by K Ryn
And finally, amidst it all, two crumpled figures. Jim and Blair.
"Oh my God." Simon started to move forward, but one of the EMTs grabbed his arm, holding him back.
"Stay put! Those wires are still hot!"
"But those are my men!"
"We'll get to them as soon as the power's shut down. Until then we can't do anything except risk more lives."
"How long?" Simon demanded.
"A few more minutes. Just stay here, sir. Please." Dazed, Simon nodded and quit struggling, staring at the motionless bodies of his friends.
Jim lay sprawled on his back, a live wire dangling over his body, its sparking, sizzling end waving dangerously near his face. His right arm was flung out toward Blair, as though he'd been reaching for his partner when he went down.
"They're dead... aren't they?"
Simon glanced down in surprise and saw Daryl standing next to him. Simon reached out to wrap a long arm around his son and Daryl shifted closer to his father for comfort.
"I don't know..."
Blair -- it had to be Blair with that mass of long curls cascading to the pavement -- lay only a few feet away from his partner, face down, his body half buried by loose tires that had fallen from the car carrier. Simon groaned aloud when he saw the younger man's fingers clenched around Jim's wrist. He too had reached out, desperate to connect with his friend one last time.
Simon shuddered, realizing that he was already writing them off as dead. He shook himself angrily, struggling to regain some semblance of control. It seemed impossible to believe that anything could take down Jim Ellison. Not after all he had been through. Not with Sandburg watching his back. The kid lead a charmed life. He attracted trouble, sure, but he always got out of it. Sometimes with Jim's help but often with an incredible resourcefulness of his own. No, he wouldn't believe it until the doctors pronounced them, he told himself. Maybe not even then.
"It all happened... so fast... One minute we were just cruising along and the next... the bus swerved... I heard this loud crash and then I hit the seat in front of me. Guess I must have lost it..." Simon gave his son a gentle, reassuring squeeze and felt Daryl draw in a ragged breath.
"The next thing I knew, Blair was there, crawling over to me, asking if I was okay and telling me that I had to get moving. That we all had to get out of the bus. A lot of the kids were crying and I think someone was screaming, but Blair... he was so cool... he just kept moving from kid to kid, telling everybod y it was going to be okay and shepherding them to the back of the bus. I heard somebody call out that the doors were jammed, and things started to get really hairy with everyone pushing back toward the front. Suddenly Blair let out this incredible scream... you know, one of his Indian war chants? Stopped everybody cold. Then in this perfectly calm voice I heard him call out to Jim for help. A few seconds later the rear doors were open and Jim was pulling kids out from that end. Once we were all off the bus, Jim told Blair to take care of us. Said he wanted to check on the drivers..."
Daryl shivered and leaned even farther into his father's hold, turning his face away from the carnage. Simon absently stroked his son's hair, his eyes never leaving the still forms of the men who had saved his son's life.
"Blair started moving us back... we'd only gone a few feet when there was this explosion... somehow I ended up on the ground with Blair on top of me... I heard him scream out Jim's name... he grabbed something off the ground... some kind of stick, I think, and then he was running back toward the bus... toward where Jim had gone... when I got to my feet I could see Jim staggering toward us..."
Daryl's voice had dropped so low that Simon had to close his eyes to concentrate on the whisper of sound.
"... one of the power lines snapped free... it was dropping down... Jim couldn't see it, but Blair could... he was running toward Jim, screaming at the top of his lungs... I saw Jim fall... I guess the cable must have knocked him over... and Blair... Blair was swinging the stick around, trying to knock the wire aside... trying to keep it off of Jim... I thought... I thought for a minute that he'd done it... part of the cable was wrapped around the stick and he was backing away with it... then... it was like the thing came alive, uncoiling and striking out like a snake... there was a huge flash of light and noise... when I looked back..."
A sob broke from Daryl as his voice faltered, his explanation finished. Simon pulled his son even closer, shutting his eyes against his own unshed tears.
Urgent shouts brought Simon back to reality. The emergency crews and EMTs were surging forward. The power had finally been cut. Giving Daryl's arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze, he disengaged himself from his son. Struggling to maintain some degree of professional detachment, Simon moved forward to within a few feet of his men, positioning himself so that he could see what was going on without interfering.
It was absurd. Tragically absurd. There was no way it should end like this.
Shifting a step to the right to avoid the men who were frantically pulling tires off of Blair, Simon's attention focused on Jim and the EMTs who were finally at his side, the power crews having dealt with the cable. Other than the scorched burns across his jacket, there was nothing to suggest the trauma that he'd been through. The detective's face was relaxed and oddly calm. He looks like he's sleeping. As if he's going to wake up at any moment, open his eyes and fix me with that intense, icy blue Ellison stare...
"I've got a pulse!"
It took a moment for Simon to comprehend the meaning behind the EMT's urgent cry. To understand that he was talking about Jim. Relief surged through him. Jim was alive. Simon's head snapped around, his anxious gaze focusing on Blair and the medics who were hovering over him. He found himself praying that whatever deity was watching out for them would see fit to deliver one more miracle. The spark of hope that Simon had been nurturing died abruptly as the medics eased Blair to his back. He caught sight of the young man's pain-contorted face and saw the grim certainty of death reflected in the eyes of the EMTs who were desperately searching for any signs of life.
Jim is alive, but Blair...
Simon shuddered as he tried to envision Ellison dealing with the knowledge that his young friend had died trying to save his life. Jim had always seen himself as Blair's protector, and yet it was Blair who had taken on that role at the end.
Simon forced himself to look at Blair again. What was hardest to accept was the stillness. He'd always thought of Blair as a body in continual motion -- arms waving in wide sweeping gestures when he talked, feet tapping to a beat that only he could hear, fingers dragging a pen across one of his ever-present notebooks, the constantly shifting range of emotions that flickered across his face. Simon couldn't bear to look at that face now and see the agony there. Blair's left hand clutched the charred remains of something to his chest. It took Simon a moment to realize what it was and he shook his head angrily.
"A hockey stick? Only you, Sandburg would use a hockey stick against a high voltage power line. What the hell were you thinking?"
Simon's gaze shifted back to Blair's face and his anger evaporated.
"You weren't thinking... you were reacting. You were trying to save Jim's life. And it worked. You hear me, kid? It worked. Jim's alive."
Simon watched Blair anxiously, hoping for some sign that the young man had heard him, but there was no response.
"I'm not getting anything, here," the medic called out. "Get the paddles." Simon glanced up, meeting eyes that were filled with understanding and compassion. "We'll need to separate them."
Simon swallowed hard and nodded. He focused on the white-knuckled grip that Blair had locked around Jim's wrist. He hated to break their connection, but he knew it had to be done. He took the interlocked hands and gently started to ease Blair's fingers free.
No one was prepared for the reaction.
Simon felt Blair's fingers tighten convulsively, then the young man's entire body arched in one abrupt movement. His mouth opened, drawing precious oxygen into his lungs with a rasping rat
tle. Simon flinched back in surprise as Blair's eyes flickered open, the familiar blue orbs staring up at him in pleading desperation for a split second before the lids closed heavily again.
"I need some help here!" cried the medic, gesturing to his partner who had started for their equipment. "Forget the paddles, I've got a pulse!"
Simon eased out of the way as the second medic rejoined them. Their words were lost in the wave of emotion that surged through him. This time the rush of relief was so intense that it was almost physically painful. Simon inhaled noisily, drawing breath into his starving lungs -- he'd been so focused that he'd had a "zone-out" of his own. A quick glance told him that Jim was being well cared for. Simon moved closer to Blair's side, knowing that Jim would want him to look after the younger man while he couldn't.
"Come on, kid... come on... open your eyes."
Blair's eyes blinked open once more, widening in bewilderment as Simon's smiling face came into focus. "Simon..."
The captain's grin grew even broader. He placed his hand on Blair's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm here, just take it easy," he ordered as the young man shuddered. Blair's eyes closed again, but he managed a small nod.
"Let's get him ready to move." One of the medics reached out to disengage Blair's hold on Jim. Blair's reaction was as intense as it had been before, his eyes flying open and his finger's clutching desperately. "NO!" he screamed, trying to pull out of their grasp. "NO DON'T! I'll lose him!"
"Easy Sandburg," Simon urged, one hand holding Blair's trembling shoulder, the other resting on the medic's arm in restraint. "Jim's alive... you can let go now..."
Blair's gaze locked on Simon, the desperate eyes widening even further. "Is he... is he awake?" Blair demanded, his voice a broken whisper.
"Not yet, but he will be. We're going to get you both to a hospital. You just need to let go..."
"NO! Not yet... he's not back... yet..."
"Blair, listen to me..."
"Simon... don't let them... He needs me... I can't... let go..."
"Your partner's going to be fine," the medic reassured him, easing free of Simon's hold.
"Simon, please... he won't find... the way back... without his Guide..."
"Hold it!" Simon ordered, grabbing the medic's arm once more.
He stared down into Blair's eyes, reading the fear and determination there. He lifted his head, took a quick look toward Jim, who was still apparently unconscious, and made an abrupt decision.
"I know this is going to sound crazy, but if he lets go, I think we're going to lose them. One of them, at any rate." He glanced over at Jim and then back to the medic again. "If Sandburg says he has to hold on, then he has to."
"After what I've already seen today, nothing sounds crazy. All right, you hold on," the EMT ordered Blair. "We'll get your partner ready to go and then we'll get see what we can arrange."
"I'm... okay..." Blair grunted, trying to sit up.
"Sandburg!"
"I'm okay."
"Yeah, right." Simon snorted his contempt for Blair's words, but he recognized the futility of arguing with the younger man. The set of Blair's determined jaw reminded him too much of Ellison in the same mood. Simon eased him over to his knees, and helped him shift across the short distance to Jim's side. Blair's grip eased for just a fraction of a second as he repositioned his hold on the older man's wrist, then he closed his eyes, his face a taut mask of concentration. Realizing that Blair was focused entirely on Jim, Simon nodded to the medics and stepped away to reassure Daryl. He was torn between his duty to be with his men and the need to stay with his son, but Daryl took one long look at Blair and urged his father to go with them.
"I'm all right, Dad. They need you right now. Help Blair."
Later, Simon would remember very little of how they actually managed to get to the hospital. What would stay in his mind forever, was the fixed determination on Blair's face, the tautness of his body, the flashes of pain that the young man bore without a whimper -- the never-shifting, white-knuckled hold that bound them together.
Once they reached the hospital, Simon found himself interceding for Blair again. He was at a loss to explain to the doctors why Blair refused to be treated himself if it meant being separated from Jim. How could he define what he didn't comprehend himself? How could he rationalize what his gut was telling him -- that Blair was the only one who could keep Jim alive; that what the doctors took for unconsciousness was really a different place or time and Jim was lost in it; that if his Guide released his physical hold on the Sentinel, either one or both of them would die. This was a Sentinel-Guide dilemma and well beyond his own limited understanding of that special partnership. The expert here was Sandburg and Simon was more than willing to trust the young man's instincts.
Finally, he fell back on the tangible facts that they could understand. These were cops. Partners. Grudgingly, the doctors accepted that explanation. One team worked over the older man while another treated Blair's surface injuries as he sat motionless at Jim's side. Their examination left them puzzled. Aside from a minor burn across his shoulders and chest, Ellison appeared unharmed. They couldn't find any trace of a head or internal injury to account for his unconscious state.
Blair's physical condition was another matter. He'd allowed them to pry the remains of the hockey stick from his grasp. His palm was blistered with burns and they spent nearly an hour picking out shards of needle-sharp fiberglass before wrapping a bandage around the entire hand. Simon had winced when he'd seen the seriousness of the injury, but the younger man hadn't even flinched while they'd worked on it. Blair's feet were burned as well -- the rubber soles of his tennis shoes were a melted mass that clung to his scorched white socks.
Seated on a chair at Jim's side, with Simon's hand resting gently on his left shoulder, Blair leaned against the bed as the doctor cleaned and bandaged the worst of the cuts and abrasions. He seemed oblivious to it all -- his eyes shut, his concentration on Jim never wavering -- but Simon could feel the trembling in the young man's body.
Simon knew he had another argument on his hands when the doctor pulled him aside, his face set and determined.
"Captain, I can't allow this any longer. This young man is in worse shape than his partner. He needs to be admitted and treated as quickly as possible."
"Doctor, you don't understand..."
"I have the EMT's report." The doctor deftly cut through Simon's objections, his voice rising in anger. "Frankly, I don't understand why they're not both dead. The only reasonable explanation is that somehow he managed to ground himself against the current. The energy discharge passed harmlessly from his partner's body, through his and into the ground. I say harmlessly, in that it didn't kill him. But he's been subjected to a massive electrical shock. I need to get him into his own room, run a series of tests..."
"No..."
The whispered denial caused both Simon and the doctor to turn and look at Blair in surprise. "Blair, maybe he's right. I know I've said this before, but you look terrible," Simon added with forced lightness.
"No... not yet..." Blair shook his head, eyes pressed shut, face strained with fatigue.
"Sandburg..."
Blair raised his head and fixed Simon with the same desperate, pleading stare he'd given him earlier.
"Please, Simon... not yet... not until he wakes up... he's closer... I can feel it... just a little while longer..."
Simon glanced over a the doctor, imploringly. The doctor's gaze flickered to Blair, to Jim, then finally back to Simon.
"One hour," he announced firmly. "I'll be back then."
Simon nodded his thanks. At the doorway the doctor paused, fixing Simon with a leveling stare. "I hope you know what you're doing."
No Doc, I hope "he" knows what he's doing, Simon thought grimly.
As the hour slipped away, Simon's concern grew. Jim's condition hadn't changed, but his Guide's was definitely worsening. Blair was trembling so badly that he could no longer sit upright. He w
as curled forward, his upper body supported by the bed, his head resting on top of Jim's arm. Simon had lost track of the number of times he had pleaded with the younger man to let him get the doctor, the soft "No" of denial growing fainter and fainter, the grip on Jim's arm still as tightly locked as ever.
Another tremor shook Blair's body and a soft whimper of pain escaped his lips, bringing Simon instantly to his side.
"Sandburg... Blair, can you hear me?" This time there was no response. Simon turned to look at Jim and shook his head. This had gone far enough.
"Jim... you have to wake up," Simon said firmly. "Blair needs you. He's hurt, but he won't let them help him until you open your eyes. Until he's satisfied you're all right. I don't understand how he's been guiding you, but he can't to do it any longer. You have to make it the rest of the way on your own, or with my help. He saved your life. Now it's your turn to save his. We've run out of time. Blair needs you. Do you hear me? Blair needs you now."
Simon's voice faltered and he closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to regain his control. When he looked again, he blinked in disbelief. Jim's eyes were open and he was staring at Simon in confusion.
"Welcome back."
"Back..." Jim whispered the word, his face growing blank, his eyes losing their focus as if he were staring beyond Simon -- at something only a Sentinel's vision could see.
"Jim... stay with me," Simon urged. "Blair needs you."
The pale blue eyes blinked and regained their focus. Jim glanced down at the weight on his arm, suddenly aware of Blair's presence. He reached forward with his left hand and gently stroked Blair's hair, his fingers catching in the snarls of his Guide's tangled locks. "Blair..." he whispered softly, as he cupped his hand firmly around the back of the younger man's head. "Blair look at me."
