Jim knew something was wrong when Blair fell.

Knowing and doing something about it, though? Jim just asked the kid if he was okay, joked about what he really did with the money Naomi gave him for Ballet lessons and went up the stairs to sleep.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

That thought returned - strangely enough - the very second Jim woke to the warbily notes drifting up from below.

"Baby, baby, babbbbyyyy. I Got you!"

Jim's shoulders sprang off the mattress. "Sandburg?" He flipped back the comforter and hit the deck running. Something was wrong. Blair sounded drunk and he knew the kid had not been drinking. That stupid fall. His skull had hit he floor with a solid `thunk' but Blair had shrugged it off, like he always did.

"Chief?" Jim was halfway down the stairs when the fresh, marine air blowing through his home registered in his brain. The balcony door was open. "Oh, shit." Jim sprang the final steps to land like a jungle predator on the hardwood floor. He bounded out onto the tiny balcony in time to circle Blair's waist with one arm and grab a handful of flannel with his other.

The back strain caused a twang of pain as his early-forty-year-old, battered body checked the downward pull of gravity caused by a one hundred and fifty pound roommate initiating a swan dive from a third floor balcony.

"Whoa!" Blair laughed with delight as he was carried high, arms wind-milling and knocking into the doorframe, before being dumped on the sofa. "Youuu goot meeeeeee babe!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Jim shouted, just to be heard over the sound of his own heart banging against his ribs. Jim's hands shook, along with his knees, so he plopped down on the coffee table, half expecting it to collapse under the abuse. Notebooks and papers poured to the floor.

"They sayyy our love won't payyy the rent..."

Jim was pissed and gave Blair no quarter. He reached down and soundly cuffed the tangled mess of hair. "Knock it off."

"Oowww!" The stupid grin slid away leaving behind Blair's standard `why's the world so cruel' look. "Hey, man. What's with the `tude?"

Pinpoint pupils, rapid respirations, fine body tremors...

Blair was high.

Jim captured one wrist, stripped back the sleeve, then did the same to the other. No needle marks. Not that he expected to find any. Blair had the resistance of a rag doll as Jim fisted the front of his flannel again and yanked him forward as if to kiss.

"Woahhhhh, nelly! Elly!" Blair slurred. "I'm not that kinda felly." He giggled at the rhyme.

Jim sniffed Blair's mouth.

Chocolate and walnuts.

"What did you eat?" He shook Blair once in response to Blair's eyes beginning to glaze over. "Sandburg! Tell me what you ate."

Blair tried to shrug, an effort requiring muscle tone and Blair was fast loosing his. "A brownie, justa brownie, man."

"Where? Where did you get it?"

The happiness waned and Jim added mood swings to the diagnosis as tears welled up. "A student. I only got one, so I didn't share. I'm soooo sorry, Jim."

Jim was sorry too, he hated knowing he'd spend some jail time for having to murder the stupid college kid that drugged his best friend. "It's okay, Chief." Jim maneuvered Blair sideways on the sofa, leaning him against a pile of throw pillows. "Just sit here for a second, don't get up. I'm going to dress and you and I are going to take a drive, okay?"

"Sure, Jim. Sure." Blair smiled, obviously happy again that Jim didn't hate him after all for not sharing.

"You arrested a kid for `baking', Ellison?" Brown gasped in horror the next day. The Major Crime gang stood with coffee mugs in hand, waiting for Simon to start the briefing.

Jim shrugged. He was tired. Only a mere hour of sleep, then spending long hours in the hospital before he could take Blair back to the loft, pour him into his bed, then go back out into the night and hunt down the brownie-baker and haul his ass to jail tends to wear a cop out.

"He wasn't using the right kind of butter, H." Jim quipped. "And always make sure the eggs are fresh."

Brown blinked in confusion. "Wow, Betty Crocker with a badge."

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