The Voice by Roo
Jim remembered the voice had a seductive tone to it, it didn't wheedle or whine- it kept him focused- that and the light pressure of a hand on his back- the warmth seeping through jacket and shirt. It could have looked wrong but didn't, not in this thin blue line setting, and he never gave it much thought at the time. Many a partner just gave a look or clasped a manly grip for encouragement, understanding and the ever present "I've got your back, man". A softly murmured "Jim?" had brought him back to the crime scene and what was filtering through his senses. This voice anchored him and he had never expected that.
He had never had a partner that talked so much- about any and *every* thing. There was always a funny story except when Sandburg was fretting over something. On those occasions if it got bad enough for Jim to notice, he would carefully crack Blair's veneer and help him sort it out if he could. But Jim knew he was no good at that sort of thing in the quietness of the Loft. Jim was more used to the hard won camaraderie of the Ranger Units in full battle rattle, facing down gangs in Cascade or the dream like intensity of his time with the Chopec. What Jim realised six months in, was that he liked Sandburg's off the wall ideas bouncing off his throwback skull- which incidentally had never stopped him from solving crime before Sandburg showed up. He liked talking with Blair about cases, he hadn't noticed how separate he'd become from the general hubbub of the Major Crimes bull-pen, with only Simon in his orbit.
Rambling stream of consciousness tirades of cranky anthropologists were entirely a different animal- pun intended. But he learned this was Blair's way and as left field as it was- it worked-most of the time. And if nothing else in Ellison's thirty plus years of existence- he'd learned to adapt. Score one for Burton.
Jim knew how to be angry- sometimes he felt like he'd been angry all his life- quick and hot, slow to cool but strong as tempered steel. It was difficult to hear the voice then. Sometimes he deserved Sandburg's anger and he hated that- the way it strained and stretched everything between them. Sometimes it was hard, working and living with his Guide. It took the Alex Barnes debacle to really make him see that he couldn't live without him. That had scared him more than the drowning- which had been the worst thing he'd suffered since losing him men in the 'chopper back in Peru.
Jim was not by nature a talkative man but it didn't make him as much an emotional cripple as Sandburg joked he was. As he had worked on Blair's body at the fountain at Hargrove Hall he had talked- desperately. Come on. Sandburg! Breathe, damn it! This can't be happening. Come on, Sandburg. This isn't over. Forcing his own breath and life force into Blair's still body, not giving up when Simon and the EMT's had. He couldn't bear the silence if this didn't work. Blood thundered in his ears as he carried on CPR and reeling from Incacha's idea to use the power of his animal spirit – that when Blair choked and spit up water, Jim almost passed out with relief.
Alex Barnes had distorted things- Sandburg hadn't talked to him about another Sentinel until it was almost too late and the truth seeped out liked some dirty sleazy secret. Jim wasn't listening to things Blair wasn't saying- being half distracted by the mental push and pull static that Alex's presence generated- seeing things and emptying the Loft and pushing his Guide away. Throughout it all he had ignored his Guide's voice, had become jealous of Sandburg helping another Sentinel. His rational mind 'forgot' that that's what Blair did- he helped, he worked things out because he liked puzzles and fashioning solutions. Blair in his excitement had also overlooked the consequences of the baser nature of two Sentinels in one city.
Finally they had got through it, Chopec bath rituals at the Temple included, Megan now suspected his Sentinel abilities and he'd questioned his most basic trust in Sandburg and had been unable to control himself around Alex. He'd seen the darkness in his life and been made to see the light within and focus on what being a Sentinel really meant.
Sandburg's near death experience in the fountain and rushed trip to Sierra Verde had exhausted him despite initial appearances that he was healthy and fine. But Jim had heard the gradual build up of a chest infection leading to bronchitis and now no voice. Jim wasn't going to lose him again, not if he could help it. When he most wanted the reassurance of Blair's voice to anchor him- it wasn't there and he missed it. Jim wanted to say he was sorry about the way he'd treated Sandburg. He hoped it wasn't too late, for once Jim wanted to talk and for Sandburg to listen.
At this precise moment Blair couldn't talk back which was both good and bad, but mostly bad. Jim showed by his actions that he wanted him to stay in the Loft and continue working with him, but mostly just by being a good friend. He talked, and took personal time to look after Blair as he coughed and wheezed. If Blair had been able to talk, Jim was sure that the moment he went out for groceries he'd be back at the university teaching. Jim understood that that was how Sandburg was, but he made sure that Blair took sick time for himself for once and slept and healed properly. So Jim fed and watered his Guide, propped him up on the couch and left the National Geographic channel on until he fell asleep. When he saw a bright idea light up the tired face he fetched his notebook and pen and then picked it up when it fell out of tired sleep lax fingers. And it was Jim who read to him in the dark long nights early on in his illness when Blair was locked in nightmares of drowning, confusion and loss. The tightness of his chest and coughing making him scared to sleep and too exhausted to read to himself.
Jim carried on being the gentle hum in Sandburg's background until he got the shape and power of his voice back. It would be worth the wait- anything to do with Sandburg was.
END