Jim Ellison jumped as something metallic dropped to the floor in the kitchen with a deafening clatter. "You wanna hold it down in there, Sandburg? I’m trying to watch the game in here," he griped.

"Sorry," Blair called. "It slipped from my hands."

"What the hell are you doing anyway?"

Blair appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "I thought I’d make some chicken soup for you. There’s solid scientific evidence proving the healing properties of chicken soup, Jim."

"You could just open a can, you know? It’d make less noise."

"It’s not the same," Blair countered. "All those preservatives just cancel out the good stuff."

Jim sighed. "I don’t need a lecture, Darwin. I’m tired and a little sore after falling off that train. I just want to watch the game."

Blair had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry. I just thought it would help." He broke off and threw the towel onto the counter. "Look, the stock’s made. I’ll just refrigerate it and clean up a little. The soup can wait for another day, another cold." He sneezed as though to emphasize his point.

"You going to come watch the game? It’s just about to start."

"Yeah, okay. I’ll be there in a minute."

"I hate to tell you this, Sandburg, but they’re not going to hold the tip-off until you’re ready."

"I know that, Jim. It’s okay. You go ahead and watch. I’ll be there in a little while. I just need to tidy up a little." Blair walked back into the kitchen and Jim heard water running into the sink.

Finally, his curiosity aroused, Jim got up from the couch and muted the sound from the television. He walked out to the kitchen area and stood, leaning up against the counter. He watched the frenzied activity of his partner for a moment longer. "You okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I’m fine," Blair answered. "Taking that niktabi root really worked. Stopped me from catching your cold." He sneezed again and smiled sheepishly. "Allergies."

"What are you doing, Sandburg?"

"I’m just going to clean up a little out here. Can I get you something else? You need some juice, some tea?"

"I’m fine."

"You’ll miss the game."

Jim glanced quickly back at the TV screen. "It hasn’t started yet."

"You want me to make some veggie sticks? We’ve got some dip left over from poker night."

Jim finally lost patience as Blair danced past him once more to pull something from the refrigerator. "What’s going on, Sandburg? What are you really doing?"

Blair stopped a split second as though considering the question. "You know what? I just remembered I’ve got to do some work on this cold medicine thing. I should really start putting together a list of what affects your senses. It could come in handy if you get sick again or need to go to the hospital."

"Or get thrown off a train?"

Blair shuddered violently.

"Hey, I’m still all in one piece," Jim said. "We caught the bad guys. It’s what we do, Sandburg."

"Why don’t you go watch the game? I’m going to go to my room and do some study."

As the anthropologist went to move past him, Jim grabbed hold of his arm. "You’re starting to worry me here, Chief. What’s the matter?"

Blair sighed and seemed to fold in on himself. "I was worried about you, that’s all."

"Because I had a cold or because someone threw me off a train?"

Blair pulled his arm from Jim’s grasp. "Stop joking about it, it’s not funny," he shouted. "When they told me that they’d thrown you off the train, I thought…I thought…"

"You thought I was dead," Jim finished for him.

Blair nodded. "The most terrible thing about it was that when you gave me that gun and told me to shoot anyone who came in? I didn’t think I’d be able to do that and I was so scared, man. Then, when they came in and told us that they’d thrown you off the train, all I wanted was to have that gun back in my hands so I could shoot the fuckers." He drew in a deep, shaky breath.

"I’m sorry I put you through that," Jim said. "All the time I was trying to get back onto that damn train, all I could think about was that I’d left you there to fend for yourself and try to protect two other people. You did a great job, you know. You didn’t lose your cool, you kept a level head and getting out of those handcuffs. Well, that’s quite a party trick you have there."

Blair allowed a small smile to grace his lips, then his frown deepened again. "Jim? If you wanted me to move out, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?"

"What makes you think I want you to move out?"

Blair shook his head. "You’d be honest with me, wouldn’t you?"

"When have you known me to be less than forthright, Sandburg?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, well, you have a point there," Blair commented dryly.

Jim cuffed his head amiably. "What are you trying to say here, Chief?"

"The last couple of days, you seemed a little pissed with me and I just wanted you to know that if you ever get tired of having me in your face, you only have to say the word."

"You’re not in my face, Sandburg," Jim said. "If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be locked up in an institution somewhere, wearing a straightjacket." Jim scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I don’t do sick very well. When Carolyn and I were married, if I got sick, Carolyn used to pack a bag and go stay with her mother." He shrugged. "She wasn’t exactly the mothering type."

"I know I get pushy about testing your senses," Blair admitted. "And I know I talk too much sometimes."

"Like now," Jim interrupted.

"Sorry."

Jim shook his head. "Nothing to apologize for. We going to watch this game or what."

Blair waved a vague hand toward his room. "I should really work on that list."

"We’ll work on it together after the game. Deal?"

Blair smiled finally. "Deal. You want some dip?"

"It isn’t that one with the chilies, is it? My taste buds aren’t quite back to normal yet."

"No chilies. I’ll get the dip."

"I’ll get the beers," Jim said.

FIN