Rating: G
Category: Stand-Alone
Series: Instructions for Life
Warnings: Minor spoilers for Smart Alec.
Notes: "Instructions for Life" is a series of stories based an email forward I received by the same name. Each will be based on a different instruction and can be read independantly of each other.
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Trust in God, but lock your car.
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The turning of a key in the lock jerked Jim awake. He sat up on the couch, immediately regretting the action. His body protested the sudden movement, sending a sharp pain down his neck. Massaging the muscles with one hand, he flicked on a lamp as the door swung open. Jim's jaw dropped at the sight of the figure before him.
Blair Sandburg was drenched, muddy and looked furious. His dark curls were plastered to his forehead in odd patterns. The brown jacket he wore in the fall clung to him like a second skin. Mud streaked his face, jeans and coat in haphazard shapes, a dark contrast to his flashing blue eyes. Upon closer inspection, a small cut could be made out on his lower lip, the blood mixing with rainwater and mud.
"What in God's name happened to you?" Jim asked. "You called here over an hour ago." He stood up and walked over to his Guide. "You okay?"
"No, I'm not," Blair snapped. He frowned, then tried again. "I didn't mean to yell. It's just that I've had the worst night of my life."
Jim tried to count how many times he' heard Blair say that and failed.
Blair continued. "And to answer your question, I'm fine."
"Well, that's good." Jim helped Blair peel off his coat. "Go take a shower and warm up. I'll make some coffee."
"Thanks, Jim." Blair took off his wet shoes and socks before crossing the kitchen and disappearing into the bathroom.
Jim hung Blair's coat on the rack, noticing a ripped hole on the back. Filing it away under Ask Later, he set about making a pot of fresh coffee.
About fifteen minutes later, Blair emerged from his room freshly showered and dressed in loose sweats. He accepted a steaming mug from Jim and settled on one end of the sofa. Jim plopped down on the other end with his own mug, fixing Blair with questioning eyes.
"Are you going to explain the hole in your jacket and the cut on your lip?" Jim asked, gently.
Blair sighed and blew on his coffee. "I didn't lock my car."
Jim cocked his head to the right. "And?"
Seeing Jim wasn't going to let him off, Blair launched into a breathless account of his evening.
"I forgot to lock the Volvo this morning when I got to the University. I remembered during one of my lectures, but figured it was safe enough and I'd get to it during lunch or something. Safest campus in the northwest and all."
Jim snorted. "Seems to me Suzanne Tamaki said the same thing right before that professor was murdered."
"I know, I just wish it had occurred to me earlier. Anyway, I got hauled into one conference after another and never got around to it. I ended up working really late, after all the buildings had been closed."
"You called about that and said you were leaving," Jim said.
"Yeah, well, I did. Only when I got to the parking lot, my car had been stripped of a few essential parts."
"Which parts?"
"The engine, the tires and the radio."
"Aw, man. Why didn't you call me?"
"I would have, Jim, but the buildings were closed and I'd left my cell phone in the car. Which is, by the way, also stolen."
Jim groaned. "There weren't any campus cops around?"
"No, I think they were busy busting a frat party over at Zigma Seta. It was already pouring by then, but I decided to walk anyhow. I figured I could find a convenience store that was open and use their pay phone. Unfortunately...."
"No pay phones?"
"If only. No, a Rottweiler charges out of nowhere and tears a hole in my jacket, so I took off running in the nearest convenient direction, which just happened to be straight onto Prince Street."
Jim knew that neighborhood. Many a career felon could find safe haven in the dilapidated buildings lining the street. More than one modest citizen had turned up dead there, victims of muggings gone bad or simple gang warfare...if there was such a thing. His heart skipped a beat at the idea of Blair wandering around there well after 1 a.m.
"I lost the dog, but happened upon three drunk guys that decided their idea of a good time was mugging me. They didn't have any weapons and were so out of it that I hit one of them with their own vodka bottle, which scared the others off. Not before one of them got in a good punch, though."
Blair touched his swollen lip lightly, a silent reminder of his close call.
"And the mud?" Jim pressed on.
"Mud puddle about a block away. We had a minor disagreement and I lost."
The mental picture of Sandburg fighting with a pool of water and dirt was too much for Jim. A snicker escaped his lips before he could cut it off. Blair glared at him, but that just made Jim laughed harder. The laughter was infectious and Blair was soon joining in.
After a few minutes, Jim took a calming breath. "I'm just glad you're okay, Chief."
Blair grinned, waving nonchalantly like the events of the evening were commonplace. "Piece of cake."
"And Chief?"
"Yeah, Jim?"
"Next time, lock the door."
Blair stuck his tongue out. Jim just laughed, glad to have his Guide safe and sound and at home in the loft.
~end~
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