none of those kids can see what a great guy you are then they are all a bunch of jerks and you don’t need friends like that.”
“They’re not all bad,” Blair ventured softly. “I just... don’t fit in with them.”
“That’s a good thing,” Ike reassured him. “Don’t ever compromise who you are, Blair. You’ve got a good heart and a good head and if you stay true to that, I promise you one day you’ll find where you fit in and you’ll have a lot of true friends who are glad to know you for who you are. Trust me.”
“I do,” the boy whispered, meaning it with all his heart.
“Good. Now try and get some sleep, ok?”
“Ike?”
“What?”
“What about tomorrow? I mean, if I go to school...” Blair couldn’t bring himself to go on, wanting badly to ask if he could stay until Naomi got back but not wanting to be a burden on his friend.
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow,” the biker told him as he got to his feet. “Everything will work itself out so don’t worry about it now. Just get some rest.”
“Ike?”
“Yeah?”
“Was that Heather’s car that you picked me up in today?”
“Yes.”
“I wish I had thrown up in it.”
Blair looked up at the big man who seemed to almost glow golden as he was illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun that were streaming in through the small window. Ike grinned and reached down, resting his big hand on the boy’s head briefly before he turned and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him as Blair closed his eyes.
Blair opened his eyes to find the big man still next to him, glowing brightly in the sun’s rays and stroking his hair gently.
“Ike?” he rasped out.
“No, Chief,” came the voice, tinged with heavy concern. “It’s Jim.”
“Jim? What are...” Blair paused, swallowing and wincing at the rawness of his throat. Wait, he was supposed to tell if that happened right? He’d promised Ike. “My throat hurts,” he whispered, reaching a trembling hand up to his neck.
“Yeah, I know,” Ellison murmured in sympathy. “You had to have a breathing tube for awhile so it’s going to be a little sore. Here, try some water. That should help.”
The sentinel placed a straw to his lips and Blair sucked up the cool liquid, finding that it did ease his parched throat somewhat. But then he pushed the cup away and struggled to sit up, eyes darting frantically around the unfamiliar room. Breathing tube? He was in the hospital, he deduced. The bee stings must have gotten worse. Yeah, that was it. Would definitely explain why he felt so bad, like there was a jackhammer in his skull and why his stomach hurt and why every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire...
“Chief. Chief! Come on, breathe. Relax and breathe.”
“Jim, man, what the hell is going on? Why are we here and why the hell is everything in here glowing?! Will you just tell me what’s going on?” Blair cried out, agitated in his confusion.
“I will, Chief. I will, I promise!” Ellison said forcefully, moving to perch on the edge of the bed and taking his partner’s face in his hands. “But you have got to settle down, or else they’re going to sedate you.”
That got his attention and Blair tried to focus on the man holding him. But he realized that even though Jim was right in front of him, looking into his face, he wasn’t seeing him. And then everything came rushing back.
“Oh, God, Jim, your eyes,” he muttered. “The Golden... I forgot. Can you see anything at all?”
“It’s still pretty blurry but I’m seeing some shapes,” the sentinel told him as he let him go. “Not enough to really make anything small out, but enough to give me hope that it’s gradually getting better and I’m not going to be blind for life.”
Sandburg let out a long breath, glad to hear the optimism in his friend’s voice.
“So, since it’s looking to me like King Midas decorated this room, I’m assuming...”
“You were poisoned with the stuff,” Jim told him softly. “It was pretty bad there for awhile but the doc seems to think you’ll be ok. Chief, listen, I...”
They were interrupted by a nurse entering the room, summoned by the elevated monitor readings Blair’s panic attack had set off. She confirmed he was calm and that his vitals were stable and went off to page the attending physician who had wanted to see his patient once he’d awakened. The doctor showed up promptly and Sandburg went through a round of exams while the doctor explained the possible risks and effects of a lethal overdose of the drug. But Blair was exhausted and not really hearing any of it, just wanting to know when he could go home. Being told it would be at least another day did not make him happy but he stayed calm, mindful of the threat of sedation if he got upset. Finally the medical team cleared out and it was just the two of them once more.
“You doing ok?” Jim asked as he eased back into the chair next to the bed.
“No, I feel like crap,” Blair sighed. “But you don’t look any better, man. Why don’t you go home?”
“I will, in a minute,” the detective agreed. “I just had to stay until you woke up to make sure you were ok.”
“What happened, Jim?” Sandburg asked quietly.
“The pizzas that were delivered to the station were laced with Golden,” Jim told him. “Lethal amounts. Fortunately we caught it before anyone else got into it, but you... Do you remember anything?”
“Bits and pieces. Like a living nightmare,” the younger man said, covering his eyes with his hands and shuddering slightly.
Wanting to distract him from that nightmare, Jim leapt for the first thing that came to mind.
“Hey, who’s Ike?”
“What?”
“Ike. You kept calling for him when you were out of it. I never heard you mention him before.”
“He’s... a friend. A good friend,” Blair told him, removing his hands from his eyes but continuing to stare up at the ceiling.
“He must mean a lot to you,” Jim ventured.
“Yeah. He did.”
“You want me to call him for you?”
“No.” Sandburg glanced over at him and Ellison couldn’t see the shadow in his blue eyes, but he heard the weight of it in his voice. “I mean you can’t. He’s dead.”
“I’m sorry, Chief.”
“Killed in a bar fight,” Blair continued, not sure why since he really didn’t want to talk about it. “About ten years ago. Hustled the wrong person, I guess. They never caught his killer.”
“You must really miss him,” Jim speculated gently.
“I do,” Sandburg agreed. “I miss having him around. But in a weird way, I feel like he’s still with me, too. You know, like he’s here when I need him, even if it’s only in a dream.” Blair was quiet for a moment, then his lips quirked slightly. “Do you suppose that’s the Golden talking?”
“I hope not,” the sentinel replied with sincerity. “It’s a nice idea. I’d like to believe it’s true.”
“Jim,” Blair began, uncertainty thick in his voice. “Tell me the truth, man. How bad was it, really?”
“We thought we were going to lose you,” Ellison said tightly.
“No, not that,” Sandburg corrected him. “Not my health.”
“Then what?” Jim asked, perplexed.
“You know, what I did?” the anthropologist pressed. “How big of a scene did I cause and how much embarrassment did I cause you and Simon? What’s the damage control, man? Beyond repair?”
“No, of course not,” the sentinel told him, relaxing now that he was sure he wouldn’t have to rehash those agonizing moments of collapse and the tense moments he spent listening in through the treatment room doors as the staff worked feverishly to save his guide. He sensed Sandburg was waiting for more details, but he also could tell the younger man was literally quivering with fatigue and the rawness to his voice made Ellison wince in sympathy every time he spoke. So he decided storytime could wait. “There’s going to be a little damage control,” he admitted. “But it won’t be as bad as you think.” He reached out, his sense of touch leading him unerringly to his friend’s shoulder. “We can talk about all this tomorrow,” he promised. “It’s all going to work itself out, Chief, so I don’t want you worrying about it now, ok? Just get some rest.” To his surprise, a light chuckle came to his ears instead of the protest he’s been expecting. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Blair said lightly. “I was just thinking that sounds like pretty good advice.”
“Unless...”
“Unless, what?”
“Look, Sandburg,” Jim began uncomfortably, “when something like this happens to you, you have to wonder if a glorified term paper is worth risking your life for. I wonder, so I know you have to, too. What I’m trying to say is, if you decide you don’t want to come back, I’ll understand.”
“Oh, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” Blair teased, but then he sobered and reached out a hand, laying it on his friend’s arm to stop him from speaking. “I appreciate what you’re saying, Jim. But what we do, it’s always going to be worth the risk for me. I can’t explain it, but it feels right, you know? Like it’s where I’m supposed to be at this moment in time. It’s just where I... fit.”
“If you ever do decide...”
“I know.”
Ellison reached out and covered the hand on his arm with his own, giving it a small squeeze.
“You really scared the hell out of me, Chief,” he said fondly, the relief he felt in knowing his partner was truly going to be ok shining from his semi sightless eyes.
“Sorry,” Blair murmured. “I’ll try not to do that anymore.”
“Good. Now try and get some sleep, all right?”
“Yeah.” Sandburg helped himself to a few more sips of water, then eased down, rolling over with his back to his friend as he tried to get comfortable on the hard, narrow bed. “Jim?”
“What?”
“I don’t remember much about being drugged. And the little I do remember... Well, I’m not in any hurry to remember any more. But one thing I know is that you were there when I needed you, man. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And I’m glad you’re here now.” Blair closed his eyes, the golden haze reflecting off his eyelids only an irritation for a moment as he almost immediately fell into a deep, sound sleep. Jim smiled, reaching out and resting his hand briefly on the top of his friend’s head.
“Me, too, buddy.”
Finis