Naomi's Answer - Kate R.
Dedicated: To my mother who encourages me to write and have fun doing it.
Why had he lived?
Blair Sandburg was at a loss about how he'd lived, how he'd survived what had been done to him. Kincaid had tortured him nearly to death, he remebered that. He remembered hearing the doctors say he needed a transfusion, the second time in his life he'd heard a doctor say that, he remembered telling Jim goodbye because he didn't think there was a chance for a match for him.
Last time it had been bone marrow, no one would tell him who'd matched him there, not even Naomi, just a relative, and now the perfect blood when he needed it desperately had been donated specifically for him and he had no idea at all who the donor was. Again, his mother said 'a relative'. A relative that had the same odd genetic anomalies in his or her blood that he did, a relative that was a perfect match to him, but his mother would not say who. Not her, of course, he remembered from the time he was a boy that his mother was no match to him, so who? Who had matched him that perfectly?
"I want to know!" He'd yelled at his mother, finally sick of her dodging the questions, "What are you so afraid to tell me? Who donated for me? For the second time in my life?!"
"I can't tell you," his mother had said, "It's not important, baby. He wasn't Jewish so he wasn't a match for me."
Those words had trapped her, and, he coldn't help but wonder, if maybe she hadn't wanted to be trapped.
"Not a match for you?" Blair asked, looking at her, seeing the look of horror and, maybe, relief, in her eyes, "It was 'him', wasn't it? The man whose eyes I have? The man whose smile I inherited? It was my father, both times in my life that I've needed something like this, it's been my father, hasn't it?"
Her nod filled him with fury. She'd known. She'd always known! And if he understood her right, she'd refused to tell him out of some stupid religious bullshit. All these years he could have known his father if his mother had just bothered to tell him the truth and she'd refused because she was as big a snob as she told him her family was.
"I want his name and address," Blair had told her, coldly, "I want to know who he is and how I can get in contact with him. He obviously knows about me, but thanks to your bullshit, he's never tried to approach me."
"My father had clout in the community his father had him raised in," she said, "Because of his size, an anomaly he was born with, he was always big, he was treated badly in other nieghborhoods. If I had said who he was to you, his father and him would have paid, dearly. But after he became a success, a big one in . . . a field that is the reason I don't think you should be near Jim, he was allowed to help me support you. Your tuition for Rainer that your scholarships didn't cover, your classes now, he's paid for all of it for you."
Blair had nodded, his mind analyzing everything she said.
"Business you think I shouldn't be near Jim because of, right," he remarked, "That means that he's a crook of some kind, a big one with power meaning head of a crime syndicate unless he's the invisible one we never see which would make him . . . oh."
She didn't say, one way or the other, but he'd gone home and talked to Jim about it after she wrote down what he wanted on the piece of paper he handed her.
"Wilson Fisk," he said, looking at Jim, "Man, if I make this call . . ."
"We'll deal with it," Jim told him, reassuringly, "I'm not going to help anyone touch your father, not if he's done all of this for you in your life. Besides, as Sentinel of the Great City I have to see the bigger picture."
"How big?" Blair asked as he fiddled with his pen.
"Big enough to see a world where he 'wasn't' controlling crime," Jim told him, smiling, "Big enough to see that there are more corrupt cops in the world than even he could afford to buy. This is something that you've wanted for years, Chief. Make the call. I'll be right here with you."
Jim's arms around him made Blair feel grounded and safe and he nodded.
Jim was right.
This was something he'd wanted all his life.
So, with a deep breath and one long, lingering look at his partner, Blair picked up the phone and dialed the number with the New York area-code.
It rang, three times before it was answered by a woman who gave the normally tolerant greeting Blair was used to getting from secretaries.
Fisk Enterprises, her voice came, How may I direct your call?
"I'd like to speak to Wilson Fisk," Blair said, knowing his voice was shaking a bit.
Who may I ask is calling? the woman asked.
"B-Blair Sandburg," he said, holding his breath and hoping.
J-Just a moment, Mr. Sandburg, now she sounded tense and nervous, I'll connect you to him directly.
A few minutes on hold and Blair heard the phone picked up.
Wilson Fisk, a moderate voice spoke.
"Uh, hello," Blair said, nervously, "Uhm, I don't think you've ever met me in person before but my name is Blair Sandburg. Uhm, Naomi's boy? She, uh, well, ffinally told me about my father and I . . ."
Want to know if she was telling the truth and if I would like to meet you, correct?
"Yes, sir," Blair said, "I mean, I know you're busy and you have a family and all . . ."
My wife knows about you, Blair, he said, reassuringly, And I assure you that she wants to meet you as much as I do. In person that is, and while you are concious as opposed to the last two times I have seen you. And yes, by the way, your mother was telling you the truth. I am your father, as my bone marrow and blood have shown.
"You actually came in person for those?" Blair asked, and then felt like kicking himself. His father's laughter startled him, but it wasn't a mean laugh, just an amused one.
Of course I did, the man told him, You are my son. You needed me and I came. I know who you work with and I know he is a policeman. I will not involve you in my business if you do not wish to be involved in it.
"Actually, Jim thinks you do more for keeping crime in check than most police forces do," Blair told him. His laughter was hearty this time.
I do quite a bit in that direction, yes, he said, For there are things in the world we do not want on the streets, no matter how criminally inclined many of us may be. I can send a private jet for you, if you would like to come here. My business does not let me travel out of my home territory very often.
Blair looked up at Jim and relayed the message. Jim's arms around his waist squeezed once, in the affirmative.
"That would be great, dad," Blair tested the word, "Uh, is it okay if Jim comes?"
Two hours, his father said, and yes, it will be fine if Jim comes with you. I believe he is far more than a work partner to you so I would like to meet him, as well, son.
"Thanks, dad," Blair said, more confidently, this time, "I guess I'll see you soon, huh?"
In due time, yes his father said, I look forward to seeing you, Blair. Good bye for now.
"Good bye, dad," Blair said, hangng up the phone and then looking at Jim.
"He wants to meet me!" Blair almost shouted, "Like, in person and face to face. That is so cool!"
"I heard," Jim smiled, "Come on, let's go pack and I'll call Simon. And Blair? No matter what, you know he loves you."
"How?" Blair asked.
"Because he saved your life, twice," Jim told him, "Once when you were a little boy and now. I think that says something, huh?"
"Yeah," Blair thought and realized Jim was right, "Yeah, it does. Thanks, Jim."
"Go pack, Babe," Jim told him, kissing him on the lips and then sending him up to their room while he called Simon to let him know they were going out of town on personal business for awhile.
This was too important to wait on.
Blair had been waiting his whole life to meet his father and now it was about to happen, face to face and in person.
No more waiting for his Guide and lover, no more holding off. They were going. Now.
And that was the end of it.
"We'll be there soon, Chief," Jim said to himself while waiting for Blair to come back down, "Don't you worry. We'll be there soon. And then? Then you can get your answers. All of them."
He closed the door of the Loft, knowing they wouldn't be back for awhile, and led Blair down to the truck.
"Let's go, Chief," Jim said, starting the engine, "You have a lifetime of questions and he has a life time of answers. I think it's time you two met."
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Disclaimer: Marvel owns King Pin, Someone else owns Jim and Blair, and I am soooo not making any money off this. It's my stress relief.
Acknowledgements: Thank you to Amy for the gorgeous cover art.