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B.J Sandburg Part Twenty-One.
Blair piled the scrambled eggs high and trotted over to the table.
"Well, you can stand the smell of cooking again," Jim said, buttering his toast. "That makes me happy."
"It was purely self defence," Blair retorted, setting the platter in the middle of the table. "If I had to eat your version of macaroni and cheese one more time I would have barfed these babies up."
Jim made a face. "Excuse me," he pleaded. "I'm eating here."
"You get points for trying to cook anyway," Blair said kindly. He leaned over and then groaned, rubbing at his spine. Jim automatically reached around and began to rub the small of Blair's back, and the young woman shuffled closer and leaned against him with a sigh.
"Well, there's no hiding this now," Jim said, leaning his head against the now noticeable swell as he rubbed.
Blair patted his bulge wearily. "Whose idea was twins anyway? In one month I go from svelte to sumo wrestler."
"Woah, they're disco dancing in there," Jim exclaimed, feeling the minute vibrations of a kick against his cheek.
"Nah, they save the dancing til I try to nap," Blair sighed, pulling away and sitting down gratefully in his chair. "I go to sleep humming 'Do the Hustle'.
"That doesn't seem to stop you napping eight times a day," Jim pointed out, scarfing down perfectly cooked eggs.
"Remember what I said about women being the superior species? Well scratch that. I hereby elevate them to godhood."
"Yeah? Well if they're so superior, why go through that at all?" Jim said slyly, nodding to Blair's bulge.
Blair sniffed. "Because they know men would only mess it up," he returned haughtily.
"Yeah, well I'll take your word for that, Chief," Jim said complacently. "Personally I have no problem with my role in procreation."
"Neither did I when potentially all it involved was a long drawn out sigh and then rolling over and going to sleep."
Jim assumed an outraged look. "And how many back rubs? Foot rubs? Food runs? And that reminds me, what do I have to stock up on today that will save me driving around town at eleven PM tonight to satisfy your craving?"
Blair pinkened. "It wasn't a craving," he defended.
"I may be new to this, Chief, but absolutely having to have gingerbread at eleven o'clock at night is a craving, no two ways about it."
"I said I'd go get it," Blair pointed out.
"Yeah, Like I'm gonna let you drive around town in the middle of the night, five months pregnant, looking for a store that still has Christmas gingerbread in March."
"I can't believe you bought a whole box," Blair chuckled.
"Yeah, well treasure it," Jim ordered. "Those are the last Silly Santa Gingerbread Treats in the Pacific Northwest."
"I'll eke them out," Blair promised solemnly.
"So, what are you doing today?" Jim sipped his juice.
Blair counted on his fingers. "Washing, napping, cooking, napping, library run, napping. Oh and I might do some more research on the net, and maybe have a nap. You?"
"Nap breaks are few and far between for me," Jim said wryly.
"I tell you what," Blair said sweetly. "You stay home with two people inside you, and I'll go to work, how does that sound?"
"You know I'd swap places with you if I could, Chief," Jim said, as sincerely as he could manage.
Blair stared at him admiringly. "That sounds better every time you say it," he marveled. "Keep working on it, and you might graduate from facile to merely fake."
Jim hung his head and chuckled. "I don't get away with anything any more," he complained. He eyed Blair thoughtfully. "Are you sure you don't want to go back to school?"
Blair shrugged. "I was mostly sitting in to learn, Jim, it's not like I was ever gonna be able to use the credits I earned. Besides, I can't sit on those chairs all day, they kill my back."
"I just don't want you getting bored," Jim said, stacking their plates and carrying the to the sink.
"Are you kidding?" Blair asked incredulously. "Sleeping takes up most of my time now. I don't take naps, Jim, the naps take me."
Jim filled the sink with hot sudsy water. "Are you sure that's normal? What does the doctor say?"
"Everything's fine," Blair assured him. "You go to sleep listening to them at night, don't they sound fine?"
Jim shot him an exasperated glance over his shoulder. "I mean with you, knucklehead. You're the one sleeping your life away. How are you?"
"I'm fine too," Blair said, looking surprised. "I like to sleep," he confessed. "For the first time in my life I don't have a dozen things on the boil at once. I can curl up with a book, listen to the sounds of the world going about its daytime business outside, and doze off if I feel like it." He sighed pleasurably. "It's great!"
"It sounds great," Jim smiled.
"And as long as you're still on desk duties at work, I don't have to worry about you either."
Jim flexed his recently deplastered arm. It was pale and white, and noticeably thinner than his left arm.
"Even domestic stuff is okay," Blair continued. "I think it's my nesting instinct or something."
Jim stacked the last dripping plate and dried his hands. "Well, nesting aside, it's your hermit instinct I'm worried about. We have to arrange the wedding, Chief, so we can announce this pregnancy."
Blair traced a pattern on the wooden table with his fingertip. "Or I could just hide out here for the next few months?" he said hopefully.
Jim sighed. "Chief, your friends are asking about you. How many times has Megan rung here? You can't go into hiding for the duration."
"Well they're gonna have to say goodbye to B.J. soon enough," Blair said stubbornly. "Better now than then."
"And how do we explain two babies showing up?" Jim said in exasperation. They'd been over this already. "B.J and Jim have to marry, or we'll have all sorts of problems with custody later on."
"And B.J. has to abandon her new borns and run off back to California," Blair said harshly. "So it's better they figure out what a hard bitch she is now." He pushed his chair back and stormed off to his room.
"Oh, damn," Jim sighed.
Jim found Blair curled up on the bed, eyes closed.
"Are you crying?" Jim asked from the doorway.
"No," Blair sniffed.
"I don't know what to do for you," Jim said helplessly. "B.J. has to go. I'm sorry this is hurting you so much, Blair."
"Jim?" Blair said in a small voice. Jim crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He stroked a finger over Blair's forehead.
"Yeah?"
"If you had a choice..." Blair squinched his eyes tighter and buried his head in the pillow. "Never mind," he muffled.
"I'd choose you," Jim said. "I've chosen you."
Blair's hand came up and cupped the side of his bulge. "You didn't choose this though."
"Neither did you," Jim said gently, turning him back over and smiling into damp blue eyes. He carefully pushed the wings of hair back. "And I know I couldn't handle it the way you do."
"You'd manage," Blair muttered self-consciously.
"Not the way you have," Jim insisted. "And for the record, I've always known B.J's time was limited. I'm looking forward to having Blair back."
"You'll miss her though," Blair said gravely.
Jim sighed. "Maybe at first," he allowed. He tapped Blair's forehead when the young woman closed her eyes against him. "Hey," he said distinctly. "I missed Blair at first too, remember? It just takes a while for the two of you to come together in my mind."
Blair frowned while he thought it through.
Jim judged it was the right time to lighten the mood a little. "But you know what?" he said confidentially. "I am gonna miss these." He slid his hands up and brazenly cupped Blair's breasts.
"Hey!" Blair exclaimed with an outraged snort of laughter. "Get your hands off me!"
"Gotta make the most of it, Chief," Jim smiled wickedly. He stroked gently though the t-shirt material, knowing how sensitive Blair was at the moment.
"You're such a man," Blair chided in fond exasperation. But his nipples were blossoming, and he squirmed beneath the caressing fingers. "Careful," he whispered, as Jim lifted the shirt over his head.
"I know," Jim murmured back, delicately unfastening the soft bra and releasing the swollen orbs. He traced light blue veins with wondering fingers, cherishing the sensitive skin as carefully as he could. Blair's belly vibrated gently and he dropped a kiss on it, marveling at its firm compact roundness.
"Want me to rub some oil in?" he offered huskily.
Blair nodded eagerly, and Jim reached for the almond oil, warming a palmful in his hand before lightly spreading it over Blair's tight skin.
"How would I explain a stretch mark?' Blair chuckled, sighing and stretching under the light massage.
Jim smoothed the oil over Blair's belly, and then up to the swollen slopes of his breasts. "Especially here," Jim murmured, circling one wide aureole with a fingertip, and then leaning down and taking the firm nipple carefully between his lips. "Mmm," he hummed, feeling the shiver of delight that shook Blair's body.
"You know what?" Blair gasped.
"Hm?"
"I'm gonna miss this too."
********
"Morning, Jim," the desk sergeant called jovially.
"Morning, Stan," Jim called back, a little puzzled by the blinding smile from the usually taciturn cop.
"Glad to see your injuries haven't slowed you down any," Stan called as the elevator doors closed.
"Ookay," Jim mumbled to himself as he rode upwards. "What the heck was that about?"
Detective Henry Brown was lurking by the doors as the elevator arrived.
"Jim!" he greeted enthusiastically. "Hey, Rafe, look who's here!"
Jim slowed down, studying Henry's bright face warily. "What's going on here?"
Rafe rushed up and skidded to a stop next to his partner. He turned a sunny smile on Jim.
"Good to see you, Jim. How's B.J?"
Henry snickered into his hand and nudged Rafe gleefully.
Suspecting a practical joke and slightly alarmed at the mention of Blair's name, Jim looked around cautiously. ""No, really guys," he said nervously. "What's up?"
"Just waiting for you to pass on your good news, bud," H said innocently.
"Yeah," Jim," Rafe chided. "Least you could do was share the joy with your good friends."
Growing impatient with the banter Jim made to push past them. "Excuse me, guys," he said pointedly. "I have work to do."
"Or maybe you were right, Henry, and it isn't his good news," Rafe insinuated.
"Okay," Jim spun. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Hey hey," Henry placated, hands up. "My partner and I were just talking to Robinson over in Vice. You know her, right?"
"And?" Jim drawled.
"Turns out she was over by the library yesterday, and she saw our mutual friend, B.J. Sandburg..." Henry trailed away suggestively.
So. This was it. Their time was up.
Jim assumed his best affable mixed with irritable expression. He'd perfected it right here in this police station.
"Why don't you guys try minding your own business?" he said genially.
"Hey, we're detectives," Henry smirked. "Just putting two and two together..."
"And getting five," Jim retorted. "When B.J and I have some news for you guys, we'll share it." With that he pushed past them into the squad room. He had to get to Simon before-
"What's going on here?" Simon boomed from behind him.
With a sinking heart Jim realised the Captain had come up in the elevator behind him.
Sensibly, Henry and Rafe moved out of Simon's way, and he sailed past them like a ship cutting through the ice. He was still limping a little, and he hadn't regained the weight he'd lost following his injury, but he'd been back at his desk a week after Jim.
"Hey, Captain, we were just congratulating Ellison here," Henry joked.
Simon pinned Jim with a stern glance, catching him in mid grimace as he tried to signal to Henry and Rafe to keep their mouths shut.
"Jim?" Simon said sharply. "What's going on here?"
"Can I talk to you in your office, Sir?" Jim rushed out, but Rafe beat him to it.
"B.J's pregnant!" Rafe crowed.
Simon's eyes widened to an impossible width, and then Jim was watching in shock as he swayed in place.
"Captain!" Rafe exclaimed in alarm.
"Simon!" Jim caught his arm.
"I knew he came back to work too soon," Henry cursed.
"I'm okay," Simon insisted, shaking them off. He straightened, pale faced. "Ellison, in my office. Brown, Rafe, get to work." He clomped away.
Jim waited in Simon's office while the big man leaned over a desk in the bullpen and conferred with an officer. If Jim really wanted he could listen in, but right now he was too busy concentrating on staying calm. And trying not to feel like an errant schoolboy called before the headmaster.
Simon swept in and closed the door quietly behind him.
"Dammit, Jim! I almost swooned out there!" Simon hissed furiously. "How could you let me hear such news like that?"
"I'm sorry, Simon," Jim said sincerely. "We just thought we'd burdened you with enough for now."
"I couldn't agree more," Simon said fervently. He looked at Jim intently. "Is it true?"
"Yes."
"Dammit, Jim," Simon cursed, stamping around to his chair and flinging himself down. "How could you let this happen? Are you a teenager that you couldn't keep it zipped up?"
"That's out of line, Simon," Jim protested. "Blair and I were as careful as we could be."
"Blair," Simon huffed out. "This is unbelievable! You and Blair..." He rubbed his eyes. "A baby, for gods sake. Do you really think it's fair to bring a child into this?" He frowned deeply. "Wait a minute, I thought Sandburg only had a few months left?"
"We are cutting it a bit fine," Jim confessed, not wanted to admit how fine it was going to be.
"How fine?" Typically Simon wasn't letting him get away with anything this time.
Jim decided he might as well confide in his friend. "Actually Blair's due about seven weeks after he's supposed to have changed."
Simon stared in shock. "Oh my god," he said softly. "What does that mean?"
Jim sat down. It was odd, how sharing this burden made him feel somehow lighter. He'd never realised how much he needed to talk this out with someone other than Blair. "We're not sure," he admitted. "We've decided Blair needs to have the babies by Caesarean. Naomi's actually arranged-"
"Hold it, hold it," Simon interrupted. "Babies?"
Jim smiled weakly. "Didn't I mention that?"
Simon fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cigar case. "No," he said, lighting a cigar and drawing in deep. "No you didn't."
"Sorry."
"Go on with your story," Simon urged through a cloud of smoke.
"Naomi's arranged for a doctor friend of hers in Thailand to deliver the babies, no questions asked."
"How the hell is Blair going to fly as B.J?" Simon questioned.
Jim looked embarrassed. "Naomi has a lot of contacts."
"Let me get this straight," Simon said ominously. "You're going to fly to a foreign country, with a fake passport, have illegal surgery and then, what?"
"Get Blair back home before he changes," Jim finished.
Simon waited a beat. "That's it?" he said evenly. "That's your plan?"
"That's the best we could come up with, Sir," Jim said, reliving that student/headmaster thing again.
"All I can think is that you're so shocked by all this you're not thinking clearly," Simon said soberly. "Because if listening to Naomi Sandburg's crazy plan was the best you could come up with..."
Jim shot to his feet. "That's very easy for you to say, Simon," he accused. "You're not in the middle of this."
"Which is probably why I can see it so clearly," Simon said gently. "Jim, what happens to Blair if something goes wrong in a foreign country? If he can't get home before he changes? God!" Simon sighed. "So much can go wrong!"
"We don't have any choices, Simon," Jim appealed. "We don't know what will happen to Blair if he changes while he's still pregnant." Jim breathed in deeply, trying to regain control. "Blair could die," he whispered achingly. "The babies almost certainly would."
"And you couldn't even take him to the hospital," Simon agreed. "Unless you wanted him stuck in a lab somewhere for the rest of his life." He reached over and patted Jim's shoulder. "It's okay, Jim," he said kindly. "You're not alone now. We'll figure something out."
Jim turned abruptly to the window, eyes stinging. "I appreciate that, Sir," Jim said gruffly.
"First thing we have to do is find a doctor right here in the U.S. for Blair," Simon said briskly. "Don't you have any contacts?"
Jim pulled himself together and frowned in concentration. "No-one not connected with the military, Simon," he said unhappily. "And the last thing we need is Blair in their eye."
Simon rubbed his chin, still puffing away. "I might know someone," he said slowly. "A man I knew years ago, who owes me a favour."
"How many years ago?" Jim said cautiously. "We need the best for Blair."
"As good as some doctor in Thailand?" Simon asked incredulously.
Jim flushed. "That's not fair," he said firmly. "We've done the best we could."
Simon sighed. "I know you have," he admitted. "But, Jim, you have to admit now, you can't do this alone."
Jim turned this over in his mind. He trusted Simon, had trusted him with his life. It would feel good to get someone else's perspective on this. He looked up at his Captain.
"Simon. Would you help us?"
Banks nodded slowly. "I'll do my best," he agreed.
End of Part Twenty-One.
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