Blair missed his scheduled visit as the doctors were still working with Jim. A nurse had pulled the blinds and closed the door to Jim's room, assuring Blair and Simon that Dr. Dalton would talk with them as soon as he could get away. Though Brown had been there all day, he opted to stay until they had word about Jim's condition.
Blair had finally succumbed to sleep once again, sitting up with his head resting on the back of the couch. Simon had decided to leave him alone, knowing that any sleep the young man could get would only be beneficial.
As the minutes marched by, Simon began to feel certain uneasiness. Glancing at the clock, he noted that forty minutes had passed since Dr. Dalton had been summoned to his detective's room. Simon rose and went to the door, gazing intently at the closed door.
"What do you think is going on, Captain," Henri Brown's whispered question reached his ears. Simon turned to see that Brown had moved to stand behind him.
"I don't know, H. I just don't know," Simon rubbed at his knitted brow.
"Do you think.." Brown's words were interrupted when both men saw Dr. Dalton exit the room.
Simon straightened, sudden fear causing his breath to catch in his throat, as he saw the expression on the surgeon's face.
"Brown, go wake Sandburg," Simon ordered.
"Sir?"
"Just do it," Simon turned horror filled eyes to the junior detective.
He watched as realization hit the other man and caused him to take a step back. "Yes sir," he said before hurrying over the couch to gently awaken the sleeping man.
"Captain Banks," Dr. Dalton's voice broke the silence.
Simon turned back toward the doctor only to pause as Sandburg stepped in front of him.
"Dr. Dalton, did you get the seizure under control?" Blair's impatient question caused the doctor to gaze upon the young man with compassion.
When he had first seen the young man standing before him, he had thought he was a police officer, but he had since learned Blair was simply an observer for the Major Crimes Division, intent on obtaining his doctorate on sub-cultures. But the obvious devotion that he showed to Detective Ellison filled Clay Dalton with admiration.
"Come and sit down, Blair. I need to take a load off for a few minutes," The doctor moved past the three men to sit in one of the chairs.
Blair looked on the doctor's blatant avoidance of the question with suspicion.
"Come on, Sandburg," Simon laid a guiding hand on Blair's shoulder and gently pushed him toward the couch.
Once seated, Blair turned his attention back to the doctor. "Well?" his voice held a touch of belligerence.
"Blair...Jim didn't have a seizure this time," Dr. Dalton started his explanation ,but was interrupted almost immediately.
"That's a good thing, isn't it. It means the medications are working."
"Son."
"What? You saying it didn't work?" Blair's voice went up and octave.
"Blair…" the doctor began again.
"What? It either did or it didn't."
"Sandburg, let the doctor talk," Simon admonished.
Blair shut his mouth with a snap, sending Simon and then the doctor smoldering looks. Crossing his arms over his chest he leaned back on the couch.
"As I was saying, Jim didn't have a seizure. In fact, the swelling in his brain had reduced," Dr Dalton started his explanation again.
"See!" Blair threw a smug look toward his captain.
"Quiet, Sandburg," Simon said, before turning his attention back to the doctor. "Go ahead Doctor."
"Jim suffered a heart attack. I thought we were over the hump with the heart...I mean....it seemed my repair work was going to do the trick," the doctor pause for a moment. "I guess I was wrong."
"A HEART ATTACK! You've got to be kidding," Blair burst up off the couch. "Jim's in excellent physical condition. His heart is strong. He wouldn't have a heart attack!" Blair's voice dripped with denial.
"Even the strongest heart can fail if a bullet takes a chunk out of it," the doctor's calm voice broke through Blair's tirade.
Blair froze, desperate eyes caught the doctor's for a brief moment before he turned and sprinted for his partner's room.
Several nursed looked up when Blair busted into the room. He stood in the doorway for a minute, taking in the activity of the moment.
Moving forward, he sagged in sudden relief as he saw the rise and fall of his partner's chest as the respirator pushed air into the lungs. Glancing up at the cardiac monitor suspended above the bed, he saw the rhythms and heard the irregular beats.
He walked up beside the bed, gently laying a hand on his partner's arm. "Oh man, Jim..for a minute there..I thought," Blair sighed before turning a relieved smile toward the nurse that was standing on the other side of the bed.
The nurse did not return his smile and the look of pity that she sent his way cause a knot of fear to rise up in the pit of his stomach. Glancing up at the monitor once more and then down at the serene face of his best friend, Blair shook his head in confusion.
"Blair," Dr. Dalton's voice came from behind him.
Blair looked back to see the doctor and Simon had followed him into the room.
"Simon! He's alive. See!" Blair ignored the doctor, sending his words to the big Captain that had moved to his side. "His heart is beating," Blair pointed up at the monitor.
"Blair," Dr Dalton tried once again to speak.
"You talked like he was dead or something," Blair's voice filled with accusation. "His heart is beating."
"He is dead, Blair," the doctor's voice remained calm.
Blair turned angry eyes toward the doctor before gazing down at his partner again. "You're crazy!"
"Listen, son."
"If he's dead, why is his heart still beating? Why do you still have him on the respirator?" Blair's voice quivered.
Dr. Dalton moved to the other side of the anthropologist and laid a compassionate hand on the back of the younger man. He looked over a curly head and saw the slight nod that the tall black man sent his way.
"Blair," he began before pointing to the respirator. "That is breathing for Jim, you know that. That," he pointed to one of the many IV bags. "Is keeping his heart beating."
"So..we just keep giving him that," Blair gestured to the bag. "Until his heart has a chance to heal."
"And that," the doctor continued as if Blair hadn't spoken. "Measures brainwave activity. If it has movement, any movement at all, then we know Jim is still in there somewhere. When it is a flat line, then we know that the person is brain dead," Dr. Dalton paused for a moment. "What do you see, son?"
Blair looked up at the flat line that trailed across the screen, his eyes filling with horror. "NO!" came the strangled denial.
"Sandburg," Simon stepped closer and Blair turned frantic eyes his way.
"NO!"
Simon watched as the remaining color drained from the youthful face and deep blue eyes rolled up. Simon reached out to catch the slight figure and gently lowered it to the floor.
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Blair sat quietly on the couch that had become his world for the past few days. He was wrapped in blankets and he held a hot cup of tea in his hands. Though he felt numb, he was aware of the activity around him. He heard the muted voices that floated over him but couldn't seem to discern the words.
Every once in awhile he would feel a gentle caress on his head or back, a comforting pat on his arm or shoulder, but he kept his focus on the golden liquid that floated around his cup. The pungent smell wafted upward, bringing a momentary sense of calm, giving Blair the impression that the last few hours were nothing more than a dream and he needed to wake up if he wanted to be on time for his next visit with Jim. He didn't want his partner to think he had abandoned him.
Reality crashed down around him as Simon's voice cut through his thoughts.
"You need to drink that, Sandburg," Blair looked up to see Simon kneeling before him. "You need to get warmed up."
Blair gazed into the dark brown eyes for a moment, seeing the pain and sorrow that filled them and gave a brief nod. He brought the cup up to his lips and took a small sip. The warm liquid slid down his throat, soothing some of the dryness residing there and sent a burst of warmth through his chest, easing the chill that enveloped his heart.
"What…" Blair's voice broke and he quickly cleared his throat. "What happens now?" his question was directed at Dr. Dalton, who was standing behind Simon.
"We're trying to reach his father now."
"Why?" Blair asked in confusion. "Jim and his father are estranged. I don't think.."
"Maybe so, Blair. But we need some papers signed before we disconnect the respirator and discontinue the medications." Dr. Dalton explained.
"But I thought you said Jim was already gone," Blair's confusion grew. "Why would you need his father's permission?"
"It's just procedure, Blair. William Ellison is listed as his next of kin. Arrangements will need to be made about the body."
"Oh," Blair glanced back down at the cup in his hands. "I do know Jim wanted to be an organ donor. He should have that on his driver's license.
"I'm glad to hear that. I'll pass it on to the nurses, they can take it from there," Dr. Dalton stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on the bowed head for a moment. "I'm sorry Blair. I wish that things.." the doctor paused for moment.
"Dr. Dalton?" Bright blue eyes filled with unshed tears gazed up at him in desperate appeal.
"Yes. What is it? What can I do for you?"
"Can I....I mean, could I have some time alone with Jim?" A shaky hand ran over unruly curls. "I mean, to say goodbye and all.....before his father gets here...oh I don't know..." the voice quivered.
The plea held the compassionate doctor's heart and he knelt before the young man, placing his hand on his knee. "I think I can arrange that," his own eyes filled with tears at the look of gratitude that covered Blair's face.
"Thank you." The simple words expressed so much.
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Blair stood beside the bed for a long time, gazing at Jim Ellison's face. He had touched his partner several times, but each time had jerked his hand away. Jim's skin was warm and when he had placed his hand over the other man's chest, he could feel the beating of his heart.
"Oh man, Jim. I'm telling you, this is blowing my mind here," Blair whispered. "They're telling me you're gone, but seeing and hearing your heart beat." he paused for a minute. "I remember what you told me,you know,about you listening to my heartbeat. How it grounded you. I know how you feel now. The past few days,hearing your heartbeat,and now," the voice broke. "And now, they're going to jerk the ground out from under me," Blair's gaze floated around the room for a moment before returning to the bed. "Jim." he reached out and took his partner's hand, holding it with both of his, and brought it up to his cheek. "Oh God...oh God, please." Sobs began to wrack as sorrow broke free.
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Blair sat beside the bed, still holding onto his friend's hand. He knew they would be coming soon, but he wanted to be as close to his partner as he could, for as long as he could.
His gaze hungrily stared at the older man's features, memorizing every aspect of his face. He never wanted to forget Jim Ellison. He had been so many things to Blair. Partner. Best friend. Blessed Protector. And the object of his thesis-his holy grail-His Sentinel.
A sob caught in his throat once more. God, what was he going to do now?
His attention was caught as the door slowly opened and a small figure stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her.
His stomach began to churn with fear, thinking the time had come to give his friend up. He stood and moved closer to the bed, his grip on Jim's hand tightened.
"It's not time yet, is it?" Panic tinged his voice.
She moved toward him and he noted her appearance. She wasn't dressed like any nurse or doctor he's ever seen. Worn jeans and a red flannel shirt made up her attire, her long black hair fell to her knees in wavy strains. Bright green eyes looked on him with understanding and compassion.
"Be at peace," the gentle voice had a strange accent that he couldn't
place.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Brianna. I have been sent." She replied.
"Sent? By whom?"
"He has heard your plea, Blair Sandburg and I bring you a message," she moved closer.
"WHAT are you talking about?" he brow knitted in confusion as he felt a hint of recognition. "Do I know you?"
Her smile illuminated her face, causing Blair to gasp as he beheld her beauty.
She moved to the other side of the bed and gazed down at the man who lay so still.
"I have come here to help you," she stated.
Blair was not sure if she was talking to him or Jim. "Help? How?" Blair looked at the girl and then back down at Jim. "He's already gone."
She shook her head and reached out to touch Jim. "No, only sleeping."
"No! Don't touch him," Blair quickly blocked her hand.
His movement startled her for a moment and she gazed at him from across the bed. Understanding flooded her features and she reached across to him instead. Her gentle touch brought a sense of peace and the weariness that he had been fighting dropped from his shoulders.
"It will be alright," she assured him.
"I believe you," he found himself saying.
When she reached out to touch Jim once more, Blair made no attempt to stop her. She had closed her eyes, but when her hand made contact with Jim's face, a sharp gasp issued from her lips and her eyes flew open. She gazed at Jim in awe.
"A Watchman!" her tone was almost reverent. She turned glistening eyes toward Blair. "And you must be his Guardian."
Discomfort caused Blair to shake his head, avoiding her gaze and focusing on Jim instead.
"I don't know what you are talking about," he said.
The silence that followed had him peeking at her face, only to find her gaze had transferred to him, her lips curved up in an amused smile.
"Secrecy is understandable," she conceded then reached out for his hand. "Give me your hand Blair Sandburg."
"Wait. I remember you, now. I saw your picture in the paper. The faith.." Blair said.
"It is time for your Watchman to wake up," she continued to hold her hand toward Blair.
"I thought he was already dead. I mean, they said it was over..that the brain was..." Blair gestured at the EEG monitor that was still attached and still showed the flat line across the screen.
"Give me your hand, Blair and know that HE IS GOD!"
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Simon's feet shuffled wearily as he walked the long corridor of the intensive care unit. He had escorted Henri Brown to his car and then stopped back by the cafeteria for refreshments. He knew he was going to need large doses of caffeine to see himself through the next few hours.
A lone figure stood outside of the waiting room. The young man leaned against the wall; arms crossed over his chest and his eyes were closed. He was dressed in a long black coat with southwester designs stitched on the lapel and shoulder length black hair was tied back with a length of leather.
There was something about the young man that had Simon pausing beside him and clearing his throat.
The young man opened bright green eyes and peered up at Simon.
"Do you need some help, son?" Simon asked.
"No thank you," came the soft reply. "Just waiting."
"Waiting?"
"For my sister," the young man pushed off the wall.
"Oh I'm sorry. Is she here in ICU?"
"No, she's here to see someone," Brian Rivers informed.
"Family member?" Simon did not understand why he was so interested in this young man.
"Hmm....I guess you could say that," the young man replied. "And you?"
"Oh," the question startled Simon for a moment. "I just lost one of my men," his gaze flickered to the closed door of ICU #7.
Brian's eyes followed the taller man's gaze to the room where his sister had disappeared. A bright smile lit his face and he turned his eyes back to the tall man in front of him. "Things aren't always what they seem, sir."
"What?" Simon frowned at the young man.
"Simon!" Joel Taggert's horrified voice rang out, interrupting Simon's retort to the young man's obvious display of bad manners.
"Joel," Simon greeted his friend, barely taking notice as the young man stepped away from him.
"I just talked with Dr. Dalton. God, Simon, it can't be true," Joel had a look of disbelief written on his face.
"It's true, Joel," Simon said, motioning toward the waiting room, he added. "Let's go in her, Joel. I've got coffee here and I need to sit down for a little while. You can have one of these cups," Simon sank into a chair, his sigh filled with weariness. "I bought one of these for Sandburg, but I can get him some more."
"I can't believe this," Joel took the coffee with a trembling hand. "I mean, I guess it was expected, but..."
"Yeah, I know."
"Where's Sandburg?" Joel's eyes roamed across the empty room.
"He's in with Jim. He wanted to be alone for awhile. To say goodbye."
"Oh, Simon!"
A movement outside the door caught Simon's eye and he observed the tiny figure of a girl approach the young man had been waiting outside the door. Must be the sister he was waiting for, Simon thought.
He sat up straight when he saw Dr. Dalton approach.
"Dr. Dalton," Simon placed his untouched coffee cup on the table and rose from his seat.
"I just spoke with Mr. Ellison and he gave verbal authorization to go ahead and remove Jim from life support. We'll be transporting him to the surgical unit now. I know this sounds harsh, but the quicker we can harvest any usable organs the better..before his systems start shutting down completely."
Simon closed his eyes tightly and took a shuddering breath. He knew what he faced and dreaded it. He nodded at the doctor, then glanced back at Joel.
"Joel, can you?.. I'm going to need help with Sandburg.." Simon gestured toward Jim's room.
"You know it, Simon," was the quiet response.
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Dr. Dalton led the way, stopping briefly to let the two Captains fortify themselves for the battle that was surely going to take place in this small room Dr. Dalton admitted to himself that he was not looking forward to the time when Blair Sandburg would have to let his friend go. There was something about the anthropologist that provoked a fierce protective steak in anyone that knew him.
In fact, the doctor had instructed the nurse to prepare a heavy sedative just in case.
Taking a deep breath, Dr. Dalton pushed open the door. "Oh my God!"
His exclamation had the two policemen pushing past the doctor, only to stop short at the vision before them.
Blair was perched on the side of Jim's bed. He held one of Jim's hands in both of his and he was leaning over his partner, gazing into the light blue eyes. His lips were moving, but no sound was evident.
Dr. Dalton stared in open- mouthed astonishment as waving lines flitted across the EEG monitor. The cardiac monitor registered a strong even beat.
Simon moved closer, clearly shocked as Jim's eyes followed his movements.
Blair lifted a tear stained face and turned toward the doctor. "Dr.
Dalton, Jim wants to know if he can get this tube out of his throat now."
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Blair was strangely quiet in the chaos that followed. He shied away from the many questions that were thrown his way, only saying that Jim had suddenly awaken.
The only thing that Jim Ellison had to say was that he hurt and he wanted Blair by his side. Not that anyone could get Blair to move. He was in constant contact with his Sentinel, even when he fell asleep in the chair beside Jim's bed, he held onto his partner's hand.
Jim had been in a regular room for two days before Blair had been convinced to go back to the loft for much needed rest. And even then it had been Jim's "Go home, Chief" that had finally decided him.
He had left, but had made the nurses and Dr. Dalton promise that he would be called if his partner needed him for anything.
Simon had taken him home and had forced the anthropologist to eat and then had stayed until the younger man fell into a deep sleep.
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Blair bounced down the hall towards Jim's hospital room. He had slept for sixteen hours straight and then indulged in a long hot shower. Though he knew his partner was alive and on the road to recovery, he could not help the apprehension he felt at being away from his side for such a long period of time.
Pushing the door open he observed his partner sitting up in bed, gloomily staring at the tray of food sitting before him.
"Chief!" Jim's face brightened when Blair walked into the room.
"Eew! Nice look," he said in awe as he beheld his Sentinel's bald head. "You look like a spazed out version of Telly Savalas. I'm going to bring you some Tootsie Pops next time I come."
Jim sent a crooked grin his way. "Who loves you, baby?" his voice held a mocking quality.
"You do. And I love you.. or else I wouldn't have brought you this," Blair held up the large plastic bag he had been carrying.
A huge smile spread across Jim's face. "Say you brought food, Blair."
"Food, Jim."
"Give it to me," Jim said, shoving the bedside tray away from him.
"Hold your horses," Blair placed the bag in a nearby chair and removed the tray from the table. He looked around for a place to put it, then decided to place it on the floor by the door. The picture that was taped to the back of the door took Blair aback.
"Brown," was Jim's explanation to Blair's questioning look. "The nurses are getting a kick out of it."
Blair studied the picture of the bald headed baby that stared back at him. One lone strand of hair had been drawn on top of the baby's head with a black marker.
"Good likeness."
"Sandburg, it's really not nice to pick on the sick and infirmed. I am a man in dire need of sustenance. And if my partner doesn't help me out here-well I am just going to have to get up and go find me something edible. Of course, I'll probably get dizzy and fall. And I'll likely start bleeding again."
"Alright, alright. I get the message," Blair put the tray down and returned to the bedside, grabbing the bag as he went by. "Scootch over."
Jim obliged; grabbing the bag as Blair crawled up beside him.
"Umm, roast beef!" Jim sniffed in appreciation before opening the container and grabbed the sandwich that rested within.
"Oh, man," Blair's agitation caught Jim's attention. "I forgot to get us something to drink."
"Simon brought me some soft drinks," Jim motioned to the bedside table. "You can get some ice from the nursed station."
"Right," Blair put his sandwich on the table, got up and headed for the door, pausing once more to gaze at the picture on the door. He snorted in amusement before going through the door.
Blair returned with two cups of ice, just in time to see his partner cutting into his chicken salad sandwich.
"Hey, Chief. You didn't want all of this sandwich, did you?" A guilty look covered his face.
"No, Jim. Help yourself," Blair shook his head, retrieving two cans of sodas, then crawled back on the bed. "But your NOT getting my fruit salad."
Jim consumed the piece of sandwich in two bites after generously pushing Blair's half toward him. "What else you got in here?" Jim asked as he delved into the bag again.
"You're not getting my salad," Blair voiced once more before taking a bite of his sandwich.
Jim pulled out a small white container and gazed at it reverently. "Apple pie. You brought me apple pie."
"You're still not getting my salad," Blair was ignored as Jim grabbed a spoon and started stuffing pie into his mouth. He watched as Jim's eyes closed in ecstasy. "How you doing with your senses, man?"
"Better, still fades in and out ever once in a while, but not like it did when I first woke up," Jim said before taking another huge bit of pie.
"Good," the quiet voice had Jim turning his attention to the suddenly still figure that sat beside him.
He found Blair's eyes staring at the scar that ran across the side of his head. "How does it look?" he asked the younger man.
"It seems to be fading. How about your chest?"
"Same thing. Has Dr Dalton totally stumped," Jim rubbed at the bandage under his hospital gown.
"Do you think they will fade all together?" Blair asked.
"I don't know, Chief. Only time will tell."
"Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"I believe in God."
"I thought you did already. I mean your Jewish."
'No, man. I mean, I believe in God," the sincerity in the other man's voice held Jim's gaze for a long moment.
"Yeah," was the simple reply.
"Did you hear her calling you?" the question was barely audible.
"I heard you calling me, Chief."
"Do you remember her at all?"
"Yeah, I thought she was a beautiful angel."
"Yeah. An angel," Blair sighed, leaning over and resting his head against his Sentinel's shoulder. "She called us brothers, you know?"
"We are brothers, Sandburg," Jim reached out and patted his partner on the knee. "So, Chief..you gonna eat that fruit salad?"
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Brain Rivers gazed at the map one more time before handing it back to his bus driver.
"That should be the quickest route, Denny," he said.
"Okay, thanks, Bri," the other man responded before walking back toward the front of the bus.
Brian turned his attention toward the girl that was stretched out on the seat beside him.
"How you doing, sweetheart?" he asked her.
"I'm okay, Brian," she sat up, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.
"Something has been bothering you since we left Cascade. Is it about the Watchman and his Guide?"
"Shh, Brian. This knowledge was given in trust. You must be careful," Brianna sent an annoyed glance toward her brother.
"Sorry," he apologized. "But something is bothering you."
"No, not bothering me. It's just that He has revealed some things to me. And I'm just.."
"What things?" Brian asked, wondering if his sister would talk about this current revelation.
Brianna got up from her seat and went to kneel at her brother's feet. "Brian, I love you," her hand reached up to caress his cheek.
"Can't tell me, huh?"
"Not all of it. Not right now anyway," was the response.
"And?"
"Winds of change, my brother," Brianna laid her head against his knee.
"Change?" he stroked her glossy hair, reviling in the feel of its silkiness. "Is this about..THEM?" he asked in an exaggerated whisper.
"I can tell you one thing about THEM," she whispered back at him.
"What's that?" he asked.
"We are destined to meet again."
THE END