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B.J Sandburg Part Nineteen.
"You know, I feel really good," Blair said, selecting a grape and examining it closely before popping it into his mouth. "After spending two months feeling sick as a dog without knowing why, now I do know why, and I feel good."
"Glad to hear it, Chief," Jim said, peeling a banana and slicing it over his cereal.
"I really think I was worrying about nothing," Blair confided. "Sure, it's still pretty weird, being pregnant and all, but really. How hard can it be?"
"Sure," said Jim absently, spooning up his cereal. Blair watched him smiling blissfully and leaned forward.
"That looks good."
Jim raised a brow and then sighed, pushing the bowl into the middle of the table. Blair grabbed a spoon and dug in.
"Mm." Blair licked the spoon. "That's great."
"It's the full cream milk," Jim said enthusiastically.
"Yeah," Blair said around a mouthful of cereal. "You can tell the difference."
"Strawberries would be good too."
Blair narrowed his eyes dreamily. "Ooh, yeah."
They finished the bowl, Blair scraping out the last spoonful. He sat back blissfully. "Great idea for a healthy breakfast, Jim."
Jim helped himself to one of Blair's grapes. "Figure we both might as well eat healthy for the duration, Chief."
"You make it sound like a war," Blair chuckled, smothering an unseemly burp. "Excuse me," he yawned.
"No you don't," Jim warned. "No napping. You've only been out of bed for an hour."
"Jeez, okay," Blair grumbled, standing up. He tightened the sash of his robe around him with a sniff of disdain. "I'm going to get dressed before Mom gets here."
He turned his back on Jim, leaving him with the cleaning up. He'd figured out, he was carrying two human beings inside of him, which was as much work as a man should be expected to do. Jim could handle everything else around the house.
His bed looked very inviting, and he glanced at it longingly. Then he firmed his resolve. He was going to handle this pregnancy thing like he'd handled everything else this year. Surely the hardest part was already over? The months of sickness were behind him, and he was half way there without even trying. How hard could the rest really be?
He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, then froze in surprise. Something was wrong, and he peered over his shoulder at his backside, to see if the jeans were caught up on anything. They hugged him perfectly back there as usual, but no matter what he did he couldn't get the fly button sides to meet.
"Son of a bitch!" he swore.
Jim appeared at the door, looking flustered. "Are you okay?"
Blair stared at him in open-mouthed shock. "I don't believe this," he said numbly.
"What?" Jim demanded.
"This!" Blair shouted, tugging on the jeans. Jim's eyes dropped, and realisation sparked.
"Oh, is that all?" he said, rather unwisely.
"Is that all?" Blair repeated in disbelief. "I can't get my jeans done up!"
Jim instantly tried to assume a soothing expression. "I see that, Chief. Um, you must have been expecting this though, right?"
Blair stared at Jim in stupefaction. He found it hard to believe he had been that dumb as a man. No, it was just Jim being his usual obtuse self.
"You know, you might have great senses, but you score pretty low on the sensitivity scale."
Jim turned his mouth down. "Not the first time I've heard that," he muttered.
Blair felt guilty. What was Jim supposed to say anyway? How could he understand with those tiny hips and that stomach you could bounce coins off of?
Blair sat down on the end of the bed, pulling the jeans off and tossing them aside disconsolately. "Sorry I snapped, Jim," he said miserably.
Jim sighed and sat down next to him. "Sorry I'm being insensitive, Chief," he returned.
"It's just, they're my favourite girl jeans," Blair complained.
"You mean they were your favourite 'hey, look at my butt' jeans?" Jim said wryly.
Blair frowned and opened his mouth to rebut that remark, and then raised one eyebrow thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess so," he had to agree. "But I like looking sexy. It's one of the best thing about being female."
"Not from my point of view," Jim muttered.
Blair narrowed his eyes at him. "You're looking forward to this, aren't you?" he accused. "You can't wait till I swell up like a balloon."
Jim assumed his best innocent expression. "Don't get paranoid, Chief."
********
Naomi handed over the sheets of paper gravely. "I made some notes of the figures."
Blair clutched the paper convulsively. "Forty thousand dollars," he whispered in dismay.
"Closer to forty-five when you add in traveling costs to and from Bangkok," Naomi corrected. "This is a very exclusive clinic."
Blair looked at Jim in dismay. "We can't afford this."
Grim faced, Jim studied the papers. "Tell us about this doctor?"
"The clinic is run by Myron Yuong, a very good friend of mine. They actually specialise in gender change operations."
"How apt," Blair muttered.
"Bangkok?" Jim said doubtfully.
"The standards are world class, I promise you. And for a friend, Myron will do this, no questions asked."
"So his ethics aren't world class then," Jim said wryly.
"His price tag is. Jim, we can't afford this," Blair objected.
Jim put his hand over Blair's where it clutched the paper. "We don't have a choice, Blair."
Blair looked down at the mind numbing figures blindly. "But forty-five thousand dollars, Jim," he protested. "Where do we find that kind of money?"
"I can help," Naomi offered.
Jim nodded acknowledgment of her offer. "Thanks, Naomi. But if we have to we can mortgage the loft. Or sell it outright."
Blair stared at Jim in awe.
"This is your health, Blair," Jim said quietly. "Your life." He nodded downwards. "And the pods."
"Pods?" Naomi giggled, holding a hand up to her mouth.
Blair patted his tummy absently. "Yeah, it's not their fault. We got them into this mess." He turned to Jim. "So I guess we don't go away for the next four months, ey?"
Jim sighed. "Not if we have to find this kind of money, Chief. We can't afford for me to lose time at work and pay to stay away."
"So, we have to tell everyone then," Blair sighed. "But not until we can't possibly avoid it," he continued firmly. "The minute Simon finds out my observers pass will be history."
His mom and Jim exchanged conspiratorial glances, and Blair flared with wary suspicion. If the two of them thought they were going to gang up on him they had another think coming.
Jim turned to Naomi. "Thanks for this," he said gratefully.
Naomi dimpled, but her eyes remained serious. "Anytime."
********
Blair hummed as he rode up in the elevator. He was wearing his second favourite jeans, with the fly button open and discreetly hidden by his sweater. There was no getting away from it, he was going to have to go shopping, and soon.
Turning sideways, Blair examined his vague reflection in the shiny metal wall of the elevator. It was odd how, even after all these months, he could still get that tingle of shock when he caught sight of his own reflection. He eyed his profile thoughtfully. Aside from a slighter more pronounced curve around the belly, he still looked pretty slim.
The door opened on his floor, and he stepped out, almost running into Jim and Simon.
"Hey," he greeted.
Jim took his arm and steered him back into the elevator.
"We're going down to the evidence locker," he told Blair, thumbing the button for the sub basement.
"Morning, B.J," Simon greeted.
"Morning, Captain. Why are we going down to the storage locker?"
"Ask Jim," Simon said dryly.
From that Blair inferred it was some Sentinel thing.
"I had an idea about that machete Jennings was... carrying..." Jim trailed off, frowning in concentration. "Do you smell something?"
Blair took a deep breath and Simon did the same.
"No," they both answered.
"Like what?" Blair probed. The elevator arrived at the sub basement and Jim stepped out.
"Like gas," he said grimly. "I don't smell it here. I think it was the floor above."
Simon pulled out his phone. "Keep away from the elevator shaft," he ordered. "I'll get someone down to check it out."
Jim walked around the cavernous sub basement, skirting the edge of the meshed off areas containing the larger confiscated items and tagged evidence. "I don't smell anything down here at all," he called.
Blair trotted over to Jim, leaving Simon to his call, when suddenly the room seemed to waver and shake, and he was being thrown forward onto the concrete floor by a wall of heat.
"Blair!" He heard Jim call his name and tried to answer, spitting out dust and sneezing hard twice.
"Jim?"
Coughing, Blair sat up, feeling the sting in his hands before he looked down and saw the cuts and scrapes on his palms from the concrete. Dust filled the air, and the ground around him was littered with plaster and the occasional rough lump of concrete.
"Blair?" Jim appeared out of the dust, limping and holding one arm awkwardly across his chest.
"I'm okay," Blair called, shaking his head and wincing against the shower of dust he managed to shake free. His head ached from the force of the blast, and his eyes stung.
Jim stumbled to his knees next to him, and Blair instinctively lifted his nicked hands and cradled Jim's dusty face, looking into his bloodshot eyes. Jim looked as dazed as he felt, but there was also a kind of blankness in his eyes that told Blair that pure instinct had guided Jim to his side.
His senses had been wide open when the blast came, Blair realised. He was overloaded.
"I'm here, Jim," he said softly, not wanting to burden his probably still ringing ears with too much sound.
"Blair?" Jim's voice was hoarse, but his eyes were flickering with life.
"Yes, Jim. I'm here. I know you're hurting, just give yourself a few moments to heal. Shut down for a little bit, Jim."
Blair pushed gently and Jim leaned over and sat down completely, eyes closing. His arm was hanging awkwardly and Blair gently made sure it was braced against his body. "You heal, Jim," Blair repeated.
I'm going to look for Simon.
Clambering to his feet, Blair stood swaying for a second, one hand on Jim's shoulder for support. Blinking, he scanned the area, easily making out the room's details through the settling dust. The explosion must have traveled down the lift shaft, bringing with it a scorched trail of devastation. Blair didn't want to think what the floor above might look like.
"Jim?" A weak voice called, and Blair's watering eyes focused instantly on Simon's large shape. There were fist size lumps of concrete around him, and one of the metal doors of the elevator was half torn from its slot, swaying ominously above him.
"I see you!" Blair called, stumbling over. Simon's face was an eerie grey colour; he would have looked dead except for the red rimmed life in his dazed eyes. He spat out a mouthful of dust.
"Sandburg," he coughed hoarsely. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Blair nodded, kicking plaster and rubble away. "Can you walk? We need to get you away from the shaft."
"Guess Jim was right about the gas," Simon said painfully, pulling his legs free with a wince. "I think I can crawl," he added.
With Blair's help he dragged himself away from the worst of the rubble. Blair studied his bruised legs grimly. His suit was a disaster, ripped away by the force of the blast, and his legs were bruised and torn.
"I've had worse," Simon said, following Blair's gaze.
"I remember," Blair nodded.
"Blair?" Jim was coughing and Blair released Simon and hurried back over to him.
"Jim?" Simon called, still dragging himself.
"I'm okay," Jim managed. He wiped his streaming eyes, studying Blair's figure anxiously as he dropped down next to him. "Chief?" he murmured, his good hand shaping Blair's shoulder and down his arm, as if reassuring himself his partner was safe.
"I'm okay too," Blair smiled. He looked over his shoulder. The Captain was lying on his side, breathing hard. "Simon's pretty bashed up."
Jim's hand slid down his side and lay on his belly. Blair covered it with his own.
"I'm okay," he repeated softly.
Jim sighed and leaned forward, and they rested their foreheads together for a moment.
"Let's help Simon," Jim said softly.
They helped each other up and scrambled over to Simon. The big man was looking around, still obviously shocked. "Anyone seen my phone?" he said absently.
Jim and Blair exchanged looks.
"You had it in your hand when the blast came," Blair reminded him. Jim fished around one-handed in his jacket pocket.
Simon blinked and shook his head. "God damn," he swore. "How the hell did this happen?"
"My phone's okay," Jim said, flipping it open and punching a button. "The station lines are jammed."
Blair helped Simon straighten out, resting the big man's head on his knees.
"Why does this always happen to me?" Simon complained.
Blair frowned at the battered body of his Captain. He was losing some blood, but it didn't look too excessive to him.
Jim finally got through and reported their position and status, stressing the gas smell he'd detected just before the blast.
"They're on their way down for us," he reported, shutting the phone down. He frowned at Simon, who was now shaking with the after effects of shock. "Chief, why don't you go see if there's anything in the lockers to keep Simon warm."
"You did it again," Simon slurred. "You called her Chief."
Blair blinked in surprise. He and Jim had been reacting to the situation like the team they'd always been, and he hadn't even noticed what Jim was calling him.
"And before you called her Blair," Simon accused. "I heard you."
Jim stroked Simon's dusty forehead. "You're hurt, sir. You don't know what you heard."
"I'm not that hurt," Simon said dryly, wrapping his arms around his shuddering body. Jim stripped off his filthy coat, swearing under his breath as he eased it over his damaged arm. With Blair's help he draped it around his Captain's shoulders, covering his chest.
"Look, Jim," Simon continued sickly. "I've cut you some slack bringing B.J. into the station, because I figured she was replacing Blair with this Sentinel business while Sandburg was away."
Simon coughed, licking his dry lips.
"Just rest, Simon, please," Blair said earnestly.
"And I've even turned a blind eye on your affair," the Captain continued stubbornly. He was shaking hard now, and Jim wrapped his arm around his shoulders, bracing him against his own body. "Because you kept it out of your work, and I appreciated that."
"Let's talk about it later, Simon, okay?" Jim offered. He tilted his head. "I hear them in the shaft," he breathed out in relief.
"But I can't sit still while you play these weird games," Simon said weakly. "Why did you call her Blair, Jim?"
Jim opened and closed his mouth, obviously at a loss.
"Simon," Blair began, not even sure what he was going to say.
"Oh, my god," Simon said slowly. Blair followed his gaze down to Blair's legs, where his second favourite jeans were ripped from thigh to knee. On his thigh was one of his proudest possessions, the distinctive bullet wound he'd earned in their savage battle with Quinn in the wilderness.
Simon had seen that wound on Blair's leg. Now he was looking at it on B.J's.
The Captain closed his eyes tight and then opened them again, while Blair sat, still supporting his head on his knees, feeling like he was frozen in the moment. In the shaft the sounds of men digging and concrete collapsing could be clearly heard now, but Blair couldn't take his eyes off Simon's face as the big man slowly lifted his gaze.
"Look at me, Sandburg," he pleaded lowly, unnecessarily. Blair couldn't have looked away if he tried.
Simon's gaze was wide and dazed, one pupil dilated worryingly. But they were clear enough to study Blair's eyes frantically, and what they saw there was obviously enough to push him over the edge from disbelieving suspicion to reluctant conviction.
"Blair?" he whispered incredulously.
Jim inhaled in horror, but Blair only looked deeper into Simon's eyes and smiled.
"Hi, Simon," he whispered.
Behind them the rescuers broke through and in his arms Simon finally passed out.
********
"Please look after my partner," Jim was insisting as the paramedic looked into his eyes with a flashlight. "She's pregnant."
The paramedic looked over his shoulder. "She's being taken care of, sir," he assured Jim.
Blair waved at him from behind his oxygen mask. The pure fresh air felt great going into his lungs after all that dust, and he pulled the mask away long enough to cough, and then put it back.
"Any pain?" his paramedic asked, examining the cuts on his hands. "Any cramps?"
Blair shook his head. "I'm fine."
"All the same, we should get you to a hospital, let the doctors take a look at you and baby," the paramedic insisted. Blair didn't argue.
"How's the captain?" he asked anxiously. Banks was already on a stretcher being lifted to the next floor where there was an open staircase.
"He's hanging in there," the paramedic smiled. "And the upper basement where the gas leak was located was pretty empty. We have a few injuries, but no fatalities."
"Thank god," Blair said fervently. "Er, I don't have to be winched up too, do I?"
"Sorry," the guy smiled. "Don't think you should be climbing ladders in your condition."
Blair turned his mouth down. Jim limped over.
"My arm's broken," he announced.
"How's your leg?"
"Just bruised. How are you?" Jim's gaze was still anxious, but his vision looked clear and he wasn't wincing at every sound any more.
"We're fine," Blair stressed. "But I'll be joining you and Simon at the hospital for a check-up."
"Simon," Jim said grimly. "How much do you think he'll remember?"
Blair shrugged. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."
End of Part Nineteen.
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