Simon ran back, then turned and gaped at the quivering structure. Seconds later he was nearly knocked off of his feet as Daryl threw himself into his arms with a sob, wrapping his arms tightly around him and burying his face in his chest. He grabbed his son and held on tight, watching the swaying metal and concrete structure and praying for the lives of his friends. The small crowd of paramedics, firemen and construction workers that had also pulled back from their work stared breathlessly as well. Joel Taggart and Henri Brown quickly joined them, their mouths open and stunned expressions on their faces. A crashing and thudding sound from the far side of the structure made them all jump, but it was the only obvious indication of any new damage as the aftershock finally began to subside.

The Fire Department captain spoke out quickly.

"Everybody wait! Don't approach the stands for another minute or two, we've got to wait to see if anything else is going to fall."

Daryl finally raised his head to look again at the stands, then met his father's glance. All Simon could do was give him his most reassuring look, then pull him back into his arms for another hug. He wasn't sure who needed it more. They just stood that way for a few moments, drawing strength and reassurance from each other.

"All right, men, let's go!" With a group sigh of relief, everyone started back to their tasks. Simon walked Daryl back over to the picnic table, then returned to check on Sandburg and Ellison and the progress of their rescue.

After a few minutes of searching, he found Captain Lewis again.

"Captain, how close are you to getting them out? Do we know if the aftershock made things worse?"

Lewis rubbed his hand over his face. "Well, we haven't been able to find any new damage in this area. It doesn't look like things have shifted much or at all. So we are continuing on our previous plan."

"Good. Well, don't let me interrupt you, I'll leave you to your work."

Simon took a deep breath in relief, then went to check on Sandburg and Ellison. He was disturbed at the flurry of activity around them as he approached, and he glanced quickly about for Paramedic Dale. He spotted him and trotted up to his side.

"Dale, what's going on?"

"Captain, I'll be with you in a minute, all right?" He scurried off to the rescue squad for some additional supplies, then returned to the fallen men. Simon paced anxiously for a few minutes, before Dale rejoined him briefly.

"What's up?"

"Sorry, Captain, I didn't mean to be short with you. The aftershock must have aggravated your men's injuries, they both have lost consciousness again. We're just now reassessing their conditions, so if you'll excuse me…" He returned to the edge of the structure and knelt over Ellison.

---------------

The struggle back to consciousness seemed more difficult this time, a slow, gradual process of pushing through a dark and dense barrier. Bits and pieces of his surroundings and sensations made themselves known, and slowly glued themselves together into a mosaic of awareness. Part of that mosaic was the return of pain, and he strove to keep it from driving him back into the blackness. The sound of worried voices behind him finally began to make sense, and he tried to let them know he was back.

"Simon…"

"Jim, thank God…glad to have you back, man. How're you doing?" The sound of relief in his voice was palpable.

"Um…" He felt as if his brain was only slowly coming back on-line. "You tell me, Simon."

"Well, the paramedics have been checking you two out, you both passed out. Uh, things don't look any worse, but I'm not the expert. How do you feel?"

Jim suddenly remembered his fallen partner. How could he have forgotten him, even for a minute? He must be worse off than he thought.

"OK. Sandburg?"

"A minute ago he was still unconscious. You want me to check with the paramedic?"

"Please, Simon." As Simon walked over to the paramedics, Jim looked over towards Blair. Their hands were still grasped together, and Jim was surprised to feel how cool the limp hand in his felt. He tried a gentle squeeze, but got nothing in return. Blair's face looked a little paler than before, and even unconscious there were noticeable dark rings and lines around his eyes that told too clearly the story of the pain he had been enduring. He tried another squeeze as he called out to his friend.

"Hey, Chief, you with me here? Come on, Chief, wake up."

No response was forthcoming. Only the worrying sounds of his struggles for breath continuing unabated, and Jim told himself that he should be grateful for that. As he scanned his partner, he could see no signs of a new injury, no fresh new blood on his face, and he hoped that there were no new internal injuries unseen. Dialing up his sense of touch, despite the angry flare of pain it caused him, he found Blair's pulse to be weak and fast. He thought that he detected some irregularity there, but prayed that he was wrong.

"Jim? Dale is here and wants to check you out, okay?"

"Okay, but how's Sandburg?"

Dale's voice drifted in. "We can't see any signs of additional injuries, Detective, but he is still unconscious. As soon as he regains consciousness we'll check him out again, too. Let me check you out now."

Jim drifted a bit as Dale checked him over, responding as best he could, moving what he could when asked. He was pleased at the apparent relieved tone of Dale's voice as he told him that nothing seemed to have gotten worse, no additional damage had occurred from the aftershock as far as he could determine. It was hard to tell how long it had been before he suddenly realized that he was feeling movement in the hand that was clasped within his. He focused his attention on Blair, and was deeply relieved to see his eyelids flutter.

"Blair, wake up now, buddy. That's the way, open your eyes and look at me."

After practically an eternity, Blair's eyes finally came fully open. He looked around, seemingly unfocused, until his glance came to rest on Jim's face. A ghost of a smile slipped over his lips.

"Hey, Jim…."

Jim was immeasurably relieved. "Hey, Chief, nice of you to join us. How are you doing?"

Long seconds passed as Blair's eyes struggled to stay open, and he ran his tongue over dry lips. His voice was smaller, weaker than before, but still clear to a sentinel's focused hearing.

"Still here, I guess….what happened?"

"An aftershock, remember? But nothing else fell on us, so I guess we're okay. They're back to working on getting us out."

Blair seemed to take a long time to reconnect the memory. "Aftershock…oh, yeah…really sucked, man…."

"You got that right, Chief. It sure did. How are you feeling?"

It again took a long time for Blair to answer, and Jim began to become concerned that either his injuries were gradually worsening or that the aftershock had caused new injuries. Every time he spoke seemed to be even more of a struggle.

"Not too good…getting out soon?"

"Yes, Chief, we're getting out of here soon. Why don't you rest and I'm gonna talk to Simon about how close they are to getting us out, okay?"

"…Simon…Daryl okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine. Just rest, save your strength now."

"Okay…"

Jim thought that he could smell the telltale odor of Simon's cigars nearby. "Simon?"

"I'm here, Jim."

"Can you get Dale? I think Blair's getting worse, Simon, he seems to be weaker than before. How soon are they gonna cut us out of here?"

" I don't know, Jim, they're working as fast as they can. Here's Dale. Hang in there, Jim."

Footsteps shuffled around as Dale traded places with Simon. "Detective?"

Jim relayed his concern over Blair, and he could pick up the subtle noises of the paramedic nodding his head.

"Yes, we've been monitoring him as well. He does seem weaker, we can barely pick him up on the speaker now. It's possible that he's going into shock or that internal injuries are catching up with him. We are going to adjust his IV fluids to try to help, but there's not much more we can do."

"Look, you've got to tell your Captain to get whatever he needs to in place, but he's gotta get Blair out of here and to the hospital. Now. I don't think he can wait much longer." For once, Jim let the full weight of his desperation show in his voice.

"I hear you. I'll talk to the Captain."

Dale walked away and Jim returned his attention to his partner, giving his arm a small squeeze of support.

"You still with me, Chief?"

Another long, agonizing pause.

"Yeah, Jim…Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

A small sigh preceded the next statement, made in a quiet, still voice. "Don't feel too good…"

"I know, Chief, I wish there was something I could do. You've gotta hang in there, buddy."

"I…I don’t think…I'm gonna make it…Jim…."

Jim reflexively grabbed Blair's hand, hard, and rushed to deny his own worst fears.

"Yes, you are, Chief. Don't you give up. Don't you dare give up! They're going to have us out of here real soon."

Two pairs of blue eyes met. Usually bright and shining with intelligence, Jim noted how dull and dark Blair's eyes seemed, and how they seemed to be drifting in and out of focus. Even in the fading light of late afternoon, he could see that his skin appeared ashen, and even the dusty rose of his lips had taken on a grayish hue. He noticed again how cool his skin seemed to the touch, and that Blair no longer frequently squeezed his hand as if to reconfirm their contact, the only movement there now an occasional weak tremble. Blair seemed to struggle to focus and make himself heard between puffs of breath.

"Jim, I…I feel like…something exploded in me…hurts bad…don't think I can move…anymore…" His voice trailed off, and Jim could see that it had taken almost all of his energy to speak. The pained gasping sound of his breathing was more noticeable as his breathing had become even more shallow than before. Jim couldn't imagine what his best friend was going through, that had driven him to the point of expecting death. The fear that he had been holding at bay threatened to overtake him.

"Don't try to move, Blair. You don't need to move right now, just try to rest and conserve your strength. You're not going to die here, dammit!" Behind him, he could hear the hushed but urgent voices of Simon and Captain Lewis, and he realized that they had heard their conversation on the speaker. Simon was all but threatening Lewis, telling him to go ahead and do what they had to do, but do it now. He returned his focus to Blair, who was trying to speak again.

"Jim…not giving up…but…"

"Blair, don't talk, don't waste the energy. They're gonna get us out real soon, I promise you."

"Jim, please…just in case…" He could see the pleading in Blair's eyes, and moisture pooling up there. "Listen…"

What was taking them so long? "I'm here, Chief, I'm listening."

Blair continued in a small and wavering voice, now struggling with each syllable. "Tell Naomi…love her. Working with you…no regrets…ever. Tell her…"

Jim could feel a building ache in his chest and throat, with fear, compassion and sorrow taking hold there. He looked deeply into his partner's eyes, trying to will him the strength to keep holding on. He barely felt the moisture growing in his own eyes.

"I will, Chief."

"Simon…Joel, Megan…Rafe, Henri…tell them…honor and privilege…working with them…"

"You got it. Please don't talk, Blair, you need to save your strength."

He could see the struggle in Blair's eyes to stay conscious, to stay focused, to put his fading thoughts into words.

"Jim…" Blair's voice was barely audible now, breathy and quiet. Jim struggled to control his sentinel hearing, to dial it up to make out the words.

"Yes, Chief?"

"Jim…the best, man…thank you… my friend…." His voice gave out as he ran out of breath, but the emotions welling up in his eyes said what his voice couldn't. Jim felt the softest of pressures on his hand, and he returned it with a firm grasp.

"I'm not giving up, Chief, and don't you give up either. We're gonna get out of here, both of us. You hear me?" He no longer cared about the edge of desperation creeping into his voice, he had to keep his friend from giving up.

Blair's eyes seemed to dim further, and they blinked tiredly and drifted out of focus before sliding shut. When several moments passed without another word, Jim squeezed his hand hard and tried to get him to open his eyes.

"Chief? Blair? Come on, buddy, stay with me."

Moments later, after his continued efforts, Blair's eyelids began to flicker open. He could barely hold them open, and Jim could see how unfocused and confused his eyes seemed when they finally drifted his way, then kept drifting aimlessly. He wasn't sure that Blair could even focus anymore, and wondered if he was fully conscious. His voice was tiny, almost childlike, when it finally sounded again.

"Jim?"

He was overwhelmed with relief at hearing Blair's voice, even as the weak and fragile sound frightened him at the same time. "Yes, Chief?"

" …so tired, Jim…can we… go home now….?" His eyelids fluttered again, then drifted shut.

"Chief? Blair? No, God, no…" Jim's efforts at reawakening his friend were no longer successful. Blair had drifted into unconsciousness, the lines of pain in his face gradually fading.

"Jim…" Simon's voice, rougher than usual with emotion, sounded behind him.

"Simon, they've gotta get us out now! I don't care how stable they think this building is, Blair's out of time." Now that Blair could no longer hear him, he let loose all of his panic in his voice.

"We heard, Jim. They're moving the equipment and men in now to start cutting you out, and they've called for the Mediflight helicopter to transport both of you to the hospital."

"Tell them to get Blair out first, I can wait."

"Don't worry, Jim. They're going to work on getting both of you out at the same time…here they are. I've gotta get out of the way, now. Hang in there, man."

"Simon, whatever happens to me, you make sure that they take care of Blair. You promise?"

"I promise, Jim. I'll talk to you later." Simon's footsteps were replaced by the sounds of men and equipment moving in behind him. He heard Captain Lewis speaking up.

"Detective, we're going to start getting you out. We're going to cover you with some blankets to try to protect you from debris as we cut. All I can say is try not to move, all right? We'll be as fast as we can, for both you and your partner."

"Just get to it. You've gotta get Blair to the hospital."

"We'll work as fast as we can. All right, men, move it."

Jim felt the weight of several blankets fall over him, especially uncomfortable on his scraped back. He concentrated on turning down the dials on his senses, discovering that he had already dialed them down as far as he knew how to do. He knew that the process of getting them out was going to be painful no matter how careful the workers were. Even though he knew they would probably be separated in moments, he tightened his grasp on Blair's hand, wanting to somehow give him the strength and will to survive through that pitifully inadequate contact.

Moments later he heard the whine of a saw starting up, then another. Regulating his breathing as Blair had taught him, he was nevertheless taken off guard when the sound of the saw changed as it bit into metal, immediately followed by an excruciating vibration in his injured leg. Despite his best efforts, the pain grew and intensified, and, overwhelming his tired senses, drove him quickly into unconsciousness.

---------------

Simon walked quickly through the doors into the Emergency Department, one arm firmly around the shoulders of Daryl at his side. Recognizing the entrance into the ER waiting room on his left, he pressed Daryl forward and followed him into the room. Several familiar faces greeted him, the detectives and officers coming to their feet at his approach. He steered his son into a newly emptied chair and held up his hands at the rising babble of questions.

"All right, people, I'll be back to talk to you in just a minute. Let me check in with the desk first, okay?" With a brief glance at his subdued son, he turned and made his way to the desk. He left his name, flashing his badge, and requested to be called the minute there was any news about Ellison or Sandburg.

Finishing there, he searched for a restroom in the area. Finding one just up the hall, he let himself in and locked the door behind him. He went to the sink and turned the water on, not bothering to let the water warm up before splashing several handfuls onto his face. Resting his hands heavily on the edge of the sink, he looked up to face himself in the mirror. They all could wait a few minutes, he thought, he needed the time to regroup before facing the men and women of his command with the strength and leadership that they expected of him. He felt anything but strong, he felt mostly numb with a heavy overlay of fear.

The events of the past several hours seemed unreal as he reviewed them in his mind, more suited for a horror movie than a relaxing afternoon with his son and his friends, indelible memories that he knew would never fade. The heart-wrenching words of a pain-wracked and fading Blair Sandburg to his best friend. The panic and desperation in Jim Ellison's voice, as he pleaded for help for his failing partner. The agonizing wait as they finally cut the two men out of the wreckage, and the sight of the two unconscious men as they were placed on stretchers and raced into the waiting helicopter. All were burned into his mind.

Ellison had appeared mostly pale but asleep as they moved him, as long as you didn't look at the leg that was tightly splinted and secured onto the stretcher. The piece of bone and shaft of metal that had still protruded there made the leg look like a bad Frankenstein monster imitation, almost laughable if it hadn't been so frighteningly real. He had been the easiest to get out, and the first into the waiting chopper.

The sight of Sandburg as they gently but quickly pulled him from the wreckage and placed him on a backboard, and then a stretcher, had stunned him. Even though he had seen Sandburg earlier in the day, and knew that he was probably badly injured, he was not prepared for the sight of the young man when he was finally extracted from the wreckage.

If he hadn't been reassured by the continuous and almost frantic activity of the paramedics about him, he would have guessed that they were too late, that they had recovered a corpse. The gray pallor of his skin, the blood already dried and darkened on his face and matted in his hair, and the brief glimpse of his ravaged abdomen that he got as they ran by startled him and drove his heart into his throat. He barely noticed the slam of the helicopter doors and the cloud of rising dust from the whirling blades as the chopper took off and headed for the hospital.

Now all they could do was wait. The helicopter had preceded him to the hospital, and now his friends were being examined and treated in one of the best trauma centers in the Northwest. He hoped that they were good enough. More police personnel would be arriving at the hospital shortly, he knew, now that Ellison and Sandburg were here, to support their friends and colleagues by their presence in what all hoped would not be a death watch.

Taking a deep breath, he again splashed water on his weary face. He could see his fear in the mirror, reflected back in the darkness of his eyes and the lines on his face. Grabbing some paper towels, he dried his face and hands and began to steel himself for what would be a very long night of waiting. Closing his eyes briefly, he offered up a prayer for his two friends, their friends and colleagues, and for the medical teams that would be working on them into the night.

Opening his eyes and straightening up, he tried to put on his best captain's face for the sake of those who waited for him. Those who really knew him would not be fooled, because they knew that Sandburg and Ellison were much more to him than just another two of his men, even though they could not know how deeply Sandburg's words had touched him. But he needed to show strength and resolve, they would all be counting on him.

Running a hand over his hair, he unlocked the door and returned to the waiting room, taking charge of the room and answering many questions before taking his place next to his son to wait for news.

---------------

Over an hour and a half had passed, and there had still been no news. The clerk at the ER desk had patiently and repeatedly told him that he would be notified when the doctors had something to say. He had already measured the length and width of the waiting room in his strides at least thirty times, had three cups of a hot beverage that barely passed as coffee, and had finally gotten Daryl to go home with a friend. The room had gotten increasingly crowded with more police men and women, and all of the Major Crimes detectives were there. Simon told himself hopefully that no news was good news, at least in Sandburg's case, that he must still be clinging to life.

A sudden hush fell over the room, and Simon turned. A tall, lean figure in sweaty and blood-spattered scrubs stood in the doorway and referred to a clipboard before looking up.

"Is there a Captain Simon Banks here?"

Simon moved quickly through the crowd, and they quickly fell in behind him.

"I'm Banks. How are they?"

"I'm Doctor Miller, Chief of Emergency Services. Would you mind if we talked outside? I could really use a cigarette, and we both could probably use the fresh air."

"Certainly, Doctor. Lead the way." They went out through the automatic doors and off to a small area to the right of the ambulance entrance. A couple of chairs and some ashtrays were there in an obviously well-used smoking area, and they each took a seat.

Miller pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag. He held it in for a moment, then exhaled with a pleasured sigh.

"Yeah, I know, I should know better. Once in a while, though, it really hits the spot. OK, you want to know about your men."

"Yes, please, Doctor. What can you tell me?"

"Your detective Ellison, with the leg injury, he is quite a stubborn man."

Simon let out a snort. "Doctor, you have no idea. What did he do?"

"Well, once he regained consciousness, he refused to let us examine or treat him. We had to assure him that his treatment was not holding up the treatment of his partner, that a completely separate team was treating Mr. Sandburg." He shook his head at the memory. "They're pretty close, aren't they?"

"They're much more than partners, Doctor. Partners, roommates, best friends…they have a very close and unique relationship. They're quite a team."

"Yes, I could see that. Well, once he let us proceed, we thoroughly examined him. He was a little shocky, but not too bad considering what he's been through. His left shoulder was broken and dislocated from impact, and he had several broken ribs. The cuts on his back were mostly superficial, even though several needed stitches.

Of course, the injury to his leg was the most severe. They did a good job of immobilizing it on the scene, and leaving the bar in place probably reduced the damage quite a bit. He is in surgery now. They will remove the bar and repair the nerve, muscle and blood vessel damage. They might wait to set the bone, it depends on how long the surgery goes and how extensive the repairs need to be.

The surgeon who is working on him was very hopeful, she seemed to feel that his leg could be saved and, if the surgery goes well, he has a chance to recover function and sensation in his leg and foot. He'll be in surgery for quite a while, there's a lot of damage to repair, but he should pull through the surgery just fine. It will be a matter of time to see what the results will be. He looks to be in excellent physical condition in general, so the prospects are good."

He took another long drag of his cigarette, watching the smoke curl into the cool night air.

"And what about Sandburg?"

"The story isn't quite as good there, I'm afraid. In addition to a concussion, a separated shoulder, and a dislocated hip that has already resolved, he has internal injuries with subsequent internal bleeding. He should be on his way to surgery soon. It has taken us a while to get him stable enough to make it into surgery, he was in shock and very weak when brought in. We think that he has damage to his liver, and possibly other organs, but we won't know the full extent of his injuries until the surgeon gets in there. We'll just have to wait and see."

"What are his chances, Doctor?"

"I really don't know. He is obviously a strong young man to even make it this far, but until the full extent of his injuries is known, I just couldn't say. If he can make it though surgery, he'll have a fighting chance. I know that isn't what you want to hear, Captain, but I don't want to give you a false impression.

I'm afraid that's all I can tell you right now. They are both going to be in surgery for hours. You and your people might want to go home, or take turns staying, or something. It will be a long wait, I'm afraid." He stubbed out his cigarette, and stood with a stretch.

Simon stood with him. "Well, thanks, Doc, for letting me know where things stand. I appreciate your taking the time to talk with me." They started walking towards the door, but stopped when the doctor turned and grasped him by the arm.

"Captain, I know how hard the waiting is for you. I just want you to know that these are good people working on your men, really good people. If they were my friends or family in there, these are exactly the doctors I would want operating on them." He shook Simon's hand firmly, then walked back into the hospital.

Simon stood and stretched, and contemplated smoking his last cigar. He decided against it, knowing that he had a long night ahead and he might be grateful for it later. Turning back towards the ER entrance, he slowly returned to the men and women awaiting his every word.

---------------

He awoke with a start, just as his head was slipping off of his hand. Shaking his head wearily, Simon removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. Replacing them, he looked around the waiting area. The crowd had thinned in the last four or five hours, but there were still a half dozen men and women of Cascade PD waiting for word on their colleagues. Three of his detectives, Taggart, Brown and Connor were there, Connor seemingly asleep with her head resting on the wall behind her. Taggart and Brown were both awake and grim faced, looking without seeing at outdated magazines. They had also seen Sandburg as he was extricated from the wreckage, and he remembered seeing his own horror reflected in their eyes. They had refused to leave even for a few hours of rest.

Rafe must have gone home while he had nodded off. He was glad, hoping that someone would be able to get some rest this night. Standing and stretching with a wide yawn, he was surprised by the voice that came from the waiting room door. Apparently he was wrong.

"Hey, Captain. I went and picked up a few things for everybody." Rafe strode into the room, a large box in his hands. Despite the hour and the circumstances, he looked unrumpled as usual. Simon wondered in the back of his mind how he did that. He would have to find out someday. Right now, though, he was curious about the contents of the box. All of the officers gathered around.

Rafe had outdone himself. He had gone to a nearby 24 hour grocery store that had a deli section, and had picked up enough food for twice the number that was there. There were sandwiches, donuts, salads, juices, fruit….and a dozen large cups of coffee. Real coffee. Simon elbowed back the other eager arms, figuring that rank had some privileges, and snagged the first cup he could reach. Pulling the lid off, the aroma alone invigorated him. Sipping gratefully, he watched the rest of the crew, including the now-awake Connor, picking through the feast and thanking Rafe profusely.

Once the crowd had thinned, he walked over and picked out a sandwich for himself. Taking a large mouthful, he clapped Rafe on the shoulder and began to walk away, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Captain, just a minute. I also picked up something for you. They're not the best, but…"

Rafe handed him a package of cigars. As members of the Cigar Club, both would probably never smoke those cigars on a regular basis, but Simon knew that they were probably the best that he could find in the middle of the night. He was deeply moved by the small and personal gesture by his detective, who had been unable to join his colleagues at the accident site because he had been out working on a case. Rafe had felt badly, even though he had been repeatedly assured by the others that there was nothing he could have done. Simon gave him a thankful smile and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Rafe, for everything. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Captain. I just had to do something, this sitting around…" He looked down and shook his head sadly. "Any news?"

"No, I'm sorry, Rafe. But the doctor said that the surgeries would take a long time, so we just have to be patient. And we haven't heard anything about Blair, that's good news for now."

The eyes of the two men met in commiseration. Sandburg had truly become part of the Major Crimes team in his three years with the department, and they all had deep feelings for the youngest and most irrepressible member of their team. With a sigh, they went and found seats and returned to the waiting game.

The food and coffee having been devoured for the most part, the waiting returned to the unfortunately familiar pattern. An all-night news channel chattered away on the TV that hung from the ceiling up in a corner. Brief conversations flared and were silent. People came and went to stretch their legs, visit the restroom, or go outside for fresh air. New ER visitors came and went, looks of shock and concern on their faces as they waited for their own family and friends. Sirens of approaching ambulances occasionally pierced the relative quiet.

Simon had just returned from trying to enjoy one of Rafe's cigars when he saw the familiar face of Doctor Miller coming through the ER's double doors. He removed his surgical cap and ran his hand through his hair as he approached. Simon hurried up his pace and met Miller at the door to the waiting area, joined quickly by the rest of the officers and detectives who had been waiting there.

"Doctor Miller, how are they?"

"Detective Ellison is just coming out of surgery now. The injuries to his leg, although serious, were not quite as bad as we had feared. The surgeon did a beautiful job of putting everything back together. The bone hasn't been set yet, that should happen tomorrow or the next day, depending on how everything goes.

She is confident that he should regain the use of his leg, after a period of healing and extensive therapy. How much movement and sensation he will recover is still to be seen. His other injuries have been treated. His excellent physical condition prior to the accident probably made a difference. He will be going to Recovery, then he'll be going up to Intensive Care. I don't really expect him to stay in ICU for long, but it was a serious injury and an extensive surgery, so the extra monitoring for a while is standard procedure. Captain, I'll have them let you see him in ICU once he's there. It will only be for a few minutes, but it's the best I can do."

"Thank you, Doctor, thank you." Simon heard the collective sigh of relief released behind him. "What about Sandburg, how's he doing?"

Miller ran his hand through his hair again.

"Mr. Sandburg is still in surgery. There was significant injury to his liver, and they have had to remove part of it. Fortunately, the liver is a large organ, and his appeared to be otherwise healthy, he should have enough of the liver remaining to function adequately. There were several blood vessels that were damaged, and they are being repaired. It is taking a long time, partly because they are trying to be sure that they aren't missing any bleeders, and partly because they have had to stop to stabilize him a few times so they could go on. He is still in critical condition." He stopped for a moment, and Simon could tell that he was trying to choose his words carefully.

"Doctor, please tell us. All of it."

"Several of his organs were rather severely compressed, and consequently were quite bruised. Our concern is with how long or if his organs were cut off from his blood supply, due either to the compression or the internal bleeding. If those tissues didn't receive enough blood flow, and enough oxygen, for too long, there could be permanent damage. Several of his organs, and his spinal cord, could be affected.

Unfortunately, we just won't know right away. Once he gets out of surgery, it will be a waiting game to see what all of the effects will be. It could mean additional surgery, if there is tissue death and other organs have to be repaired or removed. There could be permanent damage. Or there could be complete recovery. We just don't know right now. They are trying to just get all of the bleeding stopped and get him stabilized and out of surgery for now.

I know that it doesn't sound like it, but your Mr. Sandburg is a lucky man. He was strong enough to make it into surgery. He has two of the best trauma surgeons anywhere working on him. I've seen them do miracles. They aren't giving up on him, so it's important that you don't give up on him either. He's obviously a fighter, and he'll need to be to get through this." He looked up at the small crowd surrounding him. "He's also obviously got a lot of friends to support him, and he'll need you, too. That's all I can tell you for now, I'll ask one of the surgeons to come out and talk with you when he can." He began to walk away, then suddenly stopped and turned.

"Oh, by the way, Captain, please express my thanks to the Department. I got a message from our Blood Donor Center downstairs, they said that they had to call in additional staff this afternoon to handle the walk-ins, and that they have more donors scheduled for the next five days than they usually have in a month. All of the donors have mentioned that they are donating for Ellison and Sandburg. You should be proud of your men and women, Captain Banks." With a nod, Miller walked back through the double doors.

Simon closed his mouth and swallowed, his jaw having dropped open and his throat tightened at the doctor's words. Dear God, he thought, critical condition…possible permanent damage… possible spinal cord injury… As much as he had tried to prepare himself, knowing that Sandburg likely had serious injuries, hearing the actual words was more of a shock than he had expected. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, then turned to the shocked and pale faces of his colleagues. He tried to muster up his calmest and most confident voice.

"All right, people, that's it for now. Let's keep a positive thought here. You all know Sandburg, he'll pull through this, nothing keeps him down for long. Let's go sit down, okay?" He gently shooed his detectives and officers back into the waiting room and into seats. They all sat, silently reviewing what they had just heard in their minds. Hands of friends and colleagues were grasped compassionately, more than one prayer was offered to the heavens, and more than one tear rolled down a silent and worried face.

Simon fell slowly into his own seat, lost in thought and his own prayers for his friend. Over and over, he thanked God that Ellison was not there to hear the doctor's words. As devasted as they all were, it was nothing compared to how Ellison would take it. He hoped, guiltily, that he would be out of it long enough that there would be some good news about Sandburg to share when he came around. Please, God, he thought, let there be some good news.

---------------

The night went on. All of the Major Crimes detectives stayed on, unable to leave without knowing the fate of their friends and colleagues, although some of the uniformed officers went home. They had stopped looking at the clock long ago, finding it a meaningless exercise in frustration. When the surgeon finally came out to meet them in the waiting room, it took a moment for everyone to realize who he was and why he was there. Once they did, they quickly surrounded him in anticipation.

He took a drink from his cup of coffee before starting in. "Are you here for Blair Sandburg?"

"Yes, we are. I’m Captain Banks."

"I’m Doctor Black. Doctor Westmore and I operated on Mr. Sandburg. He made it through the surgery and is in Recovery now. He will be moved to ICU shortly."

"How is he doing, Doctor?"

"He’s doing as well as can be expected, I’m afraid. He is still unstable and in critical condition. He had a lot of internal bleeding, and we did have to remove a damaged piece of his liver. We repaired all of the damage that we could find. His hip and shoulder were injured, as you know, but they should be fine. He also sustained a concussion. Right now, between his blood loss, his internal injuries, and his concussion, he is in a coma. Don’t let that panic you, it is not unusual for someone with such severe injuries to be in a coma for a period of time after surgery."

"What’s the prognosis?"

Black rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. "I’d have to say guarded at this time. I told you that we repaired all of the damage that we could find. But with the type of crushing injury that Mr. Sandburg had, we won’t know all of the damage right away. The lack of blood flow and subsequent lack of oxygen to his tissues may have caused additional damage that isn't apparent right now. Most of his organs were shutting down, and now we just have to hope that they will recover their functioning now that blood and oxygen flow has been restored. He looks like he was in good physical condition prior to his injury, hopefully that will give him an edge. All we can do now is wait and hope. Does he have family here?"

"No, Doctor, we haven't been able to contact his mother. His partner, Detective Ellison, is the closest thing to family here. And his friends and colleagues, of course."

"Well, I'd encourage you to contact his family and see if you can get them here. Right now it comes down to a waiting game, I'm afraid. But we have an excellent track record here with severe trauma, so your Mr. Sandburg is in the best possible hands. Since neither his family nor his partner is available, I'll be sure that your name is put on his visitor's list for ICU. It will be a while before they have him settled, so you probably won't have a chance to see him for a while. I'd suggest that you go home and come back in the morning."

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for everything." Simon shook the surgeon's hand, took a breath, and turned to the quiet group behind him. "Look, folks, both Jim and Blair are gonna be in ICU for a while, so visitors will be limited. Why don't you all go home and get some rest, it's been a long day. I'm gonna check in to see how Jim's doing. I promise that I will let everyone know if anything changes, all right?"

The crowd slowly thinned. Brown met his eyes and gently clasped him on the shoulder before leaving, and Connor startled him with a quick hug before hurrying out of the room. Taggart was the last to leave.

"Simon, why don't you stay as long as you want, as long as they let you, with Jim. I'll go in first thing in the morning and make sure that things keep going at the station, so you don't have to worry about going in. Okay? I'll let the Chief know what's going on, I'm sure he'll approve it. Oh, and do you have any idea where Naomi is? Would you like me to try to call her?"

Simon wracked his tired brain for the information. "No, I don't know how to reach her, Joel. I seem to remember hearing Blair say that she was going to India or Nepal or somewhere like that, and that he wouldn't be hearing from her for a while. It figures. Jim may know a little more, I'll ask him when he's up to it. And thanks for the offer, but I think that Jim or I should be the one to call."

"OK. I'm gonna head out, then. Tell Jim, and Blair if you get a chance, that we're all with them, man."

"I will, Joel. Thanks. I'll talk to you in the morning, I'll call in to let everyone know how they're doing."

Simon gave Taggart a warm clap on the shoulder and the big man headed out of the waiting area, leaving him alone with his thoughts and fears. Not wanting to let himself be overwhelmed with worry, he moved into action, striding quickly towards the desk to find out how to get to ICU. He began walking towards the indicated elevators, knowing that this would become an all-too-familiar journey for the foreseeable future.

---------------

The darkness seemed not quite as deep this time, the voices and other sounds around him not quite as distant. Jim began the slow process of awakening, the sounds and sensations of waking life coming closer with great effort. A familiar voice sounded near him, and he struggled with recognition and then response.

"Nurse, wait. I thought that I just saw him move again…"

"Yes, I'd expect him to regain consciousness more often and more completely now. I'm making my rounds now, but if he does wake up and seems more alert, please use the call button. I'll want to talk with him when he is awake enough to do so."

Footsteps softly headed off. As sensations continued to become closer and more real, he tried to open his eyes. Heavy and unyielding, he pushed at them again and was finally rewarded with a blurry view of the world around him. Blinking slowly, he looked towards his right, where the voice had come from. Even though his vision seemed as if he were looking through the wrong end of a telescope, with effort he began to bring things into focus. The worried face of his friend and captain hovered beside him, and he saw a smile begin to slowly take hold there.

"Jim! Hey, man, it's great to see you. Don't try to talk, everything's all right. You're in the hospital, remember?"

As his head continued to clear, he did begin to remember. He was in Intensive Care after surgery. He had awakened a couple of times earlier, but had been unable to stay awake or to talk, and had simply complied when it was suggested that he not try to fight it and just rest. This time he began to feel more normal consciousness returning, and he thought he just might be able to make himself heard if he really tried.

"Simon?"

The look on Simon's face was one of relief. "Yes, Jim, it's Simon. How're you feeling?"

That was a hard question to answer. He felt heavy and thick, from his head to his toes, and he wondered how much of it was due to medication and pain-killers. His tongue felt large, woolly, and hard to control.

"Not too bad. Tired."

"Well, that's to be expected. You had a long surgery, and you're on a lot of medication. Do you remember the doctor talking to you earlier?"

He searched back into his mind, and could barely remember someone talking to him about his surgery and treatment. It seemed more like a dream than reality. He must have been pretty out of it at the time.

"Some. Not much." He tried to pull together the remnants of memory. "My leg?" He began to struggle to sit up so he could look down at his injured limb.

"Easy, Jim, easy." Simon pressed him back with a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Your leg is still there, it's going to be all right. The doctors said that the surgery went well. They didn't set the bone yet, but they said they will probably do that tomorrow or the next day. They didn't want to keep you in surgery any longer last night."

"Last night?"

"Yes, it's Sunday afternoon, Jim. You've been pretty out of it, but the doctors said that was to be expected. I'm going to call the nurse, she wanted to know when you were up to talking to her. They are gonna want to check you out and see about your pain medication." Simon reached over and pressed a button that was clipped to the side of the bed.

A nurse almost immediately appeared, and smiled when she saw that he was awake.

"Well, Mr. Ellison, welcome back. It's nice to see you're back with us. Let me page the doctor, he is going to want to come and talk to you. I'll be right back. Captain Banks, I'm afraid that you'll need to leave when the doctor gets here, as we discussed. Back in a minute."

"Simon, don't leave…"

"I'll have to, Jim, but I'll be back. They have actually been really good about letting me stay in here, not like any other ICU I've ever seen. I can come in to see you most of the time. But I have to leave when they are examining or treating you. Don't worry, I'll be close. I'll take the time to call in and let folks know how you are doing."

"Simon, how's Sandburg?" He had a vague memory of Simon telling him that Blair had made it through surgery, during one of his earlier almost-awakenings. He hoped that it hadn't been just a dream.

"He's hanging in there. He's here in the ICU, just a couple of doors down. I've been in to visit him, too, although they are pretty busy with him and I haven't been able to stay long. Speaking of Sandburg, do you know how I can reach Naomi? I think someone should call her…"

"No. Blair told me a couple of days ago that she was going to Nepal, and would call him when she's back in the states. I think he said she would be gone a month or so. I don't think he had a number or address where she'd be, as usual." He took a moment to swallow, his dry mouth making talking an effort. "He's not any worse, is he?"

"No, Jim, no. He's pretty much the same. They're taking real good care of him, don't worry. I'll check in with him, too, when they kick me out of here." A distant look took over Simon's eyes, and he looked down momentarily.

"Simon, there isn't anything you're not telling me about Blair, is there?"

"No, I promise you, Jim. It's just tough seeing him…seeing both of you in here, that's all."

He wasn't sure that he believed him, but he wasn't going to press him for more. He was grateful that Simon was here looking out for Sandburg until he could get in to see him. The doctor was going to be in for a lot more discussion than he thought. Just then, the doctor arrived and walked into the room.

"Mr. Ellison, I'm glad to see you are awake. Captain Banks, could you excuse us for a few minutes? I need to check out your friend here." He opened the medical chart that he was carrying and began to read.

"Ok, I'll see you later, Jim. Take it easy."

"You got it, Simon. And…thanks."

Simon gave him a warm smile and left the room. Before he could even say a word, the nurse returned and she and the doctor began asking him questions. He was examined from head to foot, quickly and efficiently. Finally finished, the doctor began reviewing his injuries and treatment for him.

"…and your leg is looking pretty good. The orthopedic surgeon should be in later today to check you out, and will probably schedule surgery to set the bone for tomorrow. We talked earlier, and he's planning to put in a plate and some screws to secure the bone. It sounds nasty, but it will hold the bone much more securely and will get you back on your feet much more quickly than just casting it would."

"So how long am I going to be in here?"

"Well, that's hard to say. If everything goes well, you should be in ICU for another day or so after the next surgery on your leg, then you'll be transferred to a regular room. I'd expect that you'll be in the hospital for a good week or ten days, we'll want to be sure that your leg is healing properly. After your discharge, of course, you'll need to be seen for followup and for a period of therapy. But things are looking good so far. How's the pain?"

"Not too bad, Doc. It's mostly kind of a heavy ache right now, in my leg and my shoulder."

"Well, now that you're awake, we'll get you on a morphine pump. That's a machine that lets you control how much morphine you get by pressing a button. We hook it right into your IV. It's regulated so you can't get too much. We've found that patients have much less pain and recover faster when they can control the pain relievers themselves. And don't worry, you won't get addicted or anything, usually people are able to taper down the doses quite easily as they recover."

"Thanks, Doc." Jim was grateful that he would have control over the medication. He knew that if he didn't, he would have an ongoing battle with the medical staff over it. Once he was feeling stronger, he would be able to dial down his pain a great deal by himself, and he didn't want to try arguing with nurses and doctors who thought that they knew what was best for him. "One more thing, Doctor."

The Doctor had been on his way out of the room, and turned to answer him. "Yes?"

"Are you also treating Blair Sandburg? I understand that he is also here in the ICU."

"I can't share information with you about other patients, Mr. Ellison…"

"You can with me, Doctor. I'm his partner, his roommate. If you have gotten his medical records, you will see that I am listed as a Next of Kin and Emergency Contact, and there should be a copy of his permission for me to make medical decisions for him if he is unable to do so himself. Please look."

The doctor pulled the chart open and began scanning through pages of documentation. Finally finding what he was looking for, he nodded and closed the chart.

"This is very unusual, Mr. Ellison, since you are a patient yourself. But since you do seem to be fully conscious and alert…"

"Thanks, Doc. Please, can you tell me, how is Blair?"

"I am one of the doctors treating your friend, along with his surgeons. He is doing as well as can be expected."

"What does that mean? Doctor, I need to know the truth. Please don't hold back, I can take it."

"Well, he is still in critical condition and in a coma…"

"A coma?" Jim's mouth went even drier.

"Yes. As we explained to Captain Banks, that is not unusual for someone with the extent of your friend's injuries. And actually, it is much easier for him, he would be in a great deal of pain were he to wake up right now. As to his injuries, his separated shoulder and dislocated hip are stabilized. Our concern is with the concussion and the internal injuries that he sustained.

He had surgery to repair the internal injuries. They had to remove part of his liver that was damaged, but he should be able to recover adequate liver function with what remains. Several blood vessels were damaged and repaired. Now we just have to wait and see. His organs were shutting down when he came in, so we are providing life support to keep him going until they start to recover function. We're not sure how severe his concussion is, it is hard to evaluate thoroughly while he is unconscious. All in all, your friend is a lucky man to have even made it this far. He is obviously a strong young man, and he has a chance for recovery."

"What are his chances?"

"It's hard to give you anything specific, and it's not because I'm trying to hide anything from you. It's just too early to know whether he will recover or how much he will recover, with those kinds of injuries. I'm sorry that I can't give you better news. We are doing everything we can."

Jim felt the color draining out of his face as he listened to the doctor's words. He didn't want to believe him, but his own painful memories of Sandburg at the accident site told him that it had to be true. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the doctor come to his bed side.

"Mr. Ellison, are you all right?"

He took a couple of deep breaths. "Yes, I'm fine, Doctor. Thanks for being honest with me. It's just, well, Blair Sandburg is my partner…"

"I know, your Captain has told me that the two of you are close. Please believe me when I tell you that we will do everything in our power to pull him through. He's in the very best place that he could be in, the staff here is exceptionally well-trained and experienced in dealing with severe trauma."

"I know, Doctor, and I'm grateful. When can I see him?"

"When can you…Mr. Ellison, you are recovering from some pretty significant injuries yourself. You need to focus on your own recovery for now, and let us take care of your friend. Right now you're not going to be getting out of bed, much less going down the hall for a visit, for a while."

"So when can I get out of bed and visit him? Look, Doctor, you said that he is in a coma. I've heard that people in a coma can sometimes be aware of what's going on around them, isn't that true?"

"Yes, I have heard those accounts from patients as well…"

"So I need to be there with him, talking to him, letting him know that he's gonna get through this and that I'm here for him. You said that I need to focus on my own recovery? There is nothing that will help me recover faster than knowing that he is getting better."

The doctor just stared at him for a moment.

"Your point about stimulating him in his coma is well taken. But you are not going to be able to visit him, even in a wheelchair, until after the surgery to set your leg. We'll just have to see once your leg is stabilized…"

"Look, doc, I know that you are doing your job. But I know Blair Sandburg, and I know that he will recover faster if I can spend time with him. Do what you have to do, but I need to see him as soon as possible, even if I have to sign myself out as a patient to do so."

After a loud sigh and another frustrated look, the doctor capitulated.

"All right. You know, your Captain warned me about you, and he was right. I'll talk to your surgeon, and see if he can schedule your surgery as soon as possible. If you are strong enough to bully me, you are strong enough to handle the additional surgery, I think. He and I will have to consult, but once your leg is stabilized, you may be able to get up in a wheelchair with a leg support attached."

"Great, Doc. I don't mean to be a pain in the ass here, but…"

"Don't worry about it. Mr. Sandburg is lucky to have such dedicated friends, and he needs them right now. I'll see about getting your morphine pump online for you, and I'll check with the surgeon. I'll talk with you later."

He watched as the doctor walked off, mumbling to himself and shaking his head. Settling back into the bed, he was surprised at how tired he felt, just from doing verbal battle with a physician. As he allowed himself to drift, he reminded himself to find out later exactly what Simon had said about him.

---------------

Readying himself with a deep breath, Simon opened the door into Sandburg's room and quietly entered. As he had each time he had come, he found himself holding his breath for a moment and his eyes became moist as he took in the scene before him. Part of him hoped that he would get used to it soon, that he wouldn't react each and every time he walked in, and part of him hoped that he would never need to get used to such a sight.

Sandburg lay, barely recognizable, with only a sheet partly covering him. Simon was amazed how quiet it was in the room, considering all of the machines surrounding the head of the bed, with only the steady hiss of the respirator breaking the silence in its regular rhythm and the automatic blood pressure cuff filling and emptying on schedule. Lines traced endlessly on the monitors that he knew were watched carefully in the nursing station. He was startled again by the number of tubes and wires that seemed to come from every part of the still body, but again reminded himself that these things were keeping his friend alive. Moving towards the bed, he sank into the now-familiar bedside chair and studied the silent face beside him, hoping for some sign of awakening.

A trace of color had returned to the familiar face, but it was still remarkably pale, making the darkness around his eyes look sunken in contrast. The tube coming from his nose and the respirator tube coming from his mouth were secured in place with tape, and the stark whiteness of the bandage at his temple contrasted with his dark hair and the dried blood there. He kept expecting those startling blue eyes to open at any minute, the familiar cheeky grin to appear, and Sandburg to climb off the bed and laugh at the joke. But it was all too real.

Reaching over to the bed, he carefully grasped one of Sandburg's hands and gave it a squeeze. Until Ellison was able to be here for his partner, he was determined to do all he could to keep him going. He too had heard stories about people in comas knowing what was going on around them, so he had decided that Sandburg was going to know that his friends and colleagues were there for him, including his Captain. Whatever it takes, he thought, whatever it takes. This was not the time to maintain the façade of professional distance and faint irritation that he usually adopted with the observer, even though after his three years with the department Sandburg and pretty much everyone else knew that it was a façade.

He took a deep breath, settled into the most comfortable position he could in the stiff chair, and started talking.

"Hey, Sandburg, it's Simon. I just wanted you to know that I just got done talking with Jim, and he wanted me to say hi for him. He can't come to visit you right now, but he's doing great, just great. He's giving the doctors a hard time, as usual, and you know what? He's trying to get all of the nurses' phone numbers before you get around to waking up. You're gonna have to wake up soon, man, or you won't have a chance…"

The nurse listening on the other side of the curtain that separated the room from the central nursing station smiled. The unresponsive man in the bed was certainly lucky, she thought, to have friends like that. Her smile changed to a frown as she noted the readings from his monitors into his chart. He needed all of the luck he could get.