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B.J Sandburg. Part Two.
Jim lay on the floor while the moon wheeled across the sky, and light started to creep across the floor. Blair was still in his room, he’d stopped trying on clothes about an hour before and could now be heard scribbling away furiously at something. Figures, Jim thought, idly tracing a knot hole on the floor with his finger. Anyone else would be going nuts about now, but not Blair Jacob Sandburg, oh no. He was sitting down calmly at his desk recording all this weirdness for posterity. Blair stopped writing and pushed his chair back from the desk. Jim tracked him walking out of his room and into the kitchen. By turning his head a little he could now see him, opening the fridge door, pulling out a carton of milk, and pouring a glass full. Guess she needs her calcium, Jim thought. Blair walked across the room, milk in hand, and then sat down next to Jim, folding jean clad legs underneath him. "I see the jeans fit," Jim noted. "Yeah," Blair agreed. He took a sip of his milk. Jim couldn’t help it, he was staring again. Blair tried to meet his eyes, but Jim’s gaze was roaming, from lush pink lips, to petal fine skin, to milk moustache. Long lashes came down, casting shadows on those pronounced cheek bones, and small traces of red appeared. "You’re blushing," Jim pointed out. "You’re staring," Blair murmured into his milk. "Yeah. Gonna be doing that a lot," Jim said. "Can’t say I blame you." Blair lowered his eyes again, a small smile playing over his lips. "I must have spent an hour in there just looking in the mirror." Jim nodded, head sliding against the shiny floor. "I heard you," he said. Blair looked down at the vest he was still wearing, now covered by a flannel shirt. The sleeves were rolled up but still reached his fine boned wrists. "I... Never mind." Jim stretched and sat up, rolling his neck muscles. "What?" "It’s nothing," Blair mumbled, draining the last of his milk. "Come on, Chief," Jim said in exasperation. "You dragged me into this thing, the least you can do is not go coy on me now." "I didn’t drag you!" Blair protested. "I told you, I almost went away and did this myself." Jim stood up, groaning as muscles protested vocally. "No offence, Sandburg, but for my sanity’s sake, I wish you had." He left silence behind him as he clomped down the hall to the bathroom, but he fought back his guilt. So what if Blair had confided he was too scared to do this alone last night? Big deal. Last night had been a different world, a world in which he would have bet his life, not to mention every dime he could lay his hands on, that a man just didn’t change into a woman. Just. Didn’t. Jim peed and washed his hands, splashing his face liberally with cold water. He scrubbed at it with rough terry cloth, before dropping the towel and staring directly into his own eyes. Could he believe the evidence they provided him with? Maybe he was just as loony tunes as Blair now? Perhaps they were sharing this delusion? God knows, they’d shared just about everything else over the last three years. Jim brushed his teeth, scrubbing the little white devils furiously, trying to wash away the taste of too little sleep and too much hysteria. He spat into the sink and considered his foamy expression again. What the hell must it be like? To look in the mirror and see a stranger? Jim sharpened his hearing, tracking Blair back to his bedroom. He was quiet. Maybe he was looking in the mirror again himself? Blair was on his bed, Jim saw as he passed the open doorway, and he was indeed looking in the mirror. But his expression of wonder was gone, replaced by something infinitely... sadder. "Damn," Jim cursed under his breath. Damn Sentinel sight, taking in the entire scene with his peripheral vision in the second it took to pass by. He stopped on the bottom stair. "Damn," he said again, turning on his heel. "Okay," he said firmly, stopping in the doorway. "I don’t wish you’d gone away, okay? You’re my friend, and there’s no reason you should have to handle this on your own." Blair looked up at him, face closed stubbornly. Jim marveled at how easily he could still read the man. Woman. Whatever. "Come on, Chief. I’m just in shock." Blair sighed, stubborn expression fading. "Yeah, I know you are." Jim sighed too, taking in the dejected figure sitting on the bed, mirror in hand. "You look pretty good," he offered impulsively. Blair glanced at the mirror. "You think so?" Jim shrugged, uncomfortable now that those bright blue eyes were fixed on him. "I guess," he said. He paused. "Um, what were you going to say before?" Blair shrugged. "Just that I need underwear," he confided. Yes you do, Jim thought, hurriedly shifting his eyes away from the bobbing motion the shrug caused. Note to myself. Don’t ogle Blair’s boobs. Blair was counting off on his fingers. "And more t-shirts, and another pair of jeans. Oh, and I need to get a picture taken for my I.D." "Yeah, well. I guess you have time to take care of all that," Jim ventured. "One Lunar year, right?" "Thirteen twenty-eight day months," Blair agreed, trying to smile. Jim smiled, hoping he didn’t look as febrile as he felt. "How hard could it be?"
End of Part Two
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