by Lyn



Epilogue for Cypher.


As the chains binding him to the chair were released, Blair sagged forward against Jimís chest, his body boneless, his drugged mind vaguely registering the aches and pains from his earlier struggle with Lash. He was cold, couldnít seem to stop shivering. Large, hot hands cupped his icy face, tilted his head up. He blinked lazily and Jimís face swam into sight, blurred but blessedly real.

"Come on, Chief. Letís go home."

Home. Just moments before Blair had thought he would never go home again and the thought caused a lump to lodge in his throat. Hot tears spilled unbidden from his eyes, dripping off his chin. He gulped a sob of abject sorrow mixed with relief and Jim frowned.

"Where does it hurt?"

Blair shook his head and tried to get his mouth to work. "HÖ ome," he finally managed in a scratchy voice that sounded alien to his ears.

Jim seemed to understand. He smiled, stroked a tear-damp strand of hair from Blairís cheek and helped Blair standÖ or rather lean against him, holding him up, which was a good thing, Blair decided woozily, because his legs seemed to have disappeared.


The doctor finally removed his stethoscope from Blairís chest and pulled up the hospital gown. Blair still couldnít get warm and Jim once again seemed to read his mind, removing his jacket and draping it over Blairís shoulders. Sighing in pleasure, his eyes already drooping closed, Blair huddled gratefully into the warmth.

The doctorís voice buzzed over his head but Blair gave up trying to decipher the words. Jim could take care of it. All Blair cared about was that he was warm, he was safe and he wasÖ

"Come on, Chief, youíre good to go. Letís get you home."

Home. Again the word caused a flush of pleasurable heat to wash over him, vanquishing the icy chill and drawing him down into a cozy oblivion. As he gave in to his exhaustion, he heard the welcome sound of Jim chuckling.


"You with me, Sandburg?" A gentle patting of his cheeks accompanied the words.

Blair forced his heavy eyelids open and gazed around him. His sight was still a little blurred, softening the edges of his vision. He didnít remember getting here though a vague memory tickled, a sensation of floating, of looking at Jimís back, of watching his own hands flopping rhythmically against Jimís shirt. Jim canít have carried him, surely. Jim was a strong guy and all but Blair was hardly a lightweight. He looked up at Jim mutely - his brain appeared to have turned to mush while he was in Lashís clutches. He was certain heíd spat out the entire drug Lash had attempted to force down his throat, maybe he was just really tired. Being kidnapped really took a lot out of a guy.

"Come on, Sandburg, or do you want me to carry you over the threshold as well?"

Oh. That explained the floating then.

He stepped through the doorway and stood in the living room, swaying slightly, taking it all in, in a detached, addled way. The living room was a shambles, books and papers strewn all over the floor, the coffee table smashed, the front door broken down and leaning drunkenly against the wall.

It looked far more welcoming than Blair could ever remember. Blair felt Jimís hand on his shoulder and he looked up at his sentinel, his blessed protector and smiled. "Home."


March 1st 2004


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