Chapter Text
Blair wandered into the gym and sat on the end of the weight bench his partner had just finished with and sighed. "Hey, Jim."
"Tired?" Jim asked as he wiped his face with a towel.
"Not too bad," Blair lied and lay back on the bench to play with the weights, both feet firmly planted on the ground. "How much have you got on here?" he asked as he tentatively pushed against the bar.
"Enough," Jim said, as Blair grunted with effort as he tried to lift the weight. Jim spotted him and helped him push the weights up and back down one time. He placed the bar back on the rack with a grin. Even dead tired, Blair couldn't leave anything alone. "You didn't have to come get me. I could have taken a cab. I know you had a rough week."
"Not a problem, man. You drive me around enough when the Volvo is in the shop," Blair said, still reclining on the bench. "Don't worry, I've got two weeks to recuperate now that finals are over."
"If you say so. Sorry I wasn't ready when you got here. I wasn't expecting you so soon. I'll skip the shower and get dressed. Why don't you wait in the bullpen?"
"Nah, I'll just lay here and rest my eyes. Go ahead and wash your funky butt," Blair replied, already on his way to dreamland.
"Is that how you made it the last two days without ever touching a bed? Cat naps?" Jim asked.
"Mmmm..." Blair murmured in his sleep.
"That's amazing," Jim shook his head and laughed to himself as he headed for the showers.
***
Vance Chavez finally found his intended victim, fast asleep on a bench in the gym. He had been looking for him for almost half an hour. Sandburg was out cold, with none of his over protective buddies in sight. This was too good to be true. He had hoped for a small confrontation of some type, just enough to piss Ellison off.
Not that he really had anything against Sandburg. But the kid was an easy target, too easy to pass up. He fit some of the stereotypes policemen were known for hating, all in all, the perfect fall guy. And the way Ellison hovered over him actually made it all the more easy. Every fall guy needs an accomplice.
Chavez had started the set up months ago, subtly pushing the kid, leering, starting rumors. Ellison made it clear then that Chavez should stay away from Sandburg, and what he would do if he didn't. Now all that was left to do was put Ellison over the top and make him carry through with the old threat. When Ellison lost it publicly, the set up would be complete.
Creeping up to the head of the bench, he quietly lifted the bar with a grunt, surprised by the heft of it, and lowered it to within a couple of inches of the sleeping man's torso.
"Sandburg, wake up," Chavez hissed and dropped the bar onto Blair's chest.
"Hey!" Blair tried to shout, but couldn't get any air behind the word. He searched Chavez's face with alarmed, angry eyes as he struggled to get oxygen past the heavy bar, pushing against it with both hands.
"How ya doin', pretty boy?" Chavez tormented, as he held the bar down. "Where's your buddy tonight? I didn't think he ever let you out of his sight."
"Get off me, you prick!" Blair managed through clenched teeth.
Chavez added his own weight to the bar and grinned wickedly, enjoying the obvious pain and fear on the younger man's face. When Sandburg looked like he might actually pass out he pulled the bar up and onto the rack, with a lot of effort, almost dropping it on the way up.
"You be sure and tell Ellison about this," he whispered ominously, glancing at the locker room door. He wanted to be in a public place when Ellison retaliated. He needed lots of witnesses, so he ducked out of the empty gym and headed for Vice's bullpen.
***
Blair gasped for air and rolled to the floor as soon as the assault was over. He landed on his knees and rested his arms and head on the bench as he tried to get his ragged respirations under control. Jim wouldn’t need Sentinel hearing or sight to see he was in trouble if he didn’t calm down.
"Blair? What's wrong?" Jim called out a minute or so later as he came out of the locker room. He quickly trotted over and knelt beside him. "Tell me you didn't try to lift that by yourself," he said.
When Blair glanced up at his worried partner, Chavez's name was on the tip of his tongue. "Yeah, pretty dumb, huh?" he rasped out instead.
There had been quite a stir after the incident with Chavez and Jay Brady. Blair could only imagine the uproar if Jim found out Chavez had physically attacked him. In fact, he was afraid of what his blessed protector might do. It wouldn't be pretty.
Jim would probably get himself in some deep shit over it. Chavez wasn't worth it, so Blair clamped his mouth shut. Besides, if Chavez wanted Jim to know about it, there was something dirty about the whole thing.
"Chief, you never lift weights without someone to spot you," Jim lectured as he felt along Blair's chest and ribs. "Did it hit you?"
Blair shook his head no and tried not to recoil when Jim touched the tender area across his breastbone. He nipped the urge to point out Jim had been lifting the heavy weights all by himself prior to Blair’s arrival.
"If you want to try lifting, then let me know and I'll work with you, but don't ever try something like that alone. Do you know how long it took me to work up to that much weight?"
Blair released a short burst of nervous laughter. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to the brain, too many hours without sleep, or just the realization Chavez actually could have killed him, but Blair couldn't stop himself. He lay back on the floor and shook his head again.
"No, Jim, I definitely do not want to try lifting," he said at last.
***
Blair let Jim drive home. He was still a little shaky but covered it by saying he was tired. He really was. The last two weeks he had been on a killer schedule, but as usual, it had all eventually worked itself out. And all he'd had to sacrifice was sleep.
"You sure you're ok?" Jim asked, breaking Blair's train of thought.
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Blair said, unconsciously rubbing his chest. "I think I'll just hit the sack when we get home."
"When's the last time you ate?"
"I had lunch," Blair assured, glad he had someone to look out for him.
***
Chavez waited for well over an hour, but hurricane Ellison never struck. Maybe Sandburg had really been hurt and they had gone to the hospital. No, something like that would have hit the grapevine immediately. Surely the little shit had told him. Why wouldn't he? It was assault, straight up.
Ellison would tear the door off the hinges to get at him if he had to. Or he would have a couple of months ago. Maybe he had misjudged the relationship. Or maybe it had changed since Brady left town. Too bad Brady wasn't still around. At least Chavez could have counted on a little reprisal from that one. And it wouldn't have bothered Chavez a bit to watch the cowboy go down in flames.
Everything had been ready to go, all they needed was the fall guy. When the observer hadn't come to the station at all today, Chavez had nearly panicked. After he calmed down, he thought to sabotage Ellison's truck, certain he would call Sandburg for a ride.
And he did. As soon as Sandburg had shown up, the plan had been put into action. But now, either Ellison didn't know or didn't care about his attack on Sandburg. It was too late to stop, however. He hoped everyone remembered how protective Ellison used to be of the kid. The plan depended on it.
***
Sandburg fell asleep almost immediately when his head hit the pillow. Jim stood in the door of his room and watched him breath for a minute, noting Blair's chest didn't rise and fall as much as usual, somewhat amazed when he realized he actually knew what the usual level of sleeping breath was for his young friend.
So, he watched his friend sleep from time to time. Nothing so unusual about that, he told himself. That's what blessed protectors did and it was all right. As long as the watchee never found out about it.
Tonight, the pattern seemed kind of stilted, almost as if Blair was guarding against deep breaths in his sleep, breathing shallower to avoid pain. Stealthily Jim made his way to the side of the bed and peeled up Blair's T-shirt, knowing an earthquake wouldn't wake him tonight. Sure enough, there was a linear bruise forming across the hairy chest.
Jim bit back his anger. He thought the bar had hit Blair, and yet Blair had denied it. Looking closer, he realized the mark was perfectly symmetrical. When the weights fell, one side or the other should have hit first, making the bruise larger on that side, theoretically.
And the bar had been back on the rack. How could Blair manage to put it back up if it had fallen on him? It was heavy, even for Jim. The bar would have still been on his chest or, more likely, on the floor when he found him. Something didn't add up. Jim decided not to wake his less than truthful partner. He'd find out the real story in the morning.