"He's gone in to surgery." Simon raised a hand before Blair could speak, then glanced over at the group coming towards them. "Just take it easy. He'll be fine."
"Did you tell the doctors? Did he wake up at all?" Blair put a hand on Simon's arm, desperate for any information, any reassurance that Jim was going to be walking out of that hospital soon. Chastising Blair for being so worried.
"Sandburg, he'll be fine. The doctors know how to handle it."
"No, you don't understand." Simon had begun to walk back towards the seats against the wall, pulling him along by the arm. When Blair pulled away, the pain that shot through his side and chest clouded his vision. Blackness enveloped him before he could fight it, and the next thing Blair knew, he was lying down, looking up at a vaguely familiar face in a white lab coat.
"Mr. Sandburg, just lie still."
Blair recognized the doctor who had treated him when he was first brought in. His head was buzzing, and the black spots still danced across his vision, but he knew he was lying down.
"You've been a little hard on yourself lately. We're going to take some x-rays, then re-bandage these ribs. Nurse, 10 cc's of morphine."
"No." Blair fought to sit up, but he couldn't do more than raise his head and one arm. "I don't want to go to sleep. I have to be awake." He couldn't be here, Jim needed him!
"Sandburg, just do what the doctor tells you." Simon was there, just beyond the doctor, looking down at him.
"No, I have to be with him." Didn't he understand?! Jim was there...he was always there! Blair had to be. He had to be there when Jim needed him.
"Mr. Sandburg, you need rest." The doctor was hovering over him, syringe in hand.
"No!" Damn them, they didn't understand! Blair gritted his teeth, put both hands on the bed and pushed himself up. Or thought he did. Pain shot through him again before he even got his shoulders off the bed. Dammit! This wasn't about him anymore! Couldn't they see that?
"All right, all right. Take it easy." The doctor put a hand on Blair's shoulder, pressing him down. "Nurse, cut that dose in half. We'll give you just enough to take the edge off. You'll stay awake. Is that all right?"
Blair nodded, teeth tightly clenched. He saw the disapproving look on Simon's face and ignored it. The Captain could tell him what to do or not to do at the Station, but he had no authority over him anyplace else. He wasn't Jim. Blair felt a prick on his arm, and he worried that they had lied for a few minutes, but when the pain seemed to dull somewhat, and he was still awake, he relaxed. They removed the bandages holding his ribcage, then rolled in an x-ray machine and took several films. All the while his ribs were un-bandaged, Blair was afraid to breathe too deeply. As painful as the tightness had been, when it was gone, he felt as though there was nothing holding him together.
Simon had left the room when they worked on Blair, and he couldn't get any information from the doctor or nurses about Jim. By the time they had finished, and re-taped his ribs, he was feeling irritated at what he feared was avoidance of the truth. After listening to a lecture on taking it easy, and taking his pain medication, Blair was allowed to sit up and Simon came back into the room.
"What's happening? Is he out yet?" Blair nearly pounced on the Captain as he came into the exam room.
"He's in recovery now. The doctor said it was touch and go for a little while." Simon looked tired.
Oh God! "But he's going to be all right, isn't he?"
"They said he'd lost a lot of blood." Simon paused, sliding his glasses down so he could rub his eyes. "And they did have some trouble keeping him under. But, the bullet came out with no trouble, and they feel good about his recovery."
Blair would have sighed with relief, but he was shaking too badly. His mind was too afraid to believe what his ears had just heard. He wouldn't believe it was okay, until they were both home, and Jim was explaining to him how it had all gone so bad, so quickly. Simon's hand was on his shoulder for an instant, then it was gone.
"Come on, I'll take you upstairs. They've got him in a room now." He helped Blair off the bed. "Then I'll take you home."
Blair shook his head. "No, I'll stay here."
"Sandburg, he's all right." Simon kept one hand on Blair's left arm as he guided him to the elevators. "You need some rest, and we've got some explaining to do about this whole mess."
They reached the elevators, and Blair once again remembered Agent Mills. "The money, did they find it?"
"They found it. He had it in the trunk of his car, outside the loft." Simon pressed a button and looked down at Blair. "They also found a gun that matches the one used to kill Edwards and Patterson. And a plane ticket for Borneo."
Blair nodded. "Then what's the problem?" If it was proven Mills had done all this, what was the FBI doing there at the hospital? Was he going to be arrested?
"The problem is, my best detective is in the hospital, and a civilian shot and killed an FBI agent" The elevator doors opened, and Simon ushered Blair out and to the left. "That doesn't sit well with them, and makes for a mound of paperwork for me."
Blair could hear a slight irritation in Simon's tone, but he could also tell it was forced.
"Nothing's simple with you, is it, Sandburg?"
Before Blair could reply, Mike Jenkins came towards them. "Captain, I've got the Director of the Seattle FBI on the phone. He wants to have a word with you."
"Great." Simon stopped, then turned to Blair. "Go on in. I'll be a minute or two."
Blair realized they were right outside the door to a room that must be Jim's. Simon followed Mike down the hall to the nurse's station, and Blair pushed the door open slowly, peering inside before entering.
Jim was there, unconscious, with IV's hanging down to one arm, and EKG leads trailing off his chest to the monitor behind his bed. Blair walked to the side of the bed, shaking hands reached for the chair as he sat down slowly, trying not to jar his side as he did so. The bed was lowered, and the chair high enough so that while sitting, Blair could reach out and touch Jim's arm.
"Jim?" He was still out of it, just as he had been on the couch, but this time his shoulder was heavily bandaged, and there was no more blood staining his shirt. "Hey, man, you were right. I guess I'm not cut out for this police stuff after all." He was answered by the quiet, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitors, and Jim's steady breathing. "I'm sorry, Jim. I should have done something." Come on, man, wake up! Blair took his hand off Jim's arm and wrapped both his arms around himself. The drugs the doctor had given him were wearing off, but he didn't want anything else. He had to stay awake. He had to be here for Jim, just as Jim had been there for him. "You're right man, this really sucks."
Simon came in then, crossing the room quietly. "Sandburg, I'll take you home. The doctor said he could be out for quite a while."
Blair shook his head. "No, I'll stay here."
"Blair, he'll be okay. I spoke with the doctor. They expect a full recovery, no permanent damage." Simon's voice had lowered and he was trying to be persuasive.
"I'll stay here. I want to be here when he wakes up." He had to be.
"Look, I can understand you not wanting to go back to the loft right now, after all that has happened." Simon was still trying to get Blair to listen to reason. "But you need rest yourself." He sighed, considering his words. "You can come back to my place if you want."
Blair looked up at the Captain, surprised, then grateful for what he knew hadn't been an easy gesture to make. "No, thanks. I'll stay here." No, he didn't want to go back to the loft. There would be blood everywhere, Jim's blood. And probably one of those white-tape outlines marking where Agent Mills had died. He couldn't face that, not alone.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Simon shook his head. "Okay, listen, I have to get over to the Station and get things straightened out with the FBI. I'll stop by afterwards, maybe you'll change your mind after a few hours in that chair."
"I don't think so, Captain." Blair shook his head. "If he can do it, I can do it."
Simon sighed. "You know, I think you two deserve each other." He glanced at Jim's sleeping form. "Okay, I'll be back later. Call me if he wakes up, okay?"
"Right." Blair watched Simon leave, then reached around the chair and retrieved a pillow he found there. Stuffing it between his ribcage and the arm of the chair gave him some support and helped ease the pain he'd been unwilling to show while the Captain was there, trying to make him go home.
How could he go home? The loft wasn't even Blair's home. Not if Jim wasn't there. He'd been alone there many times, but never due to Jim's being in danger or hurt. Or worse. The one time Jim had disappeared, Captain Taggert had stayed with Blair, keeping an eye on him as a protected witness. He'd never had time to think about being alone in a home that wasn't his, worried about Jim never returning. The only time he'd allowed himself to consider what would happen if Jim never came back, he'd been at the Station with Simon. He looked at Jim, still sleeping, the monitors behind him giving off steady beeps. What had Simon said...they had some trouble keeping him under? Obviously they had managed somehow. Was that due to his Sentinel senses not reacting to the drugs, or did it have more to do with the injury? He seemed to be staying out now, but that could be a natural reaction to such a large amount of blood loss, and exhaustion. Blair's attempts at scholastic thinking were failing him. All he could see, all he could think about, was Jim sitting there, bleeding to death on the couch. His blood seeping through Blair's fingers. His life slowly easing away, and Blair unable to stop it.
Part 13
* * *
"God, Jim, was it this hard for you?" All that time, sitting with Blair as he came and went, fighting the drugs and the pain. Jim had stayed. He was there each time Blair opened his eyes. Now Blair was getting a taste of the hell he had put Jim through. He wanted to reach out, to rest a hand on Jim's arm, to reassure himself that his friend was right there, alive. But he was afraid. He was suddenly and inexplicably afraid. Blair felt a chill up his spine, and he glanced around the room, noting its emptiness. The beeping of the monitors was anything but soothing as they mocked him from the wall behind Jim's bed. He felt so small sitting there. Small and alone, as Jim lay unconscious beside him. There was no one to tell him it was going to be fine. No one to explain how this could have happened. No one to make it all go away. He knew the blood was waiting for him back at the loft. There would be blood all over the couch, and the floor. Jim would expect him to clean it up. But he couldn't go back there. Not now. Not alone.
Blair pulled part of the pillow around so he could hug it against himself. He couldn't lean back without hurting, so he rested his head as best as he could against the wall beside him, and closed his eyes.
* * *
It was dark, and the club was vacant. The purple flashing lights were gone, but there was an eerie, blue glow to everything around him. Jim searched the room for any sign of life. Blair had to be there somewhere. He'd heard his partner's voice, but he couldn't see through the blue glow. Gone was the band, the noise, the press of the crowd.
"Blair." Jim felt compelled to keep his voice down. There was no sound, no sense of any danger, but he felt something was out of place. "Sandburg." He started to move forward, walking slowly through the empty club. Shapes began to take form around him. Empty tables, with glasses still sitting on top of them, most empty of whatever exotic drink they had held. The silence was nearly deafening after the roar of the band that was no longer there. Something wasn't right, something very important was happening, but Jim could find nothing to tell him what it was. There was no sign of Blair. He continued on, squinting through the blue light. He should be able to filter this out somehow, but he wasn't sure how.
"Sandburg, where are you?" The club seemed larger than he remembered, but he continued on, walking around empty tables, empty chairs, across an empty dance floor. He kept going until he'd passed the last of the tables. Ahead of him was a familiar sight. Pillars of cement surrounded by cables and wires hanging down like electric vines in a concrete jungle. There was a sound behind him, a low growl. Jim spun around, trying to see through the blue haze. Someone was there, sitting at one of the tables he had already passed.
"Blair?" He was there, writing something down in a notebook. "Sandburg, what's going on?" Jim started toward him, but Blair didn't even look up. Something moved in front of Jim and he stopped in his tracks. It was back. The panther was there, walking up to Blair. Was it going to attack again? "Blair! Sandburg, answer me!" Why was he just sitting there? Jim stepped forward again and the panther stopped, turned, and bared his teeth. Jim stopped, and the panther quieted down, looking at him. What was going on? The panther was supposed to be there for him. He was supposed to be Jim's Spirit Guide. But the last time...the last time, he had attacked. "What's going on?" Jim directed his question to the big cat this time.
"It's bigger than both of us, Jim." Blair spoke, but never took his eyes off his notebook as he continued to write.
"What is?" Jim began to step forward again, but the cat bared his teeth and he stopped. "Blair, what's going on here?"
"It's not your choice to make." Blair still continued to write, never once looking up.
Jim looked at the cat. "I don't understand." Why didn't he change into the man he usually was? He needed answers. This didn't make sense.
Blair suddenly closed his notebook and stood up, facing Jim for the first time. "It's not your decision to make." He turned then, and walked away, toward the pillars and cables on the other side of the club. The panther stood also, and walked with him.
"Wait, where are you going?" Jim moved to follow, but suddenly something fell in his way. Wires and cables were hanging down all around him, some of them spitting blue fire and dancing in the air. He lost sight of Blair and the panther amidst the tangle of cables. "Sandburg!" Something wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong. Jim pushed through the wires, careful of the live ones that spat and hissed. His heart began to race as he searched for Blair. "Sandburg!"
"He has a destiny."
Jim spun around. The tribesman was there, finally. "Where is he?"
"He is where he needs to be. He is where he was destined to be. You cannot make the choice for him."
"I was trying to protect him." Jim could feel his determination slipping away even as he spoke the words. He had lost the argument. Or had he merely let it go? He could feel an emptiness in his chest. A feeling that had been spreading since Blair stood and walked away. It was an emptiness that was growing with each breath, and he could feel himself begin to fall into it. If left unchecked, it would swallow him up, cause him to collapse in on himself.
"And he, you."
Jim swallowed against the buzzing in his ears, the hollow sensation in his chest.
"Your paths are one. You cannot change this." He turned and began to walk away.
"No, wait!" Jim moved to follow, but instantly lost sight of him in the tangle of wires and blue light.
"They will not allow you to change this."
The voice echoed back to Jim, and he stopped dead in his tracks. All around him, glowing back through the darkness, were eyes. Not just one pair, but hundreds. Pair after pair of green cat's eyes, peering back through the blue, staring at him from all around. Jim licked his lips. He was sweating, and his heart beating faster. They were all around him, blinking, watching him.
"It's about friendship."
Blair's voice came from the far side of the room, and Jim turned his head to locate his partner.
The blue haze had been replaced by an orange glow streaming in through the windows. It looked like late evening sunlight, and Jim slowly realized he was lying down, in a hospital room. He turned his head away from the window and found Blair, sitting in a chair on his right side, head resting against the wall beside him. There was a deep throbbing in his left shoulder that ached when he breathed. Other than that, Jim knew he was lucky to be alive. He remembered Agent Mills, and Blair reaching for the gun. Then the pain shot through him, and for an instant, he t
hought the bullet had struck Blair. There had been a second shot, he remembered that. And Mills was dead. Then Simon was there. Jim swallowed, turning his head more towards Blair. He was sitting in the chair, with a pillow wedged between his right side and the arm of the chair. Simon never should have let him stay. He was still badly hurt himself, and needed rest.
Jim reached out a hand and placed it on Blair's shoulder. His partner was instantly awake, raising his head and wincing at the same time.
"Jim!"
"Hey, buddy." Jim's voice was stronger than he'd expected. Blair looked tired, and pale. How long had he been sitting there? "What's goin' on?"
"You really scared me, man." Blair moved in the chair to face Jim more, wincing as he did so. "You lost so much blood."
He stopped, and Jim could see moisture forming in his expressive eyes. "Hey, it's okay now, partner. I'm fine." He gave Blair's shoulder a gentle squeeze, then let his hand fall back to the bed. He was so tired!
"Yeah, you'll be fine now. The doctor said there was no permanent damage," Blair agreed as he pushed his hair from his face. "Might even let you go home tomorrow afternoon."
Jim nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. The EKG was beeping rhythmically behind him, but there was something else there...something under the beeps. Jim opened his eyes and glanced up, seeing only the usual medical paraphernalia there.
"Simon said he'd be by soon. He was here earlier but you were still pretty out of it."
"What about Mills?" Jim couldn't recall much after seeing Blair unharmed.
Before Blair could answer, there was a quiet knock on the door, followed by Simon walking in. "Jim, it's about time you woke up." The Captain crossed the room and stood at the left side on the bed, looking down at Jim.
Mistake Page 13
