Disclaimer: These guys are not mine, but I love them anyway.
They belong to Pet Fly and USA and Sci-Fi and …..you get the idea.
Acknowledgments: A great big thank you to Wolfshy, my kind-of sort-of beta
and spellchecker. And she loves me enough to give my pitiful attempts at stories
a home.
And to my daughter Rachel, who is my encouragement and the light in
my approaching darkness.
Spoilers for Spare Parts and Cypher
So without further ado:
The slight figure sat on the floor of the raised platform. Her legs were folded under her, tiny delicate hands rested on thin knees. Her bowed head caused shiny locks to hide elfin like features, the strands flowing down her back to pool on the floor around her, giving the impression that she floated on a sea of black. She wore a faded green tee-shirt, tattered jeans and worn out sneakers. To an average observer, she was nothing special.
But the crowd that stood around her now shifted restlessly, their impatience almost a tangible thing.
Her eyes remained closed; all of her senses were concentrated within. She was waiting. She knew all their eyes rested on her, scrutinizing her every move. She did not concern herself with them, she was used to waiting. She would know when the time was right. He would reveal Himself when He was ready and not before. She was just his vessel and she was glad to be so.
She heard her brother's impatient movements beside her and felt as he moved closer.
"Bree?" his soft whisper reached her ears. She slowly opened her eyes, her gaze gently censoring his interruption.
"Brian," she chided.
"Sorry," he hung his head. "They're getting impatient," He gestured to the crowd that surrounded the small stage.
Her eyes briefly swept over the people before returning her attention to her brother.
"I know," she said. "But it is in His time, not ours."
"I know," was her brother's reply, his head bowed low once more.
"We must have...." her words were cut short as a gentle breeze caressed her cheek and a sweet fragrance surrounded her. Lifting her face, she closed her eyes once more, inhaling the heavenly scent that filled her being with peace and love. "My Master," she breathed.
Sighing with contentment, she unfolded her legs and accepting her brother's helping hand, she rose to her feet. She had been in on position for hours and the ache in her back and legs were a gentle reminder to take it slow. She stood for a long moment, gazing once more at the surrounding crowd. She could feel the expectant attitude in the atmosphere. She could also feel the skepticism and their fear.
Fear was a beginning, but the love far outweighed the fear.
She shook her head, bringing her wandering thought back into line. Those thoughts were for another time, not for the here and now.
Looking up at her brother for a moment, she gave him a gentle smile and a nod. The moved forward together.
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The young mother shifted the child she held in her arms once more. Though he was small in statue, he was dead weight, causing her arms and shoulders to ache from holding him for long hours. He looked to be about five years old; his head was bald except for tuffs of light brown hair that stuck up here and there.
His head looked to big for his fragile body and it rested listlessly on his mother's shoulder. Dark brown eyes were filled with pain and confusion and rested in a pale, gaunt face. He did not know why his mother had brought him to this place. He wanted to go home, get into his bed and wrap up in his favorite blanket. He was cold and his head pounded with dull persistence.
"Mama," he raised his head and gazed at his mother's face. "I want to go home now. I don't feel good."
"Shh, I know, baby. Just a little while longer, okay?" the woman crooned, her hand gently caressing his head before guiding back onto her shoulder.
His sigh filled her with trepidation, but she could not let it detour her from her path. She had waited this long; she could wait a little longer if it meant a chance for her son to live. But as she watched the willowy figure make her way slowly down the long line of people, she could see nothing that would warrant her staying any longer.
Biting back a sob, she leaned her head against her child's, gently rubbing his small back. "Oh, please!" the whispered prayer slipped past trembling lips.
A gentle touch had the young mother's eyes flying open. They beheld a gentle countenance; the bright green eyes that held hers were filled with love and compassion.
The mother shifted her child in her arms, one hand raised in a desperate plea. "Please!"
"I know," was the reply. The green orbs closed for a moment and a soft gasp slipped past smiling lips. "He has heard your plea, Katie Jackson, and He says to tell you all will be well."
The young mother's eyes widened at the use of her name. "How?"
"He knows," arms reached for the child. "Give him to me."
The mother transferred her son into the waiting arms, hope filling her heart and soft sobs began to wrack her trembling frame.
Brianna Rivers sat the child down before kneeling in front of him. Her hands reached out to cup his small face and she gazed into the deep brown eyes that looked up at her with deep sadness.
"It's alright, little one," she said as she caressed the small face. "What is your name?"
"Jordan. My name is Jordan," the child gazed back at his mother for a moment. "Why is Mama crying?"
Brianna sent a glance at the other woman for a long moment before turning her attention back to the child in front of her. "She's happy, little one." She smiled at his look of disbelief.
Raising her head, she once more closed her eyes, awaiting the touch of her Master's hand. She felt the familiar pressure rising inside of her; felt as the heat began to radiate outward, across her chest and down her arms into the hands that held the pale little face.
Glancing down, she saw the child's eyes widen when the heat left her and spread through him, She felt the weakness leave and saw as he straightened, a wide smile replacing the pain and weariness that had been there previously. The paleness that had been so pronounced on the small face fled, leaving cheeks pink with health.
Letting her hands fall to his shoulders, she pulled him in for a quick hug, before turning him toward his mother. She gave him a gentle push and watched as he ran into his mother's outstretched arms.
With a happy cry, she gathered her child close, tears trailing down her face. "Thank you," she gazed up at the angelic creature standing before her.
"No, Katie, don't thank me. Give thanks to Him. He is the Giver of Life," was the soft-spoken reply.
Brianna bestowed a gentle smile on the mother and child before moving on to the next person.
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Blair Sandburg closed the front door of the loft with a decisive bang. Leaning back against it, he closed his eyes and delivered up a relieved sigh.
His mother had finally left, heading off to her retreat. She had delayed her departure due to her involvement in the Petrie case and had finally decided that she had to be on her way, insisting that the retreat was the perfect place for all the 'processing' she had to do.
In any case, Blair was glad she was on her way. Straightening, he quickly moved about the room, opening windows and turning on fans, letting his thoughts wander back over the past few days. He never dreamed that his mother's impromptu visit and the car theft ring that he and Jim had been investigating would overlap. He took a shuddering breath as he remembered his mother being kidnapped at gunpoint. He never wanted to feel such fear and helplessness again as long as he lived.
Jim had saved the day of course. He had stopped Garrett, caught Petrie and rescued Naomi from Francine. He had even sacrificed his truck to do it.
Shaking off the memories, Blair plopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote from the coffee table. He knew he should start changing the furniture back around to the way Jim wanted it, but he suddenly found he was exhausted.
Flipping through the channels, he stopped when he recognized the face of Don Haas. Half listening to the news reporter, he glanced around the room, mentally beginning to position the furniture back to its original places before his mother had decided it had to be moved to put the universe back into harmonic balance. He smiled as he remembered the look on Jim's face when he had seen his living room.
The shrill ringing of his cell phone had his thoughts scurrying back to the present.
"Hullo."
"It's me."
"Me? Me? Me who?" Blair grinned into the receiver when he heard his partner's voice. "Mm..sorry, don't know anybody named me."
Silence reigned for a moment before Jim's deadpanned voice came back at him. "You're a riot today, aren't you BLAIRBEAR?"
"Oh man, I'm going to kill Naomi," Blair groaned.
"Are you confessing to premeditation, Sandburg?"
"YES!" Blair grinned as his partner's laughter filled the air. "Hey, man, what'd you get?"
"Did you get your mother off okay?" Jim asked.
"Yeah, I did," Blair replied. "What'd you get, Jim?"
"I expect the loft to be sage free when we get home tonight, Sandburg," Jim sidestepped the question.
"Already in the works, big guy," Blair assured him. "What did you get?" he asked once more.
"And the furniture?
"Not yet, but I will."
"You'd better."
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"I got a good deal, Chief. One I couldn't pass up." Jim's voice held a touch of humor.
"But you're still not going to tell me," it was a statement rather than a question.
"You'll see when I get there. I've got a few more things to take care of and then I'll be by to pick you up," Jim informed him,
"Why?"
"Simon wants the paperwork on the Petrie case by the end of the day. I should be there about 11:00."
"Oh, okay. I'll be ready," Blair returned, glancing over at the clock.
"Meet me downstairs. It'll save some time," Jim ordered.
"Kay," Blair said before hanging up. He quickly powered off the coach before hurrying toward the bathroom. He had a little over an hour before his partner would be home. Just enough time for a quick shower and change of clothes.
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Jim Ellison drove his new vehicle up to the curb where his partner stood waiting. He gave a big sigh when he saw Blair's eyes widen and a grin split his youthful features.
"Not one word," he warned as Blair opened the passenger door and climbed in.
"What?" innocent looking blue eyes turned his way.
"Whatever you were going to say."
"I was just going to say, nice car," Blair objected before a mischievous smile peaked out. "Mommy."
"Sandburg!" Jim growled, reaching out to swat at his Guide's head.
Blair ducked the approaching hand, peals of laughter bursting forth.
"Just kidding, tough guy, just kidding," he held his hands up in mock
fear.
"You'd better be," Jim's lips twitched in response to his friend's laughter.
"But seriously, it IS a nice car," Blair said as he started to examine the interior of the car.
"Yeah, well, it was the cheapest route to go."
"Mmhm," Blair muttered as he turned on the radio and started playing with the different buttons and knobs. Jim gazed over in fond exasperation, secretly relieved to see his partner in a good mood. The Petrie case had taken a toll on the younger man. Fear had seemed to rule Blair, from the beginning of the case until he had pulled his mother safely from the stolen car. Jim decided that he hadn't liked that look of fear in his best friend eyes. He had assured Blair at the time that his part in the sting had been easy, but all his assurances hadn't relieved the younger man's nervousness.
Jim was glad the case was over and all that was left to do was the dreaded
paperwork. Glancing over at his partner once more, he gave a grin of
satisfaction. And that, Jim thought to himself, was what his own personal
observer was for.
Looking up, Blair caught Jim's expression and was
instantly on alert.
"What's going on?" suspicion colored his tone.
"I don't know what your talking about, Chief," Jim had an innocent look of his own.
Blair carefully searched his Sentinel's face before breaking into one of his hundred watt smiles.
"Ah huh. Right," he said. "And you're not sticking me with all the paperwork again."
His declaration startled a laugh from the older man. "If you say so, Darwin, if you say so," he turned off into the police garage and pulled into his usual parking place. "Ready?"
"Yep," was the reply as Blair bolted out the door and bounced around the car to stand by Jim's side. "After you."
Jim's smile remained as he threw his arm around the smaller man's shoulders
and led him to the
elevator.
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Jim had quickly filled out his report and neatly stacked the pages next to his computer. He had then pulled his chair up next to Blair's and began to expound on the quality of Blair's typing and imaginative literary skills. Blair had scowled at him for awhile, but had quickly conceded when Jim offered to buy him lunch. Jim had left the bullpen with a smug smile on his face, but Blair didn't mind. He was getting a free meal and he secretly liked doing Jim's reports.
He finished typing the last line and then pushed the Save button on the computer, deciding to let Jim go over the report once more before printing up the final copy.
Leaning back in his chair, Blair stretched his arms above his head to relieve the tension in his back and shoulders. He would be glad to sleep in his own bed tonight. The couch wasn't too bad, but Blair was glad that things would be getting back to normal. Looking up at the wall clock, Blair noticed that Jim was running late. He decided that he need something to tide him over; he stood and headed for the station's break room.
Armed with a bag of peanuts and a container of juice, Blair returned to Major Crimes. Glancing over at the desk that sat beside Jim's, he noticed Henri Brown hunched over, totally absorbed in the newspaper that was spread out before him.
Curiosity led him to stand beside the junior detective. "Hey, H."
"Hey, Sandburg. How's it going?" Brown returned the
greeting.
"Good..good," Blair replied. "Want some nuts?" Blair offered up his
bag of peanuts.
"No thanks, " Brown shook his head. "I've already had something. Where's your bitter half?"
Blair rolled his eyes at the other man. "Went to get us some lunch. Taking his sweet time, too." Blair said as he munched on a hand full of nuts. "I'm starving."
"Stuck you with paper work again, huh?"
"Yeah," Blair sighed, then nodded to the paper on the desk. "What ya reading?"
"Oh," Brown held up the paper so Blair could see the picture that was splashed across the front page. "An article about Brianna Rivers. She's a so called miracle worker."
"Wow! Pretty girl," Blair gazed at the photo. "A miracle worker?"
"You've heard about the faith healer that came to Cascade about a week ago, haven't you?" Brown dropped the paper back onto his desk.
"Oh yeah, I heard something about the that. Don Haas was talking about it this morning on television. Something about a little boy that has cancer or something. I didn't catch all of it," Blair remembered.
"Did have cancer. Doctors can't find a trace of it now. And he's not the only one according to the paper. Apparently, Miss Rivers can touch some people and..."
"Wow," Blair interrupted, grabbing the paper off the desk to look at the article again. "I can't wait to show this to Jim. Mr. Skeptical, himself." Blair glanced up at the clock. "If he ever gets back."
"Yeah, he's usually Mr. Punctual," Brown agreed.
"Ah, he's probably driving around in his new car."
"That's right. He was getting it today, wasn't he?" Brown took his paper from Blair's hand and tossed it back onto the desk. "What'd he get?"
Leaning closer to the detective, Blair dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "An Expedition."
"A what?"
"You heard me."
"An Expedition?"
"Yep."
"Our Jim Ellison? Ex-army ranger, Jim Ellison?"
"Yep."
"Have to keep the tough guy image up, macho cop, Jim Ellison?"
"Yep."
Brown leaned back in his chair and laughed. "Ellison in a mommy car. Oh this is good. This is very, very good."
"Yep," Blair agreed, before remembering that his mother had supplied his partner with ammunition of his own. "It is a nice car, though, lots of extras," he added.
"Oh man," Detective Brown shook his head, chuckles still shaking his sturdy frame.
"Sandburg ."
Blair turned to look at the Captain of the Major Crimes Unit.
"Oh, hey, Simon," he greeted the big man with a smile, only to straighten when he saw the serious countenance that was directed his way.
"I need you to come with me, son," Simon reached out and gently took a hold of Blair's arm.
Blair felt a touch of panic at the Captain's intense stare. He pulled back from Simon's grip, bumping into Henri who had come to stand behind him.
"I didn't do anything, Simon," he assured the older man
"Blair, it's Jim," Simon began.
"Oh, he'll be back, Simon. He just went to get us some lunch," Blair said as he felt the panic began to grow.
"Blair," Simon began again, only to be interrupted again.
"He'll be back soon. He got his new car today, you know. He's probably just cruising. In fact, I was just telling Brown about it, wasn't I, H?"
"Sure, kid," came the soft reply.
"Sandburg," Simon's voice cut through the sudden silence that filled the bullpen.
"You wouldn't believe what he got, Simon."
Simon Banks stepped forward and grabbed the young man by the shoulders. "Sandburg, listen to me. Jim has been shot. We need to go to the hospital NOW!"
"Simon?" Blair's voice quivered.
"He's alive, Sandburg. But we need to get there, now." Simon tone was reassuring, but the look on his face belied the words.
"Oh God!" Blair sagged for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. Giving himself a firm shake, he straightened and swallowed back a sob. "I'll get my coat," he said already moving toward Jim's desk."
Captain?" Brown's voice caused Simon's gaze to leave Blair. "How bad?"
"Bad, Brown. Patrolmen on the scene said he was hit three times," Simon informed, sending a cautious gaze in Blair's direction before continuing. "One in the head."
Brown closed his eyes, a groan coming from deep within his chest. "Oh no!"
"Brown, I want you to head over to Caro's Deli. I want to know exactly what went down."
"You got it, Captain," was Brown's quick reply.
"I'm ready, Sir," Blair's quiet voice interrupted the two detectives.
"Okay, let's go, kid," Simon laid a big hand on Blair's back, gently turning him toward the door. "Let me know," he looked back at his detective.
"I will."
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Simon Banks leaned back in his chair, laying his head back against the wall of the surgical waiting room and stretching long legs out before him. Turning his head, his eyes swept over the young anthropologist that was sitting to his left. Blair sat up straight in the hard plastic chair, his hands clenched on the arms in a white knuckled grip, one leg bouncing in nervous tension.
They had arrived at the hospital three hours earlier only to find that Jim had been rushed into surgery. The ER physician had been cautious on reporting Jim's condition, stating that it was in the surgeon's hands now.
Simon had dragged Blair to the surgical waiting room and had watched his observer alternate between pacing the room and sitting with his eyes glued to the door.
Simon shook his head, then closed his eyes with a soft sigh. He had not known Blair all that long, but found himself liking the other man immensely. Blair was a refreshing change to the sometimes cynical world of law enforcement. His enthusiasm and upbeat look on life shed new light on the mundane. Simon remembered telling Naomi Sandburg how much he trusted her son. He had been somewhat surprised to realize, that even as he spoke the word, that he truly believed them. Up to that point, he had thought he just tolerated Blair for Jim's sake. Simon let a soft smile touch his lips.
And then there was Jim Ellison. A few months ago, the man had been a loner, not letting anyone get close. He was short -tempered and stoic. And then came the time when Jim had been filled with confusion and fear, afraid that he was losing touch with reality. Simon had been afraid that he was going to lose a good officer and a good friend.
Enter one longhaired, hyperactive grad student, spouting speeches about closed societies and 'the thin blue line'. Simon had been shocked when Jim had insisted that Blair Sandburg become his partner. It wasn't till later that Simon had found out the real reason for Sandburg's tag-along status.
He had also watched the bouncing young man sweep past all of Jim Ellison's defenses and set up house, not only in the Sentinel's home, but also in his heart.
"Simon?" the object of his thoughts gripped his arm and turned pleading blue eyes in his direction. "What's taking them so long? Why haven't we heard anything?"
Simon covered the smaller hand with one of his own. "Blair, they know we're here. The nurse said the doctor would come and talk to us as soon as he can."
"It's been almost four hours, Simon. Why is it taking so long?" Blair pulled his hand away; nervously rubbing his jean clad leg.
"The ER doctor said it might be tricky removing the bullets. We don't want them to hurry in a case like this, now do we, son?"
"No.....no, I guess not. God, Simon, how could this happen? He went to get us
something to eat, for Christ sake?" Blair said, jumping to his feet to pace
around the room once more.
Simon sighed. The question had been asked numerous times in the past few hours. He did not bother to answer; knowing the word wouldn't reach the young man anyway. He watched as Blair circled the room once more before coming to plop down beside him.
"Blair, let me go get you some tea or something. You must be getting hungry. You didn't get lunch.." even as the word escaped his lips, Simon knew he had said the wrong thing. "God, I'm sorry kid," Simon reached out and grabbed Blair's shoulder.
Blair's horror filled eyes slipped past him to the door of the waiting room.
"Captain Banks?" the man that stood in the doorway wore dark green scrubs; spots of blood dotted the front of his shirt.
"I'm Simon Banks," Simon stood and moved toward the doctor, aware that Blair had jumped up and was right behind him.
"I'm Clay Dalton. I operated on Mr. Ellison," the doctor held out his hand to shake Simon's hand and then did the same with Blair.
"How is he?" Blair asked, his eyes locked on the doctor's face.
"I'm not going to lie to you, gentlemen. It's not good. Mr. Ellison received three separate wounds. One in the right shoulder, which tore a few tendons and muscles, but missed the bone. It was the least serious of his injuries. Then he took a hit in his chest and one to his head," Dr Dalton paused in his explanation.
"But he's going to be alright, isn't he?" Blair reached out and grabbed the doctor's arm in a vice like grip.
Dr. Dalton glanced down at his arm and then back up at the young man that stood in front of him. "And you are?"
"This is Detective Ellison's partner," Simon supplied. "Blair Sandburg."
The doctor's eyes became gentle with understanding compassion. His hand moved to cover the one that clutched his arm in desperation.
"Detective Sandburg. We're doing all we can for your partner. I've removed all the bullets and repaired what I could."
"And?" the question came from stiff lips.
The doctor sighed and closed his eyes briefly. Sometimes he hated this job, especially when delivering this kind of news to loved ones. "And the damage was to great. The bullet to the head was operable and didn't cause much damage going in. But the surgery itself caused a few problems."
"How is that, doctor?" Simon moved to stand behind Blair, resting large hand on thin shoulders.
"We had to remove part of the skull to get at the bullet. That in itself is not unusual, we just put it back, but anytime you involve the brain itself, you can urn into complications.
"And did you?" the hand tightened for a moment before detaching from his arm.
"I'm afraid so, son. Even before we closed, edema was settling in. And even though I repaired the damage to the heart as best I could, I can't be assured that it will be enough."
"Edema? Heart?" Blair sagged back against Simon, suddenly too weak to hold himself up.
Simon increased his grip on the younger man's shoulders, pulling him closer to lean against him. "What can we expect?" he asked.
"After he leaves recovery, we'll be moving him to the Intensive Care Unit. He will be on a respirator and several different monitors. We will also be giving him several different medications," the doctor explained.
"What sort of medications?" this came from Blair.
"Antibiotics for infection, anti-inflammatories to help reduce swelling and several medications that will help his heart," Dr Dalton's voice was gentle as he took in the pallor on Blair's face. "Why do you ask?"
"It's just that Jim...that my partner....sometimes he has weird reactions to medicines," Blair looked back at the doctor.
"We'll be careful," the doctor assured.
"Can I see him?"
"As soon as we get him settled in ICU, I'll let you in for a few minutes. But I'm afraid it will only be a few minutes, Detective. They are pretty strict with the rules," Dr Dalton said.
"Thank you, Doctor," Simon spoke when Blair did not.
The doctor gazed into fear filled eyes once more before gently touching the young man's arm. "I'd better get back to my patient."
Blair watched the doctor exit the room before turning to the big Captain. "He's going to be okay, Simon."
"Sandburg," Simon was interrupted as Blair jerked away.
"Don't even say it, man. They don't know Jim like I do. He's not a quitter."
"I'm not saying he is, Sandburg. It's just...maybe this time, it's more than he can handle."
"NO! No..no, it's not," Blair shook his head emphatically, before returning to his chair. He sat, then pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. "It's not," he said before burying his face in his knees.
Simon leaned back against the wall, one hand rubbing his face in despair. What was he going to do?
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Simon strolled down the hall toward the ICU waiting room. During the last four days he had become intimately familiar with this room. Stepping into the room, he glanced around at the occupants. Blair lay stretched out on the surprisingly comfortable couch, asleep. Long brown curls covered his face and he was covered with a long brown overcoat.
Joel Taggert sat to one side, flipping through a magazine and Henri Brown stood gazing out a window. Brown had been there all day, he knew. The detective had appeared that morning with word that the men who had shot Jim Ellison had been caught.
Brown had been the first detective to arrive at the scene where his best detective had been injured. The initial investigation had revealed that Jim had walked in during a robbery and had surprised the would be robbers. They had all fired their guns simultaneous, Jim taking all three bullets. Luckily the store's owner had surveillance equipment and caught the whole thing on tape. It had not taken long for the criminals to be caught.
Brown had agreed to stay with Sandburg while Simon had gone to make sure that everything had been done properly in the arrests and had met with the DA.
"Men," Simon greeted before placing the gym bag that he had been carrying beside the couch where Blair lay.
"Captain," Detective Brown turned at the greeting.
"Simon," Joel greeted, placing the magazine to one side and rising up out of the chair.
"How long has he been asleep?" Simon nodded at the sleeping man.
"A little over an hour. He crashed right after the 2 P.M. visit." Joel informed.
"Has there been any change?"
"No change," was the quiet response from Brown.
"Anymore seizures?"
"Yeah, two more since you left this morning," Brown stepped closer to the Captain, his voice lowered to a whisper. "I had to peel Sandburg away from the window to his room. He's at the end of his rope, Captain."
"I know, Brown. I don't know what to do. He won't leave Jim. And I can't bring myself to..if he leaves and something happens..." Simon left the sentence unfinished.
"Yes sir, I know what you mean," Brown nodded, glancing at the reposing figure.
Simon moved closer to the couch and gazed down at the grad student. Reaching out to move errant curls from the youthful face, he frowned when he saw the pallor and the dark circles that resided under closed eyes.
"Has he eaten?" Simon looked back at the detective.
"He ate a couple of bagels and drank some juice and coffee right after you left this morning. Nothing since then," was the reply.
"That was seven hours ago, Brown. Did he drink anything during that time?"
"One of the nurses brought him some tea," Brown pointed at the abandoned cup on the table, still full of liquid. "Jim had another seizure about the time she brought it," no other explanation was neede
"Damn!" Simon said before pulling out his wallet. "Do me a favor before you leave, will you Brown?"
"It's okay, Captain. I was going to get him something anyway. I just thought I'd let him sleep for now."
"Thanks," Simon bestowed a smile on his junior detective.
"Visiting hours will be in another few minutes and maybe he'll eat something
afterwards."