Deadly Favors (An epilogue to "The Rig")

By Terri D. Thomas

Part 1 of 5

Every bone in Blair Sandburg’s body ached. Starting from his bruised head and running all the way down to his feet, he felt the pain from the night’s adventure.

He let his eyes drift up to Jim’s face. His partner looked as whipped as Blair felt. His face was pale, his eyes sunken. Blair knew that Jim’s current cavalier attitude was barely hiding his exhaustion. Confronting one's deepest fears could take a lot out of even the most hardened warrior.

"Yep, plastic covers. . .that’s what we need for you," Jim cracked, shaking Blair from his thoughts. "And maybe one of those lint rollers to pick up the fur you leave behind on the cushions." He led Blair to the stairs and the two made their way down the three flights to the level at which the Coast Guard cutter was docked. A ramp, which was at least ten feet long ran between the rig and the deck of the Coast Guard boat. Because the rig's loading deck was still higher, the ramp tilted downwards to the boat at a steep angle.

"At least I have hair to lose," Blair retorted as Jim’s hand gently guided the smaller man to the narrow ramp.

"Not funny, short stuff." Jim's growl was masked by affectionate humor.

Blair forced his legs to lift his suddenly heavy body onto the ramp. "I'm ready to drop," he moaned.

"I'm with you, Chief. I think I'll sleep for the next week."

"What time do we have to be in tomorrow?"

Jim listened with his sentinel hearing. Even over the rough crashing of the waves below, he could hear that Simon was still talking to Truck Brower. "Simon said that we could take our time. I'm pretty sure he knows that doing this favor for his friend almost got us killed." Jim turned back to Blair. "I think he's feeling kind of bad about that."

"Not his fault," Blair commented. "You ready?"

"More than." Jim motioned for Blair to move. Before Blair could respond, Jim suddenly frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. He reached out and grabbed the railing.

"What's up?" Blair asked.

"I don't. . .I just feel a little lightheaded. . .and a little queasy. I think it's all catching up."

Blair frowned. It was rare for Jim to complain and when he did it was usually a precursor to bigger problems. "Maybe you should see one of the medics."

"Nah. . .not necessary. I’m probably just hungry. We haven't had anything to eat since this morning. Make that yesterday morning."

As if on cue, Blair's stomach growled. He chuckled with relief. "Oh yeah. I knew we were forgetting something."

"The sooner we get on that boat, the sooner we can get out of here."

Blair nodded and continued on his way to cross the ramp. The descent to the Coast Guard boat was steep and he had to keep both hands on the railing to keep his footing.

A sudden gasp caught his attention and he turned back to Jim. "Jim?"

Jim’s face was screwed up in pain. "Uh. . .I don’t. . .uhm. . .Chief, I think something’s wrong," Jim groaned, clutching at his stomach.

Blair’s hand extended out to his friend’s arm. "Jim? Jim, what’s wrong?"

"Feel. . .sick. . .," Jim whispered.

"Not hunger?"

"I don't. . .. Oh god," Jim cried, eyes scrunched closed, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Blair placed a supporting hand on his friend's arm. "Let me get the medic." Jim nodded, his unexpected cooperation scaring Blair worse than the symptoms his friend was exhibiting.

Before Blair could move, Jim’s eyes rolled back and he keeled over to the right. "Jim!" Blair shouted, reaching out once again to grab at his friend, trying futilely to hold him in place. The smaller man, though, was not able to hold up the larger. Jim continued to list to the side, his weight pulling at Blair. His upper body collapsed over the railing. Blair bent with it, still trying to keep Jim upright.

Because of the ruckus from the rig operations and Coast Guard recovery efforts, no one heard Blair's scream as gravity took over. Both men tumbled over the railing and plummeted into the frigid, churning ocean waters below.

***

Simon closed his notepad. He had recorded Truck Brower's statement and was ready to take his best detective team back home. He could see how exhausted both men were. He still didn’t have all the details of everything the two men had been through, but he had gathered enough information to know that both men were going to need a couple of days to recuperate.

He glanced over the edge of the rig's upper deck and spotted the two men on the ramp which ran from the lower level of the rig to the Coast Guard boat. Blair and Jim were about half way across. He shook his head at the disheveled team. Once again he couldn’t believe their luck. From what he had pieced together, both men should be dead right now. Fortune was definitely on their side.

He tucked the notepad into his pocket and pushed away from the railing, intending to join his men. Before he could move, a sudden cry of "man overboard" caught his attention. Without looking, he knew with certainty what had happen. "Damn it!" he exclaimed, racing down the rig stairs towards the now-empty ramp.

Two Coast Guard officers were also rushing to the platform. All three met at the spot where Jim and Blair had disappeared. The two Guardsmen leaned over the ramp railing, shining flashlights at the water below. "What happened?" Simon shouted as he, too, leaned over the side.

"Not sure," one of the men muttered. "They were just standing there and then the larger guy. . .Ellison. . .collapsed. The other guy tried to keep him from falling, but. . .."

Simon leaned over the railing, wishing fervently that he had Jim’s sentinel vision. "Do you see them? Get a life preserver down to them! Do something!" he yelled helplessly.

Other spotlights from the Coast Guard vessel were aimed towards the water, moving back and forth in a figure eight pattern. After what seemed like minutes, Simon heard a shout from the other Coast Guard boat. "There!" One of the spotlights was aimed at the large footings of the rig. "There they are! Get a preserver and a raft down there!"

Simon followed the beam of light into the water. His hope rose when he saw two figures floating on the surface. It appeared that Blair had one arm wrapped around the rig's pylon and the other arm seemed to be encircling Jim's chest.

The men standing next to Simon hurried down the ramp to the other Coast Guard boat, with the police captain following close behind. The three men climbed down to the lowest level of the ship. A dinghy was tethered to the port side of the boat. The guardsmen untied the raft and climbed on board. Simon started to follow, but one of the two men pushed him back. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's no room. You need to wait here."

Simon held his tongue, knowing that any argument would only delay a rescue. "Go!" he shouted.

The rescuers started the motor of the craft and sped away. The small raft bounced from wave to wave, threatening to capsize in the dark, agitated waters.

Simon watched as the boat moved along side the sentinel and his partner. Within moments, the two drenched men had been dragged inside the boat and were in route back to the larger Coast Guard vessel. The captain barely registered that two medics had taken spots next to him on the deck.

"Are they okay?" Simon yelled to the Guardsmen as the raft docked.

The medics pushed past him and leaned over to help unload the motionless forms. Simon frowned as he realized that neither man was responding to the rough treatment. "Are they. . .?" he started to ask, and then stopped, not wanting to complete the question.

"Both unconscious," one of the medics muttered. He shook his head. "And hypothermic."

"Get the 'copter prepped. It's gonna have to take them in," the other medic yelled. Simon turned to make sure the order was carried out and then realized that there was no need. The Coast Guard rescue workers had already jumped into action.

Simon moved closer to his men. "They're okay, right?"

The medic shook his head. "I can't say. They weren't in the water for that long, but even a few minutes can kill."

"Damn it," Simon whispered, rubbing a hand over tired eyes.

He watched as first Jim and then Blair were loaded on stretchers and lifted up the stairs to helicopter pad. Simon swallowed down his fear. Both men were pale and still. He couldn't see any apparent signs of injuries, but that meant nothing. Both could be dead if appearances were any indication.

"I want to go with them," Simon ordered as he followed the stretchers to helicopter.

"Not enough room, sir," the medic responded and then turned back to the task of securing the stretchers on board the aircraft.

"Make the room. I'm not leaving these two alone," Simon countered. The large man climbed on board. The look on his face made it clear that he had no intention of being left behind.

End Part 1

Deadly Favors (An epilogue for "The Rig")

By Terri T.

Part 2

"Captain Banks?" The words caused Simon to jerk awake. He hadn't realized that he had drifted off. The kink in his neck, though, painfully reminded him that he had been leaning against the waiting room wall for far too long.

"Uh. . .yeah. . .," Simon sputtered, trying to compose himself. He wiped at his mouth hoping that he hadn't drooled down the side of his face during his impromptu slumber. He then concentrated on the attractive female doctor standing in front of him, a medical file in hand.

"I'm Dr. Marlow. I'm treating Mr.Sandburg. I thought you'd like an update on his condition."

"Yes, please. Is he going to be okay?"

"He has a concussion and is suffering from mild hypothermia. He's been fading in and out of consciousness. He's been disoriented when he has been awake." The doctor looked at her file. "He has two significant head injuries, one on the forehead and a large lump on the back of his head. The one on the forehead had already been treated. He also has some deep bruising on his chest and legs. I’m going to have him moved to ICU so that we can keep a close eye on him. I don’t like the way the bruising looks."

"Was it caused from the fall?" Simon asked.

The doctor shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not certain, but I'm guessing no. The bruising is too concentrated. I'm not sure how a fall into the water would have caused it."

Simon shook his head. "I don't know either. They were standing on a ramp one minute and then the next they were in the water." The captain was silent for a moment, remembering the lifeless forms that were recovered from the cold ocean. "How's Detective Ellison?"

"I'm not handling his case, but let me check for you." The woman turned and made her way back to the treatment rooms.

Simon collapsed back into the hard plastic waiting room chair. He let his eyes wander to the large glass window. The sun was beginning to peek over the mountains. Simon sighed. It had already been a long night and there was no doubt that it was going to be an even longer morning.

***

"How's Mr. Ellison doing, Mark?" Dr. Marlow asked the slender Hispanic doctor who was shining a pen light in his patient's eyes.

"I don't get it. He has a rash developing over most of his body. His blood pressure is elevated and his heart beat is irregular," Dr. Martinez responded, his tone intense.

"Is he responsive?"

"No. He's been unconscious since he was brought in. He isn't responding to any outside stimuli." The frustrated doctor shook his head. "Do we have any idea of what happened to him?"

Marlow shook her head. "Other than falling into the ocean for no apparent reason, no. . .I don't think so. His boss is in the waiting room. We can make sure that we have all the facts straight."

"What about the one you were treating?"

Marlow sighed. "No help there. He's still unconscious."

"What the hell happened to these two?"

***

Simon had gone from one waiting room to another. He had been advised that Blair had already been moved to ICU. Jim was close behind. He hadn't had a chance to see either of his men and was getting antsy at the lack of information. He had half-way decided to storm the nurses station and demand answers when a slim-built Hispanic doctor entered the waiting room.

"Captain Banks?"

"Yes," Simon answered quickly.

"I'm Dr. Martinez. I'm treating Detective Ellison. I need to ask you some questions."

"I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Do you have any idea what might have happened?"

Simon shook his head. "No, we hadn't had a chance to do an in depth debriefing. I told Dr. Marlow everything I know. What have you found?"

"Not much. Until he regains consciousness, we are at somewhat of a loss. We've moved him to ICU for further diagnosis. All we know right now is that he has a rash over most of his body. It could be caused by something that he came into contact with in the ocean, but we're really not sure. He has a low-grade fever, chest congestion and heart palpitations." The doctor looked at his chart. "We just can't figure out what would be in the ocean to cause this kind of reaction. We're running tests, but it could take awhile to narrow down the possibilities."

"Chemicals," Simon answered quickly.

"But he was on an oil rig, right?" the doctor repeated.

"Yeah. He and Sandburg were working a murder investigation. Some of the people on the rig were involved in the smuggling of illegal chemicals. Things got. . .messy."

"Do you have a list of what chemicals he might have been exposed to?"

"No, I don't. But I can find out. Let me make a couple of phone calls." Simon stood to make his way to the phone.

Before he could complete the action, a nurse came rushing up the hall. "Dr. Martinez. You're needed in Mr. Ellison's room," she said, her words rushed.

"What's wrong?" the doctor asked as he followed the nurse back to the injured officer's room with Simon in tow.

"Mr. Ellison briefly regained consciousness."

"That's good, right?" Simon said.

"He vomited and then passed out again," the nurse said.

"Damn," the doctor muttered.

"There was blood in the vomit," the nurse added.

The doctor pushed open the door to Ellison's room. Before he entered he turned back to Simon. "Captain, you'd better stay out here until we can figure out what happened to your man. See if you can find something to help us out."

Simon nodded silently, defeat in the motion.

*****************

Simon rubbed at his tired eyes. It was now mid-morning and things had gone from bad to worse. There had been no good news from the doctors. Sandburg's doctor said that he had bounced back and forth between unconscious and disorientation. Simon had not yet been allowed to see him. Likewise, Ellison was completely out of it, so far not responding to any treatment.

Simon had called Taggert over an hour before and asked his fellow captain to gather information from the Coast Guard about what was found on the rig. Joel had agreed to see what he could come up with. Thus far, Simon hadn't heard from the rotund man. Movement at the doorway caught his attention. Expecting the doctor, Simon looked up. Unexpectedly the subject of his thoughts came into the room.

"How are they?" Taggert asked quickly.

Simon shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure. I don’t think it's looking good for either of them."

"Do they know what happened?"

"Nope. They're waiting for us to come up with something. Speaking of which, any ideas what happened to those two?"

"Very little. The rig's medic said that Sandburg was hit by the radio tower."

"Say what?" Simon frowned, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Yeah. I know it sounds inconceivable, but this is Blair, you know. Apparently, they were out on the roof checking to see why the rig's radio wasn't working. The antenna broke free from its moorings and fell down on top of Blair."

"Damn it. This is so totally unbelievable. What in the hell was I thinking sending those two out into the middle of the ocean without any backup?" Simon let his head drop into his hands.

"You couldn't have known anything like this would happen," Taggert tried to reason.

"It's Ellison and Sandburg. . .I should have known better."

Taggert let a small chuckle escape. "I see your point." He stood and went to the coffee maker, motioning to Simon. "Want some?"

"No. I'm going to burn off my stomach lining if I have anymore. That stuff is pure poison."

Taggert poured himself a cup anyway. "So what's Ellison's status."

"I'm not sure. They moved him to ICU a little after Sandburg. He had some kind of a seizure. He regained consciousness briefly and then. . .." Simon paused and then shook his head. "He hasn't been awake since." Simon watched as Taggert sat back down in the chair next to him. "Anything from the witnesses about what happened to Ellison?"

"Nothing much. The crewmen who weren't involved don't have a clue. Those who were. . .well, they're not talking."

"How about the medic?"

"Nothing. He doesn't know. The last time he saw Ellison was when Blair was being treated for his injuries from the tower."

"So, the only one who knows what happened to Jim is Blair?"

Taggert shrugged. "It's starting to look that way." He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced, pouring the rest of the cup into a nearby planter.

******************

He was cold, freezing cold. He was certain he had never been so cold in his life. All he wanted to do was snuggle further down into his bed and find warmth. "Mr. Sandburg?" a soft female voice called to him.

"No. . .cold," he responded, keeping his eyes closed, hoping that the voice would go away, or better yet, bring him more blankets and then go away.

"Blair, can you wake up for me?" this time it was a man's voice, but not Jim's.

"Tired," he mumbled, still refusing to open his eyes.

"Blair, it's me, Simon. I need you to wake up." Blair turned toward the familiar voice and tried to pry his eyes open. The lids wouldn't cooperate.

"Blair, Jim's hurt. He needs you."

Those three words seemed to spark life into Blair. His eyes flew open and then shut quickly, the young man wincing with pain at the sudden stab of light which pierced his pupils.

He opened his eyes again, more cautiously the second time. "Simon," he whispered. "Wha. . .? Jim. . .?"

His eyes finally focused on the dark face of his Captain looking down at him. "You with me Blair?"

"Wha. . .what's happened?" he spoke again, trying to make his words clearer.

Before Simon could answer, a woman entered Blair's line of vision, gently pushing Simon aside. "Good, you're awake. Can you follow my finger?" the woman said as she moved her hand back and forth in front of Blair's face. Blair dutifully followed the digit, and then stopped, realizing that he had not been told about Jim.

"Where's Jim?" he asked, surprised at how weak his voice sounded to his own ears. Simon and the unknown female doctor glanced at each other and then directed their attention back to Blair.

"I'm Dr. Marlow, Blair. You're in County General. Do you remember what happened?"

Blair frowned and then grimaced as the deep cut on his forehead pulled. "Uh. . .rig."

Simon stepped forward again. "Yeah, you and Jim were on the rig."

"Uhm. . .bomb."

"Yeah, you disarmed the bomb."

Blair squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Can't. . .I can't remem. . .," he started to say, and then stopped. "Jim fell."

"Yeah. . .you did too. . .into the ocean," Simon added.

Blair frowned again. The doctor's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. Sandburg, I want to ask you some questions."

Simon looked up at the doctor with concern in his eyes. "Is he okay?"

The woman shook her head. "He's still somewhat disoriented, which is to be expected with the head injury and hypothermia."

"Jim's sick?" Blair interrupted. A shiver then over took him. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control over his body. Once he felt he had some semblance of control, he continued. "How bad?"

Dr. Marlow lifted one of Blair's eyelids and aimed her penlight into his pupil as she answered his question. He squinted in response and tried to turn away. A groan of pain was all he could manage. The doctor gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I know it hurts."

"Not important," Blair shrugged off. "Jim?"

"He's still unconscious," the doctor finally answered, lifting the neck of his hospital gown, intending to place her stethoscope over his heart.

His hand stopped her, pushing her hand away. He then tried to lift himself up from the bed. "Gotta help him."

Blair was too weak to make it far. Dr. Marlow easily, but gently restrained her patient. Simon moved to the other side of the bed. "Blair, you're in pretty rough shape yourself. You need to take it easy."

"Jim needs help," Blair protested once again. The new-found strength of his voice was a contradiction to the obvious weakness of his body. He aimed a pleading gaze to the Captain. "Simon, you know why. I have to help him." Blair tried to push up again, only this time a wave of dizziness overtook him and he collapsed back onto the bed with a groan.

Dr. Marlow stood over her patient with concern. "No, Mr. Sandburg, you need to rest." She whispered to the nearby nurse, who nodded and then handed the doctor a hypodermic needle. Marlow injected the contents into the IV port hanging above Blair's bed.

"Wha. . .?" Blair gasped as he watched her actions. "No. . .don't. . .," he protested weakly, his right hand reaching for his left arm in an effort to disconnect the IV.

The doctor reached out again and took his hand, placing it back on to the bed. "Please don't."

"You. . .don't. . .understand," Blair argued, words slurring together. He turned his gaze onto Simon. "Please. . .Simon. . .help. . .."

Simon turned away from the younger man and looked at the doctor. "Is this really necessary?"

"He's getting himself too worked up. He needs to calm down," she answered firmly. She then turned back to her patient. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sandburg, but this is just a mild sedative to calm you down. . .help you rest."

Simon stepped forward. "Blair, I'll keep an eye on Jim for you."

"He. . .needs. . .me," Blair whispered as his eyes lost focus. He fought the effect, but finally nodded off.

"I know, but you need to take care of yourself first," Simon answered to the now-sleeping man. He let his hand drift down to Sandburg's. He grasped the limp fingers within his own. "I'll take care of Jim for you, I promise."

Dr. Marlow watched the exchange between the two men, frowning.

End Part 2

Deadly Favors (An Epilogue for "The Rig")

By Terri D. Thomas

Part 3

"Captain Banks?" Dr. Marlow said as the doctor followed the police officer out of Blair's room.

"Yeah," Simon responded.

"What did he mean in there?"

Simon frowned. "When?"

"When he said that he needed to help Detective Ellison."

Simon paused for a moment, feeling his chest tighten with the upcoming lie. "Oh, that, well, they're partners. Partners help each other." He turned to head back down the hall toward Jim's room.

Dr. Marlow followed. "If there's something that you or Mr. Sandburg know that will help us diagnose your detective's condition, you need to tell us."

Simon stopped walking again. "You know everything that I know. Sandburg might have more info, but he's not really in a position to tell us, is he?" Simon bit his lip with the sarcastic response.

"I had to give him something to calm him down. He was becoming too agitated."

"That's his best friend in there," Simon said, pointing to Jim's room. "Of course he's agitated." The large man rubbed his forehead. "Look, I suggest that the next time Sandburg wakes up we find out what he knows. . .in detail, before you knock him out again.

Simon walked away, leaving the doctor to ponder his words.

********

"Can I see him?" Simon asked Dr. Martinez, who was hovering over the unconscious detective.

The doctor nodded. "Don't expect a reaction from him, though. He's still non-responsive."

"Still no ideas about what happened?"

"No." The doctor pulled out the chart. "He still has the symptoms that we discussed earlier, the congestion in his lungs is getting worse, though. He's showing signs of pneumonia," the doctor explained.

"From falling into the ocean?"

"I don't think so. I believe it's chemical induced. Have you come up with anything on the chemicals found on the oil rig?"

"No, tests are still being run. Are you sure it's not from falling into the ocean? It was very cold."

"I don't think that the congestion is from the water. I believe it's from chemical exposure. Something has irritated the lining of his lungs."

"The chemicals on the ship could have done this?" Simon guessed.

"It's possible. I'm still waiting for blood tests to help us narrow down the possibilities." The doctor closed the file and made his way to the door. "You can stay with him as long as you like. If he shows signs of coming around, let the duty nurse know."

Simon nodded and then pulled up a chair. He collapsed onto the hard plastic and prepared to keep vigil.

********

Joel Taggert leaned against the door to the small ICU room watching a sleeping Simon sitting in a too small plastic chair, leaning against the wall next to Jim's bed. The steady 'woosh' of the respirator that now sustained the unconscious man's breathing didn't seem to disturb the exhausted captain. Of course spending the past seven hours in a hospital room with his detective, after pulling an all-nighter at the rig was more than enough reason for why Simon appeared dead to the world.

He had thought about waking Simon to try and convince him to go home and get rest. Then he realized that it wouldn't do any good. Simon wouldn't leave as long as his two friends were in danger.

Taggert pushed away from the door and moved down the hall towards Blair's room which was only two doors down. The younger man was very still. He had been asleep for most of the day. Simon had told him that Blair had been sedated because he was too worked up about Jim's injury. He wasn't too surprised by that revelation. The partners were closer than brothers were, even if they wouldn't admit to each other.

Taggert entered the room. He glanced at the heart monitor, relieved that the machine was beating out a steady rhythm. He looked down at the sedated man. "Hey, Blair." As expected, there was no response. "Jim's hangin' in there. You should really wake up so that you can see him." Still silence. "I know that you're worried about him. . .." He pulled up the chair next to the bed and sat down. He reached out a hand and placed it on Blair's still arm. "Simon's keeping an eye on him. . .making sure the doctor's are treating him right."

A low groan from the patient broke into Taggert's comments. "Blair?" The large man rose from the chair and leaned over the bed rail.

Another groan followed. Blair slowly moved his head side-to-side. His closed eyes squeezed further shut. "Come on, Blair, it's time to wake up."

The eyelids fluttered and then opened. Sandburg seemed to have trouble focusing upon the man standing over him. After a few moments Blair spoke. "Joel?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Blair. Welcome back. How do you feel?"

Blair frowned and then looked around him. "Jim's hurt?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah, you remember."

Blair nodded. "Doctor gave me something."

"She was worried that you were getting too upset. You need to keep calm, okay?"

"He needs me."

"Yeah, he does, but he needs you awake and calm." Joel placed his hand back on Blair's arm. "He's really sick. They don't know what's wrong with him."

"Symptoms?"

Joel sat down in the chair again. "He has a bad rash over his body. . .and he vomited up blood. They say he has. . .uhm. . .chemical pneumonia," Joel reported.

Blair closed his eyes. At first Joel thought the younger man had fallen asleep, then he saw the blue orbs open again. "Oil," Blair said.

"What?"

"Oil. Jim fell in a vat of oil."

"When?"

"On the rig. . .he was in it for quite awhile. . .almost died." Blair tried to push himself upright. "Got to tell the doctors."

Joel pushed the smaller man back down. "Nice try, kiddo, but you stay put. I'll get the doctor."

Joel rushed from the room. Blair, though, wasn't going to stay behind. He pulled the IV from his arm, grimacing with the twinge of pain it caused. Blood welled up from the needle hole. He pressed the tape that had been holding the IV in place against his skin to catch the small pool of blood. He pushed the lever to lower the bed rail and pulled the wires from chest, causing the machines next to his bed to scream.

He lowered himself off the bed and stood on shaky legs. He reached over to the heart monitor and pushed the button to off.

Disregarding the flimsy hospital gown, which barely covered him, he slowly made his way out of the room, bound and determined to find Jim. Before he could succeed in his goal, he found himself face to face with Joel and Dr. Marlow. "Blair! Where do you think you're going?" the captain asked in a petulant tone.

"Gotta find Jim. The oil could kill him," Blair insisted, trying to fight his way past the larger man. The doctor took one of Blair's arms and Joel took the other. The two gently turned Blair around and back to the bed. "I should've thought about what would happen. How could I be so stupid?" he lectured himself, so caught up in analyzing Jim's condition that he wasn't aware that he had been tucked back into the bed.

"Captain Taggert said that you know what happened to Detective Ellison," Dr. Marlow commented.

Blair nodded frantically. "He fell into a large vat of oil. He almost drowned. I'm sure he swallowed some of it."

The doctor nodded. "That makes sense with the symptoms that we've seen so far." She turned to Taggert. "Keep an eye on him. I'm going to let Dr. Martinez know what happened." The doctor quickly left the room.

"Good job, Blair," Taggert said, a smile on his face.

Blair ignored the praise and instead pushed the blankets off of his legs. "I want to see him, Joel. Please help me."

"I can't do that. You're too weak."

"Please, help me see him." Blair's blue eyes drilled into the older man's brown.

"Lord help me," Joel muttered. "Okay. But only if you let me take you in a wheelchair."

Blair nodded, more than agreeable with the solution. Joel headed for the door. "Stay put until I get back."

End Part 3

Deadly Favors (An Epilogue for "The Rig")

By Terri D. Thomas

Part 4

Blair had to swallow the lump in his throat when he first set eyes on his partner. "Oh god," he mumbled. "He looks. . ." the young man whispered.

"He's holding his own, Blair." The encouraging words came from Simon, who was sitting on the far side of Jim's bed.

Taggert pushed Blair's wheelchair closer to the bed. "Blair figured out what's wrong with Jim," Joel said.

Simon raised his eyes in surprise. "What is it?"

"I think it's from oil. Jim fell into a huge vat on the rig."

Simon frowned. "How?"

Blair's eyes never left Jim's face. "He was pushed. He almost. . .didn't make it. I found him and it was almost too late." The words were hushed.

"Blair said that he may have swallowed the oil, definitely would have breathed in the fumes," Joel added, letting his hand rest on Blair's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "Don't think the doctors would have figured it out if Blair hadn't come up with the solution."

"What are they going to do?" Simon asked.

Blair shrugged, looking up at Simon. "I'm not sure how they treat oil poisoning. I suppose it's kinda like ingesting gasoline." He looked at his friend again. "I can't believe I didn't think about what could happened. I mean I made him wash down, but it never dawned on me that he had swallowed the stuff." Blair let his head fall into his hands. "It's my fault."

Simon looked up at Taggert. He motioned towards the door. Taking the hint, Joel said, "I'm going to find the doctor and see what's going on." He left the room without waiting for a response.

After Joel was out of earshot, Simon rose from the chair and pulled it over next to Sandburg's wheelchair. "He's alive because of you, Blair. When he fell into the ocean, you saved him."

"I should've realized what the oil could do to him. I mean look at his skin." Blair gestured to the blotchy red patterns running down Jim's arms. "That's because I forgot he was a sentinel. . .that he would be more sensitive."

"Not your fault, kid."

"I'm supposed to be the one who thinks about these things. That's my job. . .my part of the partnership. I screwed up, Simon. . .me. . .no one else."

Blair looked at his injured friend again. "I'm sorry, Jim. . .I'm so sorry," he whispered. He then turned to Simon. "I wanna go back to my room. . .now."

Simon shook his head. "I think you should stay here with Jim for awhile. . .give me a chance to get a cup of coffee."

"No, please Simon. I need to get out of here. I'm cold. . .and tired. . .and my head hurts." Blair started to steer his wheelchair towards the door.

Simon sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Please."

Simon nodded, stood and complied with Blair's request.

**********

Dr. Martinez exited Jim's room, a smile on his face. Simon pushed away from the corridor wall on which he had been leaning. "How is he?"

"Well, he's starting to show signs of coming around. He's still unconscious, but at least we know how to treat the problem. He's definitely looking better."

"It is oil poisoning then?"

"Yeah. . .found traces in his blood. He's reacting to the breathing treatments that we've started. We're also giving him an anti-inflammatory. We've taken him off of the endotracheal tube and have put him on a mask. He's reacting very well to the skin treatment we have him on as well." The doctor frowned for a moment. "Although it is unusual that he would have such a bad skin reaction to oil. It doesn't normally cause such severe rashes in people. I suppose it could have had something to do with other items he may have been exposed to. . .the ocean water, the other chemicals on the ship. . .or, hell, even the soap that was used to wash him down initially."

Simon didn't respond to the doctor's conjecture, being pretty sure that Jim's enhanced senses had caused such a severe reaction. "So he's going to be okay?"

"Once he regains consciousness, we'll know for sure, but my best guess is that yes, he's going to recover."

"Thank god," Simon muttered. He rubbed a hand over his exhausted eyes.

"I think you need to go home and get some sleep, Captain."

"I will. . .as soon as I tell Sandburg about Jim."

The doctor frowned again. "Dr. Marlow says that Mr. Sandburg is acting rather. . .moody. She's worried that he's not handling all of this very well."

"He's not. He and Jim are very close. He thinks he's at fault because he didn't consider what would happen to Jim when he fell into the oil vat."

"How could he know? It's not taught in your standard first aid course. I even had to go back to the journals to confirm the treatment."

"Blair's a little bit of a perfectionist when it comes to caring for his partner."

The doctor chuckled. "You make it sound like he's his keeper or something." Martinez turned away and walked down the hall.

Simon sighed as he whispered, "If you only knew."

*********

"How's he doing?" Simon whispered as he entered the darkened hospital room.

Joel looked at the prone body lying on the bed. Blair was lying with his back to the door. "I'm not sure. He hasn't moved since he came back to the room."

Simon patted Joel on the arm. "Give me some time with him." Joel nodded and left the two alone. Simon moved past the larger man and towards Blair's bed. "Blair?" There was no response. He moved closer and leaned over the bed rail, placing a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Blair, are you awake?"

There was still no answer, however Simon could feel a shudder run through Blair's body, telling the Captain that the younger man was awake. "You're shivering. Are you still cold?" There was no response to the question. Simon continued. "The doctor says that he thinks Jim's going to be fine. He's breathing on his own. They'll know more when he wakes up, but it's looking good."

Simon didn't need Jim's sentinel hearing to hear the sob escaping from Blair's throat. He physically turned Blair onto his back so he could see the distraught man's face. "Blair? Son? What's wrong." The normally expressive blue eyes were tightly closed as if trying to block out the world.

The question was answered with silence. "Open your eyes," Simon gently requested. Still nothing. "Sandburg, open your eyes. . .now." This time it was an order. It worked. Sandburg obeyed. Simon's gaze centered on Blair's face. "Did you hear me? Jim's responding to the treatment. The doctors think he's going to be okay."

Blair nodded, but remained silent. Simon sighed and sat in the chair next to the bed. "So, how long are you going to keep this up?"

Blair didn't respond verbally, but Simon spotted his forehead crease with a frown. "So you want to blame yourself for Jim being here?" Simon sat back in the chair. "Where does that leave me then?" Blair's frown didn't go away. Simon continued. "I'm the one who asked you two to work the case in the first place." Simon sighed and then rubbed his forehead, exhaustion in the act. "If you feel this bad about your failure to keep Jim safe I can't imaging what you're thinking about me right now."

"No!" Blair finally answered. "It wasn't you. You couldn't have known what would happen."

"Oh, I forgot, only you can see into the future. Well, that changes everything." Blair didn't respond to the captain's sarcastic comment. "Guess that's something reserved for. . .what did you say Bracket called you. . .a 'guide'?"

Blair raised his hands to his face and rubbed at his eyes. "You don't understand. Jim counted on me to help him. That's my job. I failed."

"Oh, so I get it. . .because you're not perfect, you're a failure."

Blair bit his lip, but remained silent. Simon leaned forward and put his elbows on the bed, resting his chin on clasped hands. "How many times in the past year have you pulled Jim's butt out of the fire? How many times have you allowed him to function as a cop. . .keep his sanity? Are you telling me none of those things matter?"

Blair turned to the cop. "Simon, I should have realized that the oil could hurt Jim. It never even crossed my mind. How could I have been so stupid?"

Simon chuckled. "Well, first of all, Jim's doc tells me that even he had to go back to his books to figure out what symptoms Jim could suffer from. There's no reason why you should have thought about those kinds of problems. Second, from what everyone tells me, you kinda had other things on your mind. Did you ever consider that maybe you weren't thinking that clearly after being bonked on the head with the radio antenna?" Blair's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh yeah, Sandburg, I know all about that. So, in a matter of twelve hours you faced down murderers, disarmed a bomb and had an antenna fall on you. It's no wonder you were a little sidetracked."

Blair's eyes were staring at the ceiling. Simon sighed. "Give yourself a break. Despite what you think, you aren't perfect. . .you don’t have to be perfect. Jim doesn't need perfect. . .," Simon paused for a moment to let his next words sink in. "What he needs is you."

Blair closed his eyes and turned away from the older man.

End Part 4

Deadly Favors (An Epilogue for "The Rig")

By Terri D. Thomas

Part 5

"Detective Ellison, can you hear me?" the gentle voice prodded at him through the darkness.

"Hmmm. . .," Jim tried to answer. The burning of his throat, though, prohibited a full response.

"Can you open your eyes?"

"Uh. . .huh," his voice croaked. He concentrated and tried to pry his eyelids open. At first only his right eye responded. . .then his left opened. The bright light overhead caused him to shut his eyes immediately to block out the pain shooting through his head.

"Let me turn down the lights a little bit more," the voice offered. There was a moment's silence. "Okay, let's try it again."

Jim opened his eyes a second time. Thankfully, there was only a twinge of pain. He slowly focused his gaze upon the male face over him. He frowned, not knowing at whom he was looking. "Good job," the unknown person said. "I'm Dr. Martinez. I've been treating you. Let me take that mask off." The doctor carefully removed the oxygen mask.

The doctor looked up for a moment and then nodded, satisfied that Jim seemed to be breathing easier. "Good. I think you've definitely turned the corner"

Jim then saw a familiar face standing over him. "Hey, Simon." He forced the words past his raspy throat.

"How are you feeling?"

"Uh. . .rough. . .," Jim answered, his body's weakness coming out in the tone of his voice.

Simon smiled. "Well, hate to tell you this, buddy, but you look a little rough as well."

"What happened?" The words were said so quietly that Simon almost couldn't hear them.

"You had an adverse reaction to the oil that you fell in."

Jim swallowed, grimacing at the burning sensation. "The rig?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, on the rig."

Dr. Martinez spoke up. "Do you remember what happened?"

Jim closed his eyes, searching his memory. "Uhm. . .felt sick. Didn't know why."

"It was the oil. You swallowed and inhaled it," Dr. Martinez explained.

"I don't remember how I got here, though."

"You collapsed and fell into the ocean."

Jim's eyes widened. "Blair!"

Simon sighed. "Blair fell in with you. He's okay, though. . .physically at least. He's in a room down the hall."

"Can I see him?" Jim asked eagerly.

Simon shook his head. "I don't think you're going anywhere, pal."

"Bring him here?"

"Oh. . .ah. . .well, let me see how he's feeling."

The doctor spoke up. "In the meantime let's give you a chance to gain back a little more strength. You've been in critical condition for the past twenty-four hours. I don't want to overtax your system."

Jim frowned at his boss. "Blair is okay, right?"

Simon nodded. "Yeah. . .he is."

Jim frowned. "Simon?" The sentinel didn't have to tell the captain that he could detect the lie.

"Jim, he's feeling a little guilty right now."

"Guilty, why?" Jim knew his mind was fuzzy, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what Blair did wrong.

"He feels like he should have known that you would have a reaction to the oil."

Jim grimaced. "How could he know what would happen? I was a medic and I didn't think about the consequences."

"I've tried to reason with him, but he's being stubborn."

Jim shook his head. "Unbelievable. You have to let me see him, Simon. I'll talk some sense into the kid."

***********

Simon had returned to Blair's room only to find him sound asleep. He debated on whether to wake him, but then decided that the healing man needed his rest. Perhaps sleep would work to improve Blair's emotional state.

Joel moved behind the captain. "Are you going to wake him?"

"Nah. . .let's let him rest. The hospital's releasing him first thing in the morning. We'll take him to Jim then."

"So he doesn't know that Jim's awake?"

"Not yet. I'm hoping that after he's rested his attitude about what happened will improve."

Joel nodded. "We can only hope. Let's get out of here and get some sleep."

Simon nodded. He took one last glimpse of Sandburg and then followed the rotund man to the hospital elevators.

**********

Blair waited until he was certain that no one was at the door. He had been awake for awhile and was able to hear Simon's conversation with Joel. He had thought about letting the two officers know he was awake, but then he realized he had no desire to discuss what had happened to Jim any more. When he heard that Jim was awake, he felt a mixture of elation and dread fill him. He was so happy that Jim was back, but at the same time he still felt guilt for not thinking about the consequences of Jim's immersion into the oil. Despite Simon's attempt to reason with Blair, the younger man knew that he was responsible for the severity of Jim's injuries.

"Time to face the music, Sandburg," he muttered to himself. He threw back the blanket and pushed himself to his feet.

He wasn't sure why he was still in the hospital. The nurse had told him it was for observation purposes only. Of course he was certain that his failure to eat the meals provided that day might have had something to do with it. He had tried to eat, but nothing tasted right. Everything he swallowed felt like it was going to come right back up.

The wheelchair that Joel had brought earlier was sitting near the bed. Blair bypassed it. This time, he made sure the hospital gown that he was wearing was well-secured. He looked in the closet and found his own light-weight robe and slippers. Bless Simon and Joel for their kindness. He wasn't sure which man had been so thoughtful, but he would make sure to thank them both later. He slipped on the robe, reveling in the warmth it provided and then slipped his slippers onto his cold feet.

He quietly left his room. He glanced up and down the hall. It was deserted. Blair moved quickly down the hall and pushed open the door to Jim's room. He cringed at the loud 'squeek' that came from the door's hinges. Despite sentinel hearing, Ellison didn't seem to notice the sound.

Blair walked into the room, being careful not to wake his friend. He sat in the chair next to the bed and gave his partner a thorough inspection. The red blotches that had marred Jim's body earlier seemed to have faded. Blair said a silent prayer of thanks. The detective's color seemed to be less pale as well.

Unlike the last time that Blair had been in Jim's room, there were no machines or IV's hooked up to the patient. For that, Blair breathed a sigh of relief. Simon had been right. Jim was getting better.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Jim's raspy words caused Blair to jump.

"I'm sorry. . .I didn't mean to wake you," Blair responded as he started to push himself up from the chair. "I'll go."

"Nah. . .stay. . .I wasn't really asleep." Jim opened his eyes. He turned his gaze onto Blair's face. "Ouch. How bad does it hurt?"

"What?" Blair asked, not knowing what Jim was referring to.

"Your head."

Blair gently fingered the stitches. "Oh. . .that. It's nothing."

"With that beautiful blue, black, purple lump you have growing there, I wouldn't say it's nothing."

Blair smiled. "Not a bad as you. You look like you rolled in a vat of raspberries."

Jim lifted his arm and looked at the fading blotches. "I wish. . .raspberries would have tasted better than that crap I swallowed." He fought and then lost to a cough.

Blair's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Jim. I should've realized what could happen."

Jim frowned. "Yeah, I heard you were taking a guilt trip. What's that all about?"

Blair sat back in the chair. "You almost died. I didn't think about the fact that you had swallowed the stuff. . .or inhaled it. All I could think about was how messy you were. I told you not to touch me," Blair whispered.

Jim chuckled and then coughed again, grimacing, as he tasted the residue of the poison that had run through his system. "I didn't want to touch me either."

Blair frowned. "It's not funny."

Jim sobered. "Okay, no, I guess it isn't. Look, Chief, I'm a trained medic. I didn't think about the possibilities either. So do you blame me too?" Blair silently shook his head. "Oh, how about we blame Simon? I mean it's his fault that we were on the rig in the first place."

Blair pursed his lips together and shook his head. "Simon already tried that argument on me."

"Oh. Did it work?"

"No."

"Why not? He's the one who asked us to do the favor for his friend. Neither of us would be here otherwise."

"You don't get it, Jim. My part of this. . .partnership is to watch your back. That's what the. . .guide. . .does for the sentinel. I screwed up, Jim."

"Whoa there, Chief. Your part of this partnership. . .this friendship. . .is to do the best you can. . .to be there for me. That's exactly what you did. You pulled my butt out of that vat. Had you not been there I would have drowned. That would have been it. I would've checked out for good."

"But. . .," Blair protested.

"That's enough, Blair. Listen to me. You did nothing wrong. You gave me everything you had. You went above and beyond. . .and there's a whole rig-full of crewmen who owe their lives to you because you did the right thing. You," Jim's finger weakly poked his partner's arm which was resting on the bed. "No one else."

Blair closed his eyes. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Jim yawned. "Now, go away. I need my beauty sleep."

Blair chuckled lightly. "I don't think you could sleep long enough to do any good, Jim."

Jim tried to sit up to swat at his friend for the remark, but didn't make it. He fell back against the mattress with a grimace. Blair's smile faded as he rushed to his partner's side, leaning over the bed rail. "Oh god, Jim. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Jim's tightly closed eyes suddenly shot open. Before Blair could move, Jim's right arm had reached around Blair's neck and pulled the younger man down in a bear hug. "God you're gullible," Jim muttered, ignoring the laughing protests as he proceeded to give his best friend and guide a gentle Dutch rub.

End