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B.J Sandburg Part Twenty-Four.
"His name is Hoffman," Simon said. "Dr Paul Hoffman. And I've known him most of my life."
"What did you tell him?" Blair asked fearfully.
"As little as possible," Simon said carefully. "He wants to meet you, and examine you, B.J. I mean, Blair."
"But he's agreed to do the C-section?" Jim probed.
"If he feels there's no undue danger to Blair or the twins, then he's agreed."
Blair looked at Jim, and then back at Simon. "Why? Why would a doctor do something like this?"
Simon chewed on his cigar thoughtfully. "It's a long story. His son's name is Lane, and we grew up together. I helped Lane over some... difficulties a few years ago. Paul said then if I ever needed a favour he'd be there for me."
"I bet he wasn't expecting anything like this," Jim said laconically.
Simon huffed a grim little laugh. "Actually I think he expected much worse when I called him to make an appointment. He once told me I'd either make a top cop, or a world class criminal."
Jim scratched his neck thoughtfully. "I can see that," he agreed.
"At any rate, he's not happy about it. But he trusts me enough to believe me when I tell him it's a matter of life and death."
Jim breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Thank you so much for this, Simon," Blair was saying gratefully.
"I couldn't stand by and watch you traipse all over the world trying to get those babies delivered," Simon said bluntly, pointing his cigar at Blair's six-month bulge. "They're gonna have enough problems being born as Sandburg -Ellisons."
"Amen," Blair agreed fervently.
"Now we just have to get through this wedding of yours," Simon groaned, heaving himself off the couch and heading for the front door.
"It's a simple civil ceremony, Simon," Jim reminded him. "Nothing to worry about."
Simon picked up his coat and eyed Jim quizzically. "I'm guessing you haven't talked to Connor lately, have you?"
"Megan?" Jim said in alarm. He turned accusing eyes on Blair. "What have you done?"
Blair raised his eyebrows. "I told her about the wedding tomorrow."
Jim bit off a curse. "I told you-" he began.
"I'm outta here," Simon announced. "I'll see you both at two PM sharp. Blair, don't wear white."
"Me-ow," Blair exclaimed as Simon slammed the door after him. Jim could hear him chuckling all the way down the hall.
Jim turned on Blair furiously. "I asked you not to tell anyone about this," he said angrily. "Those clowns downtown will turn this wedding into some kind of farce."
"No, Jim, you were right the first time. You told me not to tell anyone, and I told you right back I wasn't getting married without telling Megan. She's going back to Australia in three days, I'm not about to exclude her now, and hurt her feelings."
"What I told you," Jim ground out, "Was that Megan Connor would blab this news all over the station. I'll show up for work tomorrow hearing the wedding march hummed everywhere I go, I guarantee my car will be painted and decorated before the day is out, and we'll get to the registry office tomorrow and find god knows what!"
Blair shrugged. "I only told her last night, so she wouldn't have much time."
"How much time does it take to find tin cans to tie to the truck?" Jim lamented. "I tell you, Chief, if a stripper shows up in Major Crime tomorrow morning I'll hold you personally responsible!"
"Well I tell you what," Blair said furiously. "Why don't we just call this whole thing off right now?" He pulled down his old leather coat and thrust his arms into it, wrapping it over his prominent swell. "I wouldn't want you involved in a 'farce'."
"Dammit, Blair," Jim cursed as Blair flung open the front door and stormed out. Jim grabbed his own coat and keys and hurried after him, slamming the door behind him.
"Come back here," Jim called as Blair clattered down the stairs. Jim caught him up at the bottom and grabbed his arm irately. "Are you crazy? Running down the stairs like that? What if you'd tripped over?"
Blair pulled his arm free. "Well I didn't fall over," he said angrily. "I hardly ever fall over, Jim, in case you didn't notice."
"Well you're hardly ever six months pregnant," Jim retorted.
"Well that's about all I am now, isn't it?" Blair said furiously. "I'm not Blair, I'm not even B.J any more. I'm just pregnant."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jim appealed, spreading his hands.
Blair sighed angrily. "You wouldn't understand," he said resignedly, turning away.
Jim grabbed his arm again, more gently this time. "I'd like to try," he said more quietly. He looked around the empty foyer. "Walk with me?" he invited.
Blair looked up at him from the corner of his eyes, head tilted. "This is because the doctor told me to get more exercise, isn't it?"
Jim shook his head. "It's because I want to walk with you," he replied mildly.
Jim turned to walk away, and after a beat Blair fell into step beside him. They walked out into the warm April day, the rare sunshine soft on their heads.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you about Megan," Jim said.
Blair kicked a pebble, shuffling his track shoes on the concrete. "I'm sorry I was so belligerent. But you never listen to me!" he finished hotly.
Jim thought about it. "I didn't realise I wasn't listening to you," he said carefully. He cast a glance sideways at his partner. Blair's hands were thrust into his jacket pockets, swinging back and forward as he walked. And in front of him was the rounded bulge of his pregnant tummy, shown off clearly by the favoured denim overalls and blue sweater. The buttons of the bib-front overall caught the sun and glinted brightly.
"Just lately," Blair said tiredly. "Jim knows best. It gets a bit wearing."
Jim thought back over the last few weeks. "I guess I do tend to try to take control," Jim confessed honestly.
"I turned into a woman, Jim," Blair said wryly. "Not a child."
"It's not the woman part, Chief," Jim said, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully. "It's them." He pointed to the bulge and Blair put his hands on top of it defensively.
"The pods?"
"I guess I never really thought about it until now," Jim allowed. "But as you get more... helpless, I get more protective."
"I'm not helpless," Blair said automatically, but his brow was creased thoughtfully. "Protective, hey?"
""I guess," Jim admitted uncomfortably. "I know you can take care of yourself, Chief. But right now you're so vulnerable."
Blair walked on a few steps, hands still resting on his tummy. "I suppose I can see that," he allowed.
Jim relaxed a little. He hated arguing with Blair, especially at this time. Right now his every instinct was to protect and nurture his Guide. "I guess I carried it a little too far," he admitted.
"Just try to remember I'm all grown up now, okay, Jim?" Blair asked seriously. "And we're not out in the jungle now. The pods and I appreciate your protection, but we don't need a keeper."
"Not the jungle?" Jim said incredulously. "No, Chief, it's worse. This is Cascade."
********
They spotted a cafe and stopped for a drink. Blair carefully asked for skim milk in his milk shake, and Jim suppressed a grin. The doctor had been very explicit about diet and exercise, and chastened, Blair had agreed.
"You'll miss her, won't you?"
"Megan?" Blair sipped his milk shake. "Yeah. She's been a good friend." He looked down into his drink, stirring it slowly with his straw. "I wonder if we'll ever see her again?"
"Simon gave her an open invitation to come back to Major Crime any time she wants," Jim reminded him.
Blair shrugged.
Jim studied his dejected form worriedly, wondering what he could do to cheer him up. "Want to do some shopping while we're out?" he suggested impulsively.
Blair raised one eyebrow. "You're volunteering to shop?"
"I have no problem with shopping, Chief," Jim defended. "As long as we're not talking underwear here," he added hastily.
"I don't really need anything," Blair declined politely.
Jim frowned, not sure how to put this. "Naomi was saying the other day," he began, then paused.
"Yeah?" Blair said curiously.
"Well, she pointed out that we don't really have anything for the twins yet. Other than the stuff she's bought you."
"And the endless knitted garments the Aunts keep sending," Blair noted wryly.
"So the pods will never run out of booties," Jim said impatiently. "What about everything else they'll need?"
Blair fiddled with his napkin. "I guess I have a hard time picturing all that," he said vaguely, waving his hand. "I have no problems picturing the pregnancy." He patted his stomach and pulled a face. "As if I could. I can even picture the C-section, after all that research on the net. But actually picturing the babies?" He shrugged in bewilderment. "I just can't seem to bend my mind around it."
"Maybe we should have let the doctor tell us what sex they are?" Jim said doubtfully. "Might have made them more real to you?"
Blair patted his stomach. "They are very real to me, Jim," he said pointedly. "I'm carrying the squirming little things around all the time, remember? I just have trouble picturing them outside of me." A woman walked by pushing a stroller and he nodded towards them. "Like that."
Jim watched the woman's back as she walked away, understanding instantly what Blair was getting at. "Real people," he mused. "Little human beings, totally reliant on us."
Blair held up his hands in defence. "Please! You're talking me out of a minor worry into a major depression here."
Jim grinned. "Then let's do something to cheer us up."
Blair narrowed his eyes. "Let me see, what usually cheers you up?" He looked around him comically. "I hardly think this is the time or place for what usually cheers you up."
"Anyone listening to you would think I was a sex maniac," Jim complained.
"Where on earth could I have ever gotten that idea?" Blair chuckled and Jim's heart lightened on seeing his partner cheering up a little.
Jim pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills on the table. "What's the name of that store Naomi's always trying to drag you to?"
Blair frowned uncertainly. "Cuddles and Mom?"
Jim almost wavered at that, but he gamely persevered. "Sounds like the kind of place I have in mind."
He stood up and helped Blair to his feet. "I don't know," Blair hesitated. "I really don't need anything."
Jim cupped his elbow and looked down into his Guide's eyes, very aware of the bulge between them. "We need everything," he corrected.
"But there's no hurry," Blair protested as Jim led him to the kerb. "Isn't it bad luck to buy stuff before they're born?"
"You getting superstitious on me, Chief?" Jim said, raising a hand for a cab.
"Maybe," Blair said dubiously. They climbed into the cab and rode the short distance to the mall.
Jim almost baulked again at the sight of the store window. Huge swathes of pink and blue satin and some netting kind of fabric were festooned around all sorts of delicate feminine looking stuff. Jim instantly developed his 'bull in a china shop' phobia.
"I knew you couldn't do it," Blair was giggling.
It was the giggles that did it.
"I can do this," Jim told himself, girding his loins. He caught hold of Blair's hand and pushed open the door.
"Into the valley of death," Blair murmured. "Rode the six hundred."
Inside was just as bad as the outside, but Jim felt himself calming down a little as he looked around. Overly feminine it might all be, but there was nothing too threatening or embarrassing about all the babies frippery surrounding them. As a matter of fact some of it was pretty cute.
Blair was looking around in bafflement. "This is why I didn't want to come shopping," he complained. "I haven't got a clue where to start."
"Naomi would have helped," Jim commented, fingering a soft fluffy mobile hanging over a display crib.
"I love my mother to bits, Jim," Blair declared. "But her taste and mine are like," he made a zipping motion with his hands, "polar opposites."
"True," Jim agreed, remembering Blair's hippy comments. He tried to picture hippy babies, but had no luck.
A sales assistant sidled up. "May I help you?" she said brightly.
"Uh, we're just looking," Blair said uncertainly.
"Careful, Chief," Jim whispered in his ear. "They can smell fear."
Blair chuckled.
"Well let me know if I can help you with anything," the assistant said politely. "We're having a sale on cribs," she continued helpfully, nodding to the back wall. "Ten percent off."
Blair looked mischievously over his shoulder. "We can't pass up a bargain like that, honey," he said sweetly.
Jim followed, reminding himself that this had been his idea. He was still in control.
Ha.
"You know, Jim," Blair said thoughtfully, running his hands over the display. "There's a very real possibility one or both of the pods will be a Sentinel."
Jim shrugged. They'd touched on this subject before.
"So we have to be extra careful with the stuff we buy," Blair expanded, stroking a tiny blanket with a blue elephant pattern picked out all over it. "Your skin is toughened by years of living, but even it can't take heavy nylon blends."
Jim rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. He'd had to switch to one hundred percent natural fabrics since his senses had come back to life.
"And you told me about all the rashes and allergies you had as a kid," Blair reminded him. "Which I'm guessing was caused by surroundings that any other child would have had no problem with."
"But what are the odds of them inheriting this thing?" Jim protested softly, looking around the store carefully. "Neither of my parents had it, and neither does Steven."
Blair shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they did and they suppressed it? You might never have got yours back if it wasn't for what happened in Peru."
Jim pondered this, stroking the piles of soft bed linens and quilts.
"If we're gonna start buying, let's do it carefully, that's all I'm saying." Blair picked up a soft quilt, looking for the tag. "Look for natural fabrics."
So they spent an hour rifling through piles of sheets and pillowcases and tiny little blankets. Blair drove the helpful shop assistant crazy with his insistence on natural fibres and dyes. They finally ended up with a tiny pile of the most expensive items in the store.
"Hand made by Guatemalan grannies," Jim murmured, fishing out his wallet. He wasn't complaining too hard however. Blair had a project and a happy light in his eyes as he moved onto clothes, holding up garment after garment.
"That is terminally cute," he observed to Jim, holding up a miniature jumpsuit.
"I think we wandered into the dolls clothes section by mistake," Jim marveled, picking up a hanger and holding it up. It was a perfect blue sailor suit.
Blair picked up a diminutive t-shirt and looked over at Jim in dismay. "Can you believe how small these are?" He shook his head. "I can't believe they let two amateur parents take home something that will fit into an outfit this tiny."
"Two something's," Jim reminded him. He turned to another rack, and then frowned, senses picking up a slight tingle of...
"Jim!" Blair cried out, and the cop spun in time to see a huge hairy forearm wrap around Blair's neck from behind. The large man pulled Blair back up against him with that one arm, but it was the sight of his other hand that froze Jim into place.
Someone screamed behind Jim, but all his attention was on his mate, and the enormous knife held up to Blair's throat.
"Remember me, Ellison?" the man growled. Jim swept him a quick glance, then dropped his gaze to Blair's frightened blue eyes.
"I remember you, Drew," he growled. His every nightmare was coming to life before him, Blair in danger, the babies he carried threatened, himself helpless. "Let her go."
"I promised you payback," the big man purred. "I wanted to make you suffer, and then you hand me the perfect chance." He tightened his grip and Jim watched in horror as the hand with the knife dropped lower, knuckles rubbing insinuatingly along the swell of Blair's pregnant tummy.
The sight sparked a howl of rage in Jim's breast, and the next moments were a blur as Blair's elbow came up and chopped the man in the throat. Jim felt himself pouncing, and the next thing he was aware of was Blair's hand on his cheek and Blair's urgent voice in his ear.
"Jim? Come back to me, babe."
Awareness jagged through him like lightening and he straightened, catching Blair's hands and pulling him closer, eyes running over him desperately.
"I'm okay," Blair said gently. He grasped Jim's hands and laid them on his belly. "We're okay."
Jim's breath sawed out in a ragged sigh of relief and he slowly became aware that he was kneeling on the floor, Blair next to him. Their assailant was crumpled in a heap next to them, and Jim's senses automatically detected his pained shallow breaths. "What happened?" Jim rasped out.
Blair looked around the store and Jim followed his gaze. Horrified shoppers stood around staring and the sales assistant was standing next to Blair, protective hand on his shoulder.
"You took him out!" she crowed exultantly. "Your wife elbowed him and I didn't even see you move you were so fast!"
"They called the police when he attacked," Blair told him quietly, and Jim became aware of the distant sounds of sirens. To his amazement only minutes had passed since the attack had begun, but time seemed to have stretched around those endless moments when Blair and the babies had been threatened. Jim felt hours older.
"I called the paramedics too," the sales assistant informed him. "For your wife."
Blair's hands covered his where they lay on his tummy, moving Jim's hands slightly as an insistent foot kicked up under his rib cage. "We're fine," Blair repeated, looking deeply into Jim's eyes.
********
"Who was he?" Blair asked as he sat on the table in the emergency room, legs swinging. His denim overall was unbuckled and hanging loose around his bulge, and Jim was clutching his sweater for safe keeping, letting the lingering Blair-scent comfort him.
Jim paced the room, energy still singing through him. The fight had been too quick, and right now he desperately needed to punch the hell out of something.
"Nelson Drew," he said shortly. "I arrested him five years ago for murdering his wife."
Blair shivered, arms criss-crossing his body protectively. "Thank you, revolving door prison system," he muttered.
"He wasn't in prison," Jim expanded tightly. "He was in an institution for the criminally insane. And to my knowledge he wasn't supposed to be getting out any time soon."
"So he's not just a criminal, he's an insane criminal," Blair said wryly. "Two for the price of one."
"How are we doing in here?" the doctor said as he pushed open a curtain and returned. He had a few transparent sheets with him and he stuck one up on the wall. "The scans all look fine," he continued, examining them closely.
Blair blew out a relived sigh. "I knew it."
The doctor frowned and looked over at him. "How far along did you say you were?"
"Twenty-six weeks," Blair returned. "Why?"
The doctor frowned at his scans. "Nothing," he said absently. "You sure about those dates?"
Blair looked alarmed now, and Jim stepped closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Is there a problem?"
"No, no," the doctor said easily, tugging the scan off the wall. "Twins often develop just that bit quicker." He turned a smile on them. "Go home and rest," he counseled. "And if you have any worries at all, call your doctor." He placed a considering hand on Blair's swell, and the young woman looked up at him anxiously. "How are they moving?" the doctor asked.
"Doing the mambo, as usual," Blair said worriedly. "Is that good?"
"Very good," the doctor said gently. "If you have any worries about movements I suggest you put your feet up for a few hours and count. They should move eight to ten times in an hour. Okay?"
Blair nodded. "Okay." He waited until the doctor left before commenting to Jim. "Eight to ten times? They move that much in the time it takes me to brush my teeth in the morning."
Jim wasn't in a mood to joke, he wrapped his other arm around his mate and held him. "That was too close," he muttered. His heart was still pounding a mile a minute and his every sense was on alert. He knew that Simon had just entered the hospital and was striding towards the emergency room, cigar smoke clinging to his clothes. Jim's senses were so finely tuned at that moment, he could even feel the angry vibrations in the air around his captain as he cut his way through the hospital corridors.
"Simon's coming," he warned Blair quietly, drawing back. Blair was smiling into his eyes, reassurance radiating from him in waves.
"I love you," he whispered, closing the distance between them. Jim met his lips eagerly, tasting Blair's living essence, assuring himself yet again that his lover was alive and well in his arms, skin warm, heart beating, breath sweet against his lips.
"I love you," he murmured back, uncaring that Simon was now right behind the curtain.
"Ahem," the big man said politely, before sweeping the curtain aside. He took in their pose at a glance and then turned his head quickly. "Dammit, Sandburg," he swore. "I could have gone my whole life without seeing you in your underwear," he cursed.
Blair smirked into Jim's eyes, and then accepted his sweater from his hands. He pulled it over his head and Jim automatically helped him, freeing the long pony tail from the collar and lifting the bib of the overalls to be rebuckled.
"Make the most of it, Simon," he advised. "They'll be gone soon enough."
"Not a minute too soon for me," Simon muttered, flicking him a quick glance to make sure he was decent before turning the full force of his glance on them. "Are you all right?"
Blair patted his tummy. "We're fine."
"What the hell happened?" Jim said ominously. "Why was that lunatic on the street?"
"It was a mistake," Simon confessed furiously. "He killed a fellow patient at the hospital and was being transferred to court for a hearing. He escaped this morning, but I didn't get the message until about twenty minutes before you called me."
Jim clenched his fists. "Dammit, Simon," he cursed. "Blair could have been killed. If that lunatic had gotten hold of a gun..."
"Well you don't have to worry about him again," Simon vowed. "You managed to crush his throat pretty thoroughly when you took out. It's touch and go whether he survives at this point."
"Don't expect any tears from me," Jim said shortly. He helped Blair off of the table and steadied him.
"Let's go home," Blair suggested.
Simon shrugged. "Reports can wait," he shrugged. "Drew's not going anywhere. Hey, Sandburg?" he called as they turned to go. He smiled. "You take care of yourself, okay?"
Blair nodded. "And if I can't, Jim'll be there to do it for me," he smiled back.
********
"I can't believe I was complaining about you being over protective this morning," Blair commented laconically. He was sitting propped up on the bed wearing an oversized Jags t-shirt and not much else. "After today you're gonna be on me like white on rice, aren't you?"
"Count on it, Chief," Jim agreed firmly. His eyes dropped to Blair's tummy. "Did you see that!" He pointed.
Blair rubbed under his ribs ruefully. "See it? I felt it."
Jim lay a hand on the spot. "Is that a foot?"
Blair looked down, covering Jim's hand. "That's one set of feet." He shifted Jim's hand down to the lower curve of his swell. "And that's the other. Top to tail."
"Yin and Yang," Jim marveled. "Oh! I felt that one!"
"Eight to ten movements," Blair snorted rudely. "You know, they move more when they hear your voice."
"Really?" Jim grinned, delighted. He put his mouth down to Blair's tummy. "Hey, guys," he called. "Stop kicking your mother! He's tired and he wants to sleep."
"I don't really mind," Blair confessed. "I know I'm supposed to be all macho and weirded out by all this, but the truth is I'm way past all that."
"It's not like there's a handbook for men who're becoming mothers," Jim pointed out.
"I still get the occasional 'what the heck am I doing here?' moments," Blair reflected. "And I still goggle at myself when I catch sight of a mirror. But even I can't sustain serious shock and alarm for months at a time."
"Probably wouldn't do you much good health-wise either," Jim noted.
Blair smoothed a hand over his belly contemplatively. "This is actually kinda neat," he confessed. "It feels like I'm really doing something important, you know? Bringing these two lives into the world." He shrugged self-consciously. "Sounds dumb."
"No it doesn't," Jim said softly. "I'm glad you can feel good about this, Blair. I've been wracking myself with guilt that you've had to go through this pregnancy while all I could do was stand and watch."
Blair looked at him in surprise. "Really?"
"I promised to protect you," Jim reminded him guiltily. "And I didn't."
Blair considered this, head tilted. "I couldn't go through this without you, Jim," he confided. "And I couldn't admit this to anyone else in the world. But I have no regrets now." He shaped his belly. "I'm still scared as hell. But I can't regret these lives."
A load that Jim hadn't even realised he was carrying slipped off Jim's shoulders. "I'm glad," he said huskily.
"How glad?" Blair said slyly.
Jim grinned. "Okay, what do you want?"
"Honey chicken," Blair pounced. "And crispy noodles. Oh, and fried rice, the kind with the red pork on the top."
Jim shook his head in resignation, but the smile wouldn't leave his lips. "Dim sum?"
Blair widened his eyes in surprise. "Of course!" he said scornfully.
"Of course," Jim muttered.
Blair reached up and planted a kiss on his lips. "Thanks, Jim."
Jim kissed his nose. "Hey, what else are Blessed Protectors for?"
End of Part Twenty-Four.
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