Disclaimers: Don't own, no money.
Heart Filled Thanks to my outstanding beta, Zoe whose incredibly gifted grasp of the English language keeps my work grammatically correct and true to the characters. You're the best!
Special Thanks to Wolfpup for my great fiction home.
Warnings: H/C Blair
Special Notes: This piece is part of the 6-part Christmas present for my beta. On the 2nd day of Christmas my true friend gave to me: two screwed cops and a fanfic with Blair in agony. Merry Christmas, Zoe!
DOUBLE THREAT
Sam Mallory
Blair rubbed the tense muscles of his neck, hoping to eradicate the last vestiges of his raging migraine that had kept him bed ridden for the past few days. Jim was letting up on the Blessed Protector racket, just barely, so Blair was feeling almost uplifted as he walked into the bullpen, his lively bounce nearly restored.
Jim scowled as he saw Blair enter the bullpen. "Blair," he growled protectively, "I thought I told you we could get it and to go home right after school."
"That is what you said. Come on, Jim. I'm feeling a lot better, and I had a message on my voice mail that there was an important stakeout tonight."
Rafe and H looked around guiltily for something to do but could find no safe harbor from the glare of the mother-henning Sentinel.
"Jim, give 'em a break. They called and asked me to bring... Ah, damnit. Sorry guys, I forgot the bagels," he apologized, cringing. "They asked me to bring bagels for the big stakeout."
"We didn't realize that Blair wasn't feeling well," Rafe placated.
"I'm fine, really. Jim's just bein' a bit overprotective."
"Ellison? No way," H teased mercilessly.
"Stuff it guys! Come on. Let's get going," Jim snapped impatiently.
The four men made for their cars and the very long night ahead.
"Cut it out, Blair," Jim groused, trying to focus in on his hearing without zoning.
"Sorry man," Blair quipped as he gave his pen a break from its relentless tapping.
Blair continued to outline the pages in his research that he was incorporating into tomorrow's anthropology lecture.
"You're a little edgy tonight, Jim. What's the matter?" Blair asked, looking up from his text, his hair falling back from his face.
"I've just got a bad feeling, Chief. I don't know what it is," Jim sighed as he scanned again with superior hearing and vision.
Jim grabbed up the mike and yelled to Rafe and H, "It's going down! Move in on my mark," as he jumped out of the truck. "Stay in the truck, Sandburg!" he growled as he raced to intercept the perpetrators.
Blair flinched as he heard shots fired and prayed his Sentinel, his best friend, was unharmed.
Jim returned to the truck dragging one of the perpetrators behind him, as Rafe and H made their way to the classic blue and white Ford. He threw the prisoner toward them as he followed the second man's scent off in the opposite direction. "Keep Sandburg safe," he ordered as he continued to bear down on the perpetrator.
Rafe and H kept a watchful eye on the perp and the surrounding area as they heard Blair yell for them to take cover. A third man had circled around and got the drop on them firing at the truck as they ducked for cover. Rafe and H opened fire on the man, bringing him down with deadly force. They congratulated each other on a job well done, as Jim hauled the second man to the scene and took in the coppery scent of blood. Seeing the fallen perp in the middle of the street, he passed his package to Rafe and Brown as he pulled open the passenger door of the truck.
"Congratulations, Chief, you stayed..." his voice faded as he realized that he could smell his guide's blood. Blair lay hunched over in the seat. "Blair?" Jim questioned hoping for an answer. To his disappointment, he received none. "Oh God, Blair," he whispered. "Rafe, call an ambulance," he yelled as he turned his partner over to examine the extent of his injuries.
Blair groaned with the movement, which Jim took to be a small positive sign that his partner would be okay. He opened his senses to his guide taking in the shallow respiration and increased heart rate.
Rafe and Brown, having secured the prisoners in the back of their car, waited for word from Jim that the kid would be alright. We are so dead, they both thought ruefully.
Rafe made his way over to Jim, while Brown paced anxiously near the car to keep watch over the perpetrators. At least the one that shot Blair is down permanently, he thought grimly, wishing he didn't feel so pleased with the death of another human being and scared that Ellison would tear him to pieces at the first opportunity.
Jim growled furiously as he pushed sterile dressings from the first aid kit into Blair's wounds.
"How's he doing?" Rafe asked quietly, trying not to enrage Hurricane Ellison.
Jim sighed deeply. "He's got a wound in his left thigh and a head wound. Looks like the bullet just grazed his head, but it left a pretty deep gash in its wake," he finished, glaring at Rafe coldly.
"We're sorry about this, Ellison. We heard the kid call the warning, saw him duck in the seat, and took the perp down before he knew what hit him," Rafe finished, wincing at the coldness he saw in those steel blue eyes.
Jim felt the corners of his mouth tug as he heard the sirens in the distance and Blair moaning softly as he regained consciousness.
The paramedics arrived to work on the wounded Guide as Jim pushed a stray curl from the young man's eyes, which to his surprise were staring at him, two deep pools of blue.
Blair groaned as the paramedics placed pressure dressings on the wounds and, having stabilized his condition, loaded him into the ambulance. Jim threw Rafe the keys, wordlessly asking him to take the truck back to the station. Rafe nodded as the ambulance pulled away and sped off to the hospital.
Jim Ellison outdid himself in his ability to drive the entire emergency room completely insane with pacing and ranting. It wasn't until the doctor came out into the waiting room to talk to him that he released a bit of his energy.
"What took so long?" he barked at the doctor, who stepped back under the verbal assault.
Simon grabbed Jim's arm to calm him in the face of the doctor's news.
"I'm Dr. Bennett. Your man was very lucky. One bullet grazed his forehead. It required six stitches and will be good as new. The second bullet superficially penetrated his left leg. From the metal fragments we removed from Mr. Sandburg's leg, it appears that the door took most of the impact from the bullet," the doctor finished.
"I need to see him," Jim pleaded to know his Guide was truly safe.
"The nurse will show you to his room as soon as he gets settled. He's still groggy from the sedatives we used to remove the bullet from his leg, but he'll make a complete recovery."
Jim followed the nurse down the hall to Sandburg's room. He smiled as he heard his Guide's steady heartbeat reach out to him from the confines of his hospital room.
Pushing the door open, Jim instantly relaxed as he crossed the room and came into contact with his guide.
Wanting to ensure that his police observer was indeed all right, Simon entered the room quietly and crossed the room to the opposite side of the bed.
After 45 minutes of stoic Ellison, Jim sat up straight and placed a hand gently on Blair's forehead. "Come on Chief, open your eyes," he begged quietly.
Blair's eyes fluttered as he heard his Sentinel call to him. Jim's not hurt, he thought as relief washed through his tired mind.
"Chief, open your eyes," Jim commanded knowing he needed to see those bright blue eyes to know for certain that Blair would be fine.
Blair groaned as he tried to form a complete thought. "Wh...what?" he verbalized shakily.
"You were shot, Chief, but you're gonna be okay, so don't worry," Jim smiled down at the younger man.
Blair drew in a deep breath and allowed a slight smile to grace his parched lips. "I stay... in... truck," Blair reminded his Sentinel with a twinkle in his eye.
"Yeah, you did. You picked a hell of a time to follow orders, Chief," Jim groused playfully.
Blair shrugged and allowed himself to be pulled back down into painless sleep.
The End