MAY YOUR DAYS BE MERRY AND BRIGHT

by Wintersrose

Detective James Ellison sighed as he rolled over in his bed and listened – again – to the harsh, wracking cough coming from the room under the stairs, a cough no better for its owner having spent the last four days at home.  Jim sighed again as he sat up and rubbed his face with his hands.  All right.  The cough wasn’t going away.  Then again, the doctor had said the upper respiratory and sinus infections, on top of the hypothermia from just a couple of weeks previous, on top of nearly drowning six months ago… well, Jim was glad Blair was breathing at all.  

Jim slid out of bed, donning slippers that were by the bed and his robe before he padded down the stairs.  The cough came again, deeper now than before.  His roommate's heart rate was fine, if a little fast but his breathing sounded like a bellows to Sentinel ears and Jim sighed.  Damnit.  It was getting worse after all - and no way – with enough snow on the grounds to seriously hamper the rescue crews – to get his roommate to the hospital.  Time to try a few more home remedies – and stuff the antibiotic Blair received from the doctor two days ago down his throat.  

“Chief?”  Jim spoke softly so as not to startle the younger man.  Blue eyes blinked and opened; Jim doubted Blair could actually see him, though he saw Blair quite clearly.  Sentinel vision had its uses after all.  “Blair, buddy, we need to do something about that cough, you’re not getting better.”  

“No… hospital!”  Blair insisted, coughing raspy as he struggled to speak.  The younger man shifted in his bed, feet swinging off the side as Blair tried to sit-up.  Jim moved swiftly to help Blair to a sitting position, then held onto Blair as the young man coughed miserably.  “Turn the light on, please, Jim?”  

Jim nodded and did so, causing Blair to hold a hand over his eyes and blink rapidly in the sudden light in the room.  He held a cup of water for Blair to drink.  

“I think you need to move upstairs, Chief,” Jim told his roommate.  “Your room just isn’t warm enough and you’re getting worse, not better.  You know what the doctor said…”  

“I could sleep on the couch,” Blair fumbled with the blankets and his quilt.  Jim put a hand out and stopped him.   

“Chief… Blair…” Jim said.  “Come on.  I’m not going to bite you.  I promise, no funny stuff.”  

Blair stared up at him through fevered blue eyes and Jim nodded, encouragingly.   

“’K…” the anthropologist murmured as he fumbled again with his blankets.  He got slowly to his feet and was prevented from a header by a quick grab from Jim.  Jim guided his roommate out of the room, up the stairs and into Jim’s still warm bed.  

Jim didn’t slide in immediately, though.  He went downstairs, pulled a humidifier from the closet, along with Blair’s antibiotics, the cough syrup the doctor insisted on and the thermometer.  Stopping only long enough to fill the humidifier in the sink, Jim went back up the stairs and set the humidifier up so it was running, gave the medications to a half-asleep Blair and then popped the thermometer in his mouth.  

His guess was 102 something.  He wasn’t too accurate with Sentinel touch but he knew he was close – very close.   

“102.3.” It was already a degree and a half higher than it had been that morning.  Blair rolled over and was asleep in moments, not noticing when Jim slid in behind him.  Jim vowed to keep both touch and hearing up that night – just in case Blair got even worse…  

******  

“Jim…?” Jim jerked awake at the sound of Blair’s voice.  The teaching fellow stared up at him, blue eyes fogged with sleep and fever and Blair touched his arm.   

“Yeah, Chief, what do you need?” Jim sat up quickly.  

“Gotta go.  You’re blocking the way, man,” Blair managed in a raspy voice.  He coughed again and rubbed at his head.  “Merry Christmas.”  

Jim blinked and stared at him for a moment.  “Oh yeah.  Merry Christmas, Chief.  I forgot.”  

Blair grinned, looking both healthy and sick all at once.  The only thing missing was his customary bounce.  There was no energy in the young man’s slight frame; just a lethargic looking paleness.  But the grin – that was normal.  That was Blair.  All Blair.  

“Yeah,” Blair grinned.  “Come on, man, I gotta go.”  

Jim grinned back and helped Blair out of the large bed, walking in front of him down the stairs until they were at the bathroom.  

“Go ahead, Chief.”  

Jim let Blair go and went into the kitchen to start up a pot of coffee and scrounge around for something for Christmas Breakfast.  He saw that Blair had actually taken the boxes of decorations from the basement sometime or other – but he obviously hadn’t used them.  Jim stared at them for a moment – cardboard boxes marked ‘Christmas’ but he didn’t remember what was actually in them.  He hadn’t decorated since he was married and, although he and Blair had actually done Christmas since Blair moved into the loft, they hadn’t actually decorated.   

Blair shuffled out of the bathroom a few minutes later, rubbing at his hair as he navigated toward the couch and slid into it.  Jim smiled at him as Blair huddled down and drew the quilt on the back down over him, falling asleep between one moment and the next.  

Jim puttered around, finishing their breakfast, moving the humidifier from his room and onto the coffee table, gathering Blair's medications – again – and finally grabbing a clean set of sweats from Blair's room, along with his heavier quilt off his bed.  Jim sniffed the air in the bedroom and frowned; it really was drafty in there.  Blair never complained about it but there was no wonder he had so many blankets on his bed in the wintertime.  

"Chief, time to wake up a little," Jim said as he knelt beside his partner.  "I made you something to eat and I want you to take your medications again."  

Blair snuffled and snorted, and then sat up abruptly with a coughing fit.  Jim held onto Blair's arm to prevent the anthropologist from doing a header off the couch, letting go only when Blair finished coughing.  

"Here," Jim gave Blair a small cup and the antibiotic, and then let him eat – mainly just warm broth, some yogurt, a slice of toast and some orange juice – before making Blair take his least favorite of the medications – the cough syrup.  

"All right, back to sleep, Junior," Jim ordered the younger man.  "I'll wake you in about six hours, if you sleep that long."  

There wasn't an answer as Blair slid to one side, curled up and was asleep in no time at all.

** ** **

Blair snuffled and rubbed his nose, reaching blindly for the box of tissues sitting on the end table beside the couch he lay on and he blew, hard.  Blair sat up, slowly, cautiously, rubbing at sleep-fogged blue eyes before he opened them.  

And blinked.  

And blinked again.  

"Jim?" he asked in a raspy voice.  Blair coughed a few times to try to clear the phlegm in his throat, before he tried again.  "Jim?"  

"Hi, Chief," Jim said and Blair turned to see Jim stringing lights onto a tall Christmas tree.  

"Izzat a tree?" Blair asked.  "Or did I wake up in Santa's workshop?"  

"It's a tree," Jim grinned.  "I thought you wouldn't wake up in time to help me decorate.  Feel like getting up for a bit?"  

"I think so," said Blair, cautiously, as he slid his feet onto the floor.  He came into contact with something warm and fuzzy and looked down, finding a pair of warm, fuzzy, slippers there.   

"Oh," Blair grinned.  "Thanks."  

Blair slid them onto his feet and got up, cautiously, waiting a moment to see if he was going to get dizzy.  He didn’t feel nearly as warm as he had, but he still felt wretched.  

Still, he would love to do anything but lie down – or so he hoped.  Maybe he could sit and put ornaments on one section of the tree.  

A real, live, Christmas tree!  He couldn't believe what he was seeing.  

"When'd you get this?" Blair asked, curiously.  

"Today," Jim said.  "I went out earlier – you were dead to the world.  Granted, it wasn't very fun in the snow but I made it to the nearest lot. The guy was about to close up ‘cause he didn't think anyone was going to come, and he gave me a good deal on this beauty.  What do you think?"  

"I think it's great, man," Blair grinned.  Blair grabbed some ornaments and started putting them on the lower branches while Jim finished wrapping the upper branches in lights.   

"I haven't had a tree in a long time," Blair said.  "This is great."  

Blair, fever-flushed and pale, and leaned back in his chair.  

"Time for you to go back to bed," Jim said.  "You can lie on the couch and supervise.  I'll put it all on and light up the lights.  How's that sound?"  

Blair agreed – he didn't really have a choice; after all, he was too exhausted.  

The tree decorating went on for some time, with Blair offering occasional tidbits of advice but mostly drifting in and out of sleep again.  Jim took a break to make sure Blair ate and took his meds, but otherwise continued until the tree was, to his Sentinel eyes, perfect.  

"Like," Blair said later as Jim slid onto the other couch to watch the lights glowing in the background of snow, streetlights and dark shadows.  "It's great."  

There was that word again.  Both roommates smiled at each other and Blair settled down to sleep.  

"Merry Christmas, Jim," Blair said, softly.  

"Merry Christmas, Chief," Jim answered.  

Merry Christmas!

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.  
We promise to return them where we found them when we're done.