Father Figure #25 – Taboo, Tattoo

Simon threw open the door to his office in the Major Crime division of the Cascade Police Department and scanned the detective’s pit.

Ellison had his phone pressed between his face and his shoulder while he hunched over his desk, reluctantly working his way through a pile of reports.

Simon strode toward Ellison’s desk, a tight frown distorting his entire face. He started bellowing out orders before he was even close to the man. “Ellison! Get your coat! Cascade General just called me looking for you. They couldn’t get through on your line.”

Jim sat up straight and grabbed the phone as it fell from his shoulder. A combination of mild concern and aggravation battled for control of his ice blue eyes. He muttered a quick, “later”, into the receiver and hung it up. “What’s the problem? My dad’s out of town on business and Blair’s at the university. I dropped him there myself this morning, so I know he made it there safe and sound.” Jim smirked and leaned back in his chair, pleased to find a bright spot in the tedious effort of trying to instill some sense of responsibility in the unconventional young man he had adopted. “One of the few benefits to him losing his driving privileges. I know exactly where he is.”

Leaning over Ellison’s desk and lowering his booming voice, Simon turned an intense gaze full of concern on his best friend. “Not this time, Jim. Blair was brought into the emergency room unconscious ten minutes ago. They wouldn’t give me the details, but you need to get down there now. Sounded serious.” Simon shrugged into the long brown coat in his hand and motioned for the stunned detective to follow him. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

Fear plainly written on his face, Jim leapt from his chair, grabbing his coat from the hook behind him, and rounding his desk to take the lead out of the room. Ellison’s normally graceful movements became even more cat-like and measured, rippling with power and an aura of stealth. Both radiated off the man in waves, noticeable to the people in his life who knew what to look for.

By the time Ellison had reached the door to Major Crime, Simon could see the Sentinel persona take control of the man, diving headfirst into hyper-protective mode. He sent a silent prayer up that whoever was responsible for the kid being in the emergency room wasn’t any where nearby when they got there.

- - -

Detective Jim Ellison was a well-recognized name and face in the Cascade Emergency Department. He was usually the one on the stretcher, and the riotous ball of energy that was Blair Sandburg, now Blair Ellison, with endless information and insistent warnings about the big man’s many allergies and sensitivities, was the one dogging the medical staff every step. It was a small price to pay in annoyance, considering the protective young man was always right. The entire department actually preferred it that way. Anything was better than having the icy cold, intimidating, and forceful detective in ‘protective parent’ mode in their ER. A five-car pile up was easier to contain than the detective was when his son was a patient. A fact he was proving at that very moment.

Jim burst through the ER double doors and strode past the nurse’s desk, heedless of the stuttered requests to halt. The thwarted nurse merely sighed and turned to the familiar face of his captain bringing up the rear. Simon stopped at the desk to calm the staff, but Jim kept on walking.

His nostrils flared as he scented the air. Despite the overwhelming smells of disinfectant and floor wax, Jim strode unerringly to a closed door and pushed it open, barreling through the opening at high speed. The moment he caught sight of the small, familiar figure lying motionless on the raised stretcher, he froze in place, one arm holding the door open.

All eyes in the room snapped in Jim’s direction. A nurse rushed to close the door and an older, white-haired man with a stethoscope in his ears, stopped listening to the patient’s chest and came immediately to Jim’s side. Simon slipped in to the room just before the door closed with a harsh thud.

“Detective Ellison, I’m glad you’re --”

Jim wordlessly pushed past the man, eyes riveted to the sight of an unconscious Blair, stripped naked but for a small sheet, hooked up to numerous IV tubes and electronic monitors. The soft swish-swish of the ventilator, connected to the thick tube down Blair’s throat, dominated the sudden abrupt silence in the room.

“What the hell happened here?” , Jim barreled past a startled nurse to stand at Blair’s side. Taking one limp, red-flushed hand into his own, he gripped it hard and began stroking the sweaty curls off Blair’s overly rose-colored face. “I’m here, Blair. I’m here. Simon’s with me, too.” Hunched over the siderail, Jim turned laser-sharp, icy eyes on Dr. Walters and waited for an answer.

“Calm down, Detective, and I’ll explain everything.” He glanced at the tall black man behind him and smiled reassuringly. “Good afternoon, Captain Banks. “

Unsmiling, Simon nodded. Shocked, his gaze darted to rest on Blair’s swollen and flushed face, automatically tracing the line of the ventilator tubing from the young man’s mouth to the humming machine and back again.

Long familiar with the three men in the room from numerous emergency room visits, Dr. Walters was unfazed by Jim’s abrupt manner. It was just a part of the man’s no-nonsense personality. The aura of deadly power and animal ferocity that radiated off the big man at times, like now, was a little more intimating, even to a man as confident and large as Walters. But the presence of the detective’s captain was always a reassuring element. Banks seemed to understand the unique man almost better than anyone else. Unfortunately, the one who could manage the man best was unconscious on the stretcher.

Dr. Walters moved to the side of the stretcher opposite Jim and rested his hands on the railing, speaking firmly, but in a quiet, confident tone that usually established his authority in the room. He knew it was wasted on this Ellison. The man took control of every room he entered when there was a crisis with his son involved. Ask any criminal in Cascade that had ever crossed their path.

“Blair was brought here by ambulance from the university about 45 minutes ago. He was short of breath, with massive hives, swelling of his face and airways.”

“He wasn’t sick. He was fine this morning. I just dropped him off at school two hours ago. What the hell happened?” Jim’s voice was harsh and scathing, but his touch on Blair’s forehead remained gentle and uninterrupted.

Walters sighed and straightened up. “He isn’t ‘sick’. He’s suffering from an acute allergic reaction. Seems he came into contact with a concentrated amount of strawberry juice.”

“Strawberries?” Jim shook his head. “Not happening, Doc. Blair would never eat anything with strawberries in it. He knows he’s deathly allergic to them. He just wouldn’t do it.”

Shrugging, Walters grimaced and stuffed his hands into his lab coat pockets. “I don’t think he knew the young lady was using them in her homemade dyes. She told him they were all vegetable bases.”

“Dyes? What kind of dyes?” Simon’s deep baritone rumbled from beside Walters as he moved up to Blair’s side, too.

Pulling the left-hand shoulder of Blair’s hospital gown loose, Walters exposed a swollen, blistered three-inch curve of dark red marks on the flushed skin of Blair’s shoulder. The symbols were distorted and grossly swollen, indistinct and unrecognizable as anything in particular, but Jim immediately knew what they were from.

“He was getting a tattoo. Even after I warned him about how unsafe it was, the little shit was getting a tattoo!”

“Well, not a permanent tattoo, Detective. From what the young lady who was doing it claims, it was supposed to be temporary drawing. Kind of like those henna tattoos that last for three weeks and then fade away without a trace.” Walters shrugged and reached down to cover Blair’s shoulder up again. “Unfortunately for Blair, he’s going to have a few unpleasant memories to go with this one.”

“How long is he going to be like this? Can he breathe on his own at all?” Jim eyes roved between the ventilator, Blair, and the doctor. “Why is he unconscious?”

“He’s unconscious because we sedated him. We had to intubate him because his airways were swelling closed. And anyone who is on a ventilator is sedated so they don’t fight the machine. It gives his body time to respond to the medications that we gave him. If he keeps improving the way he has been, I’ll make a guess that he’ll be extubated and ready to go home in less than 48 hours.”

“This is improved?” Simon gestured helplessly at the stretcher and the unmoving youth. Jim remained silent, staring at Blair’s bright red complexion and puffy features.

“Yes, it is, Captain.” Dr. Walters turned and walked to the door, preparing to leave them alone for some personal time with his patient. “He’s alive and improving. He was suffocating to death when he got here.”

- - -

Blair stared at the ceiling of his room and tried to envision pictures in the fine lines in the plaster. If worked better with clouds; but in the three days he had been home from the hospital, he had seen very little of the outdoors. He seen very little of anything outside the four walls of his room.

Jim had been very specific when he had grounded Blair. Besides the bathroom and meals, Blair was to stay in his room -- no computer, no phone, and no visitors. The university was on winter break, so besides the numerous phone calls from friends and co-workers checking on his health, the restrictions hadn’t been that hard on Blair. Even the long hours left alone in his room weren’t too much of a problem. Blair found himself falling asleep several times a day and still sleeping soundly all night. Apparently, almost dying took a lot out of a person.

Rolling over on his side, Blair sighed and stared at his closed bedroom door. He listened intently to the soft sounds coming from the living area on the other side of the glass-paneled doors, visualizing Jim as the big man worked in the kitchen. Dinnertime was only a few minutes away and Blair knew he would be expected to join the man at the table for another awkward, mostly-silent meal.

Jim had been in an oddly controlled and quiet mood ever since Blair had awakened at the hospital. Controlled, but not calm. Blair recognized all the signs of suppressed disappointment and anger from his father. Blair knew them intimately, having experienced them all too frequently. He also knew the only way this was going to end was with him having an extended trip over Jim’s knee. The grounding was merely Jim’s way of giving himself enough time to cool down and think the situation out. Blair had a feeling that time was drawing to an end. Undoubtedly, HIS back end.

He started to make a mental list of all of the house rules he had broken with his little adventure into the temporary world of body art, or ‘self-mutilation with the added bonus of chemical poisoning’ as Jim called it, but gave up after the first three. It was better if he didn’t think about it.

Blair thought nearly dying was punishment enough, let alone waking up on that suffocating ventilator with a huge tube shoved between his vocal cords; but, oddly enough, his father didn’t seem to agree. Any mention of either subject during their brief conversations over the last few days just made Jim’s eyes grow icier and his jaw muscles tighter. Blair was sure he had heard the older man’s teeth grinding on more than one occasion.

Blair rolled over again, savoring the feeling of lying flat on his back for what he suspected would be the last time for awhile. He turned his head to face the door as he caught Jim’s familiar, light tread approaching, but Blair still jumped when Jim opened the door. As much as he wanted to get it over with, he really wasn’t ready for this.

“Dinner’s ready, Chief.” Jim’s voice was still the quiet, controlled tone he had been using for days, but a new light in his eyes and the relaxed set of his face told Blair his temporary reprieve was over.

Words caught in his throat and Blair unconsciously ground his butt deeper onto the mattress, trying to remove the future target of Jim’s focus from sight. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

“Ah, thanks, Jim, but I’m not really hungry tonight. I think I’ll just turn in early, okay?” Blair arched his eyebrows, eyes wide and imploring, as he waited for Jim’s answer. He knew it was fruitless to try and avoid the coming situation, but he felt it was his duty to try.

“No, it’s not okay.” Jim stepped to one side and pointed out into the living area. “Get your scrawny butt out to the table.” He gave Blair a meaningful glance. “Take advantage of the time you have left to actually SIT DOWN and eat.”

Blair gulped, but didn’t move, frozen in place with indecision until Jim barked, “Now, Junior!”

Sliding immediately from the bed, Blair slouched across the small room toward the doorway. After chancing a quick glance up at Jim’s stern face, he eased past the waiting man. Blair hung his head and moved a little faster toward the living area, but not fast enough to avoid the large, hard hand that descended on his backside as he turned.

“Ouch!” Both of Blair’s hand went immediately to his smarting butt cheeks as he hurriedly backed into the living area. “Man, that is so not right!” Muttering a barely audible protest, he scurried to the table and sat down, intending Jim to hear every word. He nervously played with the silverware while trying to keep his eyes from seeking out his father to see the big man’s reaction. Even without looking, he felt the power of the sentinel’s hard stare pinning him in place on the chair.

Jim was still standing in Blair’s bedroom doorway, wordlessly watching the young man, his unwavering stare and the tense line of his jaw revealing his mood. It wasn’t until Blair began to squirm on the hard surface of the dining room chair that Jim walked to the table and sat down.

The entire meal was quiet, broken only by the occasionally muttered, ‘thank you,’ and, ‘you’re welcome’. Blair noticed the older man ate a hearty dinner with two helpings of rich, spicy lasagna, several rolls, and a large, tossed salad while Blair barely picked at the heavy pasta. He found more comfort in the dense bread rolls and creamy butter, washing two down with a tall glass of iced tea. He knew he’d feel better eating more, but the thoughts of the after dinner scheduled events made his stomach lurch and his appetite run for cover.

Way before Blair was done tearing his bread into tiny pieces, Jim put down his fork and pushed back from the table. They silently got up and began to clean off the dishes. Blair knew his fate was close at hand when Jim filled the sink with the dirty dishes and let them soak instead of washing them immediately like they usually did.

Slipping the last plate into the hot water, Blair started when a large, warm hand descended on his shoulder and firmly turned him from the sink.

“I think you and I are due for a discussion, Chief.” Jim let his hand slide off Blair’s shoulder and down his arm. Taking a firm grip of the young man’s upper arm, Jim tilted his head toward the living room couch and began guiding Blair out of the room. “Long overdue, in fact.”

Blair let Jim pull him along, dragging his feet. Once in the living room, Jim sat down in the middle of one couch, threw his arms along the top edge of the sofa, and looked expectantly up at Blair.

Suddenly infuriated by the continued, rigid, uncaring control from the older man, Blair lashed out. “What? You mean, we’re actually going to have a conversation, not just you smacking my ass while I talk to the couch?” Blair ignored the warning of the sudden tick in Jim’s rigid jaw line. “You’re actually going to let me say something about this?”

The narrowing of Jim’s eyes seemed to goad the reckless young man to greater heights of insanity. He added in a surly, indignant tone, complete with hand gestures, “Talk while I’m still standing up? Whoa, man, making history here.”

Blair bounced on the balls of his feet and jiggled nervously, his hands defensively resting on his hips in between agitated gestures in the air. As far as Blair could tell, Jim remained as unmoving as a stone statue on the couch. The silent show of controlled indifference hurt and Blair could feel a flush climbing up his neck and face. Before he could say anything else, Jim broke into the one-sided conversation.

“If you’ve got something important to say here, Junior, I suggest you spit it out as fast as that smooth-talking tongue of yours can speak.” Jim’s jaw twitched and his facial muscles rolled as he ground his teeth for a moment before adding, “Because as soon as I finish up out here,” he pointed at the couch, “you and I just might have an appointment with a bar of soap in the bathroom.”

“Oh, great! That’s just great.” Hands waving in the air around his head, Blair began a frenzied pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “That’s your answer for everything -- more punishment!”

Blair stopped pacing and turned to face Jim, eyes wide and voice shaking with barely suppressed emotion. His words dipped and ebbed as they caught in his throat. “Wasn’t nearly dying enough? Wasn’t waking up with that stupid tube shoved down my throat and my hands tied to the bed enough punishment?”

Jim flinched, but his eyes filled with a heated blue flame and his jaw line stiffened. “Whose fault was that? Come on, Chief, whose fault was that? Who decided,” one long arm came off the couch back and pointed directly at Blair, “despite a SERIOUSLY long talk about the dangers of home tattoos and kitchen-jiffy chemical dyes, to ignore everything I said and go ahead and let some WHACKED-OUT CO-ED inject poison under your skin?” His arm dropped to the cushions and the fire in his eyes dimmed slightly. “Go ahead and tell me who?”

“That’s right, don’t listen, just like always.” Past being reasonable, Blair responded impulsively and took the object to the next highest level of misunderstanding. “Your word is law. Forget I’m OVER 21 AND ABLE TO THINK FOR MYSELF! SADIE didn’t know I was allergic to strawberries, Jim. And I didn’t know she was using them to make the red dye. It was supposed to be a TEMPORARRY tattoo with all natural ingredients, no chemicals! It should have been safe.”

A deadly silence followed the high volume rant and Blair flinched at the look of stony control on Jim’s face. Put off by the continued silence, Blair said, “Never mind. I should have know this wasn’t going to be an actual conversation — one where both of us actually TALK.” He could barely spit the last few words out between his tightly clenched teeth.

Tone low and cold, Jim gave Blair the look that said the standing up part of this conversation was over. “I think plenty has been said, Chief.”

Hands planted firmly on his hips in a defiant pose, Blair sighed and hung his head. “That figures, I haven’t said anything important yet.”

“Jeans and boxers down.” Jim reached out with one hand, curling his fingers in a demanding, ‘come here’ gesture.

This time, Blair knew better than to talk back. His hands flew to his pants and roughly tugged at his button and fly, then he shoved his jeans and boxers down his hips. A sudden, small involuntary sob of regret escaped as he was pulled down over Jim’s lap. Cool air drifted over his backside, making him shiver and squirm.

Jim wasted no time on the usual soothing gestures. He immediately encircled an arm around Blair’s waist and tucked him firmly against his body.

Blair buried his face in the couch cushion. He involuntarily tightened his bottom as the surface beneath him shifted and his unprotected backside lifted slightly higher into the air. The familiar, reassuring weight of Jim’s hand rested on his right butt cheek.

“Tell me why you’re getting your butt roasted, Junior.”

Not waiting for an answer, the first smack landed loud and hard. Blair jumped and grunted, shocked by the sudden blow. His right hand automatically reached back to shield his unprotected backside. His wrist was immediately captured and tucked closely under his body. A series of hard, steady blows landed heavily against Blair’s pale backside.

Blair knew Jim wanted to make sure he understood the seriousness of the situation he had put himself in, his personal safety and well being rating very high up on the sentinel’s priority list.

“I said, why are you being spanked? I want to know you understand why we’re here, Blair.”

“For n-not thinking a-about... OWW… about consequences! OWWW! That hurts, man!” Blair gasped then grunted in pain. “Aughhhh!”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!!!

“OOOOOWWWW!”

Every inch of his butt received its fair share of hard, measured blows, each one more painful than the last.

“You almost died, Chief. I can’t believe you almost died.” The blows to Blair’s backside increased disproportionately to the softness of Jim’s emotion-laden tone. Each rapid, stinging slap melted into the last, building to a nearly intolerable burn. Jim was concentrating on the bottom of Blair’s cheeks where his thighs met his buttocks, landing his slaps in a uniform pattern over the same spot again and again.

SMACK! … SMACK! … SMACK! … SMACK! … SMACK!

“Okay, okay! S-ssstop! I’m s-sorry!”

Blair grunted between gasps for breath and yelps of distress. His legs kicked and tears streamed down his reddened face.

The steady rhythm continued to rain down on his bare butt, turning it a deep shade of scarlet. Heated poured off the mottled flesh in waves. Blair burst into strangled sobs, gasping and straining for breath.

“Stop! I didn’t die, I didn’t! Dad, stop!”

“But you could have!” Jim abruptly stopped the spanking and grabbed Blair by the arms, dragging the lean young man up from over his lap. Blair fell to the floor on his knees, landing between Jim’s legs. “Of all the senseless, stupid, reckless things to agree to!”

Jim shook Blair like a child’s rag doll, anger and frustration exploding in one fierce moment of irrational rage. Almost as soon as he started, Jim stopped what he was doing. He sat there, frozen in time, a stricken, shocked expression on his face as he held Blair, tightly grasped at arm’s length.

An uncertain, hurt expression marred Blair’s pale face and tears streamed down both cheeks. Wild strands of curls fell over one cheek as he titled his head down to his hunched, immobilized shoulder to wipe off a persistent tear that clung to his jaw.

Looking up through wet, spiked lashes, Blair drew a tremulous breath and whispered, “But I didn’t. I didn’t die. Stop treating me like I did, like I’m gone. You’ve barely talked to me in three days. You haven’t spent more than an hour with me since I got out of the hospital and that’s been for meals. I’m still here.” Fresh tears streamed down his face and his voice caught and stuttered. “I-I’m s-still here!”

Blair saw the first crack in the big man’s carefully controlled façade just before the dam broke. Jim swept Blair up off the floor, pulled his boxer and pants back up, and then hugged him to his chest so tightly Blair couldn’t breathe at first.

“And thank God for that!” Jim crushed the sobbing young man to him, weaving one hand through Blair’s hair and burying his own face in the tangle of curls. Hot tears splashed against Blair’s scalp, the burn of the older man’s uncharacteristic distress startling the younger man.

“Jim? Dad? Dad, it’s cool, it’s cool, okay, man?” Butt sizzling, a burst of panic surged through Blair’s thin, tired body. Blair tried to pull back to see Jim’s face, but couldn’t break Jim’s iron hold. He gave up and hugged Jim back, his own grip almost as fierce as the big man’s nearly suffocating embrace. “D-dad?”

“I’m here, Chief.” Voice thick with emotion, Jim rocked the slight body of his son back and forth in an effort to calm the constant shudders running through both of them. “And so, thank goodness, are you. You were so close to leaving me.”

Jim pulled in a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of his guide. “I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like with you gone, really gone.” He loosened his hold and pushed Blair away far enough to look him in the eye. “I didn’t want to go back to that lonely, empty life again.”

Jim ran a long hand down the side of Blair’s face, pushing unruly curls aside, and added, “I can’t believe how much a part of me you’ve become.” He gave a strangled chuckle and declared, “I think this must be the two-edged sword of parenting Dad talks about --loving you so much that losing you would be devastating. I can’t imagine loving you less, but I’m learning why parents never want to outlive their children.”

Jim hung his head a moment, using the time to get control over his wavering emotions. “I can only guess how my dad must have felt when they told him I was missing in the Peruvian Jungle for that year. Now I understand him a little bit more. Waiting for you to wake up and come off that respirator was agony. I was so mad at you for getting into such a simple, stupid situation that almost cost you your life, I couldn’t see straight for the first few days.”

Blair slipped out of Jim’s relaxed grip and eased himself up onto the sofa beside his father. He hissed as his backside hit the cushion, then shifted his weight onto one hip. Voice low and a little defensive, he murmured, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Jim immediately wrapped an arm around Blair’s shoulders and drew him close. “I know, but I felt so helpless. I like to think I can protect you from anything -- bad guys, perps, and even Simon’s wrath. It’s a rude awakening to realize something as ordinary as a strawberry might be the thing that almost killed you.” Jim sighed and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t ready for it. So I blamed you.” He closed his eyes for second then turned to Blair to rub a comforting hand over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Sorry for making you feel so alone these past few days.”

Blair gave his father a weak smile and sniffed back a new round of tears that threatened to break loose. “It’s okay. I didn’t understand, either.” He shook his head, dipping his chin to his chest to hide his quivering lip. Giving up on controlling it completely, Blair sucked it into his mouth and bit it. Rubbing his index finger nervously over his thumb, he looked up again at Jim. “I didn’t think about how it must have been for you to watch me, laying there in the hospital. I’ve just been thinking about how bad I felt.” The tears brimming in his eyes then fell over the edges and streamed unheeded down his pale face. “I’m sorry, too, Dad. Sorry about everything!”

Pulling his long arm, that was draped around Blair’s shaking shoulder, to his chest, Jim enfolded Blair in another tight hug, though this time he was careful to allow his recuperating son space to breathe easily.

“I guess we’re just a sad pair of insensitive boobs.” Jim huffed out a snorted chuckle. “You’d think with all my heightened senses, being ‘insensitive’ wouldn’t be one of my problems.”

Blair nodded his head, hair crinkling against the soft fabric of Jim’s shirt. He didn’t bother to raise his head, supremely comfortable right where he was, except for the growing discomfort in his burning hindquarters. “And as your guide, you’d think empathy wouldn’t be one of mine. I guess we ARE a couple of boobs.”

Jim let out a low laugh and tousled Blair’s hair. “Sounds natural enough, I guess, Chief.”

“Natural?” Confused, Blair wiggled closer to Jim, taking some pressure off his smarting backside and scoffed, “What’s natural about it?”

Jabbing Blair playfully in the ribs, Jim pinned him in place when Blair jumped and squirmed, quipping, “Well, don’t boobs usually come in pairs?”

“Oh, God, you’re just sick, man, just sick.”