Work Text:
Equilibrium
by CatMoran
Author's webpage: http://home.netcom.com/~catmoran/warning.html
Author's disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I don't own the canon characters or concept; I do own my original characters and this story.
Warning: Mystical stuff ahead.
Spoilers: For STP1, STP2 and TSbyBS.
Feedback: Positive or negative, but please read the notes first.
Archive: Personal archives - yes. Anywhere else - probably, but please ask first. Leave my headers intact.
Posted to the Sentinel Angst list on April 1, 2000.
Thanks to Roland E. Erikson, M.D. for the Psychiatric details; and Robyn and her Cascade Hospital website for the rest of the medical background. Thanks to Erika and my mom for beta reading. All remaining errors, oversights and obfuscations are the fault of myself and my muse.
Equilibrium
By CatMoran : [email protected]
He was at the bottom of a deep shaft. This did not worry him, as it was not unusual. The shaft, or pit, or in his more literary moments, oubliette, had been with him much of his life. The depth changed: shallow, then deep, sometimes frequently; but it was always there. The last few days the irregular circle of sky had grown much smaller, much faster than ever before. That had finally driven him to attempt an escape.
He had not succeeded.
Something had changed, though. He could no longer see the small circle of sky, and he no longer thought of escape. No, things were very quiet and peaceful now. It was as if a dark, viscous liquid filled the shaft, buoying him just above the floor. It obscured all sight, all sound, all feeling. It dulled his thoughts, allowing them to float, just as his body seemed to. It obscured his memories--somehow, he knew this was for the best. There was something he knew he should not remember...
Jim's concussion was a bit worse than he'd experienced before, or perhaps the dizziness was due to blood loss. As a result, nearly two full days had passed since he and Blair had been brought to the hospital, and he had yet to see his friend. He felt that he was being perfectly reasonable in agreeing to remain confined to a wheelchair for the visit. His doctor did not share his opinion.
"Mr. Ellison, I am not a fool. You've proven on past visits to this hospital that you will not stay in a wheelchair; therefore, you will stay in that bed. When you are sufficiently recovered to leave that bed, then you may visit your friend." Dr. Rollins had experience with this patient, and knew that to give an inch would be to court disaster.
Jim turned to his Captain, who had arrived moments before with an early dinner. "Simon, can't you speak to her for me?"
"Oh, so I'm 'Simon' now, am I? And why should I speak to her?" Simon could guess what the disagreement was about; despite Jim's worry yesterday at not remembering what had happened, his desire to visit Blair had still been his primary concern. Simon felt for Jim, but he also knew the detective deserved his reputation in the hospital.
"Because you could bbst..." Jim's voice trailed off in a mumble.
"What was that Detective? You'll have to speak up."
"I said," Jim growled, "because you could promise to watch me."
"That's strange, I could have sworn you said 'babysit', the first time." Simon grinned around his unlit cigar.
The bait was taken, and Jim gently reeled in his friend with another mock growl. "Well, Captain?"
"I think it's up to your doctor. And if she knows you as well as I suspect she does, she won't go for it." Simon directed a brilliant smile at the doctor.
The doctor blinked at the mega-watt smile. "Well... I'll agree. Provided," she glared at Jim, "you stay seated at all times, and allow your Captain-"
"Please, call me Simon," he volunteered, with another smile.
"-Simon," she smiled back, "to do everything else--this includes propelling the chair, opening doors, and any jumping or running you may feel inclined to engage in."
"Agreed," Jim responded with a smug grin.
"Simon," Dr. Rollins turned her attention back to the Captain, and managed to give the impression that she was not looking up to face him. "It is your responsibility to see to it that Mr. Ellison follows these rules. Do you think you can handle him?"
Simon's smile turned slightly feral as he faced Jim, "Oh, I can guarantee it. Because if he doesn't behave, it'll be a week before he leaves this room--and I'll see to it that no one brings him take-out. Right, Jim?"
"Yes, sir," Jim's smile lost its smug tone, but remained in place.
A wheelchair was found and a time limit set. Within the hour, Jim Ellison sat next to Blair's bed, watching his guide. If not for the even respiration, Blair would have been entirely motionless. It was an unnatural condition for the younger man, Jim thought.
"He's so still." Simon pulled up a chair to sit by Jim.
Jim nodded his agreement, never looking away from Blair.
"Has his doctor had a chance to talk to you?"
Jim sat back and wiped a hand across his face, "Yeah, Dr. Burke seems pretty optimistic. A week or so of drug therapy and Blair should be out of this catatonic state he's in."
"And what about the rest of it?"
"You mean, why he tried to eat his gun? Or why he's been depressed?" Jim leaned forward again, stroking the back of his hand across his guide's cheek, leaving his hand to rest on Blair's arm.
"Both. Either. They're the same thing, aren't they?" Simon asked, shrugging.
"I guess. Dr. Burke says that the drugs will help with that in the short term, and therapy will take care of the rest of it. He says the therapy may even help while he's in this state... but, Simon, I don't think Blair's here at all." With that, Jim looked over at his Captain, desperation in his eyes.
"This isn't something you could protect him from, Jim."
"I don't believe that. I saw him... collapsing, and I didn't do anything to stop it."
"But, you did stop it. If you hadn't stopped it, Blair wouldn't be here at all. He has a chance to recover, and you gave him that chance. Remember that, OK?"
Jim nodded.
Simon thought that Jim would feel better if he had a little time alone with his partner. "Do you want some coffee? I thought I'd run down to the cafeteria for a few minutes."
"No, thanks. Do you think Dr. Bligh would approve of you abdicating your responsibility?" Jim offered a wry grin.
"Ha ha, very funny, Jim. I think Dr. Rollins won't mind, as long as you behave yourself. But just to be safe, let's not tell her, OK?" Simon grinned and winked, walking out of the room.
Jim smoothed Blair's hair away from his face. It was unnecessary, as short as the younger man's hair was now, but somehow Jim felt better with the contact. "Hey Blair, how're you doing, buddy? Your doctor says you can probably hear me. What say you wake up, and we'll get out of here? Maybe go do some fishing. We haven't had much time for that lately.
"You are planning to wake up, right? I mean, before, that was just... a fluke, an accident. You weren't planning to-to leave me alone here, were you? You've got to know, I don't care what we do from here... I already told Simon, I won't be back at the station if it's something you can't do. But I can't handle this sentinel stuff without you.
"You know, I spent my whole life avoiding depending on other people. When the sentinel thing started and you showed up, I figured I was stuck with you. But you know, I've really gotten to like being stuck with you. And not just because I need you, either. I really like working with you, full-time. I know it's pretty selfish, but I'm glad my job became our job. And I'm just as happy that my home became our home. Now, you've got to hurry up and come back, because I don't think I want to go back there by myself, you know?"
Jim was barely aware of Simon's return. Simon, for his part, retreated to a corner and concentrated on his coffee. Jim continued to talk to Blair until it was time for him to return to his own room.
The next day, Simon arrived with a promised bag of tandoori chicken for supper. "Jim, how're you feeling?"
"Fine, sir. I'll be out of here sometime tomorrow." The enticing scent of the food vied with the sentinel's desire to hurry up and visit Blair, now that his 'escort' had arrived.
"Bullshit. I spoke with your doctor. She told me about the damage they discovered to your inner ear. She said she doesn't expect the dizziness to clear up for at least a few more days." Simon pulled the bedside table between Jim's bed and the chair, and started setting out the food.
Jim glared at his Captain. "What? How dare she discuss that with you? Just because you've been making eyes at her-"
"Ellison! Settle down! She told me because I'm your supervisor, and it's an injury that the hospital routinely reports to the department. You know you won't be cleared for duty if you're not on par with your hearing or balance. Now, she may have been a little premature in telling me before you've been released from the hospital, but it is still perfectly legitimate." Simon matched Jim's glare.
Jim backed down. "Sorry, Captain. I'm just not happy with people knowing-"
"-that you're human? Common problem in this line of work. Apology accepted."
"Well, I do expect to be out of here tomorrow. The doctor says she'll let me out as soon as I prove that I can stand up and walk without falling over, and I've got a PT appointment in the morning. Think you could bring me a change of clothes?"
"That optimistic, are you? Sure, I'll stop by your place tonight and swing by here on my way to the station tomorrow morning. Come on, let's eat this bird before we go visit the kid."
For several minutes they concentrated on dinner, each lost in his own thoughts. Simon finally asked the question that had been nagging him since he'd spoken with Jim's doctor. "So, what were the results of your hearing exam?"
"Your snitch didn't include that information? Better up your pay. My hearing's 100% in my left ear, and 30% in my right." Jim spoke carefully around a mouthful of spicy chicken.
"30%? That doesn't sound good," Simon frowned. "When are they retesting?"
"Probably Friday. Dr. Rollins thinks that any temporary shock to the nerves will have worn off by then."
"That's only three days from now. How's the dizziness?"
"I don't know that I'd call it dizziness, but my sense of balance is still out of whack. I think it'll be OK as long as I can see which end is up. And with my sight that shouldn't be much of a problem."
Simon nodded and returned to his dinner.
Twenty minutes later, Simon swung the door to Blair's room open with one hand and propelled Jim's wheelchair though with the other. "Well, I see the IV is gone. I guess that means the kid is doing better?"
"His doctor says that he's showing some improvement. He's not really doing anything for himself, but they've been able to get him to eat when they feed him."
"That's good, I guess." Simon parked Jim's chair next to the bed. "You know, I still can't figure why I didn't notice the kid's depression before. I'm supposed to be trained to notice things, how'd I miss an enthusiastic guy sinking into depression?"
Jim shrugged, "No offense, Captain, but you bought into his public persona years ago, and you've never really changed your image of him."
"Granted, the kid has settled down over the last few years..."
"He didn't settle down, sir, he just let you see more of the real Blair Sandburg." Simon started to interrupt, and Jim gestured to him to stop. "Wait, hear me out on this. Do you really think that someone as flighty as the Blair you met 4 years ago could have been a respected teacher? Or an effective observer of different cultures?"
Simon put on a thoughtful look and settled back to listen.
Jim continued, "Hell, Simon, he's been on his own since he was 16. The Blair I've seen at home for the last 3 years is quiet, introspective and very focused. Now, he gets excited whenever he gets the chance to teach, or learn about something new; but the flighty, talk-your-head-off Blair was mostly a cover that he tailored for his work in the PD."
Simon had to interrupt at that. "You're saying that he thought he'd blend in best if he acted irresponsible? That's just plain nuts, Jim."
"Not irresponsible, sir. A little impulsive, and frequently ignorant when he first started observing, but never irresponsible," Jim corrected him. "Think about it, what were you expecting when you first saw him? What was that you called him, a hippie-"
"Neo-hippie flower child."
"Yeah, that's right. He saw the sort of impression he was making with you, so he lived up to it and faded into the woodwork. When we had no expectations that he'd be able to make a competent contribution to the department, that just helped him observe unimpeded."
Simon shook his head. "Jim, are you sure you aren't the anthropologist? Anyway, he did--does--make a contribution, and he's a good detective. Even before he got his badge."
Jim snorted, "I'm just a cop, that was the short version of a lecture Blair gave me. Right after he explained that he'd 'gone native' and become my partner, instead of just observing like he was supposed to do."
"OK, so he's really an introvert. And I'm Marie Antoinette. That still doesn't explain my missing depression severe enough that he'd try to kill himself."
Jim grimaced, "At least you have the excuse that you weren't living with him. Anyway, we can't change what happened."
"Funny, I thought that's what I'd been trying to tell you."
"Well, you're the Captain. I guess you're entitled to be right once in a while."
The liquid was becoming clearer, less substantial. He was more aware of his body, and was beginning to see and hear things outside of the pit. He was also beginning to remember.
One memory stood out. He was standing in an alley, aiming his revolver at a man standing in the shadows. Over and over, he saw the man raise an arm and point something at him, felt his fingers squeeze the trigger, and saw the man fall to the pavement. He would walk toward the man, then turn him onto his back.
The memory always faded away at that point; he still hadn't seen the man's face. He was torn between escaping from the memory, and trying to identify the man he'd shot.
"Jim, congratulations!" Simon strode into Blair's room with a wide grin on his face.
Jim looked up from the magazine that he'd been reading to his guide. "Congratulations for what, Captain?"
"I ran into Bec--er, Dr. Rollins on the way up. She said your latest audiogram shows 100% hearing in your right ear! That's a pretty amazing improvement, I think."
Jim smirked. "Yes, it's amazing what turning up my hearing will do, isn't it?"
Simon stared at Jim. "You mean, your hearing hasn't changed? Why-- OK, hold on just a minute. One," Simon held up one finger to illustrate, "why did you leave your hearing turned down on the first test, and two," Simon held up another finger, "why did you then turn it up on today's test?"
"Because, Captain, one," Jim mimicked, "I left my hearing at normal for the first test because I wanted a meaningful measurement of the damage; and two, I turned my hearing up today to see how well I could compensate. Not as well as I'd hoped, but it'll do. I'd like to compare Tuesday's results at the same level, see if my hearing's actually improving. But there's no way to do that without it looking odd, so I'll just have to wait until Blair can run some tests."
"Well. That makes sense." Simon pulled the other chair up next to Jim's and sat down. He noted, with a slight frown, that it was a wooden chair, unlike the more comfortable looking upholstered chair that Jim occupied. "So, any improvement with your balance?"
"It's better, but I won't be walking around blind-folded anytime soon. Of course, I didn't let the doctor know that. She thinks I'm better."
"Jim!" Simon glared at the other man.
"Yes, sir?" Jim replied with a bland look.
"Don't you think it's pretty stupid, hiding something like that from your doctor?"
"What's she going to do, give me a dose of 'Dizzy-B-Gone'? With my hearing at 100% she assumed that the dizziness was gone. If I tell her I'm still a little off kilter, it would just give her more reason to put me under a microscope," Jim argued in an even voice.
Simon slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair. "I don't buy it. You don't want to know how well you can compensate, you just want to get a clean bill of health. I'm warning you, I'm not letting you back in the field until you can walk a straight line--with a blindfold. Of course, officially you're fine, so I don't know how I'm going to explain a continued medical leave--"
Jim held up a hand and calmly interrupted. "Captain, do you see me asking to go back on duty? No. We both know that without Blair I'll just be riding a desk. I'd just as soon take a personal leave, at least until Blair's out of the hospital and he and I can discuss what we're going to do next."
"Good. You've got enough vacation time piled up to take half the year off, anyway." Simon craned his neck to look at the magazine still held in the other man's hand. "What's that you were reading to Sandburg? 'Utne Reader'? It looks like something he'd subscribe to."
"Actually, sir, it's mine. He got me hooked on it. Last time it came up for renewal, I paid for it. Seemed fair, since I always got around to reading it before he did. At least, back when he was juggling two jobs."
"I always knew the kid would drag you into the Sandburg Zone. I just hope it's not contagious."
He had a face now, to go with the body. Jim. It was Jim, his sentinel. His partner. Somehow, he'd done the unthinkable, he'd killed his best friend. He regretted the knowledge. This was worse than what he'd been trying to escape from. Before, he'd felt grief for a man who, truth be told, had no future and was endangering the future of others. He was aware that some of that grief had been for himself, for the loss of his own innocence.
Now he was beyond grief, and he knew he was truly damned. Jim was a man with a future, as well as the future of every person he could have, would have, protected.
He now knew that this peaceful place was his own hell. Perhaps, if he tried, he could escape from his memories...
Gradually, the dark, comforting buffer returned. Awareness receded, and he floated.
Blair's initial improvement vanished almost overnight. Dr. Burke was still optimistic, saying simply that many patients don't respond to the first medication and that it was time to try another. Jim was a little less hopeful, seeing his friend with the IV reinstated and a gastric tube added to the medical equipment Blair relied on.
Life settled into a pattern for Jim. He got up, ate breakfast, and arrived at the hospital before visiting hours. He didn't read the newspaper over breakfast, he saved it to share with Blair. He split his day between reading his favorite books to Blair and coaxing the younger man to respond. His strong voice filled the room for hours at a time. At the end of the day, he would say goodnight to his best friend and return to the empty loft, hoping that the next day would bring a change.
The only change in the following weeks was a gradual wearing down of Jim's nerves, not that he let it show around Blair. He felt that he should be doing something to rescue Blair, to bring him back, but there was nothing else he could do. Intellectually he knew it, but that was no help. Blair needed him, that was obvious, but how could he reach him?
After two weeks of no improvement in Blair's condition, Dr. Burke suggested that they try another treatment option. The following Wednesday morning, Simon found himself sitting in a waiting room, figuratively holding the hand of a frantic sentinel.
"Jim, will you stop pacing and try to calm down? You're making me dizzy! Not to mention the hole you're wearing in the linoleum..."
Jim glared at his Captain and continued pacing.
Simon continued. "Dr. Burke called Dr. Farber in because he's an expert in electroshock treatments. You told me that yourself. They'll do it, Sandburg will be fine, and we'll all be able to get back to work."
"Feel free to go back to work now, Captain," Jim snapped, halting in his tracks to turn on the other man.
"Dammit Jim, you know what I mean. I miss Blair, too, and it sounds like this has a good chance of working."
"Fine, sure. Anyway, he won't be 'fine'. Farber said it would take at least three, maybe four treatments before we'd see any improvement. That's over a week before we'll know if it's doing any good."
"Jim, if the treatment has got you this upset, then why on earth did you approve it? You did approve it, right? I don't see Naomi here, so I assume you're still the kid's medical contact." Simon tried to reason with Jim.
"I approved it because nothing else is working!" Jim all but roared and resumed pacing. "There's been no response to the drugs; and less than no response, if that's even possible, to the therapy. If I didn't know better, I'd say that he's just not there anymore. If this will get him back, fine--but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable with it.
"Speaking of Naomi, I haven't heard anything from her. I thought you were trying to contact her?" Jim directed a frown at his Captain.
Simon thought for a moment before answering. "I was. Am. And Rhonda's been helping me. We've each gone through that contact list you gave me half a dozen times, none of her friends will admit to seeing her."
Jim narrowed his eyes and faced Simon. "'Admit' to seeing her? What aren't you telling me, sir?"
"Nothing Jim," Simon sighed, "nothing at all. There isn't anything to tell you, really. I've just got this feeling-"
"-Yes?"
"How long has it been since Blair's heard from her?" Simon asked.
"Same time as any of us, not since last May." Jim returned to his pacing.
"That's what I thought. What's that phrase I heard Sandburg use once--'detach with love'? It sounds like it's something she's done before."
"As far as I know, it is. Pretty sorry excuse for a mother, if you ask me. And I'd be an expert on the subject."
Simon tried to calm his friend, "Well, it's not like she knows anything's wrong. I'd say it's just a good thing that the kid's got you to take care of him."
"And what a great job I'm doing, too, Simon." Jim finally ran out of steam and dropped into a chair next to Simon, much to the relief of the other occupants of the waiting room.
Simon checked his watch, then the wall clock. "What time did they say they'd be done?"
Jim grinned a little, "Now who's worrying? Dr. Farber said the whole thing would take about an hour. The procedure itself only takes a couple of minutes."
"The shock takes just a few minutes? Why does the rest take so long?" Simon knew very little about the treatment, having spoken to Dr. Burke just the one time several weeks before.
"Part of that's the recovery time, but they also have to wait for the anesthesia and muscle relaxants to take effect before they start," Jim answered.
"He needs that even though he's completely out of it?"
Jim grimaced and looked slightly ill. "There's no way to know what he's aware of, and, aware or not, he could hurt himself during the seizure without the muscle relaxant."
Whether it lasted a millisecond or a millennium, he had no way of knowing. A violent thunderstorm moved overhead, sending shafts of lightning directly into the shaft. All was chaos, and for that moment (or eternity) the liquid that buoyed him was evaporated. First the air sparked with energy, then for a time the lightning seemed to come from within himself. It was not painful; instead it was refreshing, almost invigorating. As the storm dissipated, he sensed Jim nearby, and thought that he might be in heaven. Then all was quiet again.
In the waiting room, chaos erupted and did not dissipate so quickly.
Simon dropped to the floor next to Jim, trying to support his friend's head as he convulsed. A nurse passing by the waiting room called for a doctor, then rushed over to help Simon keep Jim from striking the magazine table that was perilously close to his head.
The seizure lasted only a minute, but to Simon it seemed to go on forever.
The doctor arrived even as Jim's body began to relax. Jim remained unconscious, but Simon was relieved to see that he began to breathe immediately. A gurney was summoned, and Jim was rushed down to the ER. Simon followed, to fill out the inevitable paperwork and wait.
It was several hours before Simon was able to see Jim. He had regained consciousness soon after arriving in the Emergency Room; the intervening time had been spent on a variety of tests. Finally, Jim was admitted to the hospital and settled in a room for rest and observation. Predictably, he was arguing to go home, or rather, back to his chair in Blair's room. "Jim, you realize they're never going to let you out of here?" Simon wore a concerned frown for his friend.
Jim rolled his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with me. If you don't believe me, ask Dr. Rollins. They ran both an EEG and an MRI, both came out fine. No seizures, no brain damage. Now, don't you think the timing of my 'seizure' is a little odd? I'm sure it happened just as they were shocking Blair."
"I think everything about you and Sandburg is a little odd. That doesn't mean you're immune to brain injury!" Simon exclaimed.
"Captain, this has nothing to do with the knock to the head I took. That was over 3 weeks ago, and I've been fine for most of that time." Jim paused to raise the head of his bed. "When the seizure happened--I could 'feel' Blair nearby. It's the first I've been aware of him since the accident."
"So? Sounds like a hallucination. I'm sure people can have those during a seizure." Simon glared at Jim. "Did you tell the doctor about it?"
"Sir, in the absence of Blair, I'm the expert on sentinels around here," Jim replied, avoiding the question. "And I'm telling you, this had everything to do with my connection with Blair, and nothing to do with my own, admittedly thick, skull. It felt a little bit like what happened at the fountain... nothing that clear or dramatic-"
"You don't think that collapsing in the middle of a waiting room was dramatic?" Simon stared at Jim.
"Mentally, Simon. It wasn't as dramatic in here." Jim tapped his forehead. "I think there's some way to get to Blair through this. Next time he has an ECT-"
"A what?" Simon interrupted.
"ECT - Electroconvulsive Therapy. It's what the doctors call electroshock. Anyway, Friday, we need to be ready for it. It'll happen again, I know it. And somehow, I think--no, I know--I can use it to reach him."
Simon held up a hand. "Woah, Jim, hold on. If this is going to happen again, you are staying here. I'm not having you pulling some harebrained stunt and getting yourself killed."
"Captain, I was never in any danger. Sorry if it scared you, but it was just a... a surge across the wires. Rollins told me I was only out a few minutes, and that there's no damage from it. Did she leave anything out when she talked to me?"
"Not that I know of, but she wasn't the one watching you having convulsions! Damn, Jim, you weren't breathing for almost a minute, you know how scary that is to watch?" Simon was on the verge of yelling.
"Yeah, Simon, I do." Jim replied in a soft voice, thinking of a cool spring day almost two years ago, and a fountain.
"Sorry, right, so you do know," Simon dropped his voice as he apologized. "But then you also know why you're staying here if it's gonna happen again."
"Simon, if I'm right and it does happen the next time they shock Blair, then I'm also right that it's nothing to do with me, at least physically. So how about humoring me?" Jim did his best to emulate Blair's puppy-dog eyes.
"Put that look away, it doesn't work on you," Simon grinned. "Hell, it hardly ever works for Sandburg. How about you humoring me and staying here? What harm would that do?" Simon argued.
"I can't let them keep me here and put me on a bunch of unnecessary drugs. I don't know what that stuff could do to my senses, and Blair definitely wouldn't approve. If I'm right, and there's some way I can reach Blair through whatever this is, the drugs would definitely mess that up."
"OK, assuming that I go along with this, even though I'm not, just what do you propose to do?"
Jim did an excellent job of hiding his smirk. Sometimes Simon could be as easy to play as a large mouth bass. "I don't know yet. But I'm sure that Blair's got some notes on it. He told me, in the hospital after the fountain, that he had some ideas about the connection we made. He's got notes on everything else, he's got to have written something down about that."
"And you really think it's related?" Simon looked skeptical, but hopeful.
Jim knew he had Simon hooked now. "I hope so. Look, I'm stuck in this room for the next 24 hours if I want to avoid medication or having my driver's license suspended. That doesn't leave me much time to figure this out before Friday. Can you run over to the loft and grab some of his notes for me?"
"Yes, sahib, I live to serve." Simon aimed a mock bow toward Jim. "What makes you think I'll be able to find anything useful in that rat's nest he calls a bedroom?"
Jim thought for a minute. "Start with his journals. Last time I vacuumed in there, he had a pile of them next to the futon. I'd guess that the top one is most recent. Just get all of them from the last two years; it'll give me something to start on. If I'm lucky, whatever I need won't be cross-indexed to 23 other books."
"You mean, if I'm lucky. I'm the one who'll be digging through his room looking for more books." Simon started toward the door with a thoughtful look on his face. "Maybe I should get a tetanus shot first, while I'm here..."
Simon returned an hour later with a small stack of notebooks and Blair's laptop. Jim had been napping, but the sound of familiar footsteps woke him by the time Simon entered the room. "I found the journals you were talking about, and I also grabbed this," Simon hefted the laptop case in his left hand.
Jim stretched, then reached for the control to raise the bed, as Simon set the journals and computer on the bedside table. "That's great, Simon, I didn't think of that. Which one do you want to take?"
Simon sighed, "Jim, I hate to put a damper on this party, but if I don't get to the station for at least a few hours today, Taggart's liable to file a missing persons report on me. I'll stop by this evening and give you a hand, OK?"
"Sorry, sir," Jim shook his head. "I've had other things on my mind. Forgot about the PD, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. I'll come by after supper. Try to get some rest this afternoon, OK?"
"Sure. See you then." Jim already had the first journal open, grimacing at Blair's scrawling handwriting.
Several hours later, Jim knew a lot about Blair's side of their experience at the fountain, but had found nothing likely to help them now. He was developing a headache from deciphering his friend's writing, and was more than ready to take a break when Simon arrived carrying a bag of gyros.
"Evening, Jim. It was a quiet day at the station, so I got out a little sooner than I expected. Figured you might appreciate something from the 'Mad Greek'."
"Simon, you read my mind." Jim sniffed the air in appreciation, then cocked his head as he noticed something was missing. "Simon?"
"Yeah, Jim." Simon continued to pull food out of the bag. He'd realized about an hour earlier that he'd forgotten about lunch, now he was intent on making up for that oversight.
"When did you stop smoking?"
"Just now noticed, huh?" Simon's face wavered between a grimace of longing and a smug grin of pride.
Jim corrected him, "I noticed you stopped waving cigars around in the hospital a couple weeks ago. I figured you'd finally clued in that you weren't ever going to be allowed to light one up in here. But I don't smell them on you at all, which means not only are you not carrying any now, but you haven't for at least a few days."
Simon settled on the smug grin. "Well, Jim, it seems that doctors appreciate it when the people they date don't smoke."
Jim chuckled, "If you thought you were going to surprise me with that, don't bother. I can probably tell you the date of your first date with Dr. Rollins."
Simon's mouth dropped open, "How?"
"Well, I hope that's not your 'Oscar de La Renta' I've been smelling on you," Jim laughed.
"I should have known. Now, which do you want, the lamb and beef, or the lamb?" Simon offered.
"The lamb. And I hope that's baklava that I smell."
"Of course. So, what've you found?" Simon pushed one of the gyros to Jim's side of the small table, along with half the stack of napkins.
"Nothing but a headache. Woah, hold on!" he added quickly, as Simon reached for the call button. "It's just eye strain. Really. You know how Blair types everything that he turns in to you? Turns out there's a good reason for that."
"It figures. Have you checked out his laptop yet?"
Jim frowned, "The battery's low, and I couldn't reach an outlet." He gestured to the IV and monitors he was tethered to, in explanation.
"Soon as we've cleared this table, I'll get that plugged in for you," Simon offered.
"Thanks, Captain." Jim added, "I didn't find anything in the journals, I hope he's got some notes on the computer that'll help."
Simon demolished his gyro before speaking again. "I was thinking, checking the laptop is a one-man job; and I don't really know what it is I'm looking for. So unless you want me to go over the journals, you aren't going to need me here this evening."
"No, Captain. I've got things covered." Jim hid his disappointment; Simon had already spent the morning at the hospital, and there was no point in him staying just to watch Jim work.
"Good! Since you're stuck in here for the duration, I thought I'd head upstairs and pass the department gossip on to the kid."
Jim smiled, "Thanks, sir. I'm sure he'd like that."
Simon walked into Jim's room early the next afternoon. His friend was dressed, but definitely not ready to leave. Simon was grateful for the warning he'd received from Becka Rollins, but thought that no amount of preparation short of a guard dog training suit would be sufficient.
"Simon!" Jim roared as his Captain entered the room.
Simon groaned and wished for a tranquilizer gun. "Yes, Jim."
"I stayed here 24 hours. Twenty-four, Simon, just as she asked." Jim was stalking the far side of the room like a caged lion.
"Right, Jim." Simon briefly considered a retreat, but he was already too far into the room and his escape route was cut off as Jim rounded the bed.
"I did Everything she asked. I'm claustrophobic, Simon, did you know that? I didn't, before the MRI. But I didn't complain-"
"Jim." Simon tried to interrupt.
Although Jim was addressing his Captain, he barely seemed to notice him. "-I could have spent yesterday with Blair, going through his notes without any assistance, if I'd known what it would get me!"
"Jim!"
"What is it with doctors anyway? Why couldn't she-"
"JIM!"
"What, Captain?" Simon's voice finally broke through, and Jim stopped to face his friend.
"First, stop yelling, this is a hospital," Simon ordered forcefully but quietly. "Second, this is not Dr. Rollins fault. She doesn't make the laws-"
"But if she'd told me-"
"Don't get started again, Jim. Or I'm out of here, and you're on your own tomorrow," Simon promised Jim, with a pointed glare.
The threat quickly rearranged Jim's priorities. He slammed his eyes shut and his jaw clenched as he tried to force himself to a calmer state.
Simon waited until Jim had calmed and opened his eyes, before continuing. "All right, Jim. Now, tell me exactly what Dr. Rollins told you yesterday."
Jim concentrated for a moment, remembering. "She said 'if you will stay for tests and 24 hour observation, your driver's license will not be suspended or you will not have to take anticonvulsant medication."
"'Or,' Jim? Not 'and'?" Simon questioned.
Jim considered the question for a moment then sighed, "That's right. 'Or.'" He closed his eyes in embarrassment and resignation, and dropped to sit on the bed. "I misunderstood. And made an ass of myself."
"So what else is new?" Simon chastised the other man. "Now, explain the problem to me. Taking a few pills for a few months in exchange for your driver's license seems easy enough."
Jim shook his head, "Sir, if I take the medicine it may prevent me from reaching Blair. No, the problem is that I'm going to be without the truck for the next 6 months. Which means I can't get to the hospital easily, or the station, if I go back." Jim opened his eyes as he spoke, and looked up at Simon.
Simon stared at Jim. Jim watched Simon, waiting for a reaction. Finally, Simon spoke, "So... does this mean you found something in the kid's notes?"
"No, sir. What it means, is I won't give up on a chance, just because I'm going on-" Jim interrupted himself to grimace, "-instinct."
"So." Simon retreated to more familiar territory, "Well, work's not a problem. I'm sure you'll qualify for medical leave for the next six months. Or there's plenty of guys who'll give you a lift, if you decide to do desk duty. It's your choice." Jim didn't respond. "I guess you'll be wanting a ride home, then?" Simon ventured.
"Actually, sir--you're still planning to help me tomorrow?"
Simon nodded. "That's what I promised, yesterday."
"I was thinking... if I have another seizure, it'd better not happen here. So, it would be simpler if I stay at your place tonight, then you can drop me off here after Blair's treatment."
"I don't like that, Jim. If you get in trouble, my place is ten minutes from the hospital."
"That's ten minutes closer than the loft," Jim countered. "Besides which, if the seizures are linked to Blair's treatment, then I'm not in any physical danger. The treatments are monitored, they don't last longer than 2 or 3 minutes." Simon looked unconvinced, so Jim pulled his trump, "You know I'll just do this myself if you don't help me."
"Dammit Jim..." Simon pulled off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "I'm the one who needs his head examined. All right, I promised, so we'll do it your way once. But if you do have another seizure, you'd better have a better plan by Monday. Much more of this, and I'll be in the hospital."
Jim almost smiled, "At least you'll have your own doctor."
Simon snorted and put his glasses back on. "Right. So, ride?"
"No, I'd like to stay with Blair." Jim stood and walked over to the small closet to get his jacket. "Can you pick me up this evening?"
"Of course. I'll see if one of the guys is available to help move your truck. Maybe we'll get it back to the loft tonight."
"Thanks, Simon. For everything."
"Don't mention it. Especially around your doctor!"
Jim laughed and followed Simon out of the room.
"Jim, I don't like this." Simon paced in the crowded confines of his office/guest bedroom. "I don't have any medical training beyond basic first aid. We should have called Garcia, she was an EMT."
Jim sat on the bed, following his Captain with his eyes. "Simon, do you want to explain to her, or anyone else, why I'm 'planning' to have a seizure? Now, calm down or leave. Blair's treatment will be starting in a few minutes, and I want to be ready for it."
"OK. But I'm leaving my finger on the 9-1-1 speed dial button," Simon slowed his pacing and held his cordless phone up to illustrate.
Jim boggled at Simon, "You have a speed dial for 9-1-1?"
"Only when I have insane guests, Jim!" Simon retorted.
"Just don't do anything rash. Wait a couple minutes before you panic, OK?" Jim smiled, but his tone was serious.
"I don't panic-" Simon retreated to his desk chair to wait.
"Ri-ight." Jim smiled, then lay back and closed his eyes.
"-unless my home is invaded by the Sandburg Zone." Simon muttered, getting in the last word.
Lightning crackled all around him. Jim ignored it, as he followed the panther through the forest. They moved quickly, between trees and over rocky outcroppings. The lightning intensified.
Blair could see the thunderheads gathering overhead, and hear the nearby strikes. He remembered the previous storm and welcomed its return. Still, he feared leaving the security of his prison; the relief of the storm did not outweigh the agony of his memories.
The panther leaped ahead, and Jim struggled to keep up over the difficult terrain. Finally, as the storm intensified, the trees opened to a small clearing. His attention was diverted from the panther, as he sensed that his guide was nearby. He could not see Blair so he scanned the open space carefully, looking for anything large enough to conceal a man. He spotted an open well and focused his hearing on it. He hurried forward, calling Blair's name.
Blair couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd hoped to feel Jim's presence again, but had not expected to hear his voice. He looked up in time to see Jim's face eclipse the opening of the pit. He knew it wasn't real, but he could not resist the urge to call out. "Jim?"
Jim shouted with relief and reached into the well, "Blair! Come on, you've got to go back with me!"
Blair was happy to see the spirit of his sentinel, but very confused. "Go back? Where? Am I dead?" Lightning was crackling out of his body now, as it had the last time.
Jim continued to shout to be heard over the storm, "No, you're not dead! Please, you've got to take my hand!"
Blair stood, but remained out of Jim's reach. "If I'm not dead, how can I go with you?"
Jim was desperate. The storm was beginning to dissipate, why was Blair reluctant to return with him? Then realization struck him like a bolt of the lightning that still lit the sky. "Blair, listen to me! I'm not dead--I'm fine! You've got to come back with me, please!" He leaned as far as he could into the well without overbalancing, but was still a foot short of reaching Blair.
Blair looked up in wonder and whispered, "I didn't kill you?"
Jim shook his head, "No, I'm fine! Please, Blair, time's running out! Come back with me!"
Blair lifted his hand to Jim's, a smile growing on his face for the first time in an eternity. He said, simply, "OK."
Before Blair's hand reached Jim, the storm receded. Jim was enveloped by a void...
"...jim? Jim?" The voice grew louder and came into focus. Jim opened his eyes and looked into the worried eyes of his friend. Simon was seated on the edge of the bed, cordless phone still held in his left hand, using his right hand to monitor the pulse in Jim's wrist. Simon saw the clarity in Jim's eyes and slumped in relief, "Thank God. Well?"
Jim sat up and swung his legs off the bed. "I need to see Blair, Simon."
Twenty minutes later, Jim strode through the doors of the recovery room and directly to Blair's bed, ignoring the incensed RN trying to block his path. He stood at the side of Blair's bed and gently stroked his guide's cheek. "Blair? Remember your promise? Time to come back, OK?"
A minute passed, then another. Blair stirred, but did not wake. Jim continued to talk to his friend, coaxing him to respond.
Simon arrived a few minutes later, after parking the car. He glanced at his friends, then directed his attention to distracting the nurse, who was about to call security.
Blair's eyes drifted open and wandered for a moment before connecting with Jim's. "jim?" His voice was quiet and rough from disuse, but perfectly clear to a sentinel's ears.
Jim's face lit up with a brilliant smile. "Welcome back, Chief. Welcome back."
The End
CatMoran 2000