Spin

Jim was at the gym, pushing himself hard. He’d been spending most of his nights there, ever since Blair blew up at him that night over supper. It was good, he kept telling himself. Blair’s cleansing himself, letting go of the pain. Getting in touch with how he feels. Sorting things out. It didn’t feel good. At all. It felt like hell. He sat up from doing sit-ups, and wiped sweat from his forehead. The thing was, it didn’t look like they were going to get past this one. Maybe they should move on, separate. Keep the good memories and look back fondly on their time together. ‘Not likely,’ he thought, a wry grin twisting his face. He stripped off his sweat-soaked tank top, preparing to hit the showers. Either they were going to slowly kill themselves or each other, or they were going to live in tense silence for the rest of their lives. Either possibility was better than the alternative; separation.

Blair smiled as Kristen laughed at something he said. ‘Maybe Jim was right, maybe this is the best thing.’ He was feeling a bit more alive. Who knew they would last more than a one-night stand? So far it had been a week. Joel and Simon had also started hanging around the loft more and more. It was nice to see them, and they never stayed too long, but just enough to make his day a bit more worthwhile. Come to think of it, they had been slowly increasing the periods of time spent at the loft. ‘Duped again,’ he thought, smiling. A glow of something akin to happiness lit up in his chest. Just small, like an ember, but it was there.

"I’ve got to go, baby, but I’ll see you tomorrow," Kristen got up from the table and kissed Blair good-bye.

"Bye Kristen," he grinned goofily after her and paid for their bill. Walking out through the door, he had an inane urge to whistle. He moseyed on his way toward the loft, not really concentrating on where he was going.

"Hey," a voice came behind him. He turned, tensing. "If it isn’t Professor Sandburg, the national fraud." The guy was drunk, but his partner wasn’t. His friend licked his lips nervously.

"Come on Jake, let’s go," he pleaded.

"Not ‘til I get my say," staggering forward, Jake stopped right in front of Blair, who was standing stiffly, looking resolutely forward. He figured it would be best just to let the guy have his say, then let them both leave. Jake spat in Blair’s face. Blair flinched, but didn’t move to wipe it away.

"It’s scum like you who make this world a bad place," Jake slurred. Blair nearly laughed at the irony, but wisely kept silent. Jake blinked, looked at Blair closely and seemed to sober.

"You ruined lots of peoples lives, you know?" he said. The drunken slur had left his voice, and this stunned Blair. "My son… he used to be in your class. Thought the world of you. Now this…" Jake shook his head. "I can’t stand to look at you."

Blair stood still for a long time after they had left, in that same spot.

"Where’s Blair, Jim?" Joel asked. They were at the loft on one of their, what Blair had once bitterly termed "charity visits", but Blair was nowhere to be seen. Jim ran a weary hand over his face.

"He’s with that chick he’s been seeing… Kristen. I don’t get it guys, he was getting better, looking happier and eating more. Then one day, *bam*! He goes back into his shell. And now he’s eating his time away by hanging around this… woman."

"I thought you urged him to get a date?" Simon said, crossing his arms.

"I did, but this isn’t what I expected. I don’t like her." Jim kinda laughed. "He sure knows how to pick ‘em." Regardless of the words, it was said with soft affection.

"Maybe it’s just a minor low point and he’ll come back out of it soon," Joel suggested.

"It is expected," Simon added. Jim went to the windows and looked out, not responding.

"I can’t believe how low I’ve sunk," Blair said to Kristen. They were at her place, on the couch. Her apartment was small and shabby. "This drunkard can’t stand to look at me." He buried his face in his hands. Kristen massaged his shoulders.

"It can get better, baby," she whispered in his ear.

"How?" he asked plaintively, looking up. She got up and disappeared into her bedroom. For a moment he thought she wanted him to join her, but she came right back out, carrying something. It wasn’t until she was closer that he saw it was heroin. He sat in stunned silence. She pressed the spoon into his hand.

"It can take you someplace else, baby. Away from here, and all the pain. Trust me." Blair felt slightly nauseous, his mind reeling back to that incident with Golden. That was hell. He lifted the spoon. This could be heaven. A long moment passed. Then he stood up and pressed the spoon back into Kristen’s hand.

"I’ve gotta go."

Part IV

It’s a tough call
It’s a long haul
Before it’s done;
OK, it stinks,
But then you knew
That going in.It’s a rough ride
On the back roads;
That’s half the fun
Iron out the kinks,
That’s what you do,
You give it spin.
Spin…

Blair stopped seeing Kristen. The temptation to give in a become a druggie was to great. ‘At least then people would have some valid reason for hating me,’ he thought bitterly, sipping his beer. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at his anthropology books, pondering what to do with them. Without ceremony he stood up, and dropped the nearly empty bottle to the ground, where it tilted and the few contents it did contain slid over his floor. Ignoring it, he gathered his books into his arms and walked down to and deposited them in the trash. A news reporter came up to him, spewing forth questions, but Blair pushed by him, not listening and walked back up to his room.

It was rather funny, he supposed. After the press conference the media had been waiting for him at both the loft and the police station. Luckily, he and Jim had beat them to the latter. While he was in the hospital they had spent the first few days buzzing around the doors. When he didn’t wake up, they had slowly left. Once he was released, they were back with a vengeance, at the loft and the police station. When he didn’t come out they had once again gotten discouraged. Jim had pulled the phone plug out so the calling would stop. Then he started to move around, but where he was going befuddled them. They never caught on he spent all his time at a bar or with a virtual prostitute. Now he was back to staying hidden in the loft, and they were still waiting for their, oops, his story. But thankfully, there weren’t swarms of them now, just one or two everywhere he turned.

Blair tugged on his coat and grabbed his keys. Though he might be digging his own grave, he was going to the station. To see Joel and Simon. He felt terrible about the way he had treated them when they had last shown up. He had been curt and callous, finally retiring to his room without being excused and slamming the door, refusing to emerge. He had been like a five year old brat, he reflected, swallowing hard.

He made it into his car fine, slamming the door in the reporter’s face and pulling away without so much as a backward glance.

"When did it become so," he mused aloud to the silent interior. "That I should care more about Simon and Joel’s feelings than Jim’s?" But that thought made him want to cry, so he pushed it away.

There was another reporter leaning against a police car, waiting for him. He snapped to attention eagerly when Blair got out of his car.

"Mr. Sandburg, is it true that you lied about finding a Sentinel?" Blair shot a withering glance at the young man.

"Did you watch the press conference?" he asked. The kid nodded enthusiastically. Instead of being intimidated, he was practically jumping for joy. This was the first time Blair Sandburg had spoken to a reporter!

"Then you should know the answer to that," and he slammed the door behind him, ignoring the young man’s deflated look. His heart started beating faster as he came closer to Major Crimes. This would be the first time he’d been there since the shooting with Zeller. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he steadied himself and walked in.

"Hey Blair!" Brown wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a half-hug. "It’s great to see you! How are you feeling?"

"I’m doing good, H," he smiled up at the larger man.

"Sandburg!" Rafe noticed him and looked around for someplace to set his coffee and files. Dropping them onto a desk, he came quickly up. "We’ve missed you. How are you doing?"

"Sandy, it’s about time you showed up," Megan came next, trying to look mad, but a large smile split open on her pretty face.

"Sandburg!" Dazed, Blair watched Nelson, a man he had chatted with a few times come up. "How are you? It’s been lonely around here."

In the end, it wasn’t his grave after all, but a balm to his spirit. Jim sat at his desk, unnoticed, watching everyone shaking Blair’s hand and pounding him on the back. A tiny smile appeared at the corner of his mouth before fading. He looked down at the papers on his desk and took a deep, sad breath.

"I was glad you came by the station today," Jim said softly later. They were back at the loft. Jim stood in the kitchen, watching him uncertainly, wearing that ridiculous apron and knotting his hands in a dishtowel. Blair felt a wave of affection crest over him at the sight.

"Me too," he offered a small smile. Jim responded with a shy one of his own. Blair’s grew larger. So did Jim’s. They sat there for a second, smiling widely at each other. After the bruising weeks of silence, this serene quiet between them felt like paradise.

Part V

Spin for the genius
Who fixes what’s broke.
Spin for the mirrors
And spin for the smoke.Spin for the lady
Who lives in the shoe,
Gone through the battles,
But still she gets through.And spin for the piggy
Who fakes it on cue.
Who patches the cracks
And then sniffs at the glue.
And spin for the piggy
Who hazards the cost
But never admits
That the game has been lost.
Spin…
Spin…
Spin…

"Have you got that?""Yeah.""Careful!""I am. Stop worr-" crash"Stop laughing, Jim."This isn’t funny."Fine! Pick it up yourself." Blair had a huge grin on his face as he considered the man in front of him. Jim was sitting on the floor, laughing helplessly. It wasn’t even that funny, but Blair realized that all the suppressed emotions from months and weeks of strain and tension were finally being released. From both of them. He sat down and began to laugh too.But appearances count.

And on that count
You’re richer than sin.
It’s a good time.
It’s a great life.
No, no, really,
I mean it.

The End

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