Disclaimer – I own nothing!
A/N – no pairing, not betaed, and kinda pointless… it just struck me as kind of amusing so I wrote it…
Fountains of Flowers
Blair hauled his book bag out of his car and shut the door with a weary sigh. The past few weeks had been… difficult. He was still recovering from dying at the fountain, trekking through the Jungle, and performing the Guide equivalent of the Jaws of Life on his Sentinel. Jim did not want to talk about it, did not want to hear about it, did not want to have any change in their routine at all, and certainly did not want to visit the front of Hargrove Hall. In fact the man had not been anywhere near the University since the whole mess had finally been cleared up.
Blair was the son of his mother, so he had meditated, confronted his fears, and forgiven Jim for the Sentinel's part in their problems. He'd had a lot more trouble forgiving himself, but such was the nature of the beast. It would come in time, he was sure. He could walk past the fountain without flinching, he wasn't worried about being on campus late in the evening or early morning alone, and he could sit in his office and feel secure and comfortable.
He wasn't so comfortable in the loft, but that was his own fault. He hadn't ever really unpacked beyond putting out the necessities that would convince Jim that things were back to normal. It was easier that way. The next time Blair screwed up, and he had no doubt that would happen sooner or later, then Jim wouldn't have to work so hard to kick him out.
Car locked, and jacket closed around him, Blair started out of the car park and along the path that would take him to the Anthro building. He had a meeting with his advisors today to tell them he had to withdraw the original thesis. He would hint that his death at the fountain had been caused by his primary subject, and then present them with the almost completed 'thin blue line' thesis that Simon thought he was using for backup. He was fairly confident that he would be able to sell his advisors on the idea, especially as he had actually been dead, and Alex Barnes could be named as his primary subject instead of Jim. He felt bad for the woman, but Jim needed to be protected and that was the long and the short of it.
There was a crowd of noisy students, faculty and security clustered to the side of Hargrove Hall, and Blair glanced over at them curiously. He stopped when he realised what they were looking at. Cold drenched him, and his lips and fingers actually went numb as he realised they were grouped around the fountain.
Someone spotted him, and he heard his name being mentioned, and he blanched even more when they all turned to look at him. A few people had asked him exactly what had happened, but he'd managed to fend them off, pleading for understanding. Most people took the hint right away; those that were persistent got Joel Taggert or Henri Brown calling around to warn them off. The two men from Major Crimes had overheard him muttering about 'insensitive rubber neckers' in the break room, and had quietly sought out the people in question. Blair had been embarrassed that they'd noticed, but was secretly grateful.
He forced his feet to move, and walked slowly, reluctantly over to the fountain. People parted silently for him, and he realised that he couldn't hear the splash of the water, or smell the chlorine. He couldn't smell detergent either, which meant that the usual prank of dumping dishwashing liquid into the fountain to make it foam was not why everyone was looking at it. Whatever was going on, he hoped he wouldn't be blamed for it.
Reaching the front of the crowd, Blair forced himself to look up, and he dropped his book bag in shock.
Instead of cold water surrounded by white stone, he was looking at green turf, small flowering bushes and various perennials. The fountain had been converted into a riot of colour, delicate petals wavering in the low breeze. Scents wafted over them all, and in the middle of the flowerbed, there was a small sundial.
"It was a fountain last night," someone muttered, "Someone must have snuck in when it was dark with the earth and the plants and everything."
It was beautiful, alive, vital. It was the opposite of the cold water that had splashed and splattered so recently. Whoever had done it would have required a gift for organisation, a group of people that could work together quickly and effectively, and someone who knew how to get in, do the job, and get out without anyone noticing. Blair began to have a bad feeling about the whole thing, which was only confirmed when a familiar set of voices sounded in the background.
"Chief?" Jim sounded concerned, as well he might. Blair was trying to figure out if he'd noticed any clues in the loft. He'd gone to bed early, as had become his habit, and to give Jim further privacy he'd started playing music on his headphones so that the other man could move around the loft without Blair hearing him. He really didn't want to have to turn the cops at Major Crimes in, if what he suspected was the truth.
He did like the fountain better this way.
"Easy Chief," Jim sounded positively freaked out, and someone was sitting him down next to a row of primroses, and someone else was draping a jacket around his shoulders. He waved them away, twisting to look at the new flowers one more time before folding the jacket neatly and standing.
"I have a meeting," he announced to no one in particular, and grabbed up his book bag. If the University had called the PD to complain about the vandalism, then someone had anticipated that and gotten Major Crimes to take the case. Which meant that the people who'd done the crime were investigating it, which meant Blair didn't want to know.
He didn't want them to think he didn't appreciate the gesture though.
"I like it," he said quietly as he headed for his office, "Very nice indeed."
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