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HALLOWEEN LOONS by Wintersrose Spoilers: none Rating
of Story:
Characters in Story: Blair, Jim, Warnings: none that I can think of, lol Plot Blurb: from the 'kitty thieves' to a sick Blair, it's a Halloween Jim won't forget! Special Note: I would have posted this before Halloween but my server was a bit screwed up. All fixed now! This story is dedicated to my constant source of encouragement (and the occasional nag too, lol!) - The indubitable Dreamweaver! Feedback: totally. Yes! Love feedback! Feedback rocks! Where you say? Oh! zwintersrosez@yahoo.com. Totally :) ** ** ** ** ** ** ** "What
was it you saw, ma'am?" Detective Jim Ellison of the Cascade P.D.
asked the woman who stood in front of him, wondering as he did if he
should have his ears cleaned out again, because obviously he was hearing
things. "Three
kittens, Detective," the woman explained again as if talking to a
total moron. "Well,
they were human-sized kittens, adult-human, I mean, but cuddly looking.
So adorable. They
even managed to have kitten-cute eyes.
You know the kind I mean, don't you Detective?
The kind that make you want to give them the extra saucer of milk
you just know they're asking you for?
That's what they looked like.
I thought it was for the bank, you see.
That they were here to entertain us." That's
one way to put it, Jim thought
with a sigh. "I
was…well, surprised…when one of them pulled the gun and another of
them handed us a note telling us to put money into the bags they brought
with them. Nobody expects to
be held up by…by a kitten!" Jim
rubbed at his forehead. Why
me? he thought. I get
to investigate a bank robbery perpetrated by 'cuddly kittens.'
I swear I'll never live this down, at the station. Jim
sighed again and looked down at his report.
"Did you notice anything about the…kittens?
Could you tell what race they were?
Hair or eye color?" "Oh,
no sir," the woman prattled onward.
"There was nothing you could see, just the costumes.
They were well-done, though, by a professional.
It kind of reminded me of that musical.
You know, Cats?" "Ma'am,"
Jim said patiently. "You
know that you can see the skin of the people in Cats." "Oh,"
the woman said. "Well,
I don't know. It was so
fast, you know? And a little
scary too, the way they were waving those guns around." Jim
took a deep breath and looked around.
His partner was sitting in a chair nearby, his coat still wrapped
tightly around him, and Jim frowned.
Obviously the bug that Sandburg was fighting off was about to
make a full-blown appearance. On
Halloween, no less. It
just figured. The whole day
had been like this [all day]. Hold
up by kittens. Sick
partners. Disgruntled
bosses. And kids
trick-or-treating all over the station.
Jim supposed it could be worse. ***
*** **** *** *** *** *** *** ** *** ** *** ** *** ** *** ** *** ** *** October
31st always seemed to bring out the crazies, the little
ghouls and goblins and the much bigger, more deadly, criminal element.
For Detective Jim Ellison of the Cascade P.D. it meant more
stress, more loons to chase, more crimes to solve, and one very antsy,
running-on-empty, partner, roommate and friend. Said
partner, roommate and friend, Blair Sandburg, sat slumped in the
passenger seat of Jim's large Explorer, blue eyes at half-mast, curly
chestnut-hair-covered-head leaning against the door. Coughing
intermittently, sneezing occasionally and obviously fevered, Sandburg
presented the obvious picture of hapless misery.
Jim watched the younger man out of the corner of one genetically
heightened eye and smiled. "Go
ahead and say it," Sandburg rasped hotly as he shifted
uncomfortably and huddled his arms closer, blowing on his hands. "Say
what?" Jim asked innocently, as he hit the blinker before making a
right turn onto a nearby street. "I
told you so – or whatever you're saving up," Sandburg murmured.
The younger man blew on his hands again and snuffed desolately.
"Might as well get it over with now." Jim
hid a smirk and managed a somewhat innocent – and sympathetic –
smile. "What
makes you think I was going to say anything?
You don't need any lectures from me about going to work with a
102-degree temperature or lungs that sound like a congested hyena, do
you?" "Ha
(cough, cough) ha," Blair
muttered as he shivered. "Ha." Jim
placidly turned most of his attention back to the road while keeping his
genetically superior hearing on his roommate's lungs.
Jim briefly debated a detour to the hospital but figured Sandburg
might balk at that. Then
again, if the kid had bronchitis – or worse – he might need a
doctor, antibiotics and possibly an inhaler. "Change
of plans, Chief," Jim said, making up his mind. A
blue eye opened fully and stared doubtfully at him. "We're
going to the emergency room. You're
getting worse." Jim put
on his best, scare-them-where-they-stand, no-nonsense voice.
"You need drugs." The
eye closed and Sandburg huddled more tightly into himself.
Jim raised an eyebrow, a little stunned by the lack of protest. Kid
must be more sick than I thought,
Jim thought, concerned. No
protests. Jim
pulled up in the parking area at the hospital and got out to help Blair.
They hustled through the colder-than-seasonal-average air into
the emergency room doors at Cascade General hospital. Mayhem
abounded in the emergency room, as rugrats of all shapes, sizes and ages
ran helter-skelter through the area, all of them dressed up in a variety
of costumes (most of which Jim didn't recognize).
Jim sighed and rubbed at his head as he fought his way through
the small crowd of juveniles to the admitting desk, and asked if it
would be possible to get help for his sick friend without having to wait
forever to corral the little demons taking over the place. The
admitting nurse, whose nametag said "Constance Mayberry,"
smiled a little as she handed Jim a clipboard.
"If you can handle the paperwork, I can get your friend back
to a doctor right away. Sorry
about the mess, we're having trick-or-treating but, as you can see,
something's gone wrong. We're
trying to get it all straightened out.
They're from one of the local youth homes.
We can't seem to find their keepers." Jim
nodded and made his way into a crowded, child-filled waiting room.
The decibels in there caused him to dial-down his enhanced
hearing to something tolerable and he settled into a seat to start the
paperwork. It
was the fifth bump on his elbow that caused him to finally stand up, set
the page to one side and let out a single, one-word, roar. "E-NOUGH!" Every
rugrat in the area stopped what they were doing and turned to look at
him. Jim stood for a moment,
his most hostile and vicious glare present on his face even as he began
to calm down. "All
of you will sit down, right now, in a seat and be quiet," he said.
"And you will wait, quietly, until whatever adult is
responsible comes for you. Understand?" The
kids all stared at him with shocked worry, but he was pleased to note
they all flew into seats – and when those ran out, sat down on the
floor as well. Jim heard
soft clapping coming from the admitting desk and he sent a quick wave at
Nurse Constance. It
only took a single look to quell any dramatics after that, and Jim
finished his paperwork to a much quieter and more well-behaved roomful
of kids. He flashed a single
glare at the kids when he brought his paperwork back to the nurse, and
he stood in the doorway while he waited for Blair's doctor to come and
give him news. Fortunately,
the kids’ keepers arrived about the time the doctor did and, still
somewhat scared that the big scary man might hurt them if they
misbehaved, the kids went out to the bus waiting for them at the
entrance. The keepers
apologized profusely for the mayhem and swore it would never happen
again. Jim didn't hear what
had happened, though, because the doctor occupied him. "Your
friend should be okay," the doctor said.
"We've given him an inhaler treatment and a prescription for
that and an antibiotic. He's
to stay home, preferably in bed, for the next week.
If his fever doesn't break in two days, bring him to his regular
doctor or back here. If it
gets any higher, bring him here immediately." Jim
nodded his agreement and took the 'scripts from the doctor. He
found Blair sitting on a bed in an exam room, still flushed with fever,
still looking wretched. Sandburg
gazed up at him through fever-bright eyes then back at the floor. "Ready
to go home, Chief?" Jim asked. Sandburg
coughed and nodded. He slid
off the bed with Jim's help and put his heavy jacket back on. The
ride home was as quiet as the earlier one, and Blair didn't protest
Jim's help on the way upstairs to the loft.
Jim got Blair settled on the futon in his room before running to
the pharmacy to get the prescriptions filled and some juice,
acetaminophen and a box of Blair's favorite tea.
On
the way out he passed the candy aisle and got a couple of bags – just
in case. Finally
he was back at home, giving Blair a dose of the antibiotic and a glass
of orange juice to wash it all down. Jim
spent the rest of the evening passing out candy to the occasional
trick-or-treater, and getting the loft all spic-and-span.
He called his boss, Simon Banks, and arranged for a couple of
days off work. Finally,
he went to stand in Blair's doorway, and as Blair opened up his eyes at
one point, the younger man smiled at Jim, blinked a few times and closed
them again. "I
told you so," Jim whispered, amused, and, with a twinkle in his
eyes turned away. Halloween
might bring out the crazies and the loons but at home, everything was as
it should be.
THE
END
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Disclaimer: The Sentinel is the property of Pet Fly
Production and UPN. We've only borrowed the characters for a few
frolics in the sun. |
