Rats


Blair's arm itched. It had started out as just a slight annoyance, but after twenty minutes he was near a state of panic in his need to scratch it. The only problem was the lump of plaster that was wrapped firmly about his lower arm. The break was simple, so they had told him, and they could see no problems arising from the healing process... Well as far as Blair was concerned the sadistic bastard who'd spoke those words had never, ever had a plaster on his arm and an itch that was turning him into a demented version of Lash.

Suddenly a thought hit him. He needed a knitting needle, a nice long knitting needle to solve his problem, then with a sigh of frustration he remembered that neither himself nor macho, covert ops training, Ellison had taken up knitting in the last few months. Then he remembered seeing a film once where one of the actors had portrayed a person with a broken leg, and had faced a similar problem with his plaster... if he remembered correctly an old fashion clothes hanger had come to that particular actors rescue.

Standing he flung open his wardrobe door. He didn't have a lot of clothes and sighed in frustration when he noted that they hall hung perfectly well on new modern plastic hangers. The would be of no use to him.

Spinning he adjusted the annoying sling, that now housed his plastered arm, and with his face set in determination he headed into the bathroom, a distance memory telling him that he had left such a hanger on the back of the bathroom door a few weeks ago. He gritted his teeth when he found it missing. How could someone steal his hanger... he paused, there was only one person who would do that is this particular loft. His eyes tilted upwards as he considered whether his courage had ventured far enough to enter that domain.

He swallowed hard, then hissed as the itch flared again. Jim was at work... Jim wasn't expected home for at least, he glanced at the time, another two hours. Jim would never know.

He paused on the bottom step. Jim would know, he would be able to smell him, would know that he'd been upstairs in his bedroom. He would have to mask his scent. Now what could he use. Turning he head back to the kitchen and delved awkwardly under the kitchen sink.

He pushed aside the spray oven cleaner, washing powder, floor polish, furniture polish... he paused then pulled the furniture polish back into view. It was one that he had brought but never used after the first time. He smiled as he recalled Jim coughing fit, and how he had needed to keep his sense of smell dialled down for hours afterwards. It sold itself as having the scene of wild flowers growing in a field of nature.

Standing he pushed the cupboard door closed and smiled. It was pure evil and even Lash would have shivered at the image.

Within minutes Blair had the Hanger Campaign planned. He would have to made a show of cleaning up the loft, but he could always plead that exhaustion and the pain of his arm overtook him. Yeah, Jim would be very solicits as he was still feeling guilty over the injury. Any injury which Blair willing admitted was his own fault. He had not done as Jim had requested and stayed in the truck. He had sneaked into the warehouse when he'd heard shots fired, and he had tried to tackle the woman criminal as she fled. His argument had been that he had not realised that she was a black belt, and his arm was held up in defence of himself. She had chopped down upon it. The pain had been unbearable, and he was only to pleased to see that Jim had arrived and taken her on, before she could finished her attack on him. Blair had not even realised that he'd broken it until after the criminals had been carted away, and Jim had insisted on dragging him to the nearest emergency room. So he firmly understood that it was his fault. But as the itch flared again, he also knew that he would scratch it by what ever means he could and if that meant making Jim feel slightly guilty about his injury, well there were casualties in war.

Advancing carefully up the stairs, he paused on the top step and looked about the large bedroom. It was like the loft below, roomy with the sunlight streaming in the skylight above him. He slowly advanced towards the wardrobe and paused just before opening the door, this was it the door or die. He lifted the furniture polish and squirted a few puffs into the air. Then coughed himself as it hit his sinuses. Then dropping the can upon the floor, he opened the door and just stood there drinking in the sight.

He knew that he would have to remember the exact position of each and every item, if he moved them, then he would have to replace them in precisely the same position. Reaching in he began to carefully move the clothes along the pole. After several minutes of fruitless searching, his actions became less careful and assured, and more frantic. The itch flared again.

Without thinking he swiped at his plaster cover arm and then hiss in pain as his injury protested. Then groaned as the itch persisted past the pain. With a growl of annoyance he began to pull the neatly arranged clothes out of the wardrobe and tossed them over his shoulder. Where was that damn hanger.

When he came back to his sense, he found himself staring at the jumbled pile of clothes before him, and no hanger. Slowly a deeper panic began to grown inside of him. He gasped in short breaths and tried to stop his mind from spinning out of control.. No furniture polish was going to explain this. No way... No How.

Suddenly his breath stopped in his lungs as he heard the a key turning in the front door lock downstairs. His felt his eyes widen as he looked for an escape route. There was none, to survive he had to pass his loftmate and to do that he had to move down the stairs, and to do that Jim would know that he'd been upstairs in his bedroom, riffling through his clothes. Blair suddenly straighten his shoulders and knew that he was a dead man.

***

"Hey Chief." Jim called out to his young friend, which tuned into a racking, gasping cough. "What the hell." Jim spluttered, eyes tearing, as he walked further into the room. He fought to dial down his sense of smell, but it was no good the damage had been done. Gasping he stumbled towards the sink and poured himself a glass of water which he swallowed hasty while he considered what the awful smell was, and what could have caused it.

Suddenly he realised that the smell could be a side affect of an attack upon the loft, and he quickly tuned his hearing towards his friends room, even as he moved in that direction he could tell that Blair was not there. In fact. He paused a frown marring his handsome features. Blair's heart beat was coming from above him. His bedroom.

Without further thought for the smell he raced up the stairs, his gun at the ready, concern for his young friend growing with each step. He stopped at the top of the stair and looked at Blair.

The young man was pale, deathly so, his eyes wide with shock as he loosely held on of Jim's shirts in his healthy hand, and Jim's eyes narrowed, the muscle in his cheek twitched as he noted the can of furniture polished that lay at his feet.

"What the hell is going on here Blair." he asked, his voice rough from the attack of fumes which seems far stronger up here.

Blair opened his mouth and closed it a few times, not issuing a sound. Then he swallowed hard and offered weakly. "Hay Jim.... your home early."

"I asked you what the hell was going on here." Jim voice could have sunk the Titanic. Blair's heart-rate was that of a frightened rabbit and his fear only seemed to fuel Ellison's anger.

Sandburg looked from Jim to the shirt he clutched, then followed Ellison's glance to the can on the floor, with a gasp of shock he dropped the shirt as if it had burned him. Then with surprising courage, he plastered a false smile across his face and said with more bravo then he actually felt. "Oh this..." he motioned to the mess with his good arm, "This I can explain...." his voice trailed off when he realised that he couldn't his mind was blank.

"I'm waiting."

Blair laughed nervously again and raised his uninjured hand up to brush stray hair back from his face. "Rats." he suddenly said, his mind clearing and a smile of filling his face as he continued with the lie, "I... er I thought I heard a rat up here and when I can to investigate.... I saw something slip under the wardrobe and well... you can't let those buggers think this is a free boarding house now can you."

"Rats." Jim repeated as if Blair was just announced that he was going to Mars on the next shuttle.

Blair was on a role. "Yeah.. a really, really big one." he shuddered as he lifted his good arm to indicate the size of it. He recalled once before when he demonstration the size of the rats where he use to live. "

"Rats." Jim stated again moving closer to check Blair for signs of fever. He had seemed fine when he'd left for work that morning, but one of the reason he was home early was because he has worried about his friend. Sandburg just stood there and smiled innocently, it was too much for Ellison. "So you thought the best way to get rid of this... this rat was to pull all my clothes out of the closet and then spray it to death with furniture polish?"

Blair's look glanced down to the can and he offered with totally sincerity. "It seemed like a plan."

"Really." The iceberg was back.

Blair squirmed under the look but held the gaze. His life depended upon it. "Rat's... really BIG rats" he offered again, this time lifting his eyebrows to encourage the belief in his words.

"So let me get this right." Jim said, moving slowly about his young friend as he counted off the points on his fingers. "You thought you saw a rat... you then grabbed up the furniture polish, which is renowned as a rat killer in these parts and coming up here you proceeded to throw all my clothes on the floor, in an effort to find it or distract in with a fashion show."

Blair swallowed hard and without meeting Jim's eyes he nodded, "Big rat." he confirmed again, feeling his world begin to crumble he fought to keep his bottom lip from quivering, he knew he was babbling. "Big, Big rat."

"So Blair." Jim came to a stop in front of his friend, mare inches from him in fact and asked "When did this Rat... this big, big rat move in, and why haven't I seen, heard or smelt him before now?"

"I don't know Jim." Blair sudden said, his tone filling with false concern as he added as innocently as he could, "do you think you've got a problem with your senses?"

Jim gave Blair a very level look and then said, leaning even further into the other man space and face, "No I think I've got a problem with my room mate... now do you feel like explain what really happened here," He looked at his friend and then offered in a mild tone, "or am I going to have to get it out of you another way?"

While Jim didn't actually say what the other way might be Blair just knew that it would be something that he wouldn't like and memory of Jim covert operation past suddenly came back to him. Swallowing hard he considered telling Jim the truth, how the itch had become to much, how he remembered the hanger on the back of the bathroom door, and when he discovered it missing he had thought up this plan to check Ellison's wardrobe for the said hanger. He knew that his friend would understand, hell he'd even help him look for the hanger. Opening his mouth he said, "It was a rat Jim" then he ducked as Jim threw up his arms and tuning about stormed down the stairs, growling in rage and frustration as he did so. He hated it when his young guide lied to him.

Blair stood there for a few more moments, mentally kicking himself for not telling the truth, but some survival instincts were just too strong. Slowly he began to pick up the clothes that lay scattered about the room. Until he heard Jim yell up the stairs, his tone filled with raw anger.

"Get your arse down here Sandburg... I will pick up my own clothes."

Blair looked down at the jumper that he held in his good hand and then slowly let it drop back to the ground as he followed Jim's instructions.

As he made his way downstairs, he saw that Jim was over in the kitchen, making a drink. The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife. Blair kept looking over at Jim, but the older man was purposely ignoring his glances, as he continued to fuss about in the kitchen preparing the evening meal.

Blair sat at the table and watched his movement for a few moments longer, his feeling of wretchedness growing with each second, then sighing in his own frustration he rose and disappeared into his own room, firmly closing the door behind him.

Jim stopped what he was doing and looked at the closed door. He was angry, he knew that Blair had not been telling him the truth, and he could think of no reason why the other man should be in his bedroom, tossing his clothes about. The rat story was not holding any water, and Jim decided that he was only going to give Blair until after dinner to come clean.

Blair meanwhile had settled himself upon his bed and now lay with his good arm resting across his eyes, as if he could shut out the event of earlier, "Stupid, stupid, stupid" he kept mumbling under his breath as he thought back over his earlier actions, and to make matters worse, his broken arm had moved from itching to painful to blinding agony. He knew that he should have taken one of his pain killers a while ago, but now he could not face going back into the kitchen and seeing Jim again.

While one part of him wanted to tell Jim the truth, another part knew that if he admitted to the lie then the straight as an arrow, anal cop would never let him live it down. His best defence now, he decided, was to say nothing, let Jim think what he will, he would never be able to come up with the truth, and it could be no worse later then it was now.

A knock at his door started him into pulling his arm down and half sitting up. Jim poked his head through the door and said his tone natural "Dinner's on the table."

Clearing his throat Blair answered, still not meeting his companions look, "I'm not really hungry at the moment."

"Sandburg the meal is on the table, just come and eat it," Jim paused before adding, his tone tired, indicating that it had already been a hard day and Blair was not making it any easier. "Don't make this any more difficult then it already is Blair."

Blair felt his anger flair at his words and he shot back, "I'm not a kid Jim and I don't appreciate being treated like one, now I've already said that I'm not hungry." Then he turned over on his side facing away from the door and his friend.

Jim looked at the back that was presented to him for a few moments then shrugged, if Blair didn't want to eat then it was his decision. After all Sandburg was right, he wasn't a child. Jim sighed, it was a damn shame that sometimes he still acted like one. Closing the door he made his way back to the table, then after placing Blair's in the over he moved back and sat to have his own solitary meal.

Blair closed his eyes as he heard the door close, and he cradled his injured arm close to his chest. If he could just get a few hours sleep then the whole affair would seem much clearer. But sleep was hard in coming as every movement he made jarred his arm and caused him to gasp in pain. Finally unable to stand it any longer he turn back over onto his back and rested the arm across his body. Looking at the ceiling he could hear Jim moving across the floor above him, no doubt clearing and hanging up his clothes.

Feeling that it was safe to venture out of his room, he carefully made his way to the kitchen, after getting himself a cup of water he tired to get the lid of his bottle of painkillers, silently cursing under his berth the fact that it was a child protected twist lid, and how did they expect him to get it open with a broken arm.

He was concentrating so much on the task at hand, that he jumped in real surprise as a hand reached over and took the bottle from his grip. Jim effectively twisted the lid off and shook two pills out onto Blair outstretched hand, then offered him the glass of water and watched while he swallow the pills.

Blair thanked him before turning to make his way back into this room. But a hand gently resting upon his uninjured arm prevented him. "Blair," Jim began his tone milder then it had been since he's return from work, "I want to know what went on here this afternoon." When he didn't get a reply he continued, moving away slightly, "Your really starting to worry me here Chief... I mean, I come home to find you upstairs in MY bedroom, after obviously throwing my clothes all over the place, you then preceded to spray furniture polish all over the place, knowing that it's going to upset my senses... WHY?"

Blair wanted to answer him, desperately wanted to explain, he now understood how silly his fears had been, could see from Jim's expression that he was only genuinely concerned for his friend, but the words seemed impossible to say. Taking a deep breath he opened his mouth but Jim interrupted, anger again flaring. "and don't give me that bull shit about the rat... I've been up there and scanned every inch of my bedroom, believe me Blair if there was a rat up there I would have found it." Ellison was unable to hide the hurt he felt by Blair's refusal to confide in him.

Blair closed his eyes, sensing the pain in Jim and knowing that he could never continue to lie to this man who stood before him, this person who had become closer then a brother to him, shrugging by way of an apology he offered weakly, not knowing if Jim would believe the truth any more then he believe the Rat story. "I was looking for a clothe hanger Jim... a metal one."

Jim took a step back, using his enhanced ability to listened to Blair's heartbeat to see if he was lying again, but while his guide heartbeat was fast it was not as hurried as it was when he lied. "A clothes hanger?" he questioned not sure if the answer actually reassured him or not.

Blair nodded eager to explain himself now that he was telling the truth, and began to explain the words tumbling out, now that he had started he could not seem to stop. "My arm itched, I mean it really, really itched man, it was like driving me crazy, and then I remember a film I once saw, where one of the actors had a broken leg and he said that if you straighten out a metal clothes hanger you could get it in between the plaster and the leg, I thought that if I could do that.... then I could scratch... it and..." he stopped and moved over to the table where he slouched down upon the chair, resting his head within his good hand and continued, his voice sounding wretched as he confessed. "I remember that I had left one on the hook behind the bathroom door, but it was gone, so I knew that you must have taken it... and the only place I could think you might have it was in your wardrobe," he paused for breath, then hurried on, unable to met his friends look. "I knew that you would know that I'd been in your wardrobe, and how... er anal you are about your personnel space, so I thought that if I er... kind of covered up my smell then you might not know what I'd done... so I... oh man.." he stopped as if the confession was taking more energy then he had to spare.

"Go on Sandburg.." Jim insisted coming to stand by his friend, glancing up Blair was not able to gage his friends mood so he took another steadying breath and finished.

"I was looking in your wardrobe, and couldn't find the hanger and... well I guess.. I guess I just sort of lost it." He dared to cast another glance up at his friend, again the face was still unreadable.

"So let me get this right..." Jim began, slowly beginning to pace about the room, counting off on his fingers a he walked, "One, you purposely decided to use that furniture polish to confess my senses so that I would not know that you'd been messing about in my room. Two, you lost your temper and threw all my clothes about the room, and three when I come home and catch you, you proceed to lie through your teeth to me and tell me that you saw a RAT." as he spoke the volume of his voice rose until he was standing directly in front of his young friend almost shouting in his face, "Have I left anything out there Sandburg?"

Blair wilted under the glare and slowly shook his head, edging as far away as his seat allowed. "I'm so sorry Jim." he offered weakly.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time pal." Jim shot back before he asked, "and how were you planning on covering up the fact that you suddenly started spraying furniture polish all over the place?"

Blair swallowed hard and opened his mouth, then closed it again, before he mumbled, knowing that his Sentinel would hear it "I was going to tell you that I'd decided to clean up the loft."

Jim pounced upon his words. "You were going to do what?"

Blair cleared his throat and offered again, "Clean the loft Jim... I was going to clean up the loft." Even as he spoke the words he suddenly realised what Jim was going to suggest. Instead to his total surprise Ellison just span about and disappeared upstairs, taking the step two at a time, "Well that seems like a good idea to me Sandburg. so how about tomorrow you spend the day cleaning this loft from top to bottom and if I find one speck of dust you'll have to do it again the next day." He said as he slowly made his way back down the stairs.

"Jim." Blair began to protest, "That's a bit harsh man, after all it was only a small lie." he grumbled sounding for all the world like a six year old.

"I don't think it is Chief... and while your doing it you can think about the ramifications of lying to your friend."

Now that was just to much for Blair to accept, and he felt his jaw set in stubborn mode, but before he could act upon it, Jim whipped out the metal clothes hanger from behind his back and waved it just out of Sandburg's reach.

The young man stared, mouth falling open, any words he'd been about to say forgotten as he watched the slowly moving object of his desire. As if on cue his arm began to itch, and he gritted his teeth.

"Yes sir." Jim spoke, gently rubbing his hands up and down the cool metal. "I can remember when I had to ware a cast... man it's itched like the devils own... but this little puppy soon saw to that.. it was like heaven, fitted just right between the cast."

"Alright.... alright Jim," Blair hissed as he conceded from behind clenched teeth. "I'll clean the loft..."

"And once your arm's healed you'll also cook dinner for two weeks, and do the laundry which will include ironing my clothes, seeing as how you left those upstairs in such a mess." As he spoke Jim waved the clothes hanger about to punctuate each of his demands.

"Man" Blair snarled, his eyes never leaving the waving wire, "you are so out of order."

"So is lying to your partner Sandburg." Ellison snapped all motioned stopped as he anger flared.

Blair swallowed his frustration and realised that Jim was right. He had lied to him, and he deserved much more punishment then Elision was dishing out, so he let a smile of reconciliation cross his lips as he offered, letting his glance settle upon his friends face to show his sincerity. "I will clean the loft tomorrow, do the cooking and the laundry.. all the laundry including the ironing and... and Jim I really am sorry for lying to you."

Jim must have found what he was looking for in his friends expression because he smiled slightly and held out the hanger.

Blair snatched it up and then just looked from his injured arm to the item of his relief then back at the plaster that was wrapped about his arm. He was not able to bend the hanger into the shape he needed to fit it into the cast.

Jim just burst out laughing at his guide's expression as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Er... Jim." Blair began following him his best puppy face in place "you don't think you could er..." he held out the hanger his request clear.

Picking up a dish cloth Jim turned towards the oven and pulled out the meal that Blair had refused earlier, "you eat your meal, and I'll do your hanger."

"Jim." Blair spluttered, "That's blackmail man." he huffed, as he took the offered warm plate and headed back towards the table, followed closely by Jim who laid out utensils and a glass of bottled water. "Eat."

As Blair began to tuck into his food, Jim sat opposite him and began bending the wire into a shaped that his friend would be able to use effectively.

Blair looked up from his plate, happy that thing had settled back to normal or what amounted to normal in their life and he had to smile, why hadn't he just told Jim the truth in the first place. Even as this thought cross his mind Jim sat up straight and then pointed toward the kitchen, Twisting in his chair, as he did so Blair just saw a long tail disappear under the edge fridge.

Meeting Jim startled, bemused expression he said suddenly feeling vindicated, "Rats."

THE END


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