Author's disclaimer: The characters from The Sentinel do not belong to me, and I am not making any money from this story.

Author's notes: This story is the result of a lot of research on my part and two other wonderful people. Thank you so much to Maeg and Shelley who contributed a great deal to this story. This story is dedicated to my fan partner Julia whose writing inspires me and whose friendship keeps me sane. Thanks Jules-AJSB. Please only tell me if you like this story.
Formatting notes from Ann Teitelbaum (20 Dec 1998): I have compiled this story for the archive, and have used the symbol "===" to designate where the original parts ended. So, if you missed, for example, part 10, you can search for "===" to hop to part 10. Also, I have left all the original author comments intact. Some may serve as spoilers, but they also preserve the mood of the original work. I have spell-checked the story and corrected obvious typos. Also, the symbol "***" is used when there was a spacing break and I wasn't sure if the archive posting subroutine would preserve the break.

Subject:     SXF: REPOST Sickness 0/28
Date:        12/17  4:27 AM
Received:    12/17  11:12 AM
From:        MackW3614@aol.com
To:           SXF, sxf@list1.channel1.com

Title: In Sickness and In Health
Author: N'Wanda
Email Address: MackW3614@aol.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: J/B
Status: Repost, complete
Date: Dec 17, 1998
Archive: yes
Archive Author: same as above
Archive Email: same as above
Series/Sequel: I doubt it.
Other Website: none

Notes: I am reposting this story because I had so many requests for it, and it is not on the archive. I do not have the capability to cut and paste with my new computer, so I'm sending it in the 28 original web tv parts. There will be a time gap of posting after part 11 because I have to retype part 12. There are some type o's that I don't have the editing capability to fix yet, but not many and I hope you can overlook them. I've had to leave the original headers on each part, so please ignore them. Some of them contain a little bit of spoilers for the story, just to warn you.

Formatting notes from Ann Teitelbaum (20 Dec 1998): I have compiled this story for the archive, and have used the symbol "===" to designate where the original parts ended. So, if you missed, for example, part 10, you can search for "===" to hop to part 10. Also, I have left all the original author comments intact. Some may serve as spoilers, but they also preserve the mood of the original work. I have spell-checked the story and corrected obvious typos. Also, the symbol "

===

Disclaimer: The characters from The Sentinel do not belong to me, and I am not making any money from this story. NC-17, J/B, Permission to archive.

Summary: Jim receives a traumatic brain injury and must go through recovery, rehabilitation, and beyond with Blair's help.

Author's Note: The following story is complete, but I don't know how many posts it will take to type it in. It is long, but I intend to type some in every day and a lot on weekends. This story is the result of a lot of research on my part and two other wonderful people. Thank you so much to Maeg and Shelley who contributed a great deal to this story.

Please only tell me if you like this story.

This story is dedicated to my fan partner Julia whose writing inspires me and whose friendship keeps me sane. Thanks Jules-AJSB.

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH
by N'Wanda

It was the first real day of spring in Cascade. The temperature was actually breaking seventy and still climbing. Blair Sandburg had immensely enjoyed feeling the warm sun on his back again. He had peeled off his light jacket before getting into his car and driving home from the University. He had just enough time to get dinner started before Jim was due to arrive home. Blair pondered the various menu options for several minutes. Something special for sure, he was feeling horny. Warm weather always did that to him. Well to be honest, so did cold weather, actually any weather at all as long as it was Jim Ellison he was thinking about. And if there was one thing Blair loved to think about, it was Jim Ellison. In fact, the man was his absolute favorite thing to ponder and visualize.

A smile came to Blair's lips as he pictured his lover lying naked on the lush, green lawn of McGuire Hall where he had just been. He imagined the sun shining on that massive chest and moving down to caress powerful thighs. His lover's cock would be standing proudly at attention just begging for a certain pair of lips to kiss it lovingly. Blair enjoyed this fantasy while stopped at a red light, picturing Jim's piercing blue eyes staring up at him and whispering, "It's all yours, Blair, every inch of it."

"Don't forget, Mr. Sandburg, tomorrow's the deadline on those final grades," Dean Michaels called as she strolled by the fantasy lawn in Blair's mind, sparing the sprawled naked detective there a brief appreciatory glance and then continuing on.

Blair shook his head. "Oh, man, I really need a vacation!" he mused. He hadn't liked the way Dean Michaels had looked at Jim, not one little bit. It didn't matter that she was sixty-two with thinning gray hair, happily married, and a grandmother of seven. "She better not look at 'my man' that way!" Blair muttered, forgetting momentarily that the dean had never actually met his lover, let alone eyed him for the Grade A hunk of beefcake he was. "If she tries anything, she's gonna pull back a nub!" he vowed.

He pulled the Volvo into a parking space and proceeded to try to carry two armloads of books and papers and his backpack in one trip. He dropped a couple papers every few inches, leaving a very noticeable paper trail on his way up the stairs and into the loft. *You should have just made two trips,* he chastised himself. He was about to go down to pick up his missing papers when Jim walked through the door clutching them in his hand.

"Lose something, Chief?" he asked with a smile on his face.

Blair's eyes moved down that expressive, handsome face and noticed the way the tight navy blue t shirt hugged Jim's heavily muscled chest. The Sentinel was still wearing his shoulder holster. For some reason that always turned Blair on. He placed it in the same category with kevlar vests and jungle print fatigues. And damn, but could that man work a pair of jeans!

Jim noticed Blair's wide eyed stare and grinned as he placed the dropped papers on the table. He decided to see just how excited he could actually make Blair without touching him. "I actually worked up a sweat today," he told his lover as he shrugged out of his t shirt, exposing his broad chest to Blair's hungry gaze. "I'd better toss this in the hamper right now."

He moved to do so, swinging his hips a little as he felt his guide's eyes on his ass. When he turned to exit the bathroom, Blair was standing there, blocking the doorway, his gaze getting hotter by the minute.

"God damn!" the anthropologist whispered fiercely.

Jim took a step closer feeling the heat surge between them as it always did. "Sometimes, Babe," he smiled, "I think you love me just for my muscles and pretty face."

Blair ran the tip of his pinky finger up one bulging bicep with a feather light touch, but to Jim's heightened sensitivity it had the impact of a freight train. "You, James Ellison, are without a doubt the most magnificent creature on the face of the earth, but I don't just love you for the outside package."

"Then why don't you tell me exactly why you do love me." Jim pressed himself against Blair until he could feel his lover's raging erection struggling to get to him through Blair's pants.

Blair turned serious and caressed Jim's face. "I love you because you are a beautiful person inside and out. I love your soul, Jim, and that will never change."

He tilted his head up to press his lips firmly to Jim's, starting the kiss out gentle and sweet despite the urgings of his body. It would be so much better if they took it slowly, last so much longer. That was the gift Jim had brought to their bed. He had taught Blair that a slow burning fire could last all night and into the next day. Jim was a die-hard romantic, though few would ever guess, and he was constantly surprising Blair with a flower or a poem carefully copied from an old book in Jim's anally neat handwriting. A few, a very few, were even originals, and Blair treasured those. Jim was no Shakespeare, but his clumsy yet sweet attempts at love poetry made Blair realize the depth of love that Jim held for him.

If Jim had taught Blair about seduction, then Blair had instructed Jim about how sex could be fun. Blair had taught Jim to relax and lower his guard, and they had enjoyed many a playful romp in the sack (and the truck) because of it. Tonight, however, Blair wanted it to last. He felt a sudden ache, an intense need to feel Jim's strong arms around him.

"Let's take this upstairs," he said huskily, leading the detective by the hand. Jim followed his lead eagerly.

===

The late afternoon sun was shining in through the window of their bedroom. Blair opened it to allow the fresh spring breeze to penetrate within. He took a deep breath. "Smell that, Jim. Winter is finally over." He couldn't contain the excitement bubbling within him, and he scrambled up to stand on the bed, bouncing a few times.

"No jumping on the bed, Blair," Jim said in a mock stern tone.

"House rule number 955, right?" Blair rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want to break the bed."

"Where would we have sex?" Jim grinned.

"Oh, I can think of a few million places, but the bed will do for now if you want to be boring." He walked to the edge of the bed and placed his hands on Jim's shoulders as Jim's arms came around his waist.

"Sex with me is 'never' boring, Sandburg," Jim instructed as he lifted Blair up and off the bed. He pulled Blair to him and ground his rock hard erection against his lover's.

Blair moaned at the sensation. "No, it's not a word that springs to mind right now. Hot and hard maybe, but boring, definitely not. Let's get you out of those jeans, Detective." He unbuttoned the well worn pants and carefully pulled the zipper down. He peeled the jeans down Jim's strong legs bending down to kiss those heavily muscled thighs and place a few licks on the inner thigh where Jim was extra sensitive. He was rewarded with little twitches from the muscles and soft moans from the man above him.

"Hair..." Jim pleaded. "Want to feel your hair against me."

Blair smiled and let just the tips of his curls brush against Jim's calf.

The Sentinel jerked. "God, Blair! So good! More, please!"

Blair pushed Jim into a sitting position on the bed. He quickly removed his lover's pants, shoes, and socks. Then he began to slowly move up Jim's body kissing, licking, sucking, and nuzzling his hair against him.

Jim's hands came down to push frantically at his boxers. "I want to feel your hair on my cock, Babe. So soft!"

Blair helped Jim remove the offending garment, then stood and stripped off his own clothes, enjoying the hot gaze of his Sentinel on him while he did so. Jim had lain back on the bed, and Blair moved to cover him with his body. He kissed Jim's lips tenderly. "Love ya, Babe." He smiled then worked his way down to where Jim's desire stood at full mast waiting for him. He wrapped the engorged organ carefully in his curls, and then placed his hand around both, stroking lovingly so that his hair moved along the turgid length.

"God damn!" Jim's hips shot off the bed. "Wait, Babe, I can't...I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that, and I want to make this last. Come back up here."

Blair reluctantly let go off Jim's cock with a parting kiss and a promise to return and crawled back up so that he was able to look into Jim's eyes. He kissed each of the spots on the sides of Jim's temples where he was beginning to lose his hair.

Jim's hand came up to cup Blair's face. "I love you, Blair," he whispered. "Always remember that. Whatever happens I will always love you." He brought his lips to Blair's and proceeded to demonstrate that fact. He pulled the smaller man's bottom lip into his mouth, sucking hard enough to elicit a moan from Blair. His teeth bit down gently in the tender, moist skin of Blair's mouth, and then he laved the area with his tongue. Jim continued his tongue's exploration of Blair's mouth. He knew the landscape well, but there were always new facets of his Guide waiting to be discovered.

Blair's tongue dueled with his briefly, sliding against the underside of his lover's, and then advancing to Jim's mouth to explore in the way he had been explored. They had made kissing an art form, brought it to heights where it was not merely foreplay or a means to an end, but a moment to be savored as deeply as when their bodies were joined.

Jim cursed the need for oxygen that forced him to retreat from Blair's delicious mouth. "Turn over." He nudged Blair onto his stomach to continue his exploration of the beautiful body that was his for the taking. He nuzzled into Blair's neck once again, enjoying the smell and feel of the fragrant curls, there then began to trace intricate patterns on his Guide's warm back with fingers and tongue, occasionally nipping or sucking the skin into his mouth. Blair was writing beneath him, moaning his name, his head tossing fitfully.

"Easy, Babe," Jim whispered.

"Can't wait, Jim...want you now! Do it, Jim, please! I want to feel you inside me."

"Turn over. I want to see your face," Jim said gently. Blair did so, and Jim the wild eyes and the way Blair's heart beat frantically. This was why Jim Ellison had no barriers or walls with Blair Sandburg. He was wanted, wanted above anything else on earth, and Jim Ellison wanted back. He reached in the bedside drawer for the lube and watched as Blair drew his knees up to his chest exposing himself. Jim fumbled a little with the cap. His hands were shaking from the need and hunger that were driving him. He finally got the tube open and squeezed some of the gel onto his fingers. Gently, he massaged the opening to Blair's body and then pressed a finger inside. The hot tightness of the passage immediately surrounded his finger.

Jim reached up to suck a delicate pink nipple into his mouth, bringing it to full hardness while his finger thrust into Blair preparing the way for his cock. Blair's hands came down to press Jim's head closer to his chest, and he whimpered at the sensations his lover was invoking in him. Jim left the one nipple wet and glistening and trailed kisses over to the other, giving it the same loving attention in his mouth as he pressed another finger deep within Blair.

Blair arched into his lover when he felt the added pressure. He uttered a low moan from deep in his throat that set Jim's blood afire. "Jimmmm!" he gasped. "God, Jim, touch me please!"

Jim trailed his hand down Blair's stomach, stopping to swirl around his belly button and then down to where his love's cock throbbed in anticipation. He ran his index finger around the head, collecting some of the precum hat oozed from the tip and then brought that finger to his mouth and sucked greedily. "Oh, Baby, you taste so damn good!" he growled. He encircled Blair's cock with his hand and began to caress it as he added a third finger inside of Blair. he moved both his hands slowly to bring as much pleasure as he could to the younger man. After spending almost a whole year as lovers, he knew just where and how to touch Blair to drive him to ecstasy which was where he was now. Jim withdrew his fingers carefully and retrieved the lube to anoint himself.

"Ready, Blair?" he asked. "Are you ready to feel me moving deep inside you, loving you?"

"God, yes, Jim! I always want you, always need you, always love you; you, Jim, and no one else!" Those dark blue eyes focused on him as if the Sentinel alone were Blair's world, and indeed he was. "Fuck me, Jim," Blair whispered.

The Sentinel placed the head of his cock at the entrance to Blair's body and pushed until just the head was inside. He stopped to better appreciate the sensations that were coursing through him. His body fit into Blair's so perfectly, one would assume they had been made for each other, and Jim believed they had been. Or perhaps they had started out as one soul, and then after being torn apart, they had wandered in search of each other. *And now that I've found you, Blair, I'm never letting you go!*

"More, Jim!" Blair demanded. His breath was coming in harsh gasps, and his hands clutched at the bedspread fitfully. "I want to feel all of you!"

"Patience, Babe, it will be better if we take it slow. Trust me." Jim moved another few inches inside going with agonizing slowness. It as hard, damn hard, not to just shove himself into the willing body beneath him and start thrusting fiercely, but the little rationality he had left reminded him about how good it felt when he took his lover slowly and with great tenderness. He had to grasp Blair's hips to keep the smaller man from impaling himself quickly on Jim's cock.

"You're killing me here, Jim!" Blair shouted. "I want to feel your balls pressing against my ass. I want you to fuck me so hard, my grandfather feels it!"

Jim collapsed on top of him laughing. "Now there's a mental picture that's not helping the situation!"

Blair looked up at him through his lashes with those damn puppy dog eyes. "Please, Jim, I love you!"

"Now how in the hell am I supposed to resist that," Jim muttered as he thrust home, fulfilling his lover's wish. "Christ, Blair! Do you know how good you make me feel?! Do you know how much I love you?!"

"I know," Blair said simply, urging his lover into motion. "I've always known." He met Jim's thrusts eagerly like a drowning man grasping at a life preserver. "Harder, Love!" he urged, "Faster, I won't break!"

Jim took him at his word and began pistoning into Blair, holding back none of his strength. Blair wanted him this way, and Jim Ellison aimed to please. The loft was filled with the sounds of sex, from Jim's deep grunts of exertion everytime he penetrated Blair's ass to Blair's soft whimpers of pleasure as he was filled to completion by the man he loved.

Jim felt his orgasm approaching and ground his pelvis into his mate one last time as the electricity surged through him, short circuiting his brain. He release his seed into Blair and felt the answering warmth of his lover's pleasure against his stomach. When both their shuddering had stopped, Jim withdrew carefully and pulled Blair into his arms. He always felt an intense need to cuddle the smaller man to him after making love to somehow preserve the intimacy of the act.

Blair nestled willingly against him, tucking his head under Jim's and resting a hand against the broad chest so he could feel his lover's heartbeat. "You're mine," he whispered softly as he drifted off to sleep. "And I won't let anyone take you from me."

Jim checked his automatic one more time and advanced into the abandoned warehouse after Martinez. He'd been chasing the escaped murderer's trail for weeks and had finally caught up with him.

The warehouse was dark so he adjusted his eyesight automatically to search around the stacks of boxes for his man. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to get this over with and get home to Blair. He had a surprise for him and was anxious to see his face when Blair found out about the vacation he had planned as an anniversary present. Simon had agreed to give Jim a week off at the same time as Blair's Spring Break. He had rented a secluded cabin up in the mountains where they could enjoy the outdoors and each other uninterrupted. It would be heaven.

A dark haired man crept up behind Jim unseen. When the squeak of a shoe caught the Sentinel's attention, he turned. Martinez brought the crow bar up and swung hard, catching Jim's head across the temple. The detective went down but still managed to grab for Martinez' leg. The man hit him again with the crow bar, this time against the back of the head. Blood was streaming down Jim's neck, and Martinez hit him several more times before Jim finally slumped onto the cold concrete floor as darkness took him. Jim Ellison's world had just changed drastically, and it had changed forever.

===

Dr. Andrea Martin tucked a stray wisp of greying brown hair back into the loose bun she wore. She had been on call in the ER for over six hours, and she was enjoying her first break. She took a bite of her candy bar and followed it with a long swig of Coke hoping to have time to finish her snack before the next casualty came in. Before she could bring her soda to her mouth again, the doors slammed open, and the EMT's came charging in with a man on a gurney. "Oh well, it was nice while it lasted," she sighed as she ran to meet them. "What do we have here, boys?" she asked noting the bloody cloth pressed to the man's head which was immobilized and taped to the backboard on which he rested. The patient was male and looked to be in his mid thirties. His skin was an unhealthy grey tinge due to shock, marring what looked to be handsome features.

"He was beaten repeatedly with a crow bar. Pulse is slow, respiration is shallow, pupils are dilated," one of the EMT's supplied.

Andrea noticed the cerebrospinal fluid leaking from the man's ear. *Not good,* she thought. "What's his name?" she asked outloud.

"He was carrying a police badge. It says he's Detective James Ellison."

The doctor took the detective's hand. "Detective Ellison?" she asked. "Detective, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand." There was no response. "Okay, let's get a nasopharangeal airway going here. Easy, boys, we could be dealing with a fractured skull." She inserted the tube which would supply supplemental oxygen into the man's nose. "And let's get an iv started, 5% dextrose in 0.45 normal saline. We probably have some serious cerebral swelling. And get his emergency contact person down here stat!" The last thing she did was draw some blood for typing and cross matching. All this took place in under ten minutes. Speed was essential here. They would need to get the patient to radiology quickly to see if surgery was necessary.

"Jenny," she gestured, "go with Detective Ellison to radiology, and keep a close eye on him. There's a good chance of a seizure."

The young nurse nodded and ran quickly along side the gurney that the orderlies pushed to x-ray. He would need cervical x-rays to make sure his neck wasn't broken, plus he would need a CAT scan and an MRI.

Once it was shown that the patient did not have a broken neck or spinal injury, it was safe remove him from the backboard. The orderly helped the radiologist place him on the cushioned table for the MRI.

"Gaaah!" The man suddenly gave a loud cry as his muscles began jerking uncontrollably.

The nurse immediately sprang into action. "He's having a seizure! Hurry, help me get him on his side." The orderly helped her turn the man being careful not to restrain his spasming body but keeping him firmly on the table. Jenny cradled his head as saliva began to drain from his mouth. "Get me a tongue blade," she shouted. "This looks like a grand mal." The radiologist offered the instrument to her, and she slipped it between the patient's tongue and teeth to keep him from choking. As the man continued to convulse, the radiologist injected him with a syringe of Dilantin, but it was several long minutes before the patient's seizure ended and they could continue scanning him.

Jenny wiped the drying saliva off the man's chin gently, wondering as she always did who he was and what misfortune of fate had brought him to this.

Blair ran into the hospital at full speed and came to a complete stop in front of the nurse's desk gasping for breath, ignoring the patients and hospital staff that milled around him. He accosted the nurse on duty harshly. "Where is Jim Ellison?!" he demanded.

The nurse looked up, used to such strong actions from years of working in the ER. "Sir, if you'll just calm down, I'm sure..."

"Where is Jim Ellison!" Blair shouted.

Dr. Martin's attention was drawn to the frantic man. She had been attempting another break, but it looked like it was not meant to be. She advanced to the nurse's station. "Excuse me, are you..." she flipped through the pages on her clipboard, "Blair Sandburg?"

"Yes," Blair sighed, relieved to be getting somewhere finally. "Please, where's Jim? How badly was he hurt? All I know is I got a phone call telling me he'd received severe head injuries and was brought here."

"I'm Dr. Martin. Detective Ellison is in radiology to determine the extent of his injuries. He was struck repeatedly about the head with a crow bar."

"Oh, god!" Blair covered his face with his hands.

Andrea touched his shoulder. "Mr. Sandburg, I know this comes as a shock, but it's imperative that I have your help right now! It's likely that Detective Ellison will need surgery, and the hospital will need a family member to sign their permission. Are you family?"

Blair straightened. "Yes," he said without hesitation. "Jim and I, we're life partners."

"Life partners!" The nurse on duty gave Blair a look like she was going to be sick, and Dr. Martin shot her a glare that could have melted steel. She guided the distraught man away from he desk and towards a private alcove. He was upset enough without having to deal with the petty hangups of others. The man looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Please, Dr. Martin, is Jim going to be all right?" He clutched her arm fiercely.

Andrea placed a warm, comforting hand over his cold shaking one. "I can't give you any details until we get the results of the Detective's MRI and CAT scans, but my gut feeling tells me his skull is fractured, and he will need surgery to repair it. The best case scenario is the neurologist goes in and repairs the damage and Detective Ellison, after a long period of recovery is back out there chasing bad guys."

"And the worst?" Blair asked.

"I don't want to alarm you, but there is the possibility of brain damage, whether it's permanent or how severe, I can't tell you. Those questions will take time to answer."

"Jim could be brain damaged?" Blair asked softly swaying on his feet.

Dr. Martin placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "And he could be perfectly fine eventually. Let's hope for the best. Now, are you able to sign for Detective Ellison should he need surgery?"

Blair nodded. "We took care of that when we were in Hawaii last year."

"Okay, good. For now, all we can do is wait. I'll be sure to have the neurologist come and speak to you as soon as we know anything." She squeezed Blair's hand one last time and guided him to a chair. Then she leaned over to whisper, "And don't let narrow minded bigots like Susan get to you." She looked back at the nurse's desk. "Most of the staff at Cascade General are very open minded and only care about helping the sick and not who they choose to sleep with." And with those comforting words, she left Blair alone with his thoughts.

===

Simon Banks eyed the lone figure as he strode into the hospital waiting area. He had gotten to the hospital as soon as he could when he had heard that Jim had gone down, not just to check on Jim but to be there for Blair. The young anthropologist had grown on him over the last two years, going from annoying kid to helpful colleague and friend and finally, surprise, surprise the love of Jim's life. He had been astounded when Jim had told him over coffee in a small restaurant one day six months ago that he and Sandburg had started a relationship. Simon had hid his surprise well with a few coughs, but Jim had seen through his act. The police captain had sat there for an hour watching the man with a heart of stone smile shyly and talk about Sandburg like he was an angel. Jim had it bad. And that was what really changed Simon's mind about Blair, seeing the effect he had on Jim. Oh, Ellison was still his number one detective, and the relationship didn't affect his job, but he had definitely mellowed. He was happy now, and it showed. It showed in his eyes mostly especially when he looked at Blair. Simon had termed it "the look", and that look said it all. It said that Jim Ellison had found what he was searching for in Blair Sandburg.

But right now Blair Sandburg was slumped in a hospital chair sitting quieter than Simon had ever seen him. His eyes looked terrified, and Simon was at his side quickly putting a comforting arm around him.

"Blair, how is he?"

"I don't know...I ...I..." Blair stammered having difficulty forming words.

"Easy, Blair. Jim's going to make it. You have to think positive. Ryf told me he was hit in the head with a crow bar by the suspect he was chasing. I've got every man available out after that scumbag right now. What did the doctors tell you?"

"They took him to surgery about two hours ago. Dr. Martin said the x-rays showed he had a fractured skull, that he might have brain damage. My god, Simon, what is Jim gonna do if that's true?"

"We'll deal with that when we have to, if we have to," Simon told him firmly.

"But Jim is a cop, Simon. That's his life! What's he going to do if that's taken from him?"

"No, 'you're' his life, Blair. You're what's important to him. As long as you are at his side nothing else matters to him."

"Simon, I don't care if Jim's brain damaged. I'll still love him. Nothing could make me stop loving him! I'm just afraid about how he'll react to having his life taken away from him. Or what happens if he doesn't make it? How am I supposed to keep going if he's d..., if he's dead. I can't, Simon; I won't! Jim is my whole life! There's nothing without him!"

Simon didn't know what to say to that, but he did know what to do. He pulled Blair against his chest and held him tightly there, offering what slight comfort he could as the man's world was falling apart.

Six hours later, Simon had gone through four cups of coffee and several of the unhealthiest selections from the nearby vending machines. He had tried to get Blair to eat or drink something with no success. The young man still sat there, all his animation gone. *What happened to all that nervous energy he's so famous for?* Simon thought before he realized, *It's in there with Jim. Somehow he's sending all his strength to Jim.* Simon now found he was the one who couldn't sit still. If the neurologist didn't show up soon, he was going to accost every hospital worker until he got some answers. It was only his concern for Blair that kept him from storming off to find those answers. Blair needed him there.

Dr. Martin and a man dressed in soiled scrubs rounded the corner. "Mr. Sandburg," she addressed the pale man who rose to accept her news. "This is Dr. Mathias. He's the neurologist who operated on Detective Ellison." She looked up at Simon. "I'm Dr. Martin. I was on call in the ER when Detective Ellison came in."

Simon shook her hand. "Captain Simon Banks. How is Jim?" he asked. Blair seemed unable to ask that question, too terrified of the answer.

Dr. Mathias adjusted his glasses. "Why don't we go into my office. We'll be more comfortable there."

"Are you coming too?" Blair asked Dr. Martin. After the doctor's earlier defense of him, he found he trusted her and wanted her to be there as well.

She smiled at him. "I can come, if you like. I know you must be feeling very scared and confused right now. Detective Ellison is in the best possible hands. We're doing all we can."

"This way please, gentlemen." Dr. Mathias ushered them into a small office where a set of x-rays still hung. He flipped a switch and the board lit up. "These are x-rays of Detective Ellison's skull. He received what we term a severe vault fracture. See these pieces of bone here?" He circled them with his pen. "We had to perform a craniotomy to remove them and to relieve the pressure of his brain swelling and pressing against his skull. There was also some subdural hemotoma or bleeding which we had to drain. Detective Ellison's condition is guarded right now. His vital signs are improving, but we won't know the extent of the damage to his brain until he wakes up and further tests can be performed."

Blair didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified. Yes, Jim was alive, and it sounded like his condition was improving, but dear god, the x-rays! Jim's skull did not just appear to be broken but smashed. There were bone fragments everywhere. Could a man survive a trauma like that to the head and not receive brain damage? It seemed impossible to believe.

"Why don't you take a seat, Mr. Sandburg, Capt. Banks. I'd like to go over with you just what happens in the case of traumatic brain injury and what we might be facing in the future." When Blair and Simon had taken the proffered seats, he began. "Most traumatic brain injuries result in wide spread damage to the brain because the brain ricochets inside the skull during the accident, and the nerve cells are torn from one another. The frontal lobe is almost always injured due to its large size and it's location near the front of the cranium. Detective Ellison received the most damage to the right side of the frontal lobe. Now, I can't make any generalizations here, but most patients I've seen with injuries this severe sustained some type of permanent brain damage."

"Oh, god!" Blair mouthed softly.

Simon clasped his arm tightly. "He's alive, Blair. That's all that matters right now."

Blair nodded slowly as Dr. Mathias went on. "The frontal lobe is the emotional control center and home to our personality, so you need to be prepared for a possibly drastic change in the man you knew as James Ellison. The frontal lobe also plays a large part in motor function, problem solving, spontaneity, memory, language, judgment, and social and sexual behavior. Since Detective Ellison's brain was injured on the right side, most of the damage will be seen on the left side of his body."

"So you're saying when Jim wakes up he won't have control over any of the things you just mentioned?" Blair felt a panic rising from deep in his gut.

"Not exactly, thirty years ago, doctors were taught that once the brain was damaged that part of the brain was lost forever. The patient was patched up, taught to use the good part, and sent home to unsuspecting families, nursing homes, or psychiatric help. About ten years ago, neuroscientists discovered that it was possible to rehabilitate at least some patients. I am hopeful Detective Ellison will be one of those patients we can help. It is unrealistic to assume he will wake up with no adverse effects from his injuries. I believe we will have to deal with both aphasia and agnosia to some degree."

"You're saying that Jim won't be able to speak or recognize objects?" Blair asked with a harsh cry.

"Some aphasics do have problems with speech, yes, but others simply can't process the information they hear into coherent ideas. We will have to wait for Detective Ellison to wake up before we can assess exactly what and how severe the brain damage is."

Dr. Martin cut in. "And don't judge by what you see when he first wakes up. I've seen patients start out unable to speak and then progress to almost where they were before their injuries occurred."

"Almost." Blair rolled the word around in his mouth. It left a bitter taste in its wake. "So Jim will never be normal again? He'll never be the man I fell in love with?" Blair rose to his feet as his voice reached hysterical levels.

Simon rose and shook him gently. "Blair, you can't assume that! Jim is going to need you now more than ever. You need to stay strong for him!" The young man slumped in his grasp.

"When can I see him?" he asked softly.

"He's in ICU now. He won't be awake for hours at least. Why don't you go home and get some rest? We'll call you when he wakes up," Dr. Mathias suggested.

"No, I want to see him now!" Blair demanded. "I have to see him! I need to see him!" He turned to the man who still had an arm around him providing much needed support and strength. "Simon, tell them, please!"

"Look," the large man stated angrily, "can't you let him have a few minutes. They need to be together. Jim needs to hear his voice."

"It's alright, Mr. Sandburg, I can get you in to see him, but only for ten minutes out of every hour," Dr. Martin soothed.

"Thank you, and it's Blair."

"Alright, Blair, I'll take you to him, and I'll check on you every few hours, see how you're doing."

Blair nodded numbly, glad he had found someone who cared enough to help him get to his love. *Hang on, Jim!* he thought fiercely. *Hold on to our love!*

===

Blair sat by the bedside of the man he had come to love more than anyone in the whole world. Jim lay deathly still, hooked up to a respirator and various other machines. His head was swathed in bandages, his face bruised and swollen from the beating he had taken and from surgery. How had their world fallen apart so quickly Blair wondered. They had been so happy, so in love. What if Jim wasn't capable of returning that love anymore?

Blair took hold of one of Jim's large hands in both of his. The hand lay cold and limp in his grasp. "I know you can hear me, James Ellison," he said out loud in a determined voice. "I know somewhere in there you're fighting to come back to me. Use my strength, Jim. I'll be here for you when you wake up, no matter what, for as long as it takes, you and me forever, Babe." He pressed the hand to his cheek and kissed it lovingly. Soon his ten minutes would be up, and he would be kicked out of the Intensive Care Unit for another hour. There was no way he was leaving the hospital before Jim woke up. He would ask the University to have someone take over his classes for the last few weeks of the spring semester. His place was here at Jim's side.

It didn't even matter that Martinez had been apprehended and was now in custody, thanks to Simon's tireless efforts. It wouldn't bring Jim's life back. It had been almost forty-eight hours since the surgery, and Dr. Mathias had said that the longer Jim was unconscious, the worse his prognosis. But Blair wasn't giving up. He loved Jim too much to do that.

RECOVERY: DAY 1

"Detective Ellison, can you hear me?" Dr. Mathias questioned. Blair stood by, elated to see Jim's eyes open but deadly afraid now that the moment of truth had arrived. Now they would see just how far Jim had to go in his recovery.

Jim stared at Dr. Mathias making no sound or movement. "Can you tell me your first name, Detective?" the doctor asked as he shone his penlight into Jim's eyes to check his pupils.

"Arrghhh!" Jim uttered an inarticulate cry as his head whipped from side to side. A trail of spittle ran from his mouth which continued to open and close, but no more sound came out. His face was scrunched up in pain.

"The light, it's hurting him," Blair cried, and Dr. Mathias removed the stimulation. Blair hadn't yet considered how Jim's enhanced senses would affect his recovery. It was very possible he had lost control of the dial which regulated them. Jim's senses were probably going haywire. Blair moved to stand next to Jim and placed a hand on his arm stroking gently. "Jim, it's me, Blair," he soothed. "I'm right here. I love you, Babe, and I'm gonna be here for you all the way." There was a look in Jim's eyes. Blair wouldn't have called it recognition, but it was enough to give him a sense of hope, hope that one day they would be able to rebuild their life together. Jim's eyes closed, and he seemed to calm down. Blair took a tissue from the bedside table and wiped the spit of his chin then leaned down to kiss him, uncaring of the doctor's reaction. "It's alright, Sweetheart. You're going to be fine. Just relax now." He rubbed Jim's cheek gently with his thumb as he spoke.

"I'll need to schedule some more tests," Dr. Mathias told Blair. He'll need another MRI and CAT scan, and now that he's awake, we can start physical and cognitive therapy."

Blair nodded, not really listening. All his concentration was focused solely on his lover who occasionally opened his eyes and looked at Blair, accepting the reassurance that was so gladly and freely given. When the doctor had gone, Blair leaned over and whispered in Jim's ear. "I want you to picture a dial in your mind, Jim, something you can control." He talked Jim through the stabilizing of his senses. He had no idea if Jim understood him or could comply. He was hoping the Sentinel part of Jim was on autopilot and could regulate itself without the conscious effort of the man who was capable of so little now. The sound of Blair's voice seemed to soothe Jim, and he fell into normal sleep while Blair rambled on, still stroking his cheek gently, imparting all the love and healing he could in that touch.

RECOVERY: DAY 5

Jim had been transferred from the ICU to a private room. He continued to be unable to form words only various noises and grunts. He either couldn't or wouldn't respond to most stimuli, and when he did, it was only when prompted to do so by Blair who was at Jim's side as often as the doctors would let him. He knew Jim recognized him in some way and on some level, but he wasn't sure what he was to Jim anymore, lover or just a comforting presence in what had to be a very confusing world. Besides the aphasia, Jim was also very weak on his left side, barely able to move that arm or leg. His mouth drooped on the left side, and his head jerked uncontrollably causing spittle to dribble down his chin, but Blair still saw the beauty of the man. It had never been about muscles and a pretty face to him. It was Jim's soul that drew him, and that remained intact.

A physical therapist had begun to work with Jim, starting by simply exercising his limbs to keep them from atrophying, and a speech therapist had begun to try to get him to speak, but it was slow going. The only progress Jim had made was in making the "B" sound when he wanted Blair.

"We have to give Jim enough motivation to speak," Linda Thompson, Jim's speech therapist, told Blair. "I want you to go to the far corner of the room, and stay there no matter what Jim does."

Blair reluctantly let go of Jim's hand and did as Linda had instructed.

Jim immediately protested with a loud noise "Buh," he said, then when Blair made no move to return said it louder, demanding. "Buh!"

Blair wavered and took a step toward him, unable to deny Jim what he wanted.

"No, Blair, stay! You have to give him a reason to speak." She turned to look Jim in the eyes. "Jim," she said slowly and clearly. "Say, 'Blair, Bllaaairr','" she enunciated, showing Jim where to place his tongue and lips to make the sounds.

"Buh!" Jim yelled in an angry voice.

"No, Jim, 'Blair'. If you want him to come to you , say, 'Blair'."

It was killing Blair to stay put, but he saw the logic in Linda's words. But why did it have to hurt so much?

"Bluh," Jim tried.

"Come on, Jim. You can do it. I know you can," Blair encouraged. "Say my name. Say, 'Blair'."

"Bluh," Jim repeated, "Blah,... Blahr,... Blaihr."

"Almost, Jim, come on," Linda instructed. "Look at my mouth. Blaaair."

"Bl...Blaaair," Jim repeated.

A wide grin broke out on Blair's face. He had never thought he would be so happy just to hear his lover say his name. He quickly went to Jim and wrapped him in his arms. "You did it, Babe! You did it! You're going to beat this. I know you will. I will reach you, Jim. I'll never stop trying!"

RECOVERY: DAY 14

It had been two weeks since Jim had woken up. In that time he had progressed to being able to say a few words, mostly concrete objects, and his vocabulary was growing daily. His most frequent word was his first, "Blair". He insisted on having Blair present constantly and would throw a very loud temper tantrum if he woke up and Blair was not there, so Blair had taken to practically living at the hospital.

Simon had visited, but Jim had barely reacted to him. Jim's brother Stephen had come as well, apologizing for not coming earlier, citing his busy work schedule. Jim paid even less attention to him then he did to Simon, and Stephen noticed with jealousy the interaction between his brother and Blair. He knew about their relationship and had accepted it, but was visibly not comfortable with it.

Linda Thompson, Jim's speech therapist, again sat with Blair trying to reach Jim. He was highly distractible, and every little noise or movement took his attention away from her. When a cart rumbled down the hospital corridor, he turned away again. Linda snapped her fingers, "Jim, Jim, look...at...me."

"Come on, Jim. This is important. You have to concentrate," Blair encouraged.

Blair's voice drew Jim's attention back to the exercise. Linda was attempting to remediate Jim's agnosia, a recognition disorder. She picked up a smooth pebble that lay on the tray in front of them among several other objects. "Jim, what...is...this?"

Jim was silent. His face scrunched up as he tried first to process the question and then answer it. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"Come on, Jim. You know what it is. We just went over it five minutes ago. It's a stone, remember?"

"Give Jim a chance to answer, Blair," Linda reminded. "It takes him a lot longer than you or I to understand the question and then figure out how to say the answer. She drew Jim's attention back to her. "Jim, what...is...this?"

"St...stohhn," Jim mumbled after a long pause.

"Stone," Linda enunciated.

"Stone," Jim repeated clearly.

"Very good, Jim! Now, would...you...eat...a...stone?"

Jim's eyes clouded over in confusion. His tongue poked out through his lips, and he made a strangled sound, "Arghh."

"Come on, Jim." Blair touched his shoulder. "You know this. We've done this three times already!" Blair's frustration and tiredness were getting the better of his emotions. Jim's progress was just so damned slow!

"No!" Jim cried out loudly. "No, no, no, no! Irritate, irritate!... Questions, questions!... No good, no good!" He grabbed Blair's shirt with his good hand and pushed him a little to emphasize his point. "Talk, talk, questions questions, NO GOOD!"

Blair slumped and tried to put his arms around Jim. "I'm sorry, Jim," he whispered softly, but was pushed away.

Jim wrapped his arms around his knees and began to rock slowly ignoring both Linda and Blair. He whispered softly to himself over and over. "No good...No good...No good."

"What's he doing?" Blair turned to Linda for help.

"He's trying to calm himself. It comforts him to perform certain rituals."

Blair sat on the bed beside Jim who was still whispering to himself. "I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't have gotten upset. Let me hold you, Babe." He tried once again to take his lover in his arms and was once again pushed away.

"NO!" Jim screamed at him and then resumed rocking.

Linda touched Blair's arm. "Let's give him some time to calm down. He'll be alright." She pretended not to notice when Blair rubbed at his eyes which were suddenly welling up with tears. It had hurt beyond words to be pushed away by the man he loved. Was there hope for their relationship, or had that damned crow bar destroyed that along with the Jim he had known and loved?

===

Author's note: 50 pages down, only 200 to go! My wrists are getting tired! <G> Pumpkin promises to send the man of my choice to massage them. Let's see, I choose Jim. I'm waiting, Pumpkin.

RECOVERY: DAY 21

Blair sat with Jim, rubbing his lover's temples as Jim whimpered from the pain of yet another terrible headache. The shades were closed, and the room was dark. Blair ran his fingers over Jim's scalp where a soft downy fuzz now replaced what had been shaved for surgery. There was a large bald patch on the right side of his head where several ugly scars stood out a testament to Jim's ordeal. While he soothed Jim, Blair thought over all the research he had done in the past three weeks on traumatic brain injuries. He had practically become an expert while searching for anything that might help Jim's progress, from ginkgo biloba extract to induced hypothermia. He was determined to leave no stone unturned.

He heard a soft sound and looked down to see that Jim was crying. Blair had learned that this didn't necessarily mean Jim was upset about something. His injury had left Jim prone to fits of uncontrolled laughter as well as tears. Dr. Mathias was giving him antidepressants to combat this, but they didn't always work, and it tore Blair's heart out to see Jim cry. He leaned over and kissed Jim's cheek. "It's okay, Baby, I'm here. Blair's here. Shhh, it's okay, Sweetheart."

The next time Blair met with Linda, it was just the two of them at her office. She had wanted to show Blair exactly how it felt to be in Jim's shoes. It was very warm out that day, but Blair no longer noticed the bright sunshine or the approach of summer. All of his life was in that one room in Cascade General. He was living off of Jim's and his nest egg and arranging for Jim's care with Jim's insurance settlement. He didn't know if he would go back to teaching and taking classes in the fall, and he doubted he'd ever publish his dissertation. For all intensive purposes, his life was on hold, maybe indefinitely.

Linda greeted him with a warm smile. She always managed to bring some cheer into Jim's hospital room, and Blair appreciated that. "Thank you for coming, Blair. I want to show you something today that will help you learn to be more patient with Jim. Are you up for it?"

"Linda, I'll do anything to help Jim. What do I need to do?"

"Great, this device is a delayed feedback system. I want you to put on these headphones, and then try to say something."

Blair complied and put the head phones on. It reminded him of the experiments he had cajoled Jim into submitting to, and the sobering thought came that there would probably be no more of those experiments. "What do you want me to say?" he asked.

Instead of hearing his own voice immediately when he spoke, there was a delay a several milliseconds. It was the most disorientating thing Blair had ever experienced. Then Linda spoke to him, and again there was a delay between her lips moving and the sound reaching Blair's ears. It took Blair several seconds to understand what she had said.

"How old are you?"

When he realized what the question was, he tried to respond immediately. His head knew he was 27, but the delay in hearing his voice caused the answer to come out barely intelligible and only after a long period of time. Just five minutes of the experience was driving him crazy. He ripped the headphones off. "My god! Is that what Jim goes through?"

"Every minute of every day," Linda calmly replied.

"I didn't know. I didn't understand what it was like for him."

"And now you do. And you can use that knowledge to reach him, Blair. It will help you remember to be patient with him."

"Thank you for showing this to me." Blair gave her a hug. "Now I need to get back to the hospital. Jim should be waking up soon."

===

RECOVERY: DAY 28

Jim banged the brace on his left arm on the bed railing to get Blair's attention. It was easier than talking.

"What, Babe?" Blair asked. "Are you..." He started to ask Jim's question for him, then stopped realizing he needed to let Jim ask it himself.

Jim realized Blair was not going to help him and pointed too the tray of food in front of him, but Blair wasn't going to accept that either.

"No, Jim, you have to tell me what you want."

"F-ff-food," Jim stammered. "Hungry."

Blair smiled. Verbs were difficult for Jim as were any words that weren't concrete. "Very good, Jim, but you can do it yourself." He put the spoon in Jim's hand who promptly let it drop.

"No...Blair food," Jim insisted.

"If you want to eat, Big Guy, you are going to have to do it yourself." He placed the spoon back in Jim's right hand.

Jim glared at him and then attempted to scoop some of the mashed potatoes onto the spoon. His movements were jerky and slow. Finally, he was able to fill the spoon. He looked up at Blair eager for praise.

"All right, Jim! Way to go man! You did it!" Blair clapped Jim on the back and the right corner of Jim's mouth came up in a sort of half smile. Blair loved to see the lopsided little grin on Jim's face. He leaned over and kissed Jim's cheek. Jim enjoyed receiving affection from Blair and hearing Blair tell him that he loved him. He needed and wanted Blair by his side, but Blair didn't feel that Jim understood the true nature of their relationship. Perhaps he was just a friend, a mother figure to his love. Blair was content to be that for now, but he yearned for the day when Jim would again say, "I love you," no matter how garbled it came out.

"Now, Handsome, try getting some of that in your mouth," Blair prodded.

Jim raised the spoon to his face but hit his chin first, smearing some of the potatoes there. He looked frustrated.

"A little higher, Jim, you can do it. Come on try again."

Jim raised the spoon up from his chin and managed to find his mouth this time. He ate the mashed potatoes around a big grin of triumph, then put the spoon down.

"Way to go, Jim! High five." Blair raised his hand in the way he had taught Jim, and after a few seconds Jim brought his hand up in the same way. He reached to slap Blair's hand and missed the first time but was quickly able to fix his mistake. When Blair felt Jim's hand touch his, he grabbed it and clasped it tightly. "I'm never letting you go, Jim. Remember that. I'll always be here for you."

"Blair here," Jim mimicked.

"That's right. Blair's not going anywhere." He took Jim's napkin and wiped the mashed potatoes from Jim's chin. "Now let's try that again," he said handing Jim the spoon.

It took Jim almost twenty minutes to eat half a cup of mashed potatoes, but Blair was ecstatic. It was progress, real progress!

When Jim was done, he turned his own version of the puppy dog eyes on Blair. "Ice cream," he demanded.

"Ice cream!" Blair laughed. "You think you deserve ice cream, huh? I'll make a deal with you. You tell me what flavor you want, and I'll get it for you."

Jim frowned at that suggestion.

"Come on, you can do it. What flavor ice cream do you want?"

"C...ch..." Jim stuttered, hoping Blair would help him out, but Blair just waited.

"No flavor, no ice cream, Big Guy. What's it gonna be?"

"Cha'la," Jim forced out. "Cha'lat." He turned a smug look to Blair.

"Close enough," Blair laughed. "I'll go get it." When he came back with the treat he made Jim eat it by himself also. He was very surprised when Jim brought the spoon to his caretaker's mouth.

"Blair...eat," he requested.

Blair opened his mouth and let Jim feed him the sweet, creamy ice cream. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

"Sw'hort." Jim mimicked Blair's words, and Blair's smile faded. Jim didn't know what Sweetheart meant. He was only repeating what he'd heard. *But I'm going to teach you,* Blair determined. *I'm going to teach you what Sweetheart means!*

RECOVERY: DAY 35

"Come on, Jim, stop squirming," Blair complained as he tried to wash some of the grime off the big man with a sponge. Jim hated to be bathed, refused to do it himself, and had to be cajoled into other aspects of personal grooming like brushing his teeth. The first time Blair had shown him what to do, Jim had swallowed the toothpaste, then made such a face he'd had Blair in hysterics.

Blair finally had to hold Jim down to finish bathing him. It was easy to do because Jim was so weak on the left side of his body. He had begun walking with the aid of a leg brace, a companion to the one on his arm, but Blair didn't really consider it walking. Jim could manage only a few halting steps, but he went further everyday. Blair had high hopes that he would eventually be able to walk almost as well as before the accident.

Their lives were separated into before the accident and now. Blair tried not to dwell on before. It was too painful. Instead he focused on the progress Jim had made since he had woken up, barely able to move or speak. If he concentrated on that, Blair could almost make himself believe that they had a future together. Some days it was easier to believe than others.

Blair gently pulled a wet comb through Jim's short hair. He could still see the scars where the crowbar had smashed into Jim's head with brutal force. "There, all done. You can stop squirming." He helped the now compliant Jim into a fresh hospital gown pulling the sleeve carefully over the arm brace.

The door to Jim's room opened, and Stephen Ellison entered carrying another plant similar to the one's he'd brought on his four previous trips. *One visit a week,* Blair thought angrily. *He comes to see Jim just one damn hour a week!* But he pushed that thought away. "Look, Jim, it's Stephen. Tell your brother hello."

"Hello...Steph'n," Jim said, more to please Blair than to greet his brother.

Stephen placed the plant down on the nightstand and sat in the other chair by Jim's bed. "You're looking better than the last time I saw you. When are they going to let you out of this place?"

Jim looked at Blair, not really understanding what Stephen was asking.

"Jim's doctors think he'll be ready to start an extensive rehabilitation regimen as an inpatient at one of the nearby clinics," Blair supplied.

"Is Jim's insurance going to pay for that?" Stephen asked crossing one leg over the other.

"Yeah, we wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise."

"You're not working now, are you, Blair? Where are you getting money for your living expenses?" Stephen continued his line of questioning.

"Jim and I put some money aside in case anything ever came up." Blair sighed knowing where this was headed.

"Why do I suspect Jim put more money into this account than you did?"

"Look, Stephen, Jim and I are a couple 'still', whether you like it or not. We share everything."

"Blair, I just want to make sure my brother is taken care of. Is that so hard to understand?"

Blair stood, his temper getting the best of him. "If you care about him so much, why aren't you here more? Why aren't you here when he cries out in pain as he tries to walk again? Why aren't you here to wipe the drool from his chin and hold him when he's upset or encourage him when he's frustrated? Why, Stephen?"

"Blair, you know how demanding my job is. I have a hard enough time getting away when I do come."

Blair was silent. No amount of arguing was going to convince Stephen that Jim needed so much more than one hour a week. He needed a lifetime commitment, and that was what Blair was prepared to give him. The two men were at an impasse.

Jim looked at both men. He didn't understand what had just transpired. He only knew Blair was upset. "Blair?" He reached his right arm out, and Blair took his hand.

"It's okay, Jim. Everything's alright."

Stephen watched them interact, and the look in his eyes made Blair very nervous as he clutched Jim's hand even tighter.

===

REHABILITATION: WEEK 1

With Dr. Mathias' help, Blair had decided on the Center for Neuro Skills as the ideal place for Jim's rehabilitation. After six weeks in Cascade General, both Blair and Jim were ready for a change. The doctors and staff who had worked closely with Jim threw a little party to say goodbye. Dr. Martin gave them both a hug, and Linda demanded regular updates on Jim's condition.

Several of Jim's friends from the station were there: Simon, Joel, Brown, and Ryf.
Stephen had come as well, but he and Blair had danced around each other the whole time and had barely even exchanged hellos.

Jim was a little overwhelmed by all the people and stimuli. He knew he was among friends, and if pressed could name them, but something was still missing. That spark that made him Jim Ellison to his friends was gone.

Jim understandably had trouble falling asleep that night, and Blair held him, singing softly. As Jim drifted off to sleep finally, Blair whispered, "I love you, Jim. You may not understand what love is yet, but I'm going to show you if it takes the rest of my life."

They arrived at The Center for Neuro Skills right after lunch the next day and were shown the apartment where they would be staying while Jim received his therapy. The main reason Blair had chosen CNS was because they allowed family members to stay with the client while he received treatment. They believed that the client's loved ones would provide the best motivation and support. *But am I a 'loved one'?* Blair wondered. *What exactly am I to Jim?*

While Jim was here he would receive physical therapy to increase his range of motion, strength and cardiovascular endurance. An occupational therapist would work to improve his visual perception. He would continue to work with a speech pathologist for his aphasia, and he would also start counseling to improve his self esteem. Blair would also attend counseling, both alone and in a joint session with Jim. It was here he hoped to finally address their relationship. He hadn't pressed the issue before because he was too concerned about Jim's recovery, but now that Jim was making some progress, Blair wanted to know where he stood. Did they have a chance to be lovers again or would they remain like this, as only caretaker and patient?

The other reason Blair had chosen CNS was because they had been accepting of his and Jim's relationship. Dr. Chamberlain, the administrator had assured Blair that her staff held no bias in those matters, and that if someone did mistreat them all they had to do was tell her and she would take care of it immediately. Blair knew they were lucky. They had met with very little bias at the hospital. How would Jim fare in the real world now that he had to deal with being both gay and brain injured?

Blair explored the small two bedroom apartment while Jim sat on the couch content to wait. *Two bedrooms,* Blair thought bitterly. *Will we ever share a bed again?* There was also a small kitchen, eating area and living room where Jim was, with his left leg stretched out due to the brace that encompassed it. He was able to walk short distances now but usually had to be prompted to do so.

A car honked outside, and Jim cringed in pain, his hands going to cover his ears. Blair was at his side in an instant, putting a hand on Jim's thigh and soothing. "Remember what I taught you, Jim? Remember the dial in your head? Turn down your hearing. Come on, you can do it."

Jim continued to have problems regulating his senses. Blair was helping him learn to control them, but Jim wasn't always capable of it. Sometimes he set the dials too high and sometimes too low.

"Are you okay now, Big Guy?" Blair asked, rubbing his hands around Jim's back in small circles. Most of the muscles that Jim had worked so hard for had now atrophied from six weeks of bedrest, and the man was practically gaunt. His hair had grown out to cover the jagged scars from his beating and was longer than he'd ever worn it. Blair couldn't bear to cut it even though he knew the old Jim would probably not be happy with the length. It gave Blair some comfort, not just to have the scars covered, but he loved to run his fingers through and comb the baby soft hair. Jim had always loved his head touched and still did.

"Come on, Babe. You've got physical therapy in fifteen minutes. Let's get going."

"Tired," Jim told him.

"Oh no, that excuse isn't gonna work. You are going to physical therapy, and you are going to work you're butt off."

"Blair...mean," Jim sulked.

"Yeah, I'm mean. You can't expect to get better if you don't work hard. Now come on."

"Shoe." Jim nudged his right foot against Blair to show him his laces were untied.

Blair bent to tie it. "Look, Jim, you are going to have to learn how to do this yourself."

"Blair...shoe."

"This time yes, next time, you're going to do it. Now watch,...over, under, around the finger. Jim, you're not even looking." He demonstrated the procedure again. It seemed so simple to a grown up, something Jim used to be able to do practically in his sleep. But now Jim had to start almost from scratch and relearn things that had been second nature to him. It just wasn't fair!

It took them the full fifteen minutes to walk out to the front lawn where Jim's physical therapist, Don Rodgers, met them.

'Hi, Jim, my name's Don." He offered his hand, and Jim raised his own slowly. Even his good right arm was shaky, and it jerked a little as he grasped Don's.

"Jim, tell Don hello," Blair prompted.

"Hello, Don," Jim said dutifully.

"It's good to meet you, and you must be Blair." He shook hands with Blair who noticed the firm grip and the tall, strong body. This man was what Jim used to be, 'before'.

"I thought we'd start out with aquatic therapy. It's such a warm day out, and the pools great."

"Um, you may have a problem there," Blair told him. "Jim's not fond of water. I have to hold him down to give him a bath. He won't do it himself."

"Well then, we'll just have to get him over that won't we?" Don smiled confidently.

A little while later the three of them were at pool side, dressed in swim trunks. Jim saw the water, and his reaction was as expected. "No!" he cried out stubbornly, pulling on Blair's hand to get them away from the water. "No bath!"

"Hey, Jim," Don spread his arms wide and smiled reassuringly. "It's not a bath. See...no soap, outdoors, sunshine, it's fun." He pointed Jim's attention to where some other clients were splashing and laughing.

Jim's resolve wavered a little, but he remained firm. "No, no water."

"Come on, man," Don cajoled."I know you'll love it. How 'bout I make you a deal? You just get in the pool for a few minutes, and if you still don't like it, you can get right out. I promise."

Jim turned to Blair. "Ice cream."

"What's this about ice cream, Jim?"

"He's saying..." Blair started, but Don interrupted him.

"Let Jim tell me, Blair. Now, Jim, what about ice cream?"

"Ice cream," Jim repeated.

"I need more info here, Jim. Come on, tell me."

"Jim...ice cream."

"What about Jim and ice cream?" Don continued to push Jim who looked at Blair for help. "No, Blair's not going to help you, Jim. You can't keep being his interpreter, Blair. He has to do it on his own. Tell me, Jim."

"Jim..." He paused, and Don waited patiently. Blair had to bite his lip not to finish his sentence for him. Don was right. Jim had to learn to do this on his own. "Jim...wa...want..." The verb was always the hardest thing for Jim both to understand and say. It suddenly occurred to Blair that 'love' was verb. "Jim want...ice cream." Jim finished and waited expectantly for the praise he knew he deserved.

"Way to go, Jim!" Blair rubbed his shoulder proudly.

"Yes, that was great, Jim. I think I could swing some ice cream, this time, but don't go thinking I'm a pushover. I'm mean and tough as nails." He winked at Blair, but Jim could not understand the gesture. He had trouble with all the subtleties of conversation including humor and sarcasm.

Don and Blair helped Jim into the pool. The water was warm and at about waist level. The braces on Jim's arm and leg were made of a special type of plastic and were quite waterproof. Jim made a face as he felt the water slide around his body.

"Oh, come on, man. It's not that bad. I think it actually feels kinda good. Hey, Jim man, watch this." He stepped over to where Blair was and with a movement of his hand sent a wave of water splashing over Blair.

Blair spluttered, looking like a drowned rat with his curls plastered to his face. "Hey! What's with..."

Don raised his eyebrows, and Blair suddenly understood what the physical therapist was trying to do.

"You think I'm just gonna let you get away with that? Check this out, Jim." Blair sent an equally large wave splashing over Don, and soon the two men were involved in an all out water war.

Jim watched them laughing and splashing. The right side of his mouth turned up in his version of a smile. He slowly moved over to where the two men were playing and with his right hand sent a small wave of water across Blair's back.

Blair turned and smiled broadly. "Oh, so you want to play too, huh, Big Guy? Well, that's fine with me." He gently splashed Jim back.

Jim shook his head to get the water off, trying to decide if he liked this or not. While he was deciding, Don snuck up behind him and yelled, "BANZAI!!" He sent a huge wave of water over Jim's head.

When he'd recovered, Jim turned to look at Don and raised a finger. "Don...sneaky," he said simply.

Blair was astounded! He hadn't known Jim knew that word. He suddenly felt a surge of hope. Perhaps when he and Jim finally left this place, it would be 'together'.

===

REHABILITATION: WEEK 3

It was such a sunny day that Jim's occupational therapist, Madelaine King, had arranged to meet him and Blair outside in the picnic area by the lake. But they were going to be late if Jim didn't hurry up and get dressed. He had a very difficult time with activities that required manual dexterity. Currently, he was sitting on his bed in a pair of white shorts with one sock and shoe on and one foot completely bare. He was struggling to get his t shirt on but couldn't find the hole his head was supposed to go through because he had his arm in it.

Blair stopped to check on Jim's progress. He was trying not to hover. "No, Jim, take the shirt off," he instructed. "Take it all the way off." It would be easier if he just went over and put the t shirt on Jim, but Jim had to learn to do it by himself. When he had extracted himself from the t shirt, Blair continued. "Okay, find the biggest hole. No, not that one," he said as Jim fingered an arm hole. "Find the biggest one, the one in the middle." He knew Jim couldn't yet understand the concept of 'middle', but Blair often found it difficult to use just the terms Jim did understand. Jim finally found the biggest hole, and Blair praised his efforts. "Good job, Jim, now stick your head through it." He mimed the action so Jim would have a better idea of what 'through' meant.

With a little fumbling, Jim was able to get the shirt over his head and his arms in the arm holes. He looked up at Blair. "Done."

"Not quite, Jim." Blair pointed at Jim's bare foot. "What did you forget?"

The corners of Jim's mouth came up. He was beginning to have more control over the left side of his body, and it was starting to look like a real smile.

"Shoe."

"And?" Blair prompted.

"Sock."

"Well, go to it, Big Guy." While Jim slowly and carefully put on his sock and shoe, Blair wondered if Jim would ever be able to speak in some sort of sentences. Jim was making a lot of progress, but everytime he did so, Blair was impatient to go on to the next level. He wanted the 'old' Jim back but was beginning to wonder if that were possible.

Maddy was seated on the picnic table, her supplies spread out in front of her. She had a golden retriever on a leash. The dog looked several years old and sat quietly and patiently by her side.

"Sorry we're late, Maddy," Blair apologized.

"Hello, Maddy," Jim said slowly. He no longer needed prompting to greet someone.

Maddy smiled. She was a young African American with long braids that always seemed to attract Jim's attention. "Hi, Guys, I want you to meet Lucky."

Blair knelt and pet the dog who responded by licking his hand.

"Would you like to pet Lucky, Jim?" Maddy asked.

Jim sat on the picnic bench beside her and placed his right hand on Lucky's head.

"Pet Lucky with your other hand, Jim. Use your left hand."

After a moment of confusion, Jim replaced his arm with the one encased in a brace. He placed his shaking hand on the dog's head and wiggled his fingers a little.

"Lucky likes to be scratched behind her as. Can you do that, Jim?" Jim started to bring his right hand back. "No, with this hand." Maddy pointed to the hand that rested on the dog's head. "Scratch Lucky with this hand."

With a jerk, Jim managed to bring his left hand to Lucky's ear and make a little scratching motion. Lucky cocked her head into Jim's hand, and then broke away to leap up and pace her forepaws in Jim's lap. She began to lick Jim's face with her rough, wet tongue. Jim squirmed, and a strange noise emanated from deep in his chest.

When Blair realized what the sound was, he stared in amazement. Jim was laughing! For the first time, Jim was really laughing. Not he sad, hysterical laughter he had been prone to in the hospital, but a deep belly laugh that could be seen even in his eyes. Blair realized that when Jim laughed, his eyes looked alive again.

Eventually, Maddy had Lucky lie quietly on the grass so she could work with Jim. She took a small yellow block, and while Jim was watching, she placed it under one of three bowls. "Now, where is the block, Jim?'

Jim smiled and pointed to the correct bowl. "Easy," he stated confidently.

"Easy, huh? Well, don't worry because it gets harder," she grinned. Next she showed Jim a picture of a tarantula. Jim was looking a Lucky though. "Jim, Jim," she guided his attention back to the picture. "What is this a picture of?"

"Spider," Jim told her.

"Okay, is it large or small?"

Jim had to think about it for a minute, and Maddy waited patiently. "Small."

"Good, now is it harmful or harmless?"

Blair winced. Jim had trouble with suffixes.

"Harm...ful."

"Very good, Jim!" Maddy said delighted.

"High five!" Blair raised his hand, and Jim was able to slap his right hand against Blair's on the first try.

Next Maddy pointed Jim to a group of paper geometric shapes. "Jim, I want you to separate the shapes. Put the squares in one pile, the circles in another, and the triangles in another." She arranged the shapes herself showing Jim just what she wanted him to do, and then put all the shapes into one pile again.

Maddy and Blair waited ten minutes for Jim to separate the shapes into piles. When Blair saw Jim group a circle with the squares, he started to say something, but Maddy put a finger to her lips. Blair reminded himself that Jim needed to learn from his mistakes.

Jim looked up at Maddy when he had separated all the shapes. One circle still remained among the squares.

"Very good, Jim, but look carefully. One shape is out of place."

Jim stared at the shapes for a long time with a look of intense concentration on his face. Finally, he smiled and moved the circle to the proper place."

"Excellent, Jim," Maddy praised.

Jim beamed and turned to Blair. "Hug," he demanded.

Blair complied. Having Jim within the circle of his arms was bittersweet. Jim would initiate body contact between them, but Blair still wondered what it meant to Jim. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered into Jim's ear. "You're doing so well. I love you, Jim."

Maddy said nothing about the display of affection between the two men. She knew the nature of their relationship and had no problem with it. She gave them a moment together and then tapped Jim's shoulder. "Come on, Jim. Back to work."

Jim sat up. "More?" he said, his facial expression clearly showing what he thought of the idea. "Jim...tired."

"Say, 'I'm tired', Jim"

"Maddy...tired?" Jim was confused by personal pronouns.

"No, say, 'I'm tired'. Try it, 'I'm tired'."

"I'm tired," Jim repeated.

"Good, now let's get back to work."

"Jim tired," Jim said again, and Blair rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"Give him time Blair. With injuries as severe as Jim's it takes time to make progress."

Blair nodded, and she continued, "Okay, Jim, one last exercise. Let's practice your colors."

"No," Jim stated flatly. He had a very difficult time with the concept of colors, and working on them always made him feel stupid and frustrated him to anger. "No colors. Tommorrow."

"We are doing colors today, Jim, and that's the end of it. You're getting a little better every day. Just relax and do your best. That's all I'm asking." She placed blocks of various colors in front of him. "I want you to put the red block in the bowl," she said starting with the easiest one. Jim could usually find the red one. She waited while Jim stared at the blocks and finally picked up the red one and placed it in the bowl. "Wonderful, Jim. Now, let's try blue. Put the blue block in the bowl."

Jim again stared at the blocks, and it was obvious he could not decide which block to choose. He picked up the green one an put it in the bowl.

"No, Jim, that's the 'green' block. Find the 'blue' block."

A look of frustration crossed Jim's face, and he looked away.

"Come on, Jim. You can do it," Blair encouraged softly.

Jim brought his eyes back to the blocks, and this time selected the yellow one. He didn't bother to put it in the bowl because he didn't have enough confidence in his selection. He looked hopefully at Maddy.

"No, Jim, that's the 'yellow' block."

Jim made an inarticulate noise and threw the block down on the table hard. He hit the side of his head in frustration. "Stupid Jim!" he spat out angrily. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he cried as he continued to hit his head.

Blair gabbed his hand and held it. "You are not stupid! You are not stupid, Jim. You have to give yourself a chance. You'll get it eventually. I know you will."

"I have an idea," Maddy cried and placed all the blocks in front of Jim again.

"No more," Jim whispered softly clinging onto Blair's hand.

"Just once more, Jim. I think I know a way to get one more color across to you. You figured out red, right?" Jim didn't look convinced, but she continued. "I want you to find the 'blue' block." Jim started to turn away. "Jim," she stopped him, "Find the block that's the same color as Blair's eyes."

Jim looked at her in surprise, and she gestured at the blocks. Then Jim turned to look to Blair's eyes, and the way he did so brought a gasp to Blair's lips. It was almost the way the 'old' Jim had looked into his eyes.

After a few moments, Jim turned back to the blocks and studied them yet again. This time, when his hand reached for one, it 'was' the blue block, and he placed it in the bowl confidently.

Maddy grasped his shoulder. "You did it, Jim! You did it!"

"I did it," Jim stated proudly.

"Did you hear that?" Maddy smiled at Blair. "He said, 'I' did it."

"I heard," Blair said softly, a tear rising unbidden to his eye. *Jim said, 'I',* Blair thought fiercely. *If there's an 'I', maybe there can be a 'we'.*

===

REHABILITATION: WEEK 5

"Okay, Jim, the box says we need 1/2 cup of milk. Which one's the 1/2 cup?" Blair asked. They were making their dinner in the small kitchen. Meal preparation was part of Jim's therapy, and tonight they were having macaroni and cheese. Jim picked out the correct measuring cup but started to place it under the water faucet. "No, Jim, not water, we need milk," Blair corrected gently. "Do you remember where we keep the milk?"

"Fridge," Jim pointed and went to get it. He had some difficulty pouring though and spilled quite a bit on the counter. He looked up at Blair with an embarrassed grin. "Jim..." He stopped and corrected himself. "I...clean."

Blair smiled. Jim was referring to himself in the first person more and more and even occasionally using the pronoun you. He understood that 'I' referred to himself but had some trouble with the concept that 'you' could be Blair, or Don, or Maddy. He got even further confused when he saw that people referred to him as 'you' when speaking to him. Blair felt that Jim would be able to grasp the concept before long. He had come so far in only a few short weeks at CNS.

Jim cleaned the mess with a washrag and then moved to pour the milk into the pot of macaroni. He was walking much better now. Don had confided to Blair that Jim would always walk with a limp, but faced with the alternative, Blair could definitely live with that.

Jim heard a shout from outside, and he turned to look out the window, his left hand dropping to the base of the pot where the burner glowed brightly on the electric stove.

Blair looked over a few seconds later to see Jim's hand resting on the fire hot burner. He sprang into action and snatched Jim's hand away. "Oh, god, Jim! You can't touch that! It's hot!" He inspected Jim's burned palm and fingers carefully, wincing at the painful looking blisters that were rising there even now. Why had Jim not felt the hot stove burning his hand? Blair realized Jim must have had his sense of touch dialed way down, consciously or otherwise. He turned the burner off and brought Jim to sit at the kitchen table. "Stay put. I'm gonna go get something to fix up your hand."

When he came back, Jim was at the refrigerator getting an apple. "Jim, I told you to stay put," he admonished.

Jim shrugged his right shoulder. "I'm hungry."

Blair sighed in exasperation and pointed to the chair. Jim sat and munched his apple happily while Blair applied antiseptic to his hand and then bandaged it. It would probably hurt like hell when Jim turned his sense of touch back up to normal. "Jim," he began, "You have to keep the dial set in the middle. You can't turn it way up, and you can't turn it way down. Look." He took three pencils from a cup on the table. "This one's in the middle. You have to set the dial in the middle."

Jim nodded, but Blair didn't think he understood. They finished making dinner and ate it quickly. It was a special night. Dr. Chamberlain had given her approval for Blair to take Jim off the CNS grounds that evening, and Blair was taking him to a Jags game. Simon was tagging along as well.

After dinner, Blair laid out a pair of jeans and nice shirt and left Jim to dress himself for the evening's activities. It took him a long time, but Jim was now capable off dressing on his own. He was still getting ready when Simon showed up. The large man greeted Blair with real affection. He had not seen Blair or Jim for several weeks, but Blair had phoned him often with updates on Jim's progress. He was anxious to seethe results for himself.

Jim came into the living room a few minutes later, his shoe laces trailing. He smiled to see Simon. "Hi, Simon," he greeted.

"Jim, it's good to see you!" Simon clapped Jim on the back. "You're looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you."

"Thanks." Jim turned to Blair and looked embarrassed. "Shoes?" he asked. He still hadn't mastered tying his laces yet.

Blair patted the couch so Jim could sit while he tied them. "No problem, Big Guy," he smiled. "You'll get it eventually, but tonight we're in a hurry. We don't want to miss the tip-off."

They made it to the arena in time, taking Simon's car. Jim had stared out the window the whole time. It had been so long since he'd been anywhere other than a hospital room or on the CNS grounds, and he was fascinated by all the people and cars. He was a little scared too, and he held Blair's hand tightly as they walked into the arena. Blair caught a few dirty looks town their way, but he didn't give a damn. If Jim needed to hold his hand, Jim was going get to.

As they went to find their seats, the people behind them grew impatient with Jim's slow progress up the steps. Someone shouted, "Hey, hurry it up, will ya!"

Blair turned to reply, but Simon beat him to it. He made an oppressive figure as he turned on the guy who had spoken. "Take it easy, man. Give the guy a break. He's doing the best he can." Faced with so intimidating a figure, the man wisely chose to shut up.

Jim had not noticed the incident, so intent was his concentration on climbing the stairs, and Blair was glad. He would've hated to see Jim hurt by a bastard like that. They reached their seats without further incident and sat back to enjoy the game.

The Jags won, much to the delight of the hometown crowd, 98-94. Jim had cheered right along with them, prompted more by Blair's actions than by what he had seen on the basketball court, but he had enjoyed the game a great deal and had a broad smile on his face. His brain chose that moment to dial his sense of touch back up to normal, and he felt the pain of his burned hand for the first time. He cried out, and his hand flew backwards into the arm of the man sitting behind him. The man's soda spilled all over him.

"What the hell's wrong with you!" he shouted at Jim.

Jim had enough trouble speaking when he felt safe and relaxed, but the man's strong reaction had scared him, and he was unable to speak. His head jerked strongly in the nervous tic he had developed. He opened his mouth but could only form a few garbled sounds.

The man looked at him with repulsion. "Stupid retard!" he said loudly. "They shouldn't let people like you wander around without a leash!"

At that, Blair jumped up on his seat and grabbed the guy by his shirt. "He's not a retard!" he yelled in the man's face. "He's a very special human being, unlike you, you damn asshole!"

"Blair," Simon touched Blair's back. "You're frightening Jim." Simon was right. Jim looked terrified to see Blair shouting and upset. His head was still jerking to the side.

Blair spared Jim's tormentor one last glance. "You're not even worth it!" he snarled as he stepped down off the seat and went to comfort Jim. The man didn't like the 3-1 odds and wandered off with the rest of the departing crowd. Blair hugged Jim tightly to him. "It's okay, Sweetheart. It's alright," he soothed while rubbing Jim's back. "Does your hand still hurt, Babe?" Jim nodded into Blair's neck, so Blair raised the hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. Jim's eyes widened at the gesture, but he didn't pull his hand away. "Come on, Jim. Let's go home." The Center for Neuro Skills wasn't really their home, but one day, Blair vowed, he 'would' take Jim home, home to the loft where it had all begun for them.

Jim was quiet on the ride home, and Blair hoped he had not understood the mean words the man had said to him.

Simon saw them to the door of their apartment. "Now, you keep in touch," he said sternly. "I want to hear from both of you understand!" Blair assured him that they would call often, and he and Jim said goodbye. It was late, and he wanted to get Jim settled down for the night as soon as possible.

When Jim was in his pajamas and in bed, Blair turned on his night light and turned the overhead lights off. Jim had developed a fear of being left alone in the dark. Blair sat on the bed beside Jim and stroked his forehead.

"Blair?" Jim asked softly.

"What, Hon?"

"What's a retard?"

The question shocked Blair, and he was silent, unable to form an answer.

"It's me. I'm a retard. I'm stupid," Jim stated.

"No!" Blair said emphatically. "You're not a retard, and you're not stupid! You're such an incredible person, Jim. I love you!" Blair pulled Jim into an embrace hoping to somehow impart comfort and love through his touch.

===

REHABILITATION: WEEK 8

Jim sat in a special chair that had an attachment for him to rest his weakened left arm on. He was sitting at a table facing his speech pathologist. Mark Burgess was in his mid fifties with grey hair and a large paunch. At the clinic, he was well known for pushing his clients to their absolute limits. Blair was at one of his private counseling sessions, and Mark could tell that Jim resented his absence, but Blair could not be with Jim twenty-four hours a day for the rest of his life. Jim needed to learn to function independently.

"Okay, Jim, I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to do your best to answer me." Jim's attention was elsewhere. "Jim! You have to look at me."

"Where's Blair?" Jim asked.

"Blair can't be here right now, but he will be here to pick you up when your session is over. Now, I need you to look at me and concentrate. Come on, Jim," Mark said in a no nonsense tone of voice that finally got Jim's attention. "Where do you live?"

After a pause, Jim replied, "Cascade, Washington."

"Where in Cascade do you live?"

"Prosplect Pace."

"Prospect Place," Mark corrected.

"Prospect Place," Jim repeated.

"Good, Jim. What day of the week is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Today is Tuesday." Mark was encouraging Jim to speak in complete sentences.

"To...today..."

"Is," prompted Mark.

"Is...Tuesday."

"Now try the whole thing. Today is Tuesday."

"Tod...today...is Tuesday. Today...is Tuesday."

"Great job, Jim. What is the weather like?"

"It...sunny." Jim continued to have trouble with verbs especially ones that could not be physically demonstrated like the 'to be' family.

"It is sunny."

"It..."

"Is," Mark supplied.

"I want Blair," Jim complained. "Hard."

"I know it's hard, Jim, but you have to keep tying." Mark knew he had to find a way to get Jim's attention back to the session. "I hear you and Blair went to the mall. Tell me about it."

"Blair and Jim..."

"We," supplied Mark.

"We...went to the mall."

"What did you do there?"

"We bought clothes."

"What did you buy?"

"We...I...bought jeans and...I bought a shirt...a blue shirt."

"Very good, Jim. Now I want to work on your mouth movements. Open your mouth." Jim did so easily. "Good, now stick out your tongue. Okay, put your tongue back in your mouth. Can you purse your lips for me?"

Jim frowned in confusion.

"Purse your lips, Jim. Like this." Mark demonstrated. "Like you're going to kiss someone."

"Kiss?"

"Yes, when you touch your lips to someone's, kiss."

"Blair kisses me."

"Yes, I know. I've seen him do it. Do you like it when Blair kisses you?"

"Blair loves me," Jim stated the fact as if it were obvious.

"Yes, I can see that he does. That's what it means when you kiss someone. It means you love them." Now try to purse your lips for me." Mark demonstrated again, and Jim tried to make his lips do the same but was unable to do so. *It's a good thing Blair isn't here,* thought Mark. *It would have hurt him to see this.*

===

REHABILITATION: WEEK 11

Blair kept an eye on Jim as he looked over the fruit, trying to figure out which was the freshest. He had brought Jim with him to the grocery store because he was trying to force Jim to interact with the outside world as much as possible. Sometimes the excursions went smoothly, and other times Blair was left trying to comfort Jim from the harsh comments of a stranger.

"Jim," he whispered as Jim took a grape and popped it in his mouth. "You're not supposed to eat the food until we buy it, and those grapes haven't been washed. They're probably coated with pesticides!"

Jim shrugged. "Tastes good." But he stopped.

Blair sighed and went back to picking out the best apples.

A pretty young woman came to get some grapes and smiled at Jim. "Hi, how do the grapes look today?"

Jim smiled back, "They... taste good."

The woman laughed. "I see." She reached past Jim to get some, and her long necklace caught Jim's attention. The light was shining off of it causing it to sparkle, and Jim was captivated. He reached out his hand to touch it and inadvertently touched the woman's breast.

"Hey!" the woman shrieked, "What do you think you're doing?"

The anger in her voice frightened Jim, and his hand clutched even tighter at the woman's chest.

Blair was just about to intervene when a man who saw what was going on grabbed Jim by his shirt. "Hey, you pervert, get off of her!" He continued to shake Jim a few more times and then shoved him backwards. Jim lost his balance and fell to the floor. He curled up in a tight little ball with his arms over his head and began whimpering, "No good...No good...No good," softly over and over.

"What's wrong with him?" the young woman asked.

Blair stepped between Jim and his tormentors. "He doesn't understand!" he yelled angrily. "He didn't know, didn't mean any harm. He just wanted to touch your necklace!"

Suddenly, Jim gave a loud cry, and his body began to jerk. The young woman made a frightened sound and hurried away. "Oh, god, he's having a seizure!" Blair cried. He knelt beside Jim but didn't try to restrain the violent muscle spasms that were wracking Jim's body. Blair looked up at the man who had accosted Jim. "Do you have a pen?" he asked frantically.

"Yeah," The man knelt beside them and handed the pen to Blair. "Look, I'm really sorry. I thought he was getting fresh with that woman."

Blair didn't bother to answer. He slipped the pen into Jim's mouth to keep him from choking on his tongue.

"Do you want me to call someone?" the man asked.

Blair reached into his pocket with one hand and pulled a card out of his wallet. "Call the Center for Neuro Skills. They'll send an ambulance." The man moved to do his bidding. Blair was relieved to notice that Jim's tremors were slowing down. He looked up at the people who had stopped to stare at Jim lying on the floor, some with expressions of fear and others with pity in their eyes.

"Don't you have anything better to do!" he shouted and tried to shield Jim from their eyes with his body.

By the time the ambulance arrived, Jim's shaking had almost completely stopped. The medics from CNS strapped him onto the gurney and wheeled him outside. Jim clung to Blair's hand as they did so, like it was his only lifeline.

Later that evening, Blair sat by Jim's bedside in the hospital section of CNS. The doctors wanted to monitor his condition for twenty-four hours in case he had any more seizures. He was being very unresponsive tonight even to Blair. The incident at the grocery store had severely traumatized him.

The door to his private room opened, and the duty nurse peeked her head inside. "Jim, you up for a visitor?"

Jim didn't reply.

"Who is it?" Blair asked.

The man from the grocery store looked over her shoulder. "Um, hi, I just wanted to come and see how he was doing and to apologize again. Is it okay if I come in?"

"Jim," Blair touched Jim's cheek. "Look who's here. It's..."

"My name's Jason, Jason Singletary." He walked over to the bed, and the nurse left them alone.

Jim winced when he saw who it was, but Jason spoke softly to him. "Hey there, how're you feeling? I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened today, and..." he held up a white paper bag with Baskin Robbins written on it. "I brought a peace offering." He opened the bag and pulled out three sundaes in plastic containers complete with spoons and napkins.

Jim's interest was captured. His desire for the ice cream was plainly fighting his fear of the man. But the man was smiling as was Blair, and he was speaking softly not shouting angrily. Jim felt relatively safe as he picked up a spoon. "Chocolate?" he asked hopefully.

Blair laughed. "I think, Jason, that you have been forgiven."

REHABILITATION: WEEK 15

Summer was winding to a close, and Blair knew he would soon have to make a decision about whether or not to go back to Rainier in the fall. Dr. Chamberlain was going to release Jim at the end of the week, and Blair was planning on them returning to the loft when that happened. Jim would continue to have out patient therapy four times a week, and Blair hoped to be able to help Jim relearn to read soon. Dr. Chamberlain cautioned Blair about expecting to much from Jim. "Eventually," she warned, "he will reach a plateau and his recovery will level off." But Blair was convinced that Jim hadn't reached that plateau yet.

Today they were having their last joint counseling session with Dr. Chamberlain. Jim was expressing his frustration at his slow progress. He had finally become aware of the difference in what he had used to be and what he was now.

"I understand what you're going through, Jim," Blair interrupted.

"No!" Jim turned to look at him, eyes flashing with anger. "No, you don't understand what it's like to be me. No one understands what it's like to be me. You think you do, but you don't!" As Jim became more upset, his ability to speak decreased. "I'm not a man anymore. I'm a...patient...a client. Sometimes...ev...everything seems so clear,...and sometimes I get...confused. I can't talk good. I hear...voices...sounds. I don't know if they're real...or....or just in my head. You don't know what it's like to be me!"

That was the most Jim had said at once since his injury. It was the first time he had really let Blair know what was going on inside him.

"I'm sorry, Jim. You're right. I don't understand. I couldn't." Blair put a hand to Jim's cheek. "I'll do whatever it takes to help you, whatever you need. I love you,Jim."

"Jim, do you know what love is?" Dr. Chamberlain asked.

"Blair loves me."

"Do you like having Blair love you, Jim? How would you feel if Blair didn't love you?"

Jim looked frightened, confused. "Blair loves me!" His voice rose.

"It's okay, Jim. It's okay. I do love you, and I can wait until you're ready." He brought Jim into his arms and held him tightly. He had decided not to push Jim. Blair wanted Jim to love him because he felt that way, not because Blair told him to.

"Blair loves me," Jim whispered against Blair's neck.

"Yes, Babe, and don't you forget it. I will always love you."

REHABILITATION: GRADUATION DAY

It was Jim's last day at the clinic, and just like at the hospital they were having a small party for him. Jim had come so far, and he still had so far to go. Dr. Chamberlain was there and so were Don, Maddy, and Mark. Simon and some of Jim's friends from the station were there, and Blair was glad that they hadn't deserted Jim now that he was no longer part of their cop world. Stephen had sent his regrets, saying how busy he was with his job and all. Blair was not surprised. Jim's brother had not visited once during their stay at CNS. Blair didn't buy Stephen's excuse about being busy. If he had really wanted to see his brother, he would have been there. Jason Singletary, Jim's accoster and now friend was there, and he had a thriving law practice to manage.

Jim was smiling, happy to be around so many of his friends. Only Blair knew that he was nervous, terrified in fact, of leaving the clinic and entering the 'real world'. He had confided his fears to Blair who had reassured him as best he could, telling Jim he would be there to help him.

Blair unveiled the cake, a three layer chocolate fudge cake with "CONGRATULATIONS, JIM, WE'RE PROUD OF YOU!" written on it in big blue letters. Everyone clapped when they saw it. Jim couldn't read the words, but Blair had told him what they said. He looked at Blair expectantly with a crooked smile that looked remarkably like the 'old' Jim.

"What?" Blair laughed.

"Where's the ice cream?"

"What makes you think I got ice cream?"

Jim raised his eyebrows and looked at Blair, and for a moment, for just a split second, it was if nothing had changed. They were still madly in love, still the picture of happiness. And then the moment was over, and life went on.

===

"Well, here we are," Blair said as the door to the loft swung open. "Home sweet home." He watched as Jim looked around. "Do you remember anything?"

Jim's face was a mask of concentration. "Pieces, flashes, I don't know."

Blair moved to put a hand on his arm. "It's okay, don't push too hard. Let me show you your room." *How ironic,* he thought as he led Jim toward what used to be his old room. Even though Jim no longer wore a brace on his left arm and leg, he would not be able to manage climbing up and down the stairs to what had first Jim's and then both his and Blair's bedroom. For now, Jim would sleep downstairs, and Blair would sleep upstairs in a complete reversal of the way they had started.

Blair had arranged to have a larger bed put in the downstairs bedroom to better accommodate Jim's large frame. He could have just had the bed's switched, but he couldn't bear to do that. He needed to sleep in the same bed he and Jim had once slept in as lovers. He needed to believe that they would one day sleep there together again.

Jim looked around the room warily, not sure if he liked the new arrangement. Blair could tell he missed the security of his old room at the clinic. "I think it gets dark here at night," he told Blair nervously.

"No problem, Jim." Blair pointed to the nightlight plugged into the outlet by Jim's bed.

Jim gave a little smile of relief and chastised himself for his fear. "Stupid to be afraid of the dark."

"Hey, whatever makes you comfortable, Jim. Don't get down on yourself. You look a little tired. Why don't you lie down for awhile, see if you can sleep?"

Jim lay down on top of the covers, and Blair took the extra blanket at the foot of the bed and covered him with it. He bent down to kiss Jim's forehead gently. "Sleep well, Babe." Jim's eyes were already closed. *The move must have tired him more than I thought.* Blair left Jim to his nap and moved back into the living room.

He sat down on the couch, thankful he had no classes to teach or attend. He was planning on taking the semester off. Jim's insurance settlement would provide them with enough money to live on for now. He didn't know what he would do about next semester, but for now, Jim required all of his attention, and Blair was glad to give it to him.

A large book lying next to the television caught Blair's attention, and he picked it up sadly. It was the photo album he had put together of his and Jim's year together as lovers. He flipped through the pages looking through the images of himself with Jim. There were pictures of them with their arms around each other, smiling broadly for which ever of their friends had taken the picture. Blair stopped when he came to a picture Simon had snapped catching them unaware. He and Jim were standing on a beach together at sunset, their arms entwined around each other. Jim was looking at him with such an expression of love shining out of his eyes. Someone looking at the picture would have no doubt about the way he felt about the man he was holding. It was written on his face for anyone to see. A few tears slipped from Blair's eyes as he wondered if Jim would ever look at him like that again.

He didn't realize how long he had spent looking at the pictures until he heard Jim stirring in the bedroom. He came out into the living room before Blair had a chance to close the photo album.

Jim looked at him in concern. "You've been crying," he said noticing the tear stains on Blair's cheeks. "What made you sad?"

"Oh, it's nothing, man. I'm just tired from all the moving today."

Jim sat beside him on the couch. "What's this?" he asked, noticing the photo album. He looked at some of the pictures, pointed to one, and then looked at Blair and said, "I'm kissing you."

"Yeah, these are just some pictures of us from last year." He started to close the album, but Jim stopped him.

"No, I want to see them." He took the photo album from Blair, placed it on his lap, and began looking at the pictures. He stopped when he came to the one that had made Blair cry, the one of the two of them in each other's arms on the beach. Jim studied it for awhile but made no comment on it. He continued to flip through the pages until he came to one of just Blair. He was wearing the outfit that Jim had loved on him, tight black jeans and a midnight blue silk shirt unbuttoned enough to show a sprinkling of chest hair. His hair was down and playfully mussed like Jim liked it, and he was smiling broadly at the photographer. It was the smile he saved only for the man he loved, who ,of course, was the one who had taken the picture. Jim was fascinated by the picture.

"You look nice," he commented.

"You took that picture," Blair told him. "You made me put on those clothes and pose for it."

Jim nodded, took one more look at the picture and continued looking through the album. "I remember this," he said, pointing to a picture of himself holding up a huge fish and a even bigger grin. Blair had taken the picture when they had gone camping the year before. "You fell in the stream, didn't you?

"Yeah, and you laughed at me!"

"It was funny. You looked like a drowned rat. There was something else about that trip, something important. Damn! Why can't I remember!"

"It's okay, Jim, don't force it," Blair said sadly remembering exactly what had been so special about that trip. On one moonlit night while snuggling by a warm campfire, Jim had asked Blair to make it official, to marry him, so to speak. There had never been a doubt in Blair's mind that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jim, and he had accepted without hesitation. They had spent Blair's spring break in Hawaii and had had a simple but beautiful commitment ceremony. They had made sure each had legal power of attorney over the other, and Blair was incredibly glad they had done so.
If they hadn't, who knew where they would be right now.

When Jim finished looking at the pictures, he announced he was hungry. Blair was disappointed that the pictures had not brought back any memories of their relationship, but he resolved again to let Jim remember it on his own. He turned on the basketball game for Jim and then went to cook dinner.

Blair didn't notice when Jim opened the photo album again. He took from it the picture of Blair he had been so taken with and stroked his fingers across its smooth surface. Then making sure that he was not being watched, he slipped the picture into his pocket and replaced the photo album.

After dinner, Blair allowed Jim to help with the clean up. A few dishes got broken or chipped in the process, but Jim needed to feel useful. When they were done, Blair decided to try and get some reading done while Jim settled himself back in front of the tv.

"Yell if you need anything, Big Guy." he tossed over his shoulder while he trotted up the stairs.

After about fifteen minutes, Jim began to get bored with the program he was watching. He heard some noises coming from outside and stiffly got up to look out the balcony door for what was causing it. The flickering lights of the city captured his attention, and he opened the door to step outside. The cool night air felt good on his skin after the hot summer day. He walked to the end of the balcony and looked over the wall, noticing how small everything looked. An urge struck him, and he pulled Blair's picture from his pocket wanting to gaze at it and touch it again. Suddenly, a car honked from below, startling him. His hand jerked and the picture slipped from his hand over the edge of the balcony and started to flutter down to the ground.

"No!" Jim cried and reached out to grab for it. He bent at the waist and leaned over the balcony wall to grab it, his body balanced precariously on the narrow ledge.

Blair had been alerted by Jim's cry and ran downstairs to find Jim half over the balcony. "Jim!" he shouted and raced out to grab the big man around the waist, pulling him back to safety. "My god, Jim! What do you think you're doing!" he shouted angrily.

Jim quickly put the picture in his back pocket. He didn't want Blair to know he had taken it, feeling embarrassed about it. "I dropped something," he said sheepishly.

"You dropped something!" Blair continued to shout. "Do you realize you could have killed yourself? Do you know how far down it is? What is it that's so important that you have to risk your life for it?"

Jim was quiet. Even if he had wanted to tell Blair about the picture, Blair's anger had frightened him, and he became tongue-tied. "I...I...You're mad at me."

The sorrowful looked on Jim's face cooled Blair's anger. "No, Jim, I'm not angry at you. You just scared me to death! I was terrified I was going to lose you."

"I'm right here."

"I know. I'm sorry I yelled, but you can't do things like that! You have to think!"

"I try, Blair! I try to think. I try to understand. But...but..." he faltered unable to explain the confusion he felt.

Blair pulled him into a hug. "It's okay. I know you're trying, Jim. It's my fault. I should have been watching you more carefully. Come on, it's time to get ready for bed. You need to take a shower first." He led Jim back inside.

"I can handle it on my own." Jim was anxious to prove he could be independent.

Blair understood. "Okay, Jim, let me know if you need anything." He left Jim at the bathroom and went into the living room. He was still shaken up over Jim's close call on the balcony and wanted to be within earshot.

Jim emerged from the bathroom eventually wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping from the shower. He walked into his room to get a clean pair of boxers to wear to bed.

Blair heard him call for help before too long, and he walked into the bedroom. Jim was seated on the bed naked. The towel lay on the floor attesting to the fact that Jim had lost at least some of his compulsion for neatness. He was struggling to get his boxers on but was having difficulty getting his legs in the correct holes. Blair knelt beside him and untangled the boxers. "Here, let me help you," he offered. He helped Jim place the correct leg in each hole and then drew the boxers up his legs. When he reached Jim's thighs, the man lifted his hips so Blair could complete the task. As he was doing so, Blair's hand accidentally brushed against Jim's flaccid penis, and it began to harden from the light touch. Jim gave a small gasp, and Blair removed his hand immediately.

He was surprised to feel Jim take his hand and place it back around the rapidly firming organ. Blair looked up at Jim's face.

"Touch me," the man who had once been his lover moaned.

Blair took his hand away again. "I can't, Jim I just...can't."

"Why?" Jim asked. "You used to want to touch me. Why won't you touch me now?"

"It just wouldn't be right," Blair explained, backing away before he lost his resolve. "I'd be taking advantage of you."

"But I want you to."

"You're not ready, Jim. We're not ready. I don't want this to be just about sex, about making each other feel good."

Jim looked confused again, confirming to Blair that he had made the right decision. Until Jim understood about love, he would not pursue the physical aspect of their relationship, no matter how many cold showers it took. Quickly and efficiently he got Jim's boxers on, and he kissed his forehead to show him he wasn't upset with him.

"I love you, Jim, but it isn't time yet. Now get into bed." He tucked Jim under the covers and made sure to turn the nightlight on before turning the lights out and heading upstairs to the large and lonely bed he would have given anything to share again.

===

Author's note: Okay, this is where the real angst starts, folks. Some of you have already guessed this was going to happen.

The following morning, Jim made no mention of what had happened the night before. Blair took him to physical therapy and watched as Don put Jim through a grueling workout specifically designed to strengthen his left arm and leg. He no longer wore a brace but still had difficulty manipulating the appendages. By the time Blair drove Jim home he was exhausted an starving. Blair threw together some quick sandwiches for them and then cleaned up on his own while Jim went to lay down on the couch.

Blair sighed as he noticed the lack of groceries. "We really need to go shopping. I don't suppose you feel like running out with me to do it now?"

Jim shook his head. "I'm too tired. You go ahead without me." He noticed Blair's look of concern. "I'll be fine by myself. I'm not a baby you know."

"I know, Jim."

"I promise I won't go out on the balcony. I'll be a good little boy until Mommy gets home," Jim said in a disgusted tone of voice.

"Look, Jim, it's not that I don't trust you..." Blair stated.

"I know, Blair. I just need someone to watch over me, and make sure I don't hurt myself. Would you just go!"

Jim was plainly upset, and Blair did not want to upset him further. He would only be gone about half an hour, and he had left Jim alone at the clinic before. "Okay, Jim, I'll be back real soon. Simon's number is by the phone if something happens and so are the emergency numbers."

"I'll be fine! Go already!"

Blair nodded, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door leaving Jim reclined on the sofa.

He rushed through his shopping and managed to make it back in slightly under thirty minutes. He was relieved to find Jim still on the sofa, apparently fine.

"See," Jim raised his hands and gestured to himself. "I'm still in one piece."

"I never had a doubt," Blair lied and set his groceries down on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, right." Jim rolled his eyes. Blair remembered when Jim had been incapable of most facial expressions. It reminded him of how far Jim had come.

Blair spent a couple of hours on the computer checking the myriad of email he had been unable to answer previously. He looked up concerned when he heard a painful moan coming from the couch. Jim was lying there clutching his stomach, his face sweaty and very pale. "Jim?" Blair went to kneel by the couch.

Another moan was his only answer.

"Does your stomach hurt, Babe?" Blair asked feeling Jim's forehead. It didn't feel like he had a fever.

Jim nodded and clutched his stomach even tighter.

"What is it, Jim? Do you think you picked up the flu somewhere?"

Jim shrugged.

Blair stroked the moaning man's hair tenderly. It was even longer now. Jim hadn't asked to have it cut, and Blair couldn't bear to do so anyway. He loved the way it softly lay against Jim's neck. "Did you eat something that might make your stomach upset?"

Jim didn't answer, and Blair wondered if he were on the right track. He went to look in the trash, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the empty quart of chocolate ice cream lying on the top. It had been nearly full that morning. "Jim, did you eat this entire quart of ice cream?" he asked incredulously.

Jim looked at him guiltily. No wonder the man had a stomachache. All that sugar was bound to upset even the most iron cast of stomachs. Blair dropped the empty carton back into the trash, and then walked back over to Jim who looked up at him as if fearful of Blair's reaction. "First," Blair said softly, "We're going to see about helping you feel better, and then," he said louder, "we are going to have a long talk about 'moderation'." He smiled to soften the sting of his words.

Soon Blair had Jim lying on the heating pad and dosed with some Pepto Bismol. Slowly but surely, the pain was fading. Blair was just about to sit back down at the computer when a knock came at the door. It was Stephen Ellison.

"Stephen, what a surprise," Blair said dryly.

"I've come to see my brother, Blair," Stephen said, entering the loft before he was asked to.

"He's not feeling well," Blair told him.

"I can see that." Stephen went to take a closer look at Jim who greeted him with a wan smile. "Jim, what's wrong?"

"I ate too much ice cream," Jim smiled sheepishly.

Stephen turned to Blair. "You let him eat too much ice cream!"

"I wasn't here, Stephen."

"You left him alone?"

"Yes, Stephen Jim's not a baby. He can be left on his own for short periods of time."

"Well, apparently not!" Stephen gestured at his stricken brother.

"Stephen, relax, Jim's fine," Blair tried to calm the irate Ellison.

"This time, but what happens the next time you decide to run off and leave him?"

"Look, man, I take very good care of Jim, and I resent you insinuating that I don't!"

"Stephen," Jim sat up and took his brother's arm. "Calm down. I'm okay. It's good to see you. Can you stay and talk for awhile?'

With one last glare in Blair's direction, Stephen sat beside Jim and allowed himself to be drawn into conversation.

Blair went into the kitchen and cooled his anger by making coffee and starting dinner. He too was starting to have a queasy feeling in his stomach, and it definitely wasn't from ice cream.

"Oh man, did you see that shot at half court that Thomas pulled off? That's 'my' boy!" Brown said exuberantly to the men who were gathered together at the loft. They had just come back from a Jag's game: Blair, Jim, Simon, Joel, Ryf, and Brown. They were celebrating the Jags' victory with Blair's home baked brownies.

Jim took a bit of his brownie. "It was okay," he teased.

"Okay! What are you talking about, Jim! That shot was pure poetry," Brown returned indignantly.

Someone knocked at the door and Blair got up to answer it leaving the men still fanatically discussing the merits of the game. He opened the door to find a nondescript man standing there holding an envelope.

"Are you Blair Sandburg?" the man asked.

"Yeah, what..."

"This is for you." The man shoved the envelope into Blair's hand and walked away before Blair could say anything.

Blair looked at the envelope in his hand, and a feeling of fear gripped his heart like a vice. He opened the envelope with trembling fingers and read the contents. It was what he had feared. The room started to spin around him, and he felt the blood rush from his head.

Jim noticed how pale Blair was. "What's wrong, Blair? Who was that?"

Blair smiled weakly. "Nobody, everything's fine, Jim." He gave the guys a pleading look, hoping they would understand and draw Jim's attention away from him.

Thankfully, Joel seemed to catch on. "Hey, Jim, you think the Jags are going to go all the way this year?"

"I'd bet money on it," Jim replied turning back to the conversation.

Simon got up from his seat on the couch and went over to Blair. "Blair, what is it? You look like you're about to pass out. Are you all right? What's in that?" He pointed at the envelope Blair still clutched in one shaking hand.

"It's a subpoena," Blair said numbly. "Stephen's suing me for custody of Jim." He swayed a little on his feet, and Simon reached to steady him.

"Blair, we'll fight this! We'll all help. Stephen can't do this to Jim...to you! We won't let him. We need to get a good lawyer, but it's going to damn expensive, and I'm sure Stephen's already had a freeze put on Jim's insurance settlement. We need to find a way to come up with the money. We'll all contribute."

"That's okay, Simon," Blair spoke slowly as he pulled himself together and formulated his battle plan. He was 'not' going to let Stephen Ellison take Jim away from him without one hell of a fight. He was not going to let Stephen take Jim from him period, end of story. As for a lawyer, Blair knew who he needed to call, someone he knew they could count on to help them get through this nightmare.

===

The outer reception area of the Singletary law firm was posh and upscale, but inside Jason's office where Blair sat pouring his heart out to the man, was homey and comfortable.

"And so I came to you," Blair finished. "I was hoping you'd be willing to help us out. I don't have much money to pay you,..."

"I'll be taking the case pro bono," Jason told him. "It's the least I can do for you and Jim."

Blair sighed in relief. When this man had accosted Jim in the grocery store several weeks ago causing Jim to have a seizure, he had never thought he would be glad it had happened. But Jason had come to apologize and had quickly become friends with both Jim and Blair. He had visited often and was a constant source of encouragement for Jim.

"Now, before we got to trial, we need to plan our strategy. I'm positive Stephen will try to play up the gay angle, and he'll try to make it look like you're interested in the money from Jim's insurance settlement. We'll need some character witnesses."

"I'm sure Simon and Joel would be glad to help, and I've got some friends from the University that I think I could get to testify on my behalf."

Jason nodded. "Does Jim know that Stephen's trying to take him away from you?"

"No, I couldn't find a way to tell him. I'm not sure he'd understand, and it would only upset him. I'm not ready to face the possibility of...of..." Blair's voice trailed off.

"Blair, we're going to fight this with everything we've got. I'm going to do anything and everything I can."

"Thank you, Jason. You don't know how much this means to us."

"Stephen Ellison is a fool if he can't see that you and Jim belong together!"

"Stephen's sending a psychologist to interview Jim at CNS. I have to figure out something to tell him. Maybe he won't notice a difference between this interview and his normal counseling sessions."

"Just how cognizant is Jim?'

"Sometimes Jim appears totally normal on the outside, but he's lost his sense of self, who he is. Things that were once automatic to him now need to be carefully thought out. When he gets tired or stressed he can have great difficulty finding the right words. He can't process information quickly especially when faced with a choice. He also has difficulty with memory and learning new information."

"Do you think Jim will ever progress to being independent?" Jason continued to question.

"Yes, but I don't think Jim will ever be what he was before his injury. He won't be going back to the police force, but I do see him taking care of himself and living a happy, fulfilled life...with me. Stephen sees Jim as limited. He treats Jim like a child when he notices him at all!" Blair spat out angrily.

"Okay, we'll play up that angle, how Stephen's neglected Jim, and you've been there for him this whole time. You're Jim's primary source of motivation, Blair. Without you, he wouldn't have come nearly this far."

"And I'm not leaving him now to his brother's 'tender' mercies," Blair vowed. "I couldn't bear it if Stephen took Jim away! He's my life! There's nothing without Jim!" Blair stood to better make his point.

"Blair, I promise you," Jason gripped his arm tightly, "I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you and Jim together. We're going to fight this to the bitter end!"

Blair sat under the shade of the oak tree cradling Jim's head in his lap, stroking and twining his fingers through the soft brown hair of the man who meant so much to him. They were enjoying the last day of summer. Soon Labor Day would be upon them, and the days would grow chilly. But Blair's heart was already cold, cold with fear and dread of a future without Jim. A trial date had been set for the end of that week, and Blair slept less and less every night as the day approached.

Jim had met with the psychologist during his outpatient session at CNS that morning. Blair had not been able to tell Jim what was going on, but Jim sensed the f