Tased and Confused
Jim woke to a quiet snuffling sound in the downstairs of the loft. Sandburg was gone for the night with some of his university friends, so he knew it couldn’t be him, and no one else had a key to the loft.
Quietly as he could, Jim crawled out of his nice warm bed making his way down the loft stairs to see three men rifling through his possessions. It was obvious by the almost complete silence that they were working in that these men were professionals. In fact, if it weren’t for Jim’s Sentinel abilities, it’s likely that he wouldn’t even have known they were here.
Making up his mind, Jim swiftly went for the knees of his nearest intruder. The would-be thief went down hard, losing his grip on the set of lock-picks in his hand which went flying in all directions across the hard wood flooring, before hitting his head with a sickening thud on the corner of the oak coffee table. Without thinking, Jim moved towards his second target, only taking two strides when his left foot landed painfully on one of the sharp lock-picks now strewn across the living room floor. Jim had no choice but to use his abilities to dial back the pain he was feeling in order to defeat his opponent. A swift kick to the solar-plexus sent the second attacker staggering into the kitchen area, but by this time Jim had lost sight of the third. At this point, he felt a sharp burning sensation in his neck, even with his abilities to block the pain. Jim briefly realized that he’s been tased before the loft around him swum out of focus, then into black.
The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel
Blair Sandburg returns home at about 7:30 the next morning, having decided to stay with a close friend rather than risk his life and others by driving drunk. It was still early, and in deference to his most likely still sleeping friend, Blair quietly walks up the stairs to the loft. Intending to put his key into the lock, Blair is extremely surprised to find the door not only unlocked, but also slightly ajar. Extremely alarmed by this because his friend is nothing if not neurotic about ensuring the security of the loft, Blair throws all pretenses of being quiet aside, swiftly sliding the door open, only to find his best friend lying amidst the debris that had once been their belongings.
“Oh man, Jim, Jim!” Blair runs to friends side, trying to get their as quickly as possible while avoiding the mess on the floor.
Blair places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, intending to gently shake him awake and find out what had happened. Only when he does, Jim lets out an unholy scream that is sure to wake the neighbors and anyone within a five block radius. Jim curled in on himself holding his left foot, screaming in pain over the tiny cut.
Blair tries everything to quiet his friend. There are no visible signs of injury besides the cut, and he’s at a loss as to what to do. Realizing that whatever is affecting his friend is most likely Sentinel related, Blair closes the door to their loft first, in hopes of lessening the chances that they will be found and having the police called. Jim is still screaming as Blair returns to his side, and his voice is starting to sound hoarse and dry. Giving up on any pretenses of preserving their belongings, Blair swipes his arm across the white couch, removing as much as possible from it.
“Seriously, gotta lay off the protein man.” Blair grunts as he lifts Jim’s considerably larger frame as carefully as possible, Blair still ends up depositing his friend in a heap onto the couch. He then proceeds to clean the small cut, ensuring to get rid of all grime in the cut, cringing each time Jim moans at the sensation. Afterwards, he wraps it in an all-cotton bandage to prevent any further reactions.
By this time, Jim’s screams have quieted to sharp stabbing sobs. It’s clear to Blair that his friend would still be screaming if it weren’t for the dryness of his throat, and he’s at a loss as to what to do. Pulling up a chair next to his best friend’s side, Blair places his hand on Jim’s shoulder and begins to speak. It’s the only thing he can think do to bring his friend out of the zone that’s causing him so much pain.
The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel ~ The Sentinel
After what feels like an eternity in mind numbing pain, Jim begins to hear a lilting baritone in the recesses of his mind. It takes him a while, but eventually, Jim is able to discern those tones as that of his best friend Blair. Using his senses, Jim can tell that his friend’s voice is hoarse, and has a slight tremble to it as if he were frightened. Struggling to open his eyes, Jim finally opens them only to see that the sun has dropped below the horizon and evening is approaching.
“Blair.” At that one word, the sound of Blair’s soothing baritone stops and his friend’s face appears in his vision. At some point during the day, Jim’s sobs had quieted even further into the sounds of sleep. Unwilling to break the spell that his voice seems to have on Jim, Blair continued to speak to him about his travels, and teaching, and some of his favorite students; pretty much anything that came to mind, not realizing that Jim had quieted down in the early afternoon.
“Oh my God, Jim! Are you all right? What happened? Who did this? I should get you some water.” Blair quickly babbles off before running into the kitchen just to do that. Stubbing his tone on the various pieces of clutter around the floor both to the kitchen and back, Blair brings a glass of water, holding it out to Jim, who takes it, pulling in a long draw.
“Thanks,” is Jim’s only reply before nodding off into a much quieter and less disturbed slumber.
“No problem, but we are seriously, gonna have discussion about this when you wake up again. There is no way you are getting out of this one.” Blair quickly throws the afghan over his sleeping friend before proceeding to check, double check, and then throw the chair in front of the door for good measure, before proceeding to his own room with a nice cup of chamomile tea falling into bed afterward.