Disclaimers: don't own the boys, don't get any money.
Special Thanks to Ari for pinch hitting at crunch time so I could get this out.
Thanks to wolfpup for the fantastic home for these hopefully entertaining fanfics.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Minor (very, very) angst and Jim H/C.
REACTION
Sam Mallory
"I've been looking at this damn file so long, that I can barely see it anymore. I'm gonna take a break, Chief. You want anything from the break room?" Jim asked, alternately pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes.
"Tea would be great, man. Thanks," Blair responded looking up at his weary partner.
Jim walked over to the break room and snagged a couple of pears from a basket by the coffee maker. He heard a low rumbling chuckle moments later.
"Looks like Blair is rubbing off on you a bit, huh?" Joel noted, his amusement twinkling in his dark brown eyes.
Jim nodded. "Yeah, I figure we had Wonder Burger for lunch so I should probably go the healthy route for snack," Jim responded, munching on the fresh pear. "Mmmm, these are pretty good. Have a bit of an after taste, though," he said as he realized the implications of this statement. "Joel, go get Blair," Jim forced out as the room started spinning.
Joel looked confused at Jim's request until he saw the Detective crash to the floor. "Oh, shit!" He cried out as he ran from the break room, a man on a mission.
Blair nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw Joel lumber through the Major Crimes door hollering his name.
"Blair! Blair!" Joel gasped, running out of breath.
"Joel? Slow down, man. What is it?" Blair quieted the older man's anxiety.
"Jim just collapsed on the break room floor right after he asked me to come get you!" Joel finally choked out as Blair scrambled to the break room at top speed.
Stopping at Jim's wheezing form on the floor, he knelt down quickly. He immediately noticed the redness and swelling of Jim's face, particularly his eyelids, lips, tongue, and throat.
"Just be calm, Jim. You're having a severe allergic reaction, man," Blair soothed his Sentinel as he held his hand. Turning toward the door, he shouted, "Someone get my backpack now and call an ambulance. Every second counts."
Jim was scratching at his chest, trying to alleviate the itching and tightness he was feeling there. "Can't... breathe," he gasped as his struggles for breath increased dramatically and his lips were showing a faint bluish tint.
"Just take it easy, Jim. It's coming," Blair reassured his partner and stroked his head gently as he pulled him up against his chest to help him breathe easier.
Just then, Simon hauled into the room and dropped the backpack next to Blair who frantically ripped through the outside pocket looking for the EpiPen. "I got it!" he exclaimed, jamming the needle home and flooding Jim's blood with the life-saving epinephrine that would start to reduce the reaction.
Jim looked around dazedly, wondering what was going on. His confusion mounted with each passing minute until his body folded into itself as the cramps began to disable him. Suddenly, he wretched and Blair quickly turned him onto his side to prevent him from aspirating on his own bile.
"It's okay, Jim. Just try to relax and breathe. Listen to the sound of my voice. It's going to be okay. Just relax," he murmured, as he gently moved his hand in circles on Jim's back.
Jim sighed as his breathing became a bit easier.
"That's good, Jim. You're doing great," Blair reassured his partner.
"Is he gonna be okay, Sandburg?" Simon demanded, filled with anxiety at this newest development.
Blair started, forgetting where he was, and replied, "Yeah, Captain. I think he'll be fine, but the EMT's will need to transport him in, and he'll need something to counteract the histamine build up. The Epi-kit will get him settled until the ambulance gets here," Blair reassured the Captain.
As Blair finished his explanation, the attendants entered the break room.
"Hey, Paul, Ben," Blair greeted as he recognized the team working today.
"Sandburg, you worry me when you know the EMT's by name. I know with your history I should expect it, but still..." Simon complained.
"You did a great job getting him stabilized, Blair. What was his reaction to this time?" Mike commended.
"Not sure," Blair replied frowning worriedly.
"P-p-pear," a hoarsely weak voice answered from the floor.
Blair checked around for the first time since his arrival and taking the pear, he bit into it. "The pesticide," he deducted as he relayed the information to the paramedics.
"Let's take him in," Ben suggested as they lifted Jim onto the gurney.
Several hours later...
"Blair?" Jim's hoarse voice whispered into the darkness.
"I'm right here, man. It's okay. You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?" Blair asked hopefully.
"Tried... eat healthy... almost... killed... me," Jim whispered playfully, a slight smile teasing his lips.
"Not funny, Jim. Are you feeling okay? Can I get you anything?" Blair inquired, relieved that his friend was going to be okay.
"Fine... tired..." Jim responded, his voice slurring.
"Good! Now, what in the hell did you think you were doing eating a non-organic fruit? Are you trying to kill yourself? Do you realize what could have happened? I really didn't want to have to say in your 'Eulogy' that you died by deadly fruit," Blair admonished angrily.
"Take it easy... still sick, Chief," Jim reminded, moaning dramatically.
"Yeah right," Blair scoffed. "Table for one, the Ellison pity party," Blair reprimanded gently. "You'll be in here until tomorrow night. Your system is completely off kilter and you'll probably feel like shit for about a week, but at least you'll be okay. Now, repeat after me. I, James Joseph Ellison..."
Jim looked at him like he had grown a second head and rolled his eyes for emphasis.
"I mean it, Jim! Repeat it. I, James Joseph Ellison, do solemnly promise..." Blair mandated, waiting until Jim had repeated the phrase before continuing, "that I will listen to my Guide... and defer to his greater expertise... when dealing with my senses. I will not just eat any old thing I want... but instead, as per the instructions of my brilliant Guide... I will be consistent in determining whether said food will kill me... and this part is important... before I devour it," Blair finished snidely, with an evil gleam in his eye, as Jim finished repeating his new mantra.
Jim gave his Guide a dirty look.
Blair smiled. "Just think of it as Sandburg's Guide Rule #2, not to be confused with rule #1, which states that you should always listen to and respect said Guide!"
"Yes sir," Jim snapped to attention, as much as possible lying in a hospital bed, to give Blair a mock salute, one finger extended in a very inappropriate model of military correctness.
"Keep it up and I'll leave you in here for a week," Blair threatened maliciously, his eyes gleaming.
Jim groaned and resigned himself to spending the night in the hospital.
"You also owe me a test!" Blair informed his wayward Sentinel.
"What? Why?" Jim blurted.
"Call it Sandburg's Guide Rule #3: When the Sentinel screws up rules 1 and 2, he owes the Guide a test... no grumbling either," Blair warned , pointing his index finger resolutely, challenging his Sentinel to behave himself, and a smile that reached all the way to his eyes.
Jim sighed. He knew that there was no use arguing when Blair was in his own Blessed Protector Mode. Turning over to face the window, he pushed at his pillow and fell back to sleep with a small smile playing at his lips, knowing that his Guide would always watch out for him.
The End.