Dressed in his robe and slippers, Jim leaned heavily on the rail as he descended to his living room. The loft was dark. Sunrise was an hour away, yet he found himself unable to sleep. Judging by the steady breathing coming from the small room under his, Blair wasn't having any problems.

He tried to keep quiet as he fixed coffee. No reason for Blair to suffer because Jim was too sore to sleep. A long foot pursuit yesterday had ended when both he and the perp had crashed through a covered porch from a second story window. Both of them came out with a few cuts and bruises. Both of them would be paying for it today.

"Jim! What are you doing up?" Soft light flooded the kitchen. Blair was at his side, dressed in rumpled sweats and sporting 'bed head'. He urged Jim into a kitchen chair and took the box of filters out of his hand. "You should be resting! That fall could have killed you, man. Your body needs to recover. You can't be bouncing off asphalt like that and expect to be a hundred percent the next day. A man your age needs to..."

Jim let the tirade fade to white noise. He pondered the relative peace and quiet of a jail cell. Maybe the perp had the better deal. And what's up with Blair's crack about his age?

"... you listening to me, Jim?"

Jim blinked, found his best 'I'm hearing every word' face and nodded. "I'm with you, Ben Casey."

"Who?" Blair paused, coffee scoop in mid air, grounds in eminent danger of landing all over the counter top. "You feeling okay this morning?"

Rubbing his head, amazed at the generation gap that sometimes spanned between them, Jim snorted. "I'm fine. You were saying, mother?"

Blair went back to fixing the coffee and giving Jim his lecture about being careful at work, leading into a complicated dissertation involving some theory he had about a sentinel's hardwired instinct to hunt down and capture a preconceived threat to the tribe at all costs. He proceed to tie that babble with yesterday's fall from the window.

Jim cupped his chin in both palms, his elbows braced on the table top while he waited for the coffee to brew. He let Blair's words wash over him again. Yesterday's chase had nothing mystic to it. The perp had slipped and simply taken both of them out the window. No big deal.

He watched Blair switch from coffee maker to omelet maker, facing Jim as he worked. Jim had a rare chance to study him without being caught.

Blair did look younger than normal this morning. He'd only been staying in the loft a few months now. Most of the time each man ran in or out the door, sometimes together, answering the call of two people with busy schedules.

Jim noticed Blair liked to shave twice a day, night and morning. Because he hadn't been up for more than a few minutes, Blair had a faint shadow on his jaw. His earrings were absent. Somehow, having them out made him look younger. Or maybe it was the faint sleep lines on one cheek from having it smashed into the pillow.

Blair paused from his chopping. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"I know, but you're looking at me. What's up?" He tentatively reached up to check his head. "Other than my hair, apparently."

"Ben Casey, you've never heard of him?"

"No."

"How about Marcus Welby?"

"These guys cops or something?"

Jim sighed, suddenly feeling a million years old. "Rawhide, Rat Patrol, The Rifleman, Flipper?"

Blair grinned. "I get it! I'd like ancient 'TV Shows' for five hundred, Alex."

"Smart ass."

Blair returned to chopping. No bell pepper was safe in Jim's kitchen.

"Jim, chill, man. I never got to watch TV growing up. My mom placed it along side voting republican. Except for research with Larry and stuff. I'm a TV ignoramus. Nick at Night might as well be the outer limits."

"Another good show."

"It is?" Blair looked up in surprise, apparently to see if Jim was pulling his leg.

"Well, while I'm recovering from my fall. I feel it my civic duty to complete your 'out of whack' education, Sandburg." Jim rose to his sore feet and hobbled toward the coffee table that housed the TV's remote.

"Cool. I could start a new chapter on the shows you watched as a kid," Blair said excitedly as he switched to shredding cheese. "We can start right after breakfast, I'll take some notes."

Jim thumbed through the TV Guide as he growled to himself. Leave it to Blair to turn a day of playing hooky from work into a class project. "Shit, kid. Don't you ever act your age?"

end

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