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B.J Sandburg Part Five.
"I think this is a mistake," Jim said nervously. Blair ran the wide toothed comb through his curls, then tilted his head to look at the effect. "Gotta do it sometime, Jim," he said thoughtfully. "Might as well get it over with." "I guess," Jim agreed. He watched Blair fill up his knapsack with various paraphernalia, staring with fascination as object after object was deposited into its voluminous depths. "Do you really need..." Jim broke off, deciding this subject was too trivial to focus on when he had such other vital concerns. "Now, Chief, you know what to say, right?" Blair sighed patiently. "I think so, Jim. After all, I did make the story up myself." "I just don't want to make any mistakes, okay?" Jim jiggled the keys in his hand and Blair took the hint. He paused by the door, looking around the loft. "Did I forget anything?" he fretted. "The kitchen sink," Jim retorted, grabbing his arm and hauling him away. The door swung closed behind them. In the truck he forced Blair to go over the cover story, and with a sigh the young woman complied. "As Blair told everyone at the station last week," he said meaningfully, "B.J Sandburg is his cousin from California. She's going to be taking some Criminal Science courses at Rainier, and you offered to let her stay with you while I'm off on sabbatical." "How old are you?" Jim grilled. Blair fluttered his eyelashes. "A lady never tells," he simpered. "That was no lady," Jim retorted. "Age?" "Twenty-five," Blair repeated patiently. "Do you want my vital statistics too?" Jim could have rattled them off by heart, but he knew better than to admit it. "Just don't get carried away with stories. Keep it simple." "No problem," Blair said airily. He gazed out the window as they sped along. "It's the weirdest thing" he mused. "How... different the world looks to me now." Jim shook his head in amazement. "If you told me it didn't look different, then I'd be surprised," he retorted. "Different how?" "It's hard to say," Blair said, his voice a little dreamy. Jim shot him a quick glance, marveling at the familiar blue eyes in that heart shaped face. How could anyone look at B.J and not see Blair? "Try," Jim insisted, pulling into the parking garage and stopping to show his I.D. "Well," Blair fiddled with his seat belt, and then held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. "Look at my hands." Jim looked, figuring this was the safest part of Blair's body he had examined in days. "Yeah?" "These do not look like my hands, man. They move differently, they work differently. Heck, they're my hands, and they are so unfamiliar to me." Jim pulled into their usual spot and shut off the engine. "Okay, so" he nodded. "They're different." He shrugged, this all seemed like pretty basic stuff to him. "Don't you get it, Jim? How different do you think the world looks, when I can't even catch sight of my own hands without stopping and staring?" Jim chewed over this while he climbed out of the truck and locked it behind him. "I guess this is just something I'm gonna have to take your word for," he finally admitted. "I mean, hell, I'm having a hard enough time of it from this side of your eyes, I can't even imagine what it's like from your side." "You really want to know?" Blair said, gathering his backpack and jumping nimbly from the truck. "I'll tell you. My biggest problem right now is this bra. It looked like a nice soft satiny thing in the store, but right now it feels like a torture device made from elastic. It chafes, it binds, and it keeps riding up at the side." Jim looked around nervously as he followed Blair to the lift. "Just once I'd like to have a conversation with you that doesn't involve your underwear," he hissed. "You asked," Blair reminded him. "It's hard to think lofty esoteric thoughts when you're chafing." "I'll remember that," Jim said, suppressing a chuckle. Blair might be about as different as he could be and still remain human on the outside, but inside he hadn't changed that much. Now if only the outside didn't have that distressing little wriggle when he walked. What was up with that anyway? Jim had plenty of time to examine the feminine walk when the elevator arrived at Major Crimes and Blair hurried out ahead of him. Maybe it's a hip thing? Jim pondered, noting the slight curve to the hips that Blair just hadn't had as a man. Or a butt thing? "Jim?" Blair was calling, and Jim snapped out of it, feeling a hated, and now familiar, blush rise on his cheeks. "I know it's a house rule, man," Blair chuckled. "But the no-checking-out thing applies outside as well." "Shut up or I'll kill you," Jim whispered fiercely. "No court in the land would convict me," he muttered, pushing past his annoying Guide into the bullpen. Blair was stifling his giggles behind him, and Jim raised his eyes to the ceiling in a God-give-me-strength look. What had he done to deserve a partner who giggled? "Hi, Jim," Henry called. Rafe was on the phone, and he raised a hand in greeting. "Did Hairboy get off okay?" Blair stepped into the bullpen, still with a half smile on his face, and Henry's attention slipped away from Jim and focused intently on the newcomer. "Well, hello," he said smoothly. Rafe muttered something into the phone and hung it up, fairly leaping across the room to elbow his partner out of the way. "How do you do?" he said with a wide smile. "I just know you're the B.J Blair told us so much about." "I'm Henry Brown," H said, snatching Blair's hand from Rafe's and shaking it gently. "Detective Henry Brown." "Pleased to meet you," Blair said, eyebrows raised. "Yes, Blair did get off okay," Jim said, discreetly stepping closer and forcing the two men to stop their grabbing games at Blair's hands. "Blair who?" Rafe said, eyes apparently trying to speak volumes to the newcomer. "I mean, great! Great, Jim!" "How quickly they forget," Blair said huskily, and Jim swiveled his head around in shock. That was not Blair's voice! Well, of course it wasn't Blair's voice, but it wasn't the one Jim had grown accustomed to over the last few days either. Blair's face looked different too, his eyes gleaming, his cheeks coloured a rosy hue. My god, he's flirting, Jim thought numbly. And Rafe and Brown were eating it up, the slack jawed fools. Simon's door banged open and the big man stood poised in the doorway. He had a folder in his hand and he looked up nonchalantly at the detectives gathered around Blair by Jim's desk. With disgust Jim realised the Captain was posing there, probably knowing the light from his windows framed his broad shoulders and strong physique. "Oh, brother," Jim muttered, retiring from the field and sitting behind his desk. "Jim," he smiled, fairly sauntering over. "How did Sandburg get off? Okay?" "Fine, Captain," Jim answered shortly. "Good," Simon purred, eyes fixed firmly on Blair. "I'm Captain Banks," he said softly, reaching out and taking the young woman's hand. If he kisses it I'm going to snap his lips off, Jim thought violently, but fortunately for all of them the Captain only shook the small hand gracefully. "I'd know you anywhere," Simon said gallantly. "You're the spitting image of your cousin." "So they tell me," Blair smiled. "I can't see it myself." "And how are you enjoying Cascade?" Simon said, gesturing expansively. "Everyone's been very nice," Blair said breathily. "I'm sure they have," Simon agreed, showing all his teeth in a wide smile. "All the better to eat you with, my dear," Jim muttered, turning on his computer with a savage stab. "Did you say something, Jim?" Simon asked, turning a curious brow towards him. "Just that I have work to do," Jim said, raising his voice. "And... er, B.J is here to observe me." "I think you've had enough observation done on you lately," Simon said in repressive tones. He reached out to gently grasp Blair's arm, and began to lead the young woman towards his office. "So why don't you get to work and let B.J and I get better acquainted over a cup of coffee." Jim considered rescuing his partner, he really did. And if Blair had sent just one beseeching look over his shoulder, Jim would have braved even Simon's wrath. But instead the young woman was holding onto the big man's arm and gazing up at him attentively as they strolled through the office. Fine, Jim thought, washing his hands of the whole thing. If Simon twigged to the truth and came running out of his office screaming in a high pitched voice, it wouldn't be his fault. Feeling noble and put-upon, Jim tried to buckle down to work. He manfully resisted the urge to listen in for about two seconds, and then with a sigh he gave up. "You lucky dog," Henry said next to him, and Jim jumped, putting one hand to his ear in protest. "What?" "Yeah, exactly." Henry waggled his eyebrows. "What the hell did you ever do to deserve B.J Sandburg moving in with you?" "Funny, I was thinking that myself just a few minutes ago," Jim sighed. "I mean, is she a stone fox, or what?" "The 'or what' seems about right," Jim muttered, but H wasn't listening, he was gazing into Simon's office, where the Captain was even now pouring out a cup of coffee for Blair. "Those eyes, that smile, that hair. Woo," H shook his head sorrowfully. "And to think, all that's wasted on you. There's no justice." Jim stared as H walked back to his desk, shaking his head. Those eyes, that smile, that hair? Couldn't Henry see he was admiring Blair's eyes, smile and hair? Set in a female face, sure, but other than that largely unchanged. Jim stared a moment longer, and then his frown melted to a smile. What would these guys think if they knew the truth? If they knew they were fawning over Blair Sandburg? Jim didn't feel one ounce of shame as he spent the next five minutes snickering over his keyboard. He deserved some enjoyment out of all this after all. An hour later he was not laughing. Simon had finally, reluctantly released Blair, but now they were getting a seemingly never ending stream of visitors to Major Crime, all from other departments, and all here to see Blair's replacement. So far the general consensus from the men seemed to be that he was a vast improvement over his predecessor. From the women however, it was a whole different story. "Since when has the natural look been back in?" One of the secretaries said sarcastically. "I love the outfit," a uniformed cop smirked. "Flannel came back in and nobody told me?" "Flannel was in?" A detective tittered, and the others joined. Jim glanced at Blair, oddly concerned over the catty comments, but the young woman was in no danger of over hearing. Blair's head was buried in a book, glasses perched endearingly on his perfect nose. Eventually, and with the help of a few frowns from Simon, the crowd scattered and drifted away. "Hey, Jim!" Megan Connor strolled in, pulling off her coat and tossing it over her desk. Blair looked up with a smile tinged with nervousness, and Jim revised his opinion over what Blair had overheard. "Hi!" Megan's smile was wide and natural. "You must be B.J." "And you must be Megan," Blair smiled back, looking relieved at the friendly greeting. Megan perched on the edge of the desk and gave him an appraising look. "Sandy wouldn't say too much about you," she said. "Have to admit, it made me curious." Blair shrugged, glancing over at Jim uncertainly. "Not much to say, I guess." "I'm sure that's not true," Megan protested. "Hey, what're you doing for lunch? Maybe we could get together and have a bit of a chat? I tell you, I wouldn't mind hearing a few juicy stories about Sandy." Jim considered intervening, but Blair seemed to have it all in hand. "I'd love to," Blair agreed. "Another day? I have to go register at the university this afternoon." Megan stood up, smiling gracefully. "Sure," she smiled and nodded. "It's a date." "Another conquest," Jim muttered as she sauntered away. "Hm?" Blair said, looking innocent. Jim studied him with a frown. "I don't know whether to be more worried about you with the men or the women." "Don't worry about me at all," Blair said airily. "I'm a big girl now."
End of Part Five.
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