Just His Luck

By Debbie

EMAIL: Debbie

Blair couldn't believe his luck. Or, in his case, his lack of luck. The symptoms from his concussion were just starting to fade and he was feeling normal again. That feeling had lasted all of twenty-four hours. A single day. As he walked back to his office from his last class, he knew he was coming down with the latest flu bug to infiltrate the Rainier campus.

He decided to be proactive and go home, take his natural medicinal cures and hope he didn't get any sicker. He would call Jim to let him know his plan of action.


Jim left the station early. He promised Blair he would bring home dinner. He felt sorry for Blair and told the young man to get some rest and to make sure he called if he needed anything.

Jim wasn't looking forward to Blair being sick. The timing sure sucked, as Blair had noted during his phone call earlier. He had told Jim just the day before that he finally felt healthy again after the ordeal eluding the McMaster brothers.


Jim walked into the loft, immediately pinpointing Blair lying on the couch. Jim placed the take-out bags on the kitchen table and made his way over to his friend. Blair was asleep there, the blanket from his bed partially covering him. Jim knelt down beside the couch, adjusting the blanket so it covered Blair. He then raised his hand to rest on Blair's forehead. Jim could feel the slight fever.

Two weary blue eyes opened to peer at Jim. He kept his hand on Blair's forehead.

"Hey, Chief. How are you feeling?"

"I should have started prevention sooner. I think I'll have to ride this out."

"Well, I brought home chicken noodle soup. Thought it might help."

Blair's face lit up. "It can't hurt. Can you help me up?"

Jim helped Blair to his feet, holding him upright as Blair swayed from the movement. Jim kept his hold on his friend as he led Blair over to the kitchen table, helping him to sit down.

Blair sniffed the air. "Smells good."

Jim smiled. "Yeah. I'll get the bowls so we can eat."

Both men enjoyed their meal and afterwards, Jim got Blair bundled up on the couch again, telling him to get some rest.

"Yes, mother," replied Blair, as he drifted off to sleep.

Jim smiled again, turning to clean up the dishes from their meal. He kept an ear on Blair, hearing the congestion in Blair's chest. Jim knew things would get worse before they got better.


The next day, Jim left the station after receiving a rambling phone call from Blair. He had been asleep when Jim left that morning. Now, Jim wasn't sure what was happening.

Jim reached the apartment building and ran up the stairs to the third floor. He stopped abruptly in front of the open loft door. Blair wasn't inside. Jim confirmed that by doing a quick, but thorough, search inside. Jim spotted the discarded blanket on the floor. He walked over to pick it up.

"Where are you, Chief?"

Jim used the blanket to ground him as he stretched out his senses to try tracking his wayward guide. After a few minutes, Jim shook his head, dropped the blanket on the couch and left the loft. He climbed the stairs to the roof, spotting Blair huddled near the edge of the building.

Jim inched his way over to Blair, removing his coat as he sat down next to his friend. He slipped the coat over Blair's shoulders. Blair looked over at Jim and he saw the fever-filled eyes.

"It was too hot."

Jim couldn't prevent the chuckle from escaping. He pulled Blair close, helping him to get his arms into the coat.

"You could have fallen off the building, Chief. And I wouldn't have been here to stop you."

"Not your fault, Jim. It was too hot."

"Yeah. Your fever is up to about 101 degrees if my sentinel touch is accurate."

"It's always accurate, Jim," replied Blair, resting his head on Jim's shoulder.

Jim gently shook Blair. "No you don't, Chief. Not until we're back inside the apartment. Let's go back inside so I can take care of you."

Blair looked up at Jim. "You'd do that, Jim?"

Jim heard the surprise in Blair's voice. "Of course I will, Blair. We're friends and friends take care of each other. You'd do the same for me."

Jim helped Blair to his feet. Blair held onto Jim as they made their way back to the apartment. Jim moved Blair over to the couch and removed the coat.

"Just sit there, Chief. I'll be right back."

Jim went into the bathroom, getting a washcloth, a towel and a basin of water. He came back out, placing the items on the table in front of the couch. He started gently wiping Blair's face. Blair gave a contented sigh. Jim pulled Blair's hair back, running the cool cloth over Blair's neck, earning another sigh.

"I'm going to remove your sweatshirt so I can wipe your arms and chest."

Blair nodded slightly and closed his eyes, relaxing as Jim gently moved the cloth over his chest.

"You're too good to me." Blair's voice drifted towards Jim.

Jim grabbed the towel, drying Blair off so he wouldn't catch a chill. He pulled the blanket around Blair's shoulders.

"I'm going to get you some dry clothes. Then I'll finish."

Jim got clean sweats and heavy socks from Blair's room. When he came back out, he discovered Blair was asleep.

Jim finished up, deftly changing Blair's clothes without him stirring. He expertly lay Blair down flat on the couch and sat there, watching him. He hoped Blair's fever broke soon.


It was two days later when Blair's fever broke. Jim remained by Blair's side throughout everything, tending to his friend, despite protests from Blair. It was a small miracle that Jim didn't catch the same flu bug, though he was tired from lack of sleep. Blair let Jim sleep while he took a shower and started to feel alive once again.