by Beth Manz
The smile on his face slowly faded away as he continued to stare down at Jim. "You know, man, I had no idea how much my life would change when I met you that day. I can't even remember what it was like before then." He shook his head. That was a lie; he did remember--clearly. His life had been lonely.
He'd spent most of his childhood traveling from place to place, his mother wanting to show him as much of the world and the people in it that she possibly could. And he had liked that life, had found it fascinating, exciting. But a part of him had yearned for something more. Something that most people take for granted.
He squeezed the hand he still held. "You gave me a home, Jim," he whispered. "A place to belong." He let out a long, rattling breath before continuing. "You, Simon, the guys at Major Crimes--I actually feel like a part of the team, like I'm needed, necessary. You gave me that."
His gaze shifted back to the window. "And in just a few hours," he whispered, "I'm going to get my Ph.D. You made that possible, too." He turned back to Jim and, reaching out, stroked a hand gently across his cheek. "So come on, man, open your eyes and let me know you're still in there. Because Jim, I don't think I know how to be alone anymore."
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He was lost in a bottomless black void, unsure of which way was up or down, left or right. The only thing that he was sure of at all was the constant pain that throbbed through him. Pain that was centered in his chest.
Desperately, he searched for something to give him comfort, direction, hope. A sound caught his attention and its familiarity wound its way through him. But it was more than a sound. He could feel it. The steady beat thrummed beneath his hand, and it was as welcome as a rope thrown to a drowning man. He concentrated on the sound and the feel of the slow, steady beat. It was a heartbeat, one he recognized, one he treasured.
Blair.
He forced himself to ignore the pain in his chest and concentrate instead on the pulse beneath his fingers. Slowly, sluggishly, but with determined resolve, he moved toward that sound, clinging to it, embracing it. Then suddenly, in the distance, he heard a voice speaking his name. A warm voice filled with the promise of safety and rest. He moved toward the voice, knowing it was the way back to his partner, the way back home.
Blair straightened his shoulders and twisted his torso to one side, then to the other, hoping to work out some of the kinks in his body as morning light flooded into the hospital room. He'd been sitting on the edge of Jim's bed for the better part of the night, almost nodding off to sleep from time to time, but mostly just watching his friend, hoping for some sign of his waking.
He closed his eyes and gripped more firmly at the hand beneath his. "That's right, Jim. I'm still here. Just concentrate on my heartbeat--"
"Mmmmm...."
Blair sat up straight and opened his eyes. He stared down at his friend. "Jim?"
But Jim didn't move, didn't make a sound. Disappointed, Blair closed his eyes again. He had just opened his mouth to speak to his sleeping friend when he felt the fingers entwined with his twitch slightly. Opening his eyes, he looked down at his chest, at the two hands joined over his heart. Could he have imagined it? He was certainly tired enough to be imagining things. He shook the thoughts away. No, he must not give up hope. The doctor had said that Jim would mostly likely wake today....
His thought were interrupted by the feel--the definite feel--of Jim's fingers tensing in his, making their shared grasp even stronger.
Blair's breath caught in his throat and he lifted his gaze to his partner's face. Jim's eyelids were flickering and then the sentinel's lips moved, a soft sound passing between them, carried by an exhaled breath.
"Jim!" Blair's grip tightened on the sentinel's hand and he squeezed hard. "Jim, can you hear me? Can you follow the sound of my voice and wake up? That's all I want you to do--just wake up."
The sentinel's eyes fluttered open for the briefest of seconds, then slipped closed again.
"Come on, Jim," Blair ground out. "Come on! You're almost there."
But Jim lay silently. Blair picked up the nurse's call button beside the bed and pressed it. A moment later, a voice came through the intercom. "Yes?"
"I think Detective Ellison is waking. Can you call the doctor?"
"Right away, Mr. Sandburg."
And within minutes, the tiny hospital room was transformed into a hive of activity as Jim's doctor and a handful of nurses and technicians came in to check on him. Blair found himself pushed back against the windows, staring speechlessly at the milieu before him. Just moments ago the room had been a serene shelter, a place of quiet. Now voices shot commands and information back and forth, and it seemed at times as though Jim would surely have to wake, if for no other reason than to demand that the nurses and technicians stop poking at him.
Quietly, Blair reached out and pulled the vinyl chair back to where he was standing at the windows. Maneuvering himself around, he slipped down into the seat and pulled his legs up. Hugging his knees to his chest, he leaned forward and watched as the doctor and his team tried to determine if Jim was near waking.
The next several hours passed in a blur with doctors and nurses coming in, taking vitals, checking and rechecking Jim. The detective was showing signs of waking, Blair was told. In fact, there had been a few moments of time throughout the late morning in which Jim had actually opened his eyes for several seconds at a time. But there had been no recognition in the deep blue depths; even normal confusion or pain seemed to be dulled by the medicated state in which Jim had been kept for the past couple of days.
Some time during the constant traffic in and out of the room, Simon had arrived with lunch. By that time, it had become obvious that Blair wouldn't be attending his graduation ceremony that evening. With a mixture of what appeared to be regret and pride, Simon had leaned over the young observer and assured him that he would be in place to receive his degree.
But when had that been? Near noon? Or later? The hours seemed to stretch out slowly, endlessly, then suddenly blend together in a surreal passing of time. Now as Blair sat once more in the chair beside his partner's bed, his gaze drifted to the clock on the table. 5:26 p.m. He closed his eyes and sighed wearily. Across town, friends and family of graduates would be gathering in the stadium and ground level seating, eagerly awaiting the sight of their children, siblings, spouses or friends receiving their degrees. And then, at 7:00, the ceremony would begin.
A small grip of nostalgic sadness swept through Blair as it hit him that he wouldn't be attending the ceremony. He felt no guilt at the emotion--he knew it was only natural to have a bit of regret over missing graduation. But as he opened his eyes and glanced at the man who would give his life for him a dozen times over if he could, Blair knew he'd made the right decision. There was no other place he really wanted to be.
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Simon sat up straighter and shifted his body, trying to assume a more comfortable position in the metal folding chair. They must be making these things smaller than they used to, he groused to himself. Leaning back against the chair, he sighed. At least he was seated in the front row; he stretched out his long legs, relieving the slight cramping in his knees. Again, he sighed. Face it, Banks... You are definitely getting much too old to be spending long periods of time in small metal chairs.
Immediately he chastised himself for his mental grumblings. Being at graduation in Blair's stead was an honor, a privilege. A pleased smile pulled at the edges of his mouth as his memory cycled back to the moment when Blair had asked him if he'd be willing to accept his diploma. The captain could still picture Sandburg, standing in front of him and gazing up at him with those expressive eyes, their blue depths dulled with his concern over Jim. And the captain could still feel the immense pride that had warmed him at the young man's request. Simon sat up even straighter, drew in a deep breath and smiled. Suddenly the metal chair didn't seem quite so small or hard.
On stage, Chancellor Edward
s continued her speech--the requisite challenge to the men and women receiving their doctorates. Simon closed his eyes and allowed the chancellor's words to register only in the farthest recesses of his mind. Instead, he concentrated on the early evening sun against his face. He was thankful the ceremony was being held outside. The warmth of the sun and the soft breeze against his skin soothed him.
The sounds of the ceremony going on about him continued to fall away as his thoughts turned to Jim and Blair. He had stopped by that afternoon to check on the two men. Jim had been awake off and on and had been more lucid with each waking, but it had been obvious that Sandburg wasn't going to leave his side and attend the graduation ceremony. The captain sighed as he pictured the pale, injured detective in his mind, the devoted young man who would at this moment be sitting at his side. And as honored as he was to be attending this ceremony, receiving Blair's diploma, a large part of the captain's heart still wished Jim had woken completely so that Blair could have attended graduation himself. The young man had worked so hard...
Simon's attention was drawn back to the ceremony as Chancellor Edwards concluded her speech and moved to the table where the diplomas for the doctoral graduates were stacked and waiting. A man Simon didn't recognize stepped up to the podium vacated by the chancellor; with a booming voice he invited the graduates to stand and proceed to the steps at the side of the stage.
"James Ayers," the man intoned as soon as the graduates were in place. Simon watched as a man in his late twenties ascended the stairs to receive his diploma. In the back of the crowd, a rousing cheer went up; family members and friends, no doubt.
"Anne Beckwith-Anderson ..." The next person in line ascended the steps and took possession of the rolled piece of paper that represented countless hours of hard work and devotion. The names continued to be called, and students from their twenties to their sixties mounted the steps and received their degrees.
"Blair Sandburg." Simon stood at the announcement of Blair's name and approached the stairs. As he ascended the steps, the speaker announced, "Accepting the diploma for Mr. Sandburg is Captain Simon Banks." Simon accepted Blair's diploma and shook hands with Chancellor Edwards and the other University dignitaries in the small procession line. A proud smile brightened his features as he walked the length of the stage and descended the steps on the far side.
Returning to his seat, he sat down and fingered the diploma in his hands with a careful, almost reverent touch. He could hardly wait to hand the cherished token of achievement to Blair, could hardly wait to see the look of pride and joy on the young man's face.
His reverie was broken when the elderly woman beside him leaned over and whispered, "You're beaming, dear."
Simon glanced at her, confused. "Excuse me?"
The woman smiled warmly. "I said, 'you're beaming.' I think that of all the parents here, you seem to be the proudest. You must have an exceptional son."
Simon opened his mouth to correct the woman, to explain that Blair was not his son. But the words didn't come. Leaning closer to the woman, he said simply, "Yes, I am proud. Very proud." And the smile that had been lighting his face grew even brighter.
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Blair sat in the chair beside his partner's bed, idly flipping through a magazine, not reading anything, merely using the movement to distract himself. Now that Jim was waking up, he didn't feel the need to sit right beside him. He was certain Jim could sense he was here, even without the intimate contact. Yet he still longed for him to wake fully. He glanced at the small digital clock that sat on the table beside Jim's hospital bed. 8:04 p.m. "Well," he whispered to his sleeping partner, "The ceremony should be ending in another hour or so, Jim."
"What?"
Blair gaze shot to the sentinel's face and his eyes locked with the tired blue eyes that stared over at him. "Jim!" He surged to his feet and was at his partner's side in an instant.
"What's going on, Sandburg?" Jim mumbled softly. "I hurt all over. And what ceremony are you talking about?"
"You don't remember being shot?" Blair queried calmly, ignoring Jim's question about the ceremony.
Jim's forehead creased in concentration. "Shot?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes... At the university..."
"That's right. At the university."
"What happened?" Jim's eyes opened and once again his gaze locked onto Blair. Panic shadowed the blue depths. "Are you all right?" he breathed out.
Blair reached out and grasped Jim's hand, hoping to calm him. "Just relax, Jim," he said in a soothing tone. "I'm fine. And you're going to be fine, too. You're going to rest and get well and then we're heading for that cabin at the beach, just like we planned."
"The beach. Your graduation gift..." Jim's brow furrowed and he looked around the hospital room in confusion. "What day is it?"
"It's Wednesday."
"Wednesday." He closed his eyes briefly as he processed the information. "Today is your graduation day, isn't it?" He looked up at Blair. "Why aren't you at the university?"
Blair shrugged. "You've been showing signs of waking all day. And I didn't want you to wake up and be alone." He smiled and leaned forward, closer to Jim. "To be honest, the whole thing really wouldn't have meant that much to me if you weren't there."
Jim closed his eyes and groaned. He shook his head slowly against the pillow. "Ah, Chief," he said, regret tingeing his words, "You shouldn't have missed it. You've waited so long..."
"Jim," Blair interrupted, chuckling lightly, "That diploma is a piece of paper, man. Just because I'm not there to receive it personally doesn't make it any less important. Trust me, I'm where I want to be, so just relax. Besides, Simon's accepting the diploma for me. Isn't that cool?"
"Simon?" Jim asked, confused. A small smile tweaked at his mouth. "Please tell me he isn't wearing your cap and gown?"
Blair laughed out loud. "He was worried about the same thing. But no, he didn't have to wear my cap and gown."
Jim turned so he could study Blair. "Sit down, Chief," he said after a few seconds. "You look tired. How long have you been here?"
Blair just shrugged, but he dropped into the chair beside Jim's bed. His hand retained its hold on Jim's, his fingers pressed firmly into the sentinel's palm.
"Sandburg..." Jim sighed, and Blair could tell that he wanted to press the point of how long the young man had been at his bedside. Evidently the detective determined that arguing with his friend was useless because he let the subject drop: "Tell me what happened at the university," he asked instead "What happened after I was shot?"
Blair frowned. "Jim, are you sure you want to deal with this right now?"
"Yes, Sandburg Tell me. The guy came at us and I remember the bullets hitting me and then I went down. Then there was nothing. What happened after that?"
Blair hung his head. How do I tell him?
"Sandburg?"
Blair returned his attention to his partner. He knew Jim's reaction to what he was about to tell him would not be good. But as he stared at Jim, his brow furrowed with concern, his hand squeezing firmly at Blair's, he knew he had to tell him the truth.
"I... I shot him, Jim," Blair admitted slowly, struggling past the lump forming in his throat. "I killed that man."
"What?!" Jim's eyes widened with shock and despair.
"Shhhh, please," Blair soothed, desperate to keep Jim calm, quiet. He scooted forward in his chair, moving as close to the bed as he could. "Don't get upset, Jim. I had no choice. I knew if he killed me that he'd either kill you or leave you there to die. I couldn't let that happen. I just... I couldn't let that happen."
"Blair..." All the tender affection that Jim felt for him was evident in that single word.
"I'm so sorry." His voice was low with concern. He paused as he struggled with how best to express what he was feeling. "I never wanted you to have to take a life in the work you do with me. Never."
Blair's eyes misted over and he swallowed deeply. He really didn't want to be talking
about this right now. He didn't want to deal with it, and he certainly didn't think Jim was up to dealing with it. He cleared his throat and forced a smile for his friend. Softly, he said, "We can talk about this when you're feeling better, okay? It took some pretty major surgery to put you back together, and for now, you just need to rest."
Jim stared at him. Blair could tell he wanted to pursue the issue, but in time he saw his friend relax and he knew that Jim had decided to do as he was requesting. "Okay, then," he whispered. "Later." The detective frowned and Blair felt him wriggle his hand free from their joined grasp. He reached out and grasped the back of Blair's neck, holding him tightly in his grip. "But I am so sorry, Blair. I have always hoped I'd be able to protect you from having to take someone's life. I am so very, very sorry."
Blair licked his lips and swallowed against his own emotions. "Don't be sorry," he commanded softly, bringing his hand up to grip the arm that held him. "Please. Because you know what, Jim?" He squeezed gently. "As awful as it was to kill that man, I'd do it again. To protect you, I'd do it again."
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Simon pushed at the hospital room door and entered silently. The top button of his shirt was undone, and his loosened tie hung casually around his neck. In his hands he carried Blair's diploma and a wrapped package.
His gaze cut across the room to the two occupants. Jim lay awake, watching Blair, who sat beside him in a chair, reading quietly to the detective from the newspaper. One of Blair's hands rested protectively on Jim's forearm.
"Gentlemen," Simon announced himself. Immediately, two sets of blue eyes were trained on him.
"Simon!" Blair deposited the newspaper on the bedside table, pulled off his glasses and stood. "We didn't expect you for at least another half hour." He moved to the end of the bed to greet the captain.
"Yes, well, I didn't direct traffic for two years as a rookie for nothing, Sandburg. I know how congested it gets on University Avenue following a graduation ceremony." He gave Blair a sheepish grin. "So I snuck out early and beat the traffic."
