Work Text:
Three Little Words
by Helen W.
God, I hate ERs.
God, I need some coffee.
Blair looked okay. He did. I've seen him look a lot worse.
How many times have I repeated that?
I'm reaching for my cell phone before I register it's ringing. How the hell do I do that?
Well, really, I couldn't care less. Handy in theaters, though.
It's Simon.
Three bodies? Including Lee Brackett?
You'd think Blair might have mentioned that.
Damn please-wait-here-sir, I'm heading through the swinging doors, then left past a spaghetti of equipment, past the counter and "Can I help you?" and into -
There's Blair, reclining on an exam table, and a woman is doing something to him! Blood!
Oh. A tech is filing a narrow vial. There's a snap as she releases the elastic band around his upper arm, then she's withdrawing the needle and having Blair press gauze to the site. She doesn't ask Blair to raise his arm but he does anyway.
She asks him if he feels okay and he murmurs, "Yes," and then, "Thanks, Becky."
"Hey there, chief, you didn't say anything about -" I start as soon as we're alone. Simon used the word 'carnage' but I can't say that to Blair, so I end with, "the bodies."
Blair sighs. "I told you nobody was chasing us," he says.
"Oh," I say. He's right; but I don't know what I was expecting. Not a trail of bodies.
"Have you seen Rodney?" he asks. I shake my head and he says, "Could you listen? Zero in on his voice?"
"No," I say.
But then I hear, from three rooms away, "How long have you been a phlebotomist? Where did you get your training? THERE? You're not putting a needle in my body. Get me someone from pediatrics, and if you send in a resident I'm walking!"
What the hell? "He sounds fine," I say, because if he's making that much noise there's no way he's bleeding internally, and that was the big worry.
"How's your side?" I ask.
"Hardly hurts at all," he says. "It's not like I don't know how to take a hit."
I nod.
He sits up, then swings his legs around. "Um, there's something you should know," he says. "You'll hear it when I make my statement, and I don't want it to come as a surprise, in front of... What I mean is, you should know now."
He draws a breath in deeply, then continues, "Brackett was going to slit my throat. That's why Rodney had to do what he did."
"McKay killed Brackett?"
"Yes," he says.
Thank God - thank God McKay was able to stop Brackett, and thank God Blair didn't have to do the killing.
But Blair is looking like he's waiting for something, and I realize - I have to ask - I step back a half-foot - "Why was he going to kill you?"
"I think he had accomplices watching the park entrances. He knew you were closing in. I don't know whether he didn't want us weighing him down, or didn't want witnesses, or what, but he was done with us."
"Damn," I say. "I didn't think..."
What HAD I been thinking? HAD I been thinking?
Yes, damn it, I'd had good reason to not play by Brackett's rules. I let him lead me around like a trained poodle four years ago, and he'd come damn close to getting away with it. There was no way I was going to play things his way again. Just - no.
And tracing the rental truck had been easy. Within minutes of me reaching him, Simon had had some people out canvassing my neighborhood. They'd quickly gotten a half-decent description of a white panel truck that had been blocking a couple of parking spaces at 848 Prospect around midnight last night. Within a half-hour they'd figured out that it was a rental and called the owner for a plate number. When they found out a truck with those plates had blown a red light in Amberville and got caught on camera at around 2 a.m., Simon called me mid-flight and we'd made our best guess of where the truck had been headed.
"How long did you have, do you think, before Brackett was going to act?"
"He was doing it," he says. "He was putting a knife to my throat."
I almost killed Blair. I didn't mean to, I didn't, I didn't...
"It's okay, man, I'm okay," I hear him say. Somehow he's holding me, he's off the exam table and his arms have me encircled, enfolded. "I'm okay, it all turned out okay."
I shake my head. For a dizzying moment, I wonder if this is a hallucination - if I was too late, if I pushed Brackett too hard, too fast and Blair is dead and I'm living a fantasy, caught in my own head.
"Jim - Jim, don't you DARE wig out on me!"
"I'm not..." That's as far as I get. I press my cheek against the top of his head and wait for my brain to catch up with what my senses know: This is Blair. Sandburg. Alive, miraculously, fantastically, despite my idiocy.
Finally, finally I can step back a little, but my hands don't leave his shoulders. "I'm sorry," I say.
"It wasn't you with the knife," he says.
I nod. Yeah, I know who the criminals were, that's not the issue.
He raises his hands to squeeze my upper arms, then pulls backwards out of my grasp and jumps onto the exam table. "So," he almost sing-songs, "how ya been?"
"Never better," I say, trying to match his tone.
"Miss me?"
"God, yes."
And by the way his breath catches I know that that's not the answer he was expecting. "What did you think?" I ask, serious now.
"Well," he says, "you never call, you never write..."
"I missed you," I say again.
He outright laughs. "Three little words," he says. "I missed you too."
How can I explain this? "I know you don't think I'm doing the right thing," I say. "I guess I just don't want to rub your face in it."
He nods, eyes widening a little. Like that hadn't occurred to him. Not a surprise, really, since it's only now coming to me.
"Listen, Jim," he says, his left hand rising to grasp my arm. "You feel called to be in Colorado Springs. I get that. It's a precious thing, to feel a calling. An uncommon thing. And a pain in the ass to have - I get the feeling that Rodney" - and he nods his head toward where, I gather, he thinks the guy is - "is really tops at whatever the hell he does, but he's completely lost. He's been trying to get a faculty job for years and it's not happening and he can't let it go. I don't know whether that's a calling, or just ego, or a lack of career imagination..."
He laughs. "I can't say I approve of what you're doing, but you have my support. Always, Jim. Do you get the difference? Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I nod. "Hell, chief, you sure know how to give a speech."
He pulls me forward and embraces me again.
* * * THE END * * *