Jim walked briskly down the hospital hallway, pulling his coat off on the way. Rafe had been true to his word and had been waiting for him on Lincoln Street when he jogged up. Practically collapsing into the passenger seat of Rafe's car, it had taken most of the drive to the hospital for him to gather his breath. His head and swollen face still throbbed painfully, still vibrated to the rhythm of his feet on the pavement as he jogged.
Spotting a drinking fountain in the hall, he paused for a moment to slake his thirst. Wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, he had just turned to continue his journey when something stopped him in his tracks. The sound of a familiar voice, filled with terror, pierced his ears as his senses suddenly slammed into overdrive.
"No! Help meee…"
He broke into a run down the hallway and around the corner towards Blair's room. Shoving the door open and dropping his coat, forgotten, onto the floor, his heart leapt into his throat at the sight that assailed him.
Blair was thrashing wildly in the bed, his legs and feet driving to get free of the covers, his head whipping from side to side despite the cervical collar around his neck. A nurse was holding onto his right forearm with one hand while pressing down on his chest with the other, trying to hold him down. A thin trickle of blood running down onto the bed from the back of Blair's hand leaked from where the I.V. needle had pulled out. He was struggling to get his other arm free of the sling that was secured across his body, and his breath was coming in gasps and gulps as he continued to call out heartbreakingly in fear.
"Help me…Jim…somebody…help me!"
Jim raced into the room and to Blair's bedside.
"What the hell is happening here?"
Blair continued to struggle and wail, almost wordlessly now, lost in his panic and confusion.
"I was just trying to keep him from hurting himself!" the nurse said, panting for breath as she fought to maintain her grip.
"Let him go!" He moved right to the head of the bed, leaning over Blair's head and setting a hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Sandburg…Blair! Stop! It's me, Jim. Calm down, buddy, I'm right here."
Slowing his struggles and momentarily becoming silent, except for the heavy rasping pant of his breathing, Blair answered haltingly. "Jim?"
"That’s right, Chief, I'm right here. Calm down now. It's okay, I'm right here."
Blair stopped struggling. His chest heaved and his muscles trembled from exertion, but he gave up his fight, his bandaged face turning towards the sound of Jim's voice.
"Jim, is that really you?"
He gestured the nurse away and gently squeezed Blair's shoulder. "It's me, buddy. It's all right, I've got you. You're all right."
Blair almost sobbed with relief, words rushing from him. "Someone grabbed me and wouldn't let go…they tied me up and blindfolded me…I couldn't get loose, I tried but I can't get loose…" He couldn't go on, unable to take in enough air to speak, but scrabbled blindly with his hand until he found Jim's arm and grabbed on with surprising strength.
"It's all right, Chief. I've got you. You're safe now, I've got you. Relax and catch your breath, buddy, I'm right here." Jim sat on the edge of Blair's bed and continued to murmur words of encouragement as Blair held on to his arm for dear life, gradually calming in response to Jim's presence.
The nurse walked quickly from the room. Jim could hear her paging a doctor to come to the nurse's station at the same time that he focused on Blair's condition.
Jim mentally cursed again the traffic accident that had fouled up his plans. This was exactly what he had feared. Blair had awakened disoriented and unable to see, panicking, the medication still in his system adding to his confusion. Even though he knew it wasn't his fault, he couldn't help but feel guilty that he had let his friend down. The sound of Blair screaming in mindless terror was something that he knew he'd never forget as long as he lived.
Blair's heartbeat gradually began to slow and he began regaining control of his breathing. Jim could see that a couple of the bandages on his chest and face had come off in the struggle, and he hoped that Blair hadn't torn any of his stitches loose.
Finally regaining enough breath to speak, Blair spoke in a rasping voice, thickened from both medication and his burned, swollen lips.
"What's happening?"
This was the part that Jim had dreaded. Looking down at Blair's face, and knowing that a familiar trusting expression was disguised behind all of the damage, he tried to form his words with a confidence and calm that he did not feel.
"You're in the hospital, Chief. You got injured yesterday from an explosion. Do you remember the computer store?"
He registered the increase in Blair's heartbeat as he took in the words. It took a few moments before Blair's mouth dropped open with a gasp as memory returned, his breathing and heartbeat picking up again.
"Oh, God…it blew up!"
"That's right, and you got hurt. But you're in the hospital and you're going to be all right."
"My face…my eyes…" Jim could feel Blair's hand seeking to escape his grasp, to reach up and explore his face, and he patted his shoulder soothingly as he kept Blair's hand where it was.
"Hold on, hold on. Your face is bandaged, that's why you can't open your eyes. Your face got a bit banged up, but you're going to be fine, I talked to your doctor. The bullet wound on your shoulder is gonna be fine, too, that's why your arm is in a sling." As he spoke he reached over and resettled Blair's arm in the sling. "You're all right, you're safe, and you're gonna be fine."
"Hospital?" Blair's voice was weaker, and Jim could see that now that he felt safe and less confused, he was fading fast. Jim reached down and pulled the scattered covers back up over Blair's legs and to his chest, then carefully put a hand behind Blair's head and resettled it gently on the pillow, brushing a few stray hairs off of the battered forehead.
"Yes, you're safe in the hospital, and I'm here with you. You're gonna be all right, buddy."
Blair pulled slightly at Jim's hand. "You okay, Jim?"
"I'm fine, Chief, I'm fine. You just get some rest, okay? I'll be here."
He settled Blair's free hand down onto his chest as he could hear his breathing becoming slower and more even, the tremors in his muscles fading. Gratefully he pulled a chair up to the bedside and settled into it. Just as he thought that Blair had succumbed to sleep, Blair's voice came to life again, soft and quavering.
"Jim…am I blind?"
Jim slumped back into the chair. He had hoped that Blair didn't notice that he had avoided saying anything about his eye injuries. How could he answer that question, when he didn't know himself? How could he confidently reassure his friend when the question struck terror in his own heart? He had to say something, though, and fought to keep his own fear from his voice as he responded.
"No, Chief, we don't know that. I haven't had a chance to talk to the eye doctor yet. So don't go thinking the worst, okay? The nurse told me that he'll be here later this morning. So just hang in there until you can talk to him, all right?"
Blair didn't answer, and Jim watched as his head slowly tilted to the side and his mouth dropped open. His breathing was deep and slow, even as it sounded rough and rasping. It looked like he might have fallen asleep.
"Blair?" Jim asked softly.
Not receiving an answer, Jim sent thanks heavenward that Blair was once again resting, his panicked outburst having exhausted his meager reserves of energy. He stood and briefly laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Sleep well, buddy."
Jim left the room, softly walking out into the hospital corridor. Closing the door to Blair's room quietly, he stopped and leaned back against the hallway wall, letting his eyes close and his head tilt back to rest against the institutional green surface. He felt exhausted, the stress of dealing with Blair's frightened outburst piled on top of his own injuries and his crosstown jog to escape the traffic jam suddenly catching up with him. The weight of his fears for his partner threatened to overwhelm him.
A pair of approaching footsteps led him to open his eyes. The nurse was returning, with an unfamiliar man in casual dress but with a white coat and a stethoscope on top.
"How's our patient?" the doctor asked, quickly scanning the chart in his hand as he approached, then looked up.
"He's better. He was just a little disoriented, but he's calmed down now. And you are…?"
"Doctor Carver. I'm Mr. Sandburg's doctor."
"I thought Dr. Flinn was Sandburg's doctor?"
"Yes, I see that Dr. Flinn saw him in the Emergency Department, but our ER doctors don't follow patients. Mr. Sandburg was assigned to me for continuing care. I have some expertise in the area of trauma, that's why I got him. From what I can see from his chart, he was injured in a pretty traumatic fashion. And you are…?"
"I'm Detective Jim Ellison. Blair is my partner and my friend."
"Glad to meet you. Ms. Quinn here says that you did a good job in calming down your partner. I'm glad. Since you're here, maybe you can give me a little more detail about how he was injured."
Jim complied, telling the doctor about the monitor explosion and the wait for the gunman to release Sandburg so he could get medical treatment. The doctor listened intently and made a few notes in the chart as Jim talked.
"Thanks for that information, Detective, it always helps me to understand how my patients got injured. Right now I just want to check him over, make sure that he didn't tear any stitches or hurt himself in his confusion. His reaction is not surprising, considering. Why don't you stay out here and I'll let you know when I'm done." He whisked into the room, the nurse in his wake, and the door was pulled closed behind them.
Jim leaned back again against the wall and turned up his hearing to listen in.
As he listened to the doctor talking with the nurse and examining Blair, Jim was able to let himself relax a bit. He heard Blair wake up with the movement of covers and his gown, and the doctor calmly reassuring him and introducing himself. Jim was relieved to hear the doctor's exchanges with Blair as he examined him thoroughly, answering Blair's questions and talking with him as he continued his exam, letting Blair know everything that he was doing so that Blair wouldn't be taken by surprise by a touch or movement. Tuning into Blair's heartbeat, Jim could hear that after an initial rapid burst at awakening it was settling down, not quite to a calm level but much more in control than it had been before. The doctor certainly had an experienced, soothing manner, and Jim was pleased that this was the man that would be responsible for Blair's treatment.
He was pleased to hear that the doctor was quite positive about Blair's injuries, much like the ER doctor had been, explaining to Blair that his cuts, burns and bullet wound should heal nicely with time. Jim tensed when Blair asked about his eye injuries, but Dr. Carver gently put him off, asking the nurse to please page Dr. Timmons to see when he would be coming to examine Blair, and reassuring him that Timmons was an excellent eye doctor. The nurse passed Jim in the hall as she went to the nurse's station to page the other doctor, and told him that he could go back in. He didn't waste any time doing so, and knocked on the door as he entered.
"Hey, Chief, mind if I come in?"
"Hey, Jim." Blair's voice was still scratchy, but sounded much calmer and in control than it had a half hour earlier.
"Doctor, how's our patient?"
"Blair, is it all right if I discuss your injuries and treatment with your partner?"
"Sure, doc. Go ahead."
Jim listened to a recap of what the doctor had already told Blair, patiently acting as if he was hearing it for the first time."
"…we'll want to keep him a couple of days, at least. We want to keep him on the I.V. antibiotics for 48 hours, to be sure he doesn't develop an infection, and get his fluids and strength back up. But he's doing very well, considering his injuries, and I expect a steady recovery. I know that you are both concerned about Blair's eyes, and I wish I could tell you more, but Dr. Timmons is the expert and he'll need to talk with you about that.
All I can say is try not to worry too much until you know the details of the eye injuries. Easy for me to say, I know, but he should be here this morning and should be able to answer all of your questions. Blair, do you have any more questions for me?"
"No, I don't think so."
"All right, then. My name's Dr. Carver, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to use that call button by your right hand. The nurse can page me at any time."
"Thank you, doctor."
"I'll be by later this afternoon to check on you again. Try to get some rest, your body's been through a lot and rest is the best thing for healing. Bye now."
The doctor turned from Blair's bed and headed for the door, gesturing towards the doorway with his head as he approached Jim.
"Detective Ellison, would you come to the nurse's station for a moment? I want to be sure that we have contact information for you in Blair's chart."
Jim followed the doctor out of the room and down towards the nurse's station.
"Yes, Doctor, what is it?"
"Nothing to worry about, Detective. I just wanted to reassure you that Blair's reaction earlier to waking up with his eyes bandaged was very typical, although I'm sure it was quite frightening for both of you. He really is doing well. I'm glad you were here to help him, though, obviously he trusts you a great deal. It's hard for anyone, as you can imagine, to suddenly be unable to see and not know how serious or permanent it is."
Jim nodded as he listened to the doctor's words. He didn't have to use his imagination to have an appreciation of how Blair felt. The memory of being temporarily blinded by a designer drug that got into his eyes was all too vivid. Just the thought of it caused his stomach to churn. He forced himself to pay attention again.
The doctor continued. "He will need a lot of support from you and his other friends and family for a while. I'd reassure him that his other injuries will heal, which they will. As to his eyes, I guess I'd just try to keep him from expecting the worst, but don't make light of his injuries or make false promises. We just don't know right now. Since he needs the extra support, I'm going to leave instructions at the nurse's station to give as much leeway in our visiting policy as possible. As long as his visitors don't interfere with his rest or treatment, he can have as many visitors as he can tolerate."
"Thank you, Doctor. I really appreciate that. He has lots of friends, and I'm sure they will want to help in any way they can. And I plan to be here as often as possible, too."
"Good." Just then the nurse came up to join them. "Yes, Judy?"
"I wasn't able to reach Dr. Timmons, Doctor, but his office said that he was on his way to the hospital right now. So he should be here soon."
"Thank you, Judy. Well, Detective, I've got to go. If you have any questions, feel free to have me paged. I hope that your friend gets good news from Dr. Timmons."
"So do I, Doctor. So do I."
Shaking Jim's hand, the doctor joined the nurse at the nurse's station, writing in Blair's chart before picking up another and heading down the hall. Jim turned and headed back for Blair's room to keep him company while he waited for the eye doctor, both eager and scared to hear what was to come.
"Hey, Chief, I'm back."
"Hey, Jim. Everything all right?"
"Sure, they just wanted my phone numbers so they could reach me anytime I'm not here."
"Oh, okay."
Jim walked over and rescued his jacket, lying on the floor just to the side of the door, and brought it over and draped it over the back of the bedside chair before he sat down.
"So how're you doing?"
"OK, I guess." Blair's voice sounded rough, and he coughed weakly. "I could use something to drink."
"Why don't I see if I can get you some water? I'll be right back."
He stood and left the room, finding the nurse and asking her for water for Blair, then hurrying back. As Jim re-entered the room, he spotted Blair reaching up to his face with his free hand. He tried to reach him, to stop him from feeling his damaged face for himself, knowing that without being able to actually see himself, Blair would automatically assume the worst. "Chief, don't…"
He was too late.
"My face feels funny," Blair said, even as Jim started to interrupt him, and slowly touched his fingers to his cheek. Running unsteady fingers over his face, Jim could hear Blair's sharp intake of breath as his fingers found the tracks of scabs forming over the network of cuts, the hot and tender burned areas, the small bandages covering stitches. His hand drifted upward until it touched the lower edge of the gauze overwrapping his eyes, then froze momentarily. Jim could sense Blair's pulse speed up and his breathing increase.
Blair's hand started in motion again, rising above the wide gauze bandaging to touch his forehead, again tracing the tracks of the myriad of cuts beginning to heal there, the small bandage protecting stitches in one brow. Finally he let his hand drop limply to his side.
"Jesus," he gasped roughly. "My face must look like hamburger."
"No, Chief," Jim quickly asserted. "It's not that bad. Really. It probably feels funny because of the swelling. Sure, you look banged up right now, but the doctor said that it's all gonna heal just fine, you'll only have one or two small scars."
Blair responded in disbelief. "How can he know for sure?"
"'Cause he's a doctor that specializes in traumatic injuries. And they also had a specialist, a plastic surgeon, take a look at you when you first came in. Just to make sure, since you had a lot of cuts on your face. But they said he didn't even do anything, he just said that it would all heal just fine, and he's an expert. You've just got to give it time."
Jim could tell that Blair wasn't reassured, his pulse and breathing remaining elevated and his hand picking nervously at the blanket. He had just raised his hand to his face again when the nurse arrived with a pitcher of water, a plastic glass, and a straw, and admonished Blair loudly to not touch his face so that he wouldn't disturb any of the healing starting there. He dropped his hand as if stung.
The nurse raised the head of Blair's bed slightly and helped him to get a few sips of water before setting it down on his bedside table. After explaining to Jim that Blair should drink as much as possible, to replace his fluids, she excused herself and left the room.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room, Jim finding a hard time thinking of something to say to reassure his partner that wouldn't come across as patronizing. He finally decided on a change of topic.
"Since you're gonna be here a couple of days, is there anything you'd like me to bring you from the loft?"
"No." Jim could barely hear the reply, it was so soft and flat.
Even as he worked on his next brilliant idea for getting a discussion going, he heard a sharp rap on the door and turned as it swung open.
"Mr. Sandburg? I'm Doctor Timmons, the ophthalmologist assigned to your case."
Jim heard another leap in Blair's heart rate as he stood and held out his hand.
"Dr. Timmons, it's nice to meet you. I'm Detective Jim Ellison, Blair's partner."
"Hmmm," Timmons said as he ignored the outstretched hand and walked towards Blair's bed, reading the chart as he went. "Please leave so I can examine Mr. Sandburg."
Jim stood openmouthed at Timmons' rudeness as the door opened again and a nurse wheeled in a cart with equipment and instruments on it. She wheeled it towards the bed, stopping near Timmons and waiting silently for his direction. Finishing with the chart and turning to the nurse, Timmons ordered her to remove the bandages over Blair's eyes as he turned towards Jim and spoke curtly.
"Didn't you hear me?"
"Yes, I did. Chief, I'll be right outside in the hall. Right outside." He hoped that Blair understood the emphasis in his words, that he would be listening in from the hallway.
"OK, Jim," Blair replied, nervousness plain in his voice.
Reluctantly leaving the room, Jim headed for the hallway and closed the door behind him. He turned up his hearing as he again leaned against the hallway wall, closing his eyes so as to better concentrate on the events in the room behind him.
As comforting and soothing as Dr. Carver's manner with Blair had been, Dr. Timmons couldn't have been more different. He barely spoke to Blair, speaking mostly to the nurse in a brusque tone, giving her orders to hand him instruments or to assist him. Jim could hear Blair's heart rate and breathing increase as the doctor set about examining him. He could hear gasps and even something approaching a whimper, something that the doctor did obviously having elicited the pained response from Blair.
No longer able to just lean against the wall, Jim detached himself and began pacing, unable to stand still at the sounds of discomfort from within. His hands clenched involuntarily into fists as he paced faster, hearing the doctor sharply instructing Blair to "hold still" and, at one point, instructing the nurse to hold Blair's head to keep him from moving as he proceeded. The doctor instructed the nurse to dim the room's lights but said little else other than brief directions to Blair or the nurse.
Jim became more nervous as the examination proceeded, time passing at an excruciatingly slow pace. He couldn't help but feel his muscles tense as he listened to the doctor's questions and Blair's breathless answers. It sounded like Blair could distinguish light from dark, which initially flooded him with relief. But most of the answers to the doctor's questions, if he could see something, were "no" or "nothing," quickly dampening his spirits. Jim wished again that he were in the room, so he would know what it was that the doctor was trying to get Blair to see.
He became more and more concerned as Blair's answers became softer and shorter, even as his heart continued pounding at a rapid pace, the dejected tone of his voice apparent even from this distance. It frustrated Jim that the doctor made no effort at calming or reassuring Blair, just continued with his examination as if he didn't notice. Or care.
Finally the doctor asked the nurse to hand him some medication, and he could hear more pained gasps from Blair as the doctor put it into his eyes. He instructed Blair to keep his eyes closed, but move them up and down and side to side to spread the medication around. Telling the nurse to bandage Blair's eyes again when they stopped watering, Timmons asked Blair if he wanted Jim to come back into the room and hear his assessment.
"Yes, please."
Jim was opening the door before the nurse could reach it. "Can I come in yet?"
The nurse took a quick step backwards at Jim's unexpected appearance in the doorway. "Yes, Doctor is finished with his examination. You may come in."
Jim quickly approached the bed. Blair's face was redder than it had been before, and it was wet with tears that continued to run from his closed and swollen eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow, his heart pounded deafeningly, and he maintained a white-knuckled grip on the blanket with his good hand.
"How's it going, Chief?" Jim said softly as he walked up and put a hand on Blair's shoulder. Blair jerked involuntarily, every muscle and nerve on edge, then collapsed back into the bed.
"Not too good, man," he panted. Jim gently squeezed his shoulder in reassurance and let his hand rest there.
The doctor snapped off a pair of gloves and turned to the nurse. "I saw in his chart that Dr. Carver has a PRN for pain prescribed. Get it now, please."
"Yes, doctor." The nurse left the room to get the medication, and the doctor finally turned and acknowledged Jim's presence.
"And you are, again?"
Blair spoke up before Jim could reply. "Jim's my partner and my roommate. You can tell him anything you tell me. Please."
"All right." The doctor spent several moments reading a few pages in Blair's chart. Jim surpressed the impulse to reach over and shake the man, both for his cold manner towards Blair and for making them both wait to hear his results. Only the memory of Dr. Carver's insistence that Timmons was an excellent doctor kept him from giving in to his urges.
"What can you tell us, doctor?"
Dr. Timmons glared at him briefly, then looked back at the chart again before he finally began to speak in a cold and clinical manner.
"Mr. Sandburg has both external and internal injuries to both eyes. The surface injuries consist of cuts, burns and abrasions to both eyes and the eyelids. As long as the eyes are kept clean, protected, and treated with medication, all of these should heal. We just have to avoid infection so that there is no scar tissue created.
I can't be specific yet about the internal injuries. There is injury from the flash of the explosion and from the pressure of the impact, to the back of the eye and the optic nerve. There is swelling and the nerves are quite irritated. Right now he can sense light, in fact is extremely sensitive to light, and could sense very close gross movement. That's about it right now. We'll have to wait a few days for the swelling to go down and the nerves to begin to heal before we can say much about the long-term picture." He pulled a pen from his pocket and started writing in the chart.
Jim watched and waited for him to continue, but nothing else was forthcoming. The nurse returned with a syringe on a tray and quickly and efficiently injected it into Blair's I.V. line. In just a few moments Jim could feel the rigid muscles beneath his hand begin to relax and Blair's heartbeat and breathing start to gradually slow. The doctor watched, then finished his writing and started to leave the room. He turned at the doorway.
"Mr. Sandburg, I'll be back to see you tomorrow. I'll be consulting with your doctor about my examination later today. Good day." Without another word he left the room, leaving Jim stunned and fuming about his lack of bedside manner, and frustrated that he didn't get anything more specific from the doctor about the permanence of Blair's condition. Just a few more words to reassure Blair wouldn't have killed the guy, he thought.
The nurse set the tray down and picked up a gauze pad, gently wiping the wetness from Blair's face. She began to re-bandage his eyes after warning Blair first.
"What a sweet guy!" Jim finally blurted out. The nurse smiled in reply.
"Yes, Dr. Timmons isn't known for his bedside manner. He's legendary among the nursing staff, I can tell you. But he is the best ophthalmologist in the area." She continued her bandaging job, then settled Blair's head back softly onto his pillow. "How are you feeling, Blair? Is that medication kicking in for you?"
"Yeah, better, thanks. What was that stuff? It felt like battery acid when he put it in my eyes."
"It's kinda nasty stuff, especially as irritated as your eyes are, but as Doctor said, you've got to be sure that you don't get any infection in there. I'm sorry that it hurt so much."
"It's all right," Blair said, a slight slur thickening his voice as the medication took hold of him.
Finishing her checks on Blair's I.V. and his vital signs, the nurse excused herself and left the room. Jim settled back into the bedside chair with a sigh, patting Blair's arm gently.
"How are you doing, man?"
"OK. Better. I don't know what they gave me, but I feel like I could float right outta here. My head feels like mush."
"Do you think you could rest for a while, maybe get some sleep? You've had one hell of a morning."
"Guess so." Blair shifted a bit in the bed before speaking up in an apologetic tone. "Sorry I panicked earlier, man. Guess I just freaked out."
"Forget about it, Blair. Anybody would have reacted the same."
"Yeah, whatever." He started to speak again, but was interrupted by a huge and painful yawn. "Ow, that hurts. Guess I could catch a few Zzzzs. I…" Another yawn broke out before he could continue.
Jim smiled, glad to see that Blair was relaxing. "Look, Chief, you go ahead and get some sleep. We can talk later."
Fading fast, Blair barely mumbled a few more words out. "OK. Thanks, Jim." His breathing settled into a slower rhythm, Jim watching him for several more minutes as he drifted into sleep. Finally certain that his partner was resting, Jim stood and stretched painfully. If he was going to stay awake and alert himself, he needed to find some coffee and aspirin, not necessarily in that order. He tiptoed from the room.
---------------
Simon waited impatiently for the elevator door to open, then walked quickly out into the hallway. Spotting Jim down the hallway, just coming out of one of the rooms, he gestured to him and met him at the nurse's station.
"Hey, Jim, how's he doing?
"Simon, I'm surprised to see you here so soon."
"They finally got things moving, but they'll still be cleaning up that intersection for most of the day. How's Sandburg?"
"Tell you what, Simon, let me buy you a cup of coffee and I'll tell you all about it."
"Hospital coffee? You must be desperate, Jim."
"Don't worry, Simon, I heard they have an espresso cart. I'm sure you can get your double tall skinny half-caf latte there."
"Well, as long as you're buying, lead on. And how are you doing?"
Taking the elevator down to the basement cafeteria, Simon was pleased to see that Jim was right about the espresso cart. He ordered his favorite latte and a biscotti, then waited for Jim to get through the cafeteria line with his coffee. They found a small table off in a corner to sit and talk.
He gave Jim a silent appraisal as they sat down. The bruises on Jim's face had darkened around his brow and cheekbone, and the swelling had forced his eye even more shut, giving him an almost surly expression. The stiff way that he walked and carefully sat, and the way that he cautiously held his one arm at his side belied his earlier brief comment that he was "fine." He watched curiously as Jim dug around in his pocket, then nodded in understanding when he produced a couple of tablets and tossed them down with a gulp of coffee. He raised an eyebrow.
"Don't say it, Simon. I'm fine, just a little sore, that's all."
"Uh-huh." The look in Jim's eye warned him that it was a closed subject. He took a sip of coffee and changed the subject. "So tell me about Sandburg."
He listened attentively as Jim described the morning's events. He shook his head sympathetically as Jim described Sandburg's initial panic over awakening and his reaction at touching his face, and bristled angrily at his description of the eye doctor and his examination.
"…and that was all he said. That Sandburg could see light, and some movement, but that was it. He didn't really give any idea of how much recovery he might expect, if it might be permanent…" His voice trailed off and he looked down at his cup of coffee.
"So how did Sandburg take it?"
"I don't know, Simon. The examination was pretty difficult, and he was in a lot of pain. They finally gave him some pain medication after Timmons was done, thank God, and it really knocked him out. I don't know if he's really had a chance to process it all. But during the examination, when the doctor kept asking him over and over if he could see anything, and the answer was always "no"…you should have heard his voice, Simon. He was really down."
"Well, at least he can see light. That's gotta be a good sign, doesn't it?"
"Does it? I don't know. If it doesn't get any better, well, you can still be blind if all you can see is light. I know a little about that." They both mused silently for a moment, remembering Jim's experience with temporary blindness. "At least I had the ability to turn up my other senses, to help me adapt. He doesn't even have that."
"So the doctor said he'd know more in a few days?" Simon tried to reroute the conversation in a more positive direction.
"I guess so. He wasn't very specific." Jim set down his coffee cup and rubbed his sore neck with one hand. The tone of his voice was weary when he spoke up again and looked up, his face haggard and concerned. "What's he gonna do, Simon? What's he gonna do if he doesn't get his sight back?"
"Jim, don't go there. You don't know that's gonna happen. Don't go borrowing trouble."
Jim continued as if he hadn't even spoken, turning to stare out the window without seeing.
"You know there aren't any blind cops on the force. There's no way we could get him any kind of position with the department. If he was still at Rainier, he could probably still teach even if he was blind, but he doesn't have that any more…what'll we do?"
Simon reached over and grabbed Jim on the arm, gently but firmly, to interrupt his train of thought.
"Don't, Jim. Don't expect the worst. We just don't know yet. You've gotta try to be positive, be patient. Right now what we've got to do is help Sandburg get through this, no matter what happens. Right?"
Jim sighed and turned back to the table and his now luke-warm cup of coffee. "Right."
Simon didn't believe for a moment that he had dispelled the worries and fears that had to be haunting Jim, but he tried to move the conversation along. "Right. So when do you think he'll be up for visitors? Everyone's eager to see him, and we can bring some things over from the loft. Did they say how long they expect him to be in the hospital?"
"I don't know, Simon. Dr. Carver seemed to think a few days, but Timmons didn't say anything about it. And I don't know about visitors yet, the doctor said he can have visitors but I don't know how Sandburg feels about it. He was pretty upset about his face, how he thinks he looks."
"But he knows that's just temporary, doesn't he?"
"He knows that's what everyone's saying. But I'm not sure he believes it, since he can't see for himself." Taking a sideways glance at his watch, Jim gulped down the remnants of his coffee. "Look, Simon, can we continue this upstairs in Sandburg's room? I don't know how long he'll be out, and I don't want him to wake up alone again. That's an experience that I don't want to repeat, and I'm sure he doesn't either."
"Sure, Jim. I can stay for awhile. Let's go."
---------------
Jim stood up and stretched again, and took a few steps around the room to loosen up his stiff muscles. He considered leaving the room so he could take a few laps up and down the hallway, but chose against it. Blair had been asleep for almost two hours since receiving the pain medication, and he was worried that he might awaken soon and didn't want him to be alone again.
He twisted a couple of times and touched his toes, then sighed and returned to his chair. Thankfully, the nurse hadn't minded that he had switched chairs with a more comfortable one from the other side of the room, since that bed was empty and the chair wasn't needed for other visitors. Simon had left for the station over an hour ago, but had encouraged him to call right away if there was anything new about Blair's condition.
Settling back into the chair, he looked over at the sleeping figure in the bed. Blair still seemed deeply asleep. He was glad, then quickly felt guilty at the thought that followed, unbidden. It was a wish that his friend could just sleep until his eyesight returned and his face was healed. It would be so much easier on him, and Jim, than the days of anxious waiting that seemed to loom ahead. He didn't look forward to trying to fill the time, trying to keep his own anxieties and fears in check as well as trying to keep Blair from losing hope.
With another glance at his watch, he reached over carefully and pushed the buttons on the TV remote attached to the bed. The first of the day's college basketball games should be on. Finding the channel, he turned it up, making sure that it was just loud enough for anyone to hear. At least he could keep himself awake watching a game, and once Blair was awake, he could turn it to an educational program or something else that he might like to listen to.
A rustle of a paper bag and a soft knock on the door interrupted his musings.
"Anyone mind if I come in?"
Henri Brown stood in the doorway, a grease-stained paper bag in one hand. An unbelievably enticing odor emanated from it, and Jim felt his mouth begin to water and his stomach begin to growl. He suddenly realized that his normal lunch hour had come and gone.
"Yeah, come on in, H. Sandburg's asleep. Man, if that is a Wonderburger deluxe and large fries, I may have to kiss you."
Brown chuckled as he entered the room and handed the bag to him. "If you kiss me, I'm gonna have to put you in the hospital, man. Maybe I should've let Megan bring you lunch, but I took pity on you. She was talking salad and a sprout sandwich."
"Ouch." Jim grimaced at the thought as he pulled the sandwich, fries and a can of soda from the bag. "I really appreciate it, H. I think a steady diet of hospital cafeteria food would put me in the hospital."
He tore into the sandwich as Brown walked over to the foot of the bed and looked down at Blair, his voice growing soft and concerned.
"Simon told us what the doctors said when he got back to the station. How is he?"
"He's been asleep for a while. They must have given him some pretty strong medication, it really knocked him out."
Both men were silent for a moment, Jim devouring the sandwich and fries, Brown staring at Blair's wounded face. He finally took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat down heavily on the smaller chair.
"Man, the poor kid. Nobody deserves that." He sat, lost in thought for a moment, then stood and dug in his pocket as he walked over. "I almost forgot. Here are your keys, the truck's in the parking lot near the emergency room."
"What? How…"
"Simon grabbed your keys this morning, and had a couple of uniforms go and pick it up from the computer store parking lot. It got a few new scratches and dings from the explosion, and the passenger side window has a crack in it, but that's it." With a last glance at Blair, he headed for the door. "I wish I could stay, but I've gotta go meet Rafe and interview a witness in the Gleason investigation. The DA is breathing down our necks. Tell Sandburg that I stopped by, will you, and tell him to take it easy. I'll see you guys later."
"Thanks, man. And tell Simon thanks, too."
"I'll do that. See ya." Brown left, and Jim turned back to the game as he finished his lunch, enjoying every morsel of grease and salt. After finishing the meal he took his trash out into the hall in search of a trash can, not wanting Blair's room to smell like a drive-through hamburger stand. Depositing the bag in the trash can by the nurse's station, he returned to the room, feeling at least a bit more human. He settled in to watch the game.
---------------
The nurse had just finished doing her half-hourly check on Blair and was chatting for a moment with Jim when they both heard a murmur from the bed. Jim turned the chair and pulled it closer to the bedside.
"Chief?" he called softly. "Are you awake?"
"Mmmm," Blair mumbled, then coughed softly. "Jim?"
"Yeah, buddy, I'm right here. You have a good nap? How are you feeling?"
"Mmmm. Sleepy. Tired." His voice was still soft and slurred from sleep.
The nurse interrupted, asking some more questions and raising the head of the bed for him. She promised to bring some fresh ice water and reminded him how to use the call button before leaving the room. Jim reached over and gave Blair's arm a gentle squeeze.
"I'm glad you got some sleep. Feeling better?"
"Yeah. Kinda buzzed, though. What time is it?"
"It's afternoon. You slept a couple of hours, I'm sure you needed it. Simon was here for a while, and Brown stopped by and brought me some lunch. They both said to say hi, and they'd be back later to visit."
"Mmmm." Blair pulled at his covers and felt over his sling before letting his hand come back to rest at his side. "Is anyone else here?"
"No, just you and me right now."
"I thought I heard someone else."
"Oh, maybe you're hearing the TV. I had turned it on, it was so quiet in here. I can turn it off."
"No, leave it on, that's okay. Turn it up a little, okay?"
"Sure, Chief. You want me to change the channel, you want it on the Discovery Channel or something?"
"Whatever you've got it on is fine. I just want some noise."
"You got it."
The nurse returned with some water and helped Blair to drink some, pulling over the rolling table and setting it and the water within easy reach. She offered to bring him some lunch, which he refused, saying that his throat was too sore to eat. When she insisted, he agreed to some juice or soup, and she left the room to get it. Before leaving, she offered to get an ice pack for Jim's face, which he declined, so she left to find the promised liquid lunch for her patient.
"Jim, what happened to your face?"
Jim had forgotten that Blair was unaware of everything that had happened after he was taken away from the computer store by ambulance. He wasn't certain how much Blair remembered about how he was injured and what happened afterwards. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to give him the condensed version of events.
"Well, after you left the computer store to come to the hospital, the gunman preached to everyone in the store for a while, then let everyone go just before blowing himself up. I got caught by the edge of the explosion and got knocked off of my feet. I just have a couple of bruises. I'm fine, though, and nobody else got seriously hurt, either."
"Thank God. You're really okay? You're not hiding something from me just because I can't see?"
"No, Chief. I have some bruises on my face and shoulder. I got checked out in the emergency room and got discharged with a clean bill of health. I do have a pretty good shiner, though. All the nurses have been admiring it."
"Man, he blew himself up…what was his story, anyway?"
"I wish I knew. There was a name written in the notebook that he had, and we're trying to track it down. At least he didn't take anyone else with him."
"Thank goodness." Blair was silent for a moment. "You know, maybe you should go home and get some rest, since you got banged up. I'll be okay. I don't know why but I still feel really tired, I'm probably gonna sleep most of the day."
"Hey, you trying to get rid of me, Chief?"
"No, I just want you to take care of yourself, Jim. I'll be fine, I'm not going anywhere."
Jim studied the face of his partner. He couldn't tell whether Sandburg really wanted to be left alone, or whether he wanted to present the appearance of being comfortable with being left alone. In the end, it didn't matter. Jim had no intention of leaving Sandburg alone for any appreciable length of time right now.
"Tell you what, Chief. I'll just hang out here for a while, since the game's on, and when Simon or someone else comes, I'll go home for a while and get some rest. How's that?"
He suddenly heard Blair's heart speed up. "I…I'm not really up for visitors right now, Jim. I guess it'll be okay for Simon to stop by, but I don't really want to see…I don't really want any other visitors right now. I'm still awfully tired, you know? OK?"
Jim was surprised at the fearful, desperate tone in Blair's words. "Sure, Chief, no problem. I'm sure everyone will understand." Blair's heart rate slowed slightly at Jim's agreement, and Jim decided to let it go for now.
"Thanks, man."
The room filled with an uncomfortable silence, only the murmur of the television announcers and sounds of the game humming in the background. Jim was relieved when the nurse returned with Blair's lunch, and he decided to excuse himself to call the precinct while she helped him with it. If Sandburg didn't want visitors, he needed to let their colleagues know before they all showed up.
---------------
Simon tapped gently at the doorframe, then opened the door and stuck his head in. Spotting the two sleeping figures on the far side of the room, he stepped in and pulled the door closed behind him. Pulling off his coat and lying it across the foot of the empty bed, and dropping a stack of files on top, he walked over to the chair that held a rumpled, snoring detective.
"Jim?" He reached down and gently shook the nearest shoulder. "Jim, wake up."
Jim woke up with a jerk. "What…Sandburg…" Looking up, he relaxed back into the chair. "Oh, hi, Simon…I guess I fell asleep."
Grinning, he walked over and perched himself on the smaller chair. "Yeah, I'd say so." He glanced over at the bed briefly. "So how's Sandburg?"
Stretching slowly, Jim sat up fully in the chair. "About the same. He had another treatment on his eyes just a little while ago. I know they said it's necessary, three times a day, but man…it really puts him through it. At least this time they gave him half of his pain medication first, so hopefully it took some of the edge off. They gave him the rest afterwards and just like this morning, it seemed to knock him out.
His doctor, Dr. Carver, stopped by and checked him out again. He seemed to think that things are going fine. I asked him if he had talked with the eye doctor, and he said that he had. He seemed pretty hopeful about Blair's chances of recovery, from what Timmons told him and what he read in the chart. I can't tell you how relieved I felt. He also wasn't concerned about the pain medication knocking Blair out for hours. He said that it would be normal for Blair to sleep a lot right now, that his body is trying to recover from the both the physical and emotional shock that he's had."
Simon nodded in relief. "Sounds good. Sounds like Carver is a good man. But what's this message that I got, that Sandburg doesn't want any visitors? You know that everybody wants to come and visit."
Jim sighed and looked over at his sleeping partner, keeping his voice low just in case. "I know, Simon, but he doesn't want to see them. Or, rather, he doesn't want them to see him. I think he's worried about how he looks and doesn't want anyone to see him like this."
"Jim, we're his friends. Everyone saw him at the scene, everyone knows his face was injured. And nobody cares about how he looks, you know that."
"Of course I know that. And I think, deep down, he knows that, too. But he's scared, Simon. We haven't talked much, and he keeps saying that he's all right, but he's scared. Wouldn't you be? He doesn't know what he looks like, he knows what it feels like when he runs his hand over his face and it's not good. He doesn't know if he'll ever see again, or what he'll be able to see again if he does. I think that dealing with other people, even friends, is something he can't handle right now. I just hope it's temporary. I hope he's not going to cut himself off from everyone. I know that he's a strong person…but nobody can get through something like this alone. I'm just glad that he would let you visit."
"Me, too. I'm glad that he feels that he can trust me right now." Simon cleared his throat, his voice having gotten suspiciously rough. "Well, I thought I'd stay for a while and let you take a break. Go home, get a shower and supper, maybe pick up a few things for Sandburg. I brought some cases along with me to keep me company if he sleeps through. What do you say?"
"Actually, that sounds pretty good right now. A long hot shower would really hit the spot. Let me see if Sandburg is awake." He stood stiffly and walked up to the bed, whispering softly. "Blair, you awake?"
Getting no response, he nodded and turned for the door.
"Don't worry, Jim. I'll be right here if he wakes up, and I'll let him know you'll be back later. Take your time."
"Thanks, Simon. Thanks for being a friend." Lifting his jacket off of the back of the chair, Jim pulled it on as he walked towards the door. Turning in the doorway, he took one last look at his sleeping partner before nodding at Simon and leaving the room.
---------------
Taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, Simon leaned his head back against the chair, closing the cover of the file on his lap. He hated his regular review of unsolved cases, it always made him frustrated and edgy. And this had been an ugly one. Two murders and no viable suspects, a neighborhood up in arms because Cascade PD hadn't been able to solve it yet. It was cases like this that made him wonder that the department's solve rate was as high as it was. Of course, he knew that one of the reasons was lying in the bed a few feet away.
He replaced his glasses and looked over at the bed. Blair had been sleeping ever since he had come in, but had been stirring a bit for the last ten minutes. He must be close to awakening. Even as he looked, Blair's head and hand moved, and he heard a short cough.
"Blair, you awake?" he asked softly.
He was answered with another cough before he heard that soft and rasping voice. "Yeah? Who's there? Jim?"
Simon grabbed the chair and pulled it close to the bedside. "It's Simon. Jim's not here right now, but he'll be back. How're you doing?"
Blair coughed again. "A little dry, I guess. Is there some water?"
"Yeah, right here." Simon helped Blair find the glass of water on the table and close his hand around it. He hovered nearby, ready to hold it for him if necessary.
The sight of Blair fumbling around with the glass one-handed and blindly trying to find the straw with his mouth was more disturbing than he had expected, and he felt a tightness in his chest. It took a lot of self-control to keep himself from reaching over and helping him, but he had sworn that he would take it at Blair's pace. He had told himself that he could handle this, would have to handle this for Blair's sake. Simon wondered how Jim was really dealing with this, as close as the two of them were. As hard as he found it to watch Blair like this, it must be killing Jim.
Blair polished off the contents of the glass. "Mmmm. That feels good. Is there any more?"
"Let me see." Simon cringed when the word slipped out of his mouth, as he picked up the pitcher from the bedside table. "Yeah, here you go." He placed his hand over Blair's on the glass to hold it still as he filled it, then reluctantly let go and returned the pitcher to the table.
Blair finished and set the glass back down on the table. "Thanks, Simon. What time is it?"
"It's about 7:30 in the evening. You've been asleep for a while."
"Is anyone else here?"
"No, just me. I sent Jim home to get a shower and some supper. He'll be back soon, I'm sure. Is there anything I can get for you?"
"No, thanks." Blair felt around on the bed rail until he found the bed controls, and raised the head of his bed a bit. "Thanks for sending him home, Simon. He doesn't need to sit here and watch me sleep." He was silent for a moment, then spoke up again. "I heard that Jim got hurt, but he wouldn't tell me much. Is he really okay?"
"Just a little banged up, but he's fine, Blair. He's got some bruises and he's a little stiff, but he's okay. Really."
Blair sighed in relief. "Good. You'd tell me if he was really hurt, wouldn't you, Simon?"
"I wouldn't lie to you, Blair. Jim's okay."
"Okay." Blair found the water again and took a few more sips. "Simon, I'm glad you're here. I wanted to talk with you privately, while Jim's not around."
Simon could feel himself tense. "OK. What do you want to talk about?"
"I want to ask you to keep an eye on Jim. You know how his senses act up sometimes, a lot of the time it's when he's tired or stressed. I know this is asking a lot of you, but I'd like you to watch out for him. If his senses get out of control, or he zones out, it could be dangerous for him. Please, Simon, please do this for me," he pleaded.
"Of course I will, Blair. I'll keep an eye out for him until you're back on your feet. You have my word."
"Thanks, Simon. That means a lot to me." Blair took a deep breath, his voice becoming even rougher. "And if I don't get my eyesight back…"
Simon interrupted immediately. "Come on, Blair, don't. Don't go there. It's too early to think the worst. The doctor said that you're healing, you've just got to be patient right now."
"Simon, I've got to know that you'll help Jim out if I…if I am blind. You're one of his best friends, you've been a good friend to both of us. I won't be any good to him blind, I won't be able to help him with his senses. You're the only other one who knows, well, you and Megan, and you've got to promise me that you'll help him. Maybe assign Megan as his new partner…"
"Blair, please don't. We don't know that you're gonna be blind…"
Blair continued anxiously, his voice coming faster and more insistently. "Please, Simon. You gotta promise me. Please…" he begged.
Simon could see how agitated Blair was becoming, and he stood and reached down, settling a hand on the now trembling shoulder.
"I promise, Blair, I promise. OK? I promise. I promise if…if that happens, we'll talk about this and I'll help Jim. OK? Calm down, now."
Blair sank back into the bed, visibly relaxing as he began breathing more deeply and pulling himself together. "Thanks, Simon. Thank you. I knew I could count on you."
"Don't worry about it now, Blair. Just take it easy." With a final clumsy pat on Blair's shoulder, he sat back down in the chair. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed a hand over his face. Dear God, he thought. Please give him back his eyesight. Please don't do this to him.
---------------
Outside in the hallway, Jim stood leaning against the wall, his forehead touching, as he listened to the discussion within. His breath caught in his throat as he heard his partner's impassioned and desperate plea for Simon's help and Simon's agreement. He slumped against the wall and held one hand over his eyes, fighting the emotions welling up within, and sending his own plea heavenward. Please, God. Please, God. Please make him see.
He turned and headed back towards the drinking fountain, needing a few moments and a drink to clear his throat before he could face walking back into that room.