Blair struggled up the stairs, panting heavily and slowing gradually.  Of all the days to have the elevator go out, he thought.  It must be my day. He had just returned from his second visit to the University Health Clinic in a week.  He'd gone first for a persistent sinus infection, finally giving in to Jim's constant pressure to go and get some antibiotics.  It was pretty hard to hide a fever from a man with heightened senses who also happened to be your roommate.

The first course of antibiotics hadn't worked, and the sinus infection had spread to his ears.  Despite his best efforts to stay away from Jim and pretend that he was getting better, not only Jim but everyone in Major Crimes had noticed that he wasn't improving but seemed worse.  It hadn't helped that the ear infection made him a little dizzy and queasy, several of the detectives having seen him weaving a crooked path to the restroom a couple of times to splash cold water on his face.  This time Jim had gone to the point of threatening to handcuff him and take him into the Clinic, holding his hand.

After a stern lecture from the doctor about taking better care of himself, the doctor changed his antibiotics and gave him new prescriptions for decongestants and a painkiller.  As much as Blair had hated to admit it, the pain in his ears had been making it hard for him to sleep, so he had grudgingly accepted the medications.  The doctor had warned him that these were stronger medications than his first round, and suggested that he take them with food to minimize possible unpleasant side effects.  Blair was barely listening, instead concentrating on fighting another wave of queasiness.  Finishing off with an injection of antibiotics and directions for bed rest and drinking plenty of fluids, Blair had finally escaped.  He had filled the prescriptions on the way out of the Clinic and had hurried home.

Now, momentarily resting on the landing below the last flight of steps to the loft, he leaned heavily against the hand rail.  His heart was pounding and sweat was pouring down his face, and he felt even more lightheaded than before.  Grabbing the tail of his flannel shirt, he quickly wiped his face as he worked on slowing his breathing.  After a few moments' rest, he slowly trudged up the remaining stairs and put a weak smile on his face.  Joel and Henri were coming over to watch the Jags game with them, and he was determined that he was not going to miss the game because Jim thought he was too sick and needed to be in bed.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the doorknob and let himself into the loft.

---------------

Jim looked up from setting chips and pretzels on the table as Blair walked in.

"Hey, Chief.  What did the doctor say?"

Blair stopped in his tracks, looking startled at seeing his roommate.

"Uh, Jim, what are you doing home?"

"We wrapped up the Jones case and since we've all been working double shifts this week, Simon sent us home early.  Trust me, Chief, no one complained."

Another voice pitched in from the living room.

"You got that right, man.  He didn't have to say it twice."  The smiling faces of Joel and Henri peered at them over the back of the sofa.

"Hey, Joel.  Hey, H."  He dropped his backpack by the door and eased out of his wool coat.

"You didn't answer my question, Blair.  What did the doctor say?"

Blair sighed and picked the backpack up again, setting it on the table.  "He said that I definitely have an ear infection now, too.  He gave me a shot and some different and stronger meds, and the usual stuff about getting plenty of fluids, lots of rest, you know, the usual."

Jim walked over and took a closer look at his partner.  Blair's face was flushed, hiding somewhat the dark circles that had appeared under his eyes over the last week.  As much as he had tried not to nag about it, he knew that Blair had not been sleeping well for days.  He could tell without touching him that he had a high fever, and he could see and smell that his hair and T-shirt were damp with sweat.  Even as Blair was getting the bottles of pills out of the pack Jim could see that he was trembling, whether from fever or exhaustion Jim couldn't tell.

"You don't look too good, Chief.  Maybe you should take your pills and go straight to bed."

"Are you kidding, and miss the game?  No way, man, I got too much riding on it.  You guys are going to owe me big time when the Jags lose this one. Besides, I'm fine.  I just had to hike up all of those stairs because the elevator is out again, and my pack must weigh 50 pounds.  I'm just out of breath, man."  He gave an encouraging smile.

"The doctor told you to rest, didn't he?"  Jim walked over and filled a glass with water, then handed it to Blair as he returned to the table.  He watched carefully as Blair shook pills out of two of the bottles but left the other one on the table.  "Uh, what about these?"

Blair swallowed the four pills in his hand, grimacing as they scraped down past his sore throat, inflamed from days of coughing.  "Those are pain pills, I don't have to take them unless I need them."

Jim gave him a sideways glance as he picked up the bottle of pills and read the label.  "I don't know, Chief, I think you should take one of these.  You look like you're in pain to me."  He opened the bottle and shook one out onto his palm and handed it towards Blair.

With a sigh, Blair reluctantly took the pill and swallowed it down.  "There, are you happy?"

"Ecstatic, Chief.  How about some hot tea to wash those down with, I can bring it to you in your room?"

"Forget it, Jim.  I can rest just fine on the sofa, watching the game.  And I can make the tea myself, thank you very much.  Just let me put my backpack in my room."

Blair picked up his backpack and disappeared into his room for a few moments, then made a stop in the bathroom before returning to the kitchen. Putting the kettle on the stove, he rummaged around in the kitchen cupboard for just the right tea and set it on the counter.  Waiting for the kettle to boil, he wandered into the living room and sat on the arm of the sofa and chatted with Henri and Joel.  Jim watched him critically, more worried than he would have liked to admit that Blair was sicker than he was letting on.  For Blair to have conceded to two Clinic visits in one week was unprecedented.

When the kettle whistled Blair returned to the kitchen and made his cup of tea, adding lemon and honey in exactly the right proportions before slowly carrying it into the living room and perching again on the sofa arm.  Jim called out from the kitchen.

"Hey, are you guys ready for some sandwiches?  What do you want to drink?"

Joel and Henri piped up eagerly, more than ready for sandwiches and a few beers after such a long and hard day and week.  Blair set his tea down on the coffee table and stood up.

"I'll give you a hand, Jim."

Jim turned to tell him that he could handle it, just in time to see Blair raise a hand to his head as he suddenly turned pale.  He took a few unsteady steps towards the kitchen before looking up uncertainly, a glazed look in his eyes.

"Uh, I don't feel so good…"  He took one more step before his eyes rolled up and his eyelids closed, slumping forwards and bouncing off of the edge of the table.  Jim ran over and managed to catch his falling body before his head hit the floor.

"Joel!  H!  I need a hand here!"  Blair was face down, his hair hanging down and obscuring his face, Jim cradling his head above the floor.  With the way that Blair had struck the table, he was worried that turning him over by himself might aggravate any injuries.  "Give me a hand turning him over. Careful, I think he hit the table with his head, he might have a head or neck injury."

The three men turned over the limp form, carefully keeping Blair's head and neck in alignment as they did so.  He gently straightened out his arms and laid them at his sides as Henri straightened out his legs, then Jim used his heightened senses to scan over his friend's body.  He couldn't see anything that looked like broken bones, and his breathing and heart rate were steady, if a little fast.  Brushing his hair back and looking into his face, gently resting a hand on his forehead, he could feel the high fever and the dampness of his skin.  A tiny trickle of blood seeped from his hairline high above his left eye, and Jim could see a small cut and the start of bruising beginning there.

Even as he was checking him out, Blair began to stir.

"Hmmm…"  Eyelids fluttering open, he tried to focus on the faces hovering above him.  "Wha…what happened?"

Jim grinned in relief.  "You suddenly decided to take a nap.  Face down, on the floor."

Blair suddenly seemed to realize where he was, and started to sit up.  He didn't get far, a moan escaping his lips and his eyes closing as he slumped back, Jim helping him gently back to the floor.

"Oh, man.  My head…"

"Yeah, you banged it on the table on your way down.  Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"No, just my head."  He opened his eyes again, meeting Jim's concerned glance.  "This really sucks, man."

Jim smiled and patted him on the shoulder.  "Yes, it does."  He looked over at Joel and Henri.  "Give me a hand getting him into his room?"

They nodded their assent, and they helped Blair up into a sitting position. He made an effort at an indignant glare.  "I can walk, I'll be fine."

Helping him up to his feet, he wavered unsteadily as Jim and Joel walked him carefully into his room and to his bed.  He turned and sat down heavily with a groan, holding his head.

"Yes, you will be fine, but you're not right now, Chief.  Bed for you, no arguments."  Jim helped Blair off with his shirt, shoes and jeans before helping him slide beneath the covers.  "I'll be right back, I want to look at that cut on your head."

He walked into the kitchen, grabbing one of Blair's pill bottles as he flipped open his cell phone.  Dialing the University Clinic, he pointed in the direction of the bathroom when Joel asked where he could get first aid supplies for him.  When the receptionist answered, he asked for Blair's doctor and explained that it was urgent.  Joel returned with supplies and Jim mouthed "thanks" as he took them and returned to Blair's room.

Blair was lying with his eyes closed, but Jim could tell that he wasn’t asleep.  The trickle of blood on his forehead sharply contrasted with his pale complexion and the dark curls scattered over the pillow.  Jim sat down carefully on the side of the bed.  Blair didn't even open his eyes, he just scooted over a little to give him more room.

When the doctor got on the phone, Jim explained to him that Blair had passed out and struck his head when falling.  The doctor told him about his earlier diagnosis and recommendations for Blair, and said that Blair had probably passed out from a combination of the strong medications, high fever, dehydration and exhaustion.  He made recommendations for observing his head injury, but mainly repeated what he had told Blair: that he needed to eat, get lots of fluids, take the meds, and stay in bed for 2 or 3 days.  Jim thanked him and hung up.

He reached over and gently cleaned the cut on Blair's head, putting on some antiseptic before covering it with a bandaid.  Finishing there, he took a damp washcloth and wiped the sweat from Blair's face.  Blair opened his eyes and looked at him balefully once he was finished.

"Sorry, man.  I'm not very good at being sick."

Jim gave him a stern look.  "No kidding.  I'm just glad you didn't get hurt worse.  Your doctor just told me what he told you."  Blair closed his eyes again with a groan.  "What part of "bed rest" don't you understand, Chief? And he said that he warned you to take those pills with food in your stomach.  Are you trying for hospital time, here?"

"Jim, Jim, please don't yell, my head's killing me.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Jim could see the lines of pain on Blair's face as he raised his hands to hold his head on each side.

He sighed and shook his head in frustration, softening his voice.  "I won't yell.  Sorry.  But you're staying in bed for the next three days if I have to sit on you, you got that?"

Blair dropped his hands and rolled over onto his side, facing away from Jim. "Yeah, yeah, I got it.  Just leave me alone, will you," he said petulantly. "Just let me suffer in peace."

Jim stood up with a grin and pulled the covers up to snug them around Blair's shoulders.  He could feel the fever and shivering there, and he went and got another blanket out of the closet and spread it over the bed, tucking it closely as well.  Satisfied, he grasped Blair's shoulder and gave it a warm squeeze before reaching over and turning out the light.  He headed for the door.

"OK, get some sleep, Chief.  Let me know if you need anything, all right?"

A soft mumble rose from the far side of the bed, Blair already on his way to slumber as he warmed up.

"Thanks, Jim."

"You're welcome.  Sleep well, buddy."

THE END