Simon Banks watched in silence as they loaded Sandburg into the ambulance and prepared to depart. He had thought that he was prepared for the sight, already knowing from his earlier discussion with Ellison that the kid had been injured, but…Jesus…so much blood. And his eyes…Nothing could have prepared him for that barely recognizable face. He took a deep drag on his cigar, sending a silent prayer up to the heavens on Sandburg's behalf, then sought to get his emotions under control. Looking around him, he could see that he wasn't the only one struggling with that.
All of the members of Major Crimes were at the scene, and had gathered quickly near the ambulance when they had heard that Sandburg was coming out. Now they were standing around staring at each other in shock at his appearance, some looking distinctly pale and queasy.
Brown rubbed one hand over his face in disbelief. His partner, Rafe, stood openmouthed, softly repeating "Oh dear God" over and over. They all turned and watched as the ambulance headed off with its police escort, sirens wailing, carrying their fallen comrade and friend. Some wiped their eyes as they turned back towards Simon, fear and concern in their eyes changing to anger and icy determination.
He spoke up quickly, knowing that he needed to focus his team. Simon didn't need a gang of vigilantes out for justice, or revenge, he needed his department to run like the efficient and effective group of professionals that he knew them to be.
"All right people, listen up. We've still got a job to do here. Jim's in there with nine civilians and, as far as we know, one man who appears to be armed and wearing explosives. Let's keep our cool, now.
Connor, I want you to go to the hospital with Sandburg. Joel…"
He was cut off with a quick protest.
"But Captain, sir, with all due respect, I want to stay. I want this guy." The flash in Connor's eyes and her determined stance made her feelings perfectly clear.
"I know, Connor, we all do. But I need you to go to the hospital." As she began to speak up again, he headed her off with a raised hand. "And before you say it, it is *not* because you are a woman." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and softened his voice. "You saw Blair. If…when he comes to, he's gonna need someone there for him, a familiar voice. You've been working the closest with those two, so until Jim can get there, I want you to be there with him. He'd do the same for you."
Despite the brief flicker of disappointment he could see in her eyes, he also saw understanding and compassion evident as she replied.
"Of course, sir, I know he would. Don't worry, Captain, mates, I'll let Sandy know that you're all thinking of him. And watching out for Jim." She turned and jogged off across the parking lot towards her car.
"All right. Joel, I want you to coordinate with the Bomb Squad. Get a pair of binoculars and find a good vantage point to try to see the shooter. We've got to see what we're dealing with in there." Joel nodded. "Brown, I want you to find a floor plan of the building. Check the owner, the fire department, the construction company, whoever. Find all of the possible access points to that building. Rafe, coordinate with the SWAT team. We want them ready and in position, but I don't want anyone to go off half-cocked. If you have to, remind them that Major Crimes has the lead on this one, and that comes straight from the Chief.
As far as we know, he hasn't hurt anyone other than Sandburg and Ellison, and we don't want to set him off. Our first priority is getting those civilians safely out of there. Any questions? Then let's get moving. Oh, and gentlemen," he paused and looked then each in the eye in turn. "I know how you feel about Blair, and we're all worried about Jim. They need us to be cool, calm and in control. Do you read me?"
"Yes, sir," they chorused in reply.
"Very good, then. Let's do it. Check in with me every ten minutes."
The group split up. Simon watched them go, proud of the discipline and determination of his unit. He knew that each would give their all for their colleagues and for the citizens of Cascade, regardless of their personal feelings. He picked up his own binoculars and returned to his vantage point to watch the front of the store.
---------------
Jim listened to Simon from inside the store, more able to focus his senses effectively now that he didn't need to focus them on Blair. As difficult as it was, he had to force his concern for his partner and friend from the forefront of his mind. He smiled, glad that Simon had assigned Megan to go to the hospital, and felt better that his partner wouldn't be there all alone.
Now that Blair was on his way to the hospital and he no longer could do anything to help him, Jim could focus entirely on the gunman and the hostages. He was relieved to hear that Simon and Major Crimes had the lead on handling the situation, knowing that he would keep his head and use his knowledge of Jim's sentinel abilities to advantage in controlling the situation, if at all possible.
Even though he was even more edgy than before, if that were possible, the gunman had picked up his notebook and returned to his "sermon." He frequently glanced at the pages that he held in his hand, but Jim could tell that he was also rambling freely at times. As the gunman seemed to fall into a rhythm of pacing and preaching, he again got a rapturous look on his face.
Jim listened closely, trying to discover something that would help him resolve the situation without any further bloodshed. The gunman's rambling covered much of the same ground and same topics as Jim had seen in his notebook, although in a confusing and disconnected fashion. He seemed to be trying to make a point about how mankind had become too dependent upon technology, especially computers, how technology was weakening man and endangering the species, and that the new millenium would signal the downfall of civilization as we know it.
Even though he continued to hold a death grip on his weapon, the gunman made no further move to harm anyone. As he listened and gained a little better understanding of what the man was about, Jim began to feel that he had no intention of harming any of the hostages, but instead just wanted them as an audience to his speech. Almost an hour later, he suddenly realized that Simon was trying to talk to him. He focused on extending his sense of hearing to find his captain's voice out in the parking lot.
"Jim. Jim. Can you hear me? Give me a sign, dammit."
He moved his hands behind his back and held down one finger in the agreed-upon signal. Simon continued in relief.
"Thank God. I've been standing here talking into my cell phone like an idiot, waiting for you to hear me. Are you all right?"
Jim gestured his response.
"Good. Listen, Jim, we got a listening device attached to the glass doorfront out here a couple of minutes ago. Sorry it took so long, but we had to practically beg the feds for it. We can hear most of what he is saying. The man sounds crazy. Has he made any threats or moves to harm anyone else?"
Jim replied in the negative.
"Good. We've got the building plans, and we could get in through two back entrances, a fire exit and the loading dock. But since we don't know how he's got that bomb wired, we can't make a move. You're the one on the inside. Do you think that he'll blow it if anyone comes in?" Simon sighed at Jim's reply "yes." "Do you think that he'll blow it anyway, no matter what we do?"
That was a harder question, and Jim didn't know how to answer. He decided that "I don't know" was the best he could do, and waggled one and then two fingers a couple of times, hoping that Simon could figure out his meaning.
"Yes, no, yes, no…are you trying to tell me you don't have a guess?" He gratefully responded "yes." Another sigh whispered across the parking lot. "All right, Jim, how about this: Do you feel that you and the other hostages are in any imminent danger from this guy?"
Jim wished that he had a more direct way to communicate than yes or no. His gut instincts told him that the gunman wouldn't harm anyone else right now, as long as no one did anything to set him off. He took a chance and gestured "no."
He had to wait a moment for a response as Simon contemplated the situation.
"All right, Jim. For right now, we'll hold back and listen, then. The teams will be standing by at the back entrances, ready to go in if things go to hell. The Bomb Squad is ready as well. I'll have someone keeping their eye on you at all times. If you want me to talk to you, if something comes up, rub the back of your neck as a signal and they'll get me right away. I know you've been in there a long time, but if just waiting him out is the only way to get all of you out safely, then that's what we're going to do. Got that?"
Jim gestured his affirmative reply, then brought his arms back to his sides as Simon finished.
"I'll talk to you later, then. Take care of yourself."
A soft clap signaled that Simon had closed his cellular phone, no longer needing the disguise to talk with him. Jim returned his attention to the gunman, still talking, gesturing, and pacing back and forth in front of the hostages.
Before he realized it, another hour or more had passed and he noticed a minute darkening of the room that signaled that the evening was approaching. He wondered for the hundredth time what was happening with Blair, frustrated with his inability to be where he needed to be, at his partner's side at the hospital.
The gunman had continued talking and walking non-stop, barely even taking a breath. Jim couldn't imagine how he had the energy to keep it up for hours, as the hostages were growing exhausted just standing. He noticed for the first time that the gunman had worked his way through almost all of his notebook, and that he was looking at one of the last pages. He wondered what would happen when the man reached the end, and felt a shiver creep up his spine as the words "the end" suddenly stuck in his mind. His attention was quickly riveted on the gunman's words as he focused his eyesight again on the pages of the battered notebook.
Just as he found his focus and began reading the writing there, the gunman turned the page. The last page of writing, and the blank back inside cover, were all that were left. Jim tried to quickly read the page, but after one look the gunman slammed the notebook shut. He slowed his stride and turned to stand in front of the row of hostages, suddenly silent. His unexpected silence was almost more disturbing than his previous rants.
He glanced over the group, looking at them one by one, seemingly searching for something in their eyes. Having looked at each in turn, he finally turned back to Jim and walked slowly towards him. Jim met his eyes, and was amazed to find them shining with tears. The gunman slowly held out the notebook in front of him.
"Take it, please," he said softly.
Jim eased his hand forward and grasped the book slowly. As his hand curled around the edge, the gunman let go. He looked all of them over again, tears now flowing onto pale cheeks as he took a couple of faltering steps back. Raising one hand to his chest, he let the gun fall to the floor beside him as the stunned hostages looked on. His now-empty hand raised in the air, as if giving a blessing, and he spoke to the group in a soft and loving tone.
"Go, my friends. Go and spread my word."
With a shudder and a quiet sob, he flipped a lever on his chest, and the LCD lights on the bomb timer flared to life.
The clock mechanism on the gunman's chest showed 30 seconds briefly, then beeped loudly as it began counting down each second from there. The gunman turned slowly, almost gracefully, and began walking towards the back of the store, his gun left behind on the floor.
Jim heard the collective gasp from the other hostages, all stunned into immobility. He reached up and rubbed his neck vigorously as he shouted at the other men and women at the front of the store.
"Get out! Move! Move!"
He ran to the glass doors and held one open, gesturing wildly with his free hand as the former hostages finally began to realize their freedom and the new danger. They started pouring out of the door as Jim turned and shouted to the mass of police officers around the building.
"Fall back! He's gonna blow it! Go! Go!"
As the last of the hostages stumbled out of the door, he looked back into the store briefly. The gunman had reached the center of the store, and had turned to face the front as he came to a stop. With just a few seconds left on the timer, Jim could see the gunman's lips moving, tears streaming down his face. He looked up, briefly meeting Jim's eyes, and a sad smile came to his face as he raised his arms, forming a cross with his body as he looked towards the heavens and closed his eyes.
Jim turned and ran towards safety, trailing the other hostages and more than a dozen police officers in fleeing for his life. Seconds later, the boom and roar of the explosion almost drove him to his knees from the overload on his sensitive hearing, just before the force of the explosion threw him off of his feet. Still reeling from the gun butt to the head that he had received earlier, the shock wave slammed him against the side of a police car and into a deep, welcoming darkness.
---------------
Simon stayed crouched behind the squad car with an arm over his head, trying to avoid the rain of debris from the exploding building. His shoulder against the car, he could feel it rock slightly as the shock wave of the blast reached it. After a few moments, the shower of glass, concrete and metal let up, and he slowly stood. He barely glanced at the remaining shell of a building as he ran around the car to find his detective.
He found Jim lying face down on the concrete just under the edge of the car's body. With a quick shout for an ambulance and paramedics, he knelt down beside the unmoving figure. Reaching down to rest his fingers against Jim's neck, he felt the regular vibration of a pulse as he also noticed the movement of his chest in breathing. Thank God, he thought, and bowed his head briefly in relief.
Two paramedics arrived quickly at his side.
"Excuse us, Captain. Let us in there, please."
Rocking back on his heels and standing, he took a couple of steps backwards to allow the men to do their work. Quickly and efficiently checking Jim over, it was only a few moments before they carefully rolled him over onto his back to continue their work. Just as he stepped forward to get a better look, his other detectives arrived by his side.
"He did it! The lunatic did it!"
"What…is Jim all right?"
"Oh, man, that blast knocked him ten feet! Is he OK?"
Simon raised a hand to silence his troops and waved them back. "Hold on, people. Let's back up and let them do their work."
They all took a few steps back, stopping and waiting about ten feet away as they kept their eyes on their fallen colleague. All were relieved that Jim had no visible signs of major injuries, but knew that appearances could be deceiving. They could see a trickle of partially dried blood on his temple, and reddened areas on one brow and cheekbone that looked like they would be bruising. The paramedics ignored them as they focused on their patient.
With no information immediately forthcoming from the paramedics, they turned and looked at the former computer store building, aghast. Smoke and dust rose from the now-silent shell as fireman approached, looking for fires and potential victims. The entire glass doorfront had blown out and much of the roof had collapsed, although most of the side walls were still standing. The opening in the front of the building gave onlookers the incongruous impression of a wide, toothless grin. Debris was scattered over a hundred foot radius from the store in all directions.
Eerily silent for a few moments, the area came to life with firemen and police, the sounds of shouts and sirens. The former hostages began picking themselves up from where they had fallen or taken cover, or just stayed on the ground in shock.
One of the paramedics stood and walked over to the group.
"Captain Banks?"
"Yes. How is he?"
"He's got some bruising around his eye and cheekbone, probably from the force of the explosion knocking him into the car. The cut on his forehead doesn't look too serious. We can't find any other obvious injuries. Even though he's unconscious, his pulse and respiration seem stable. We're gonna get a cervical collar on him and take precautions for a possible spinal injury, since he probably hit that car pretty hard. He'll be on his way to the hospital in a few minutes."
"Thanks. Take good care of him."
"Yes, sir, we will."
Only somewhat relieved by the paramedic's report, Simon looked over his men. They were visibly shaken, both by the powerful explosion and their concern for Jim, but he could also tell that they were quickly pulling themselves together. Setting aside his own concerns temporarily, he began directing his team.
"All right, let's get on top of this. Brown and Rafe, get this area sealed off as a crime scene. Reporters are gonna be all over us any minute now. And round up all of the hostages, see that they get medical treatment if needed, and get them somewhere safe where we can get their statements and keep the press off of them for now. Joel, you know the drill on the explosion, work with the Bomb Squad and the fire department. I'll be talking with the Chief and the Mayor, and dealing with the press. And I'll call Connor at the hospital, to let her know that Jim is coming in. I'll let you know if there's anything on Sandburg."
Watching the three men walking off slowly, glancing behind them as the paramedics began preparing Jim for transport, he pulled out his cellular phone. Knowing that he should contact the Chief and the Mayor first, he nevertheless punched the speed dial number for Megan's cellular phone.
---------------
Megan closed the cellphone and dropped it into her jacket pocket with a sigh, then turned and headed back through the doors into the ER waiting area. So now Jim was on his way in, injured as well. She rubbed her forehead, wishing she could rub away the headache and frustration underneath. Walking towards the desk, the clerk looked up and shook her head before Megan could say a word, letting her know that she still had no news about Blair's condition.
Changing her direction, Megan headed back towards the waiting room. Absently staring off into space as she walked, she bumped into a white-jacketed figure.
"Sorry." She continued on without even looking up, until she heard a voice call out her name.
"Megan?"
She stopped and turned, recognizing the woman from her Tai Chi class as she looked up. "Lucy?"
"Megan, what are you doing here? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm here with a friend who's hurt." She looked at the woman, dressed in colorful scrubs, and remembered that she was a nurse.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. How's he doing?"
"I don't know. Listen, Lucy, I hate to impose, but could you do me a favor? He's been here for hours, and I can't find out a thing about how he's doing. Is there anything you can do to find out what's happening with him? His name is Blair Sandburg, and he was injured in an explosion. Please, I could really use your help."
"Sure, give me a minute. I've got to drop off these files, then I'll see what I can do. I'll look for you in the waiting room." She smiled and patted Megan on the arm. "I'm sure they're taking good care of your friend."
Megan anxiously watched her walk away, relieved that she might finally learn about Blair's condition, but almost afraid at the same time of what she would learn. She shivered at the memory of Blair's appearance when she had last seen him, being loaded into the ambulance.
She lost track of time as she paced back and forth, and was startled by a hand on her arm.
"Megan?"
"Lucy…what were you able to find out?" She wasn't encouraged by the serious expression on her friend's face.
"Well, the good news is that he was in shock when he came in, but they've given him fluids and have stabilized his condition. The gunshot wound on his shoulder has been cleaned and stitched up. As to his other injuries…they haven't come to talk to you because they are still assessing and treating his face and chest injuries."
"After all of this time, they're still assessing his injuries?" Megan spoke up in disbelief.
"Actually, Megan, that's a good thing. They've called in several specialists on his case, because of the nature of his injuries. A cosmetic surgeon is looking at him, because he has so many cuts on his face. A burn specialist and an ophthalmologist are looking at his burns and his eyes." She reached up and squeezed Megan's shoulder sympathetically. "I know it looks and sounds pretty bad, but I've worked with these doctors before and they're good. Your friend's in good hands. This isn't something you want them to hurry with."
"No, you're right, I know you're right. It's just…he's a good friend and he looked so…so…" She found herself at a loss for words, her eyes suddenly becoming moist.
"I know how hard it is to wait. Look, Megan, I've gotta go, but I talked to the nurse that's working with him. I asked her to ask his doctor to please talk to you as soon as possible. That's the best I can do."
"Lucy, thank you, I really appreciate it. Thank you." Megan reached over and hugged her friend impulsively.
"I'll see you later." Lucy walked off through the double doors at the entrance to the ER, and Megan returned to her pacing.
---------------
Simon walked into the waiting area for the Emergency Room, pulling his coat off as he went. Finally finishing his reports to the Mayor and the Chief, and having given a brief official statement to the press, he was relieved to have escaped and immediately headed for the hospital. Spotting Connor in a corner chair, listlessly reading an old magazine, he headed over to greet her.
"Connor…"
She leapt to her feet. "Captain Banks, when did you get here?"
"I just came in. How are they?"
"Jim apparently woke up in the ambulance on the way here. He's down the hall there. The last I heard they were waiting for X-rays of his head and shoulder. They think he probably has a concussion, and he apparently hit his shoulder pretty hard, too. Of course, he's giving them a hard time and wanting to find Sandy."
"So what is the news on Sandburg?"
Megan repeated the information that she had received from her friend. "As of a few minutes ago, I heard that they were finishing up and would be out to talk with me soon. Sorry, Captain, I don't know anything else."
"All right, I'm gonna see if I can check in with Jim. If they come out to talk with you about Sandburg, see if you can have them come to talk with us, too. They might as well just say it once." After a brief encounter with the desk clerk, he headed down the hallway to room 3 to find Jim.
Knocking softly at the door, he stuck his head in. Jim was lying on the examination bed, his eyes closed, but opened them at the sound of Simon's knock. The cut on his temple had been cleaned and bandaged, and the left side of his face was swelling and bruising. He sat up quickly, then put a hand to his head with a groan as his throbbing head protested the movement.
"Simon. Is everyone all right? Have you heard anything about Sandburg?"
"Whoa, slow down, Jim. Everyone else is all right, no one was seriously hurt by the explosion. How are you doing?"
"I'm okay. Just a bit banged up, but I'll be fine. How's Sandburg?"
Simon strolled over and sat in the small plastic chair in the corner. "According to Connor, they're finishing up with him now. We should hear something soon."
He'd barely finished his sentence when another knock heralded the arrival of Megan and Blair's doctor.
"Can we come in?" They walked in as Simon came to his feet. "Captain, Jim, this is Doctor Flinn, Sandy's doctor."
"Gentlemen. I understand our patient here is Mr. Sandburg's partner and roommate?"
"Yes," Simon spoke up. "I'm their Captain, and his friend. How is he?"
"He's in Recovery now, and he should be in a room soon. He's in stable condition.
The wound on his arm wasn't serious, it needed a few stitches, but should heal nicely.
We got all of his cuts cleaned up. Some of them needed stitches, but I have to tell you, he is one lucky man. The cut to his neck was right to his carotid artery, a few millimeters further and he may have bled to death. We had a cosmetic surgeon consult on the case, since he had so many cuts on his face. As it is, most of his cuts were very sharp and clean, and should heal without scarring. The few that were larger and might leave small scars are in places, like his eyebrow and his jaw line, where they won't be very noticeable. As I said, he was very lucky.
The burns on his face aren't serious, first and second degree only. Again, there shouldn't be any scarring from them either."
Jim couldn't hold back any longer. "Doctor, what about his eyes?"
The doctor rubbed his forehead briefly. "Mr. Sandburg did receive cuts and burns to his eyelids and the eyes themselves. We've got an ophthalmologist, an eye specialist, on his case. I think he just had to leave, but Dr. Timmons will be following Mr. Sandburg.
You'll want to talk with him for more details, but briefly, as I said, there was some injury to his eyes. Mr. Sandburg hasn't been conscious or coherent enough to do a full exam, so Dr. Timmons will be seeing him again first thing in the morning. For now his eyes were cleaned, treated and bandaged. I wish I could tell you more, but I don't want to give you any inaccurate information, you'll need to talk with Dr. Timmons. Sorry.
I'll ask them to let you know when he's in a room, but you might as well wait until tomorrow to visit. He's on some medication and we have him on some mild sedation, he needs to rest and start healing. And, before you see him, you should be prepared. He doesn't look too good right now, but you need to remember that it's all going to heal. You'll want to reassure him of that, too.
I've got to go. As I said, they'll be getting him in a room soon." Nodding to them, he headed off down the hall.
The three looked at each other as the doctor left the room, mulling over his report. Megan finally decided to break the silence.
"Well, that's good news, isn't it? Sandy's face isn't going to be scarred up."
"Yeah, that's great. I'm sure he'll be glad to hear that when he wakes up," Simon pitched in. "So will the female population of Cascade," he quipped, hoping to lighten the mood. He looked at Jim, who stared glumly at the floor.
"Yeah, great. I just wish he could have told us more about Blair's eye injuries, though." Jim sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I don't know what he'll do if…"
He was cut off in midsentence by Simon. "Don't even go there, Jim. Don't start imagining the worst. The doctor said that Blair was lucky, well, let's just hope that his luck holds out."
"I hope so, Simon. Dear God, I hope so."
The return of Jim's doctor interrupted further discussion.
"All right, Detective Ellison. I've taken a look at your x-rays and they're clear, no signs of any fractures. So I guess we'll let you go home. I've seen you here before in the ER, so you know the routine for your head injury - call your doctor or come in if you get any dizziness, weakness or blurred vision. Ice for your face and shoulder for 36-48 hours, to keep the bruising and swelling to a minimum, then heat.
Any questions? I'll send the nurse in with your discharge papers, then. Take care." He shook Jim's hand and then left the room.
Simon walked over and laid a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Good. Well, as soon as the nurse gets you signed out, I'm sure Megan can give you a ride home. Your report on the incident can wait until tomorrow."
As expected, Jim shook his head.
"Thanks, Simon, but I think I want to stay with Blair. He's going to be scared and hurting when he wakes up."
"Jim, you heard the doctor. He's sedated, he's not going to be awake or know you're there."
"Simon, I need to know how he's doing."
"I know, Jim. Tell you what. Why don't you visit him, once he's settled in his room, then let Megan drive you home. You get a good night's rest, then come back in the morning so you can be with him when he's awake.
Jim, he's gonna need you to help him get through this, no matter how things turn out. So you've gotta take care of yourself so you can be there for him. All right?"
Jim looked up into the compassionate face of his captain and friend.
"All right, Simon. I just need to see him first."
---------------
Standing outside of Blair's hospital room, Jim took a deep breath and tried to prepare himself. He had seen Blair's injuries at the computer store, but then they were partially covered with blood. He reminded himself of the positive things that the doctor had said even as he steeled himself, reminding himself that the surface injuries would heal in time. The nurse had just left the room, telling him that Blair was resting comfortably and asking him not to stay too long. He forced himself to push open the door and enter the room.
Even as he walked up to Blair's bed, he could feel his pulse begin to race as he looked at his injured partner, now cleaned up and bandaged, and grabbed on to the bed rail for support when he reached the bed.
Blair's hospital gown was thin and loose, and barely hid several bandages on his shoulder and chest, which also displayed numerous scratches and bruises. A soft cervical collar encircled his neck. I.V.s ran into the back of one hand, which was resting by his side.
Jim couldn't help but be shocked again at seeing Blair's face. It was a frightening patchwork of cuts, scratches, burns and bruises. A few of the cuts had stitches, but he was relieved to see that the doctor had been true to his word, that most didn't look too bad. Much of his face was swollen and reddened, and the darkness of his beard shadow almost matched some of the bruising spots. It struck Jim hard that, if he didn't know who was in the bed, and recognize the curly hair sprouting out around his bandages, he wouldn't recognize his own roommate right now.
The bandaged eyes disturbed him the most. He could see that Blair's eyes were covered by thick gauze pads, held on loosely by layers of gauze wrapped around his head. He fought a sudden impulse to see if he could focus his eyesight enough to see through the holes in the gauze to Blair's eyes, knowing that it was totally irrational, but feeling the desperate need to know that those familiar blue orbs were unharmed.
Even as he tried to stop himself, he couldn't keep fleeting images of a blinded Blair from racing through his mind, those bright blue eyes forever dulled and lifeless. He gripped the rail harder and pushed those images from his mind. Blair needed him to be positive and expect the best, not be swept up by his fears for the worst.
Pulling himself together, he allowed himself to scan his senses over the rest of his motionless friend. He was relieved to hear and see that Blair's pulse and breathing were relaxed and regular, even though his breaths made rasping sounds, likely from some smoke inhalation. As far as he could tell, Blair's expression seemed to be relaxed and at rest. He was grateful for that, at least.
Deciding that Blair did indeed appear to be resting comfortably, he decided to follow Simon's suggestion and let the waiting Megan drive him home so he could be back at the hospital early in the morning. Reaching down to rest a hand on Blair's arm, he whispered a goodbye, just in case a part of Blair's sleeping mind might register it.
"Hey, Chief, Jim here. I just want to say good night. I'll be back first thing in the morning, buddy. You get a good night's sleep and don't give these nurses a hard time, you hear me? You take it easy, you're gonna be fine." He felt a lump in his throat as he looked again at Blair's damaged face, and had to clear his throat before he could finish, his voice rough. "You're gonna be okay, buddy, everything's gonna be all right. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."
He turned and quickly stumbled from the room, his eyesight blurred by the growing moisture in his eyes, afraid that if he said anything else that he couldn't keep his emotions from showing in his voice. Jim hoped that a night's sleep would help him regain control, for Blair's sake. He would need to be strong for Blair in the morning, no matter what the morning might bring.
---------------
A repeated thumping sound gradually registered as Jim rolled over in bed and pulled the pillow from over his head. Barely cracking his eyes open, he glanced at the alarm clock. 6:52am. Where had the night gone? He could have sworn that he had just stumbled up the stairs and fallen into bed a few scant moments ago. He groaned and slowly pushed himself to the edge of the bed, grabbing his head with one hand as he swung his legs over and sat up.
Reaching for the robe lying across the end of the bed, he stood unsteadily and headed for the stairs, pulling the robe on as he went. The thumping returned, starting a matching drumbeat in his head. He called out as he reached the main floor.
"Hold on, Simon. I'm coming."
Shuffling across the floor, he finally reached the door and unlocked it, pulling it open and turning into the kitchen as Simon entered the loft.
"Morning, Jim. Did I wake you?"
Jim winced as Simon closed the door behind him, the sound echoing in his aching head. "Not so loud, sir. Yeah, I guess I must have really passed out. I'd planned to be up and ready to go by now."
"How are you feeling this morning? Your face has looked better."
"Gee, thanks, Simon. You're too kind. I'll be fine, just need some aspirin and a hot shower and I'll be ready to go. Damn, I wanted to get to the hospital early."
"Don't worry about it. I just talked to the hospital. The nurse told me that Sandburg slept through the night, was still asleep. She said that they would be reducing his sedative this morning so he would be awake for the eye doctor's visit. Her guess was that he wouldn't wake up for at least another hour or more. So you've got time for a shower and breakfast." He pulled a bakery bag out from behind his back and set it on the counter with a proud grin. "And your breakfast is already done, my treat. Why don't you jump in the shower while I make some coffee, just show me where it is."
Jim smiled his thanks as he pointed towards the second cupboard and headed towards the bathroom. "Thanks, Simon. You're a real life saver."
He heard Simon muttering to himself in the kitchen as he set about making the coffee. "Damn straight, Ellison, and don't you forget it."
The smile died from his face as he glared at himself in the bathroom mirror. The cut on his temple didn't look too bad, but the bruises on his left cheek and brow had swollen and become darker, causing his eye to swell slightly shut as well. He gingerly poked at the area, grimacing as he found it to be even more tender than he had expected. Pulling off his robe, he glared at the matching bruises gracing his left shoulder where it had impacted with the car as well. He carefully moved his arm around, quickly regretting the action, and decided that he could leave his left hand in his pocket for the better part of the day.
Reaching into the medicine cabinet and finding the ibuprofen he was looking for, he downed a couple of tablets with a handful of water from the sink. Turning on the shower, he grabbed a couple of towels and spent a moment dialing down his sense of touch, knowing that the shower's spray would be painful hitting his bruises. Finally climbing into the shower, he let the hot water pour over him and loosen up stiff muscles that he hadn't realized that he had.
Ten minutes later he regretfully climbed out, the cool air in the bathroom pulling him even further into wakefulness. He quickly finished in the bathroom and jogged up the stairs to his bedroom, throwing on the first things he could find, intent on getting to the hospital as quickly as possible. The image of Blair waking up alone in the hospital with his eyes bandaged, confused, frightened and in pain, drove him to hurry even faster.
Simon had a cup of coffee already poured and several pastries set out on a plate for him when he hit the ground floor.
"Here you go, Jim. Sit down for a minute and eat. I know you're in a hurry, but he's not gonna be awake yet and you need to get some breakfast in you. It could be a long day."
"Thanks, Simon. I just don't want him to wake up alone, you know, not knowing where he is or what's going on. I know they're taking good care of him, but there won't be someone in there every minute to know when he comes to."
"I know." Simon sipped at his cup of coffee, then glanced over. "I'm worried about him, too, Jim."
"I know you are, Simon. And I'm sure he does too. You're a good friend." Jim shoved the rest of the danish in his mouth, then picked up another. "So, what do you say we hit the road. All right if I eat in your car?"
"All right. But if you spill your coffee, you get the seats cleaned." Simon polished off his coffee in one gulp, then stood to get his coat on.
"You got it. Let's go." After easing a jacket on over his sore shoulder, Jim grabbed some napkins, another pastry, and filled his coffee cup before following Simon out of the door.
---------------
"No, no, no, no, no!" Jim shouted as he pounded again on the dash in front of him.
"Jim, busting up my car is not going to get us anywhere any faster. Sit back and take a breath before you burst a blood vessel or something."
Jim fumed, staring at the freeway ahead of him in absolute frustration. Instead of sitting at Blair's bedside, as he should be by now, he was sitting in Simon's car. With the engine off. With the slowly cooling engine off as they sat, on an overpass, in bumper to bumper traffic. Waiting for the accident to be cleared in front of them.
He couldn't believe it. Of all the days that this could happen. It had been bad enough that the roads were icy, so the morning rush hour traffic inched along at a crawl. But then a log truck lost control turning a corner, turning over and spilling its load of logs out onto the intersection. The logs had tumbled into several cars, some of which then slid into other cars and took out a light pole.
Jim had seen it happen, practically in slow motion, several blocks in front of them. As they had crawled to a stop, he had pulled out his cell phone and called it in, cursing as he finished the call and punched the button to disconnect. With the traffic snarled in every direction for blocks, he knew that it could be hours before it got cleared up and they got on their way.
"I don't believe this, I just don't believe it!" he groused, rubbing his aching head with one hand. "I knew I shouldn't have left the hospital last night, I should've just stayed with Sandburg."
Simon looked over at him in disbelief. "Come on, Jim, you were dead on your feet. You couldn't have guessed that this would happen."
"I don't care, I should have stayed. I shouldn't have left him alone."
"Jim, he's not alone. The nurses will keep an eye on him."
Jim gave Simon a withering look, and Simon threw up his hands and looked out the window at the mass of cars before them.
He reached for the door handle. "I've got to do something, I can't just sit here." Jim stepped out of the car and stood in the road, looking all around.
Extending his vision for blocks in every direction, he saw how far the traffic back-up extended. Glumly he noted that it was worse than he had originally guessed. Reaching even farther with his vision, to try to see the end of the mess, he suddenly was struck with an idea.
"Ellison, Ellison, get your ass in here and close the door! It's freezing out there," Simon called as he turned and got back in the car.
Jim ignored him as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed, impatiently waiting for it to be answered at the other end. He closed his eyes in relief as he heard the familiar voice come on the line.
"Rafe? Hey, man, am I glad you're still home………..yeah, Simon and I were on the way to the hospital when we got caught in this big traffic tie-up……….you heard about it on the radio?……….it's gonna be hours before they get this one cleaned up. Listen, I need your help………"
Simon stared again in disbelief as he listened to Jim's side of the phone call, still staring when Jim hung up with a relieved sigh.
"Are you nuts? That's probably close to a mile away. How are you going to get there to meet Rafe?"
"The old fashioned way, Simon. On foot. Look out there, we're gonna be stuck here forever. I can make better time on foot, then Rafe will pick me up over on Lincoln. The traffic isn't too bad over there, I can see it from here." He started buttoning up his coat and pulling on his gloves.
"Jim, you just got discharged from the hospital yourself last night. Are you sure you're up to this?"
"I've gotta be, Simon. I promised Blair that I'd be there this morning, and I'm not gonna break that promise, come hell or high water or log trucks. I'll see you later."
Pulling the collar of his coat up around his ears, he climbed out of the car and closed the door behind him, leaving an open-mouthed Simon staring in his wake as he broke into a trot.
---------------
Tired.
No, tired didn't cut it. Exhausted.
Blair didn't remember ever feeling so exhausted. Even breathing seemed to take all of the energy he had.
So why was somebody talking to him, when he was trying to sleep?
"…Sandburg? Blair? Are you awake?"
The voice seemed to be coming from a long distance away. A woman's voice. Was that Naomi? What was she doing here in his bedroom? He tried to latch on to the voice, to wake up enough to make sense of it.
He thought about rolling over, but his body didn't want to cooperate. It felt heavy, leaden, as if movement was totally out of the question. He mentally told his body to get with the program, but his brain felt mired in sludge too, and he only managed to move his head and one hand slightly.
That was pitiful. He pushed harder to try to wake up.
"Mr. Sandburg? Are you awake?"
No, it didn't really sound like Naomi, now that she was closer. So what was another woman doing in his bedroom? That called him "Mr." Sandburg? He tried to remember if he had brought a date home, and when they went to bed. Nothing came to him.
OK, he guessed that he might as well wake up, open his eyes, and figure out what's going on.
He might as well open his eyes…but nothing happened.
Finally getting his hand to move, he knew that he had to be awake now that he was able to move and actually feel the movement of his hand from the blanket. But why couldn't he open his eyes?
He began to raise his hand towards his head, needing to pull the blanket off of his face that must be covering his eyes. Partway up, his forearm was suddenly grabbed firmly. He gasped in surprise.
"Mr. Sandburg, you don't want to do that. Just relax and take it easy…"
He pulled against the iron grip, but didn't have the strength to get his arm free. Trying to raise the other hand, pain shot through his shoulder as he struggled, something was holding it down, too.
"Noooo…" he cried as he shook his head from side to side, trying to throw off whatever was covering his face. He began to panic as he realized that there wasn't any blanket over his head, and struggled harder against his captor, his breathing becoming ragged, and his head pounding. "No! Help meee….."