The Wrong Target Part 2

By Margie


Jim jerked awake, almost falling from his chair as he did so. For a moment he looked around in confusion before his eyes caught sight of the small, still figure that rested on the bed beside him. It all come back in a rush, causing a soft moan to slip past the Sentinel's lips.

It had been two days since Blair had been shot. Jim was exhausted. His back hurt from the long hours of sitting beside his Guide's bedside. The pounding in his head kept rhythm with the beat of his heart.

He had taken up residence at Blair's bedside the minute that his friend had returned from surgery and had remained there almost constantly.

Simon and the hospital staff had encouraged him to go home. Blair's doctors had assured him that his partner was fine, but even with all the platitudes, Jim had been unwilling to leave the hospital, even for a little while.

The nurses had taken pity on him, keeping him supplied with coffee and food. The resident doctor had even allowed him to use the doctor's lounge for a quick shower and change. That had helped some. He had been able to keep track of Sandburg's heartbeat, knowing that he could reach the young man's side in an instant if necessary.

Standing up for a full body stretch, Jim let his gaze drift over to the bed where his friend lay in a drug induced sleep. The respirator still pushed air in and out of his Guide's lungs, the heart monitor counted the beats of his heart and IV's pushed medication and nutrients into his veins.

Walking over to the bedside, Jim reached out and took the younger man's hand. "Hey, Chief. I'll be glad when you wake up. I have to tell you, I don't like all this quiet. It's unnatural. I know that you're not going to feel like talking for awhile, but I still want to see those baby blues." Jim softly caressed the smaller hand, reaching out with his other hand to remove unruly curls from the pale forehead.

"Jim."

The soft voice caused Jim to jump slightly, turning to see his Captain standing at the door.

"Simon, I didn't hear you," Jim said, sheepishly.

"Perfectly understandable. You have other things on your mind," Simon walked over to the bed. "How's he doing?"

"Good, he is doing good. They started reducing his medicine last night. The doctor said he should be waking up soon. Their going to take the respirator off a little later."

"That's good. Swelling in his throat has gone down then?" Simon asked.

"Yeah, DR Ragnor said the last ultrasound just showed minimal swelling, not enough to cause problems with his breathing. He thinks a few more days of anti-inflammatories will take care of that."

"That's good," Simon said again. "How are you doing? You look beat."

"I'm okay," Jim continued to stroke Blair's hand. "I just want him to wake up, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Simon moved around to stand by Jim, placing a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "I do to. I would never have guessed that I would miss his chattering."

"Careful, Simon. People might actually start to believe you like Sandburg," Jim's voice carried light amusement.

"EGADS! You think?" Simon said with a smile, glad to see a sparkle return to his friend's eyes.

"Seriously though, Simon. Have you found out anything?" Jim's eyes returned to Blair, letting go of his hand and lightly touching the layers of bandages that encompassed the younger man's neck. "About the shooting, I mean."

"Nothing about the shooter. We have interviewed everyone that was in the bullpen that day. Several times, in fact. No one saw or heard anything."

"Come on, Simon. Someone must have seen something. How could someone just walk in and shoot someone without being seen? Especially in the middle of a police station, for Christ's sake," Jim looked at his Captain, his gaze filled with anger.

"You know how it was that day. And we've decided he or she must have used a silencer. A gunshot would have been heard, even over all the noise."

"But why Sandburg? We're not working on anything that would warrant this," Jim straightened, turning his attention back to his captain.

Simon met Jim's stare with one of his own. Sighing, he massaged the bridge of his nose before saying. "Jim, I don't think Sandburg was the target."

"What?" confusion again covered Jim's face. "What do you mean?"

"Remember me telling you what happened before Blair was shot?"

"Vaguely. I guess I was preoccupied with Sandburg," Jim returned to his chair, motioning for Simon to sit also.

Simon grabbed another chair, moving it to sit beside Jim, With a brief glance at the sleeping you man on the bed, Simon sank gratefully into the seat. He had dreaded bringing this up, not knowing how the Sentinel would react.

"Do you remember anything that I told you?"

"You said that Blair had tackled you when you came into the room. You didn't know that he had been shot at first."

"Yes. But before that, he called out a warning," Simon said.

"A warning?"

"He said, 'Simon, look out'."

"So you think you were the target, then," Jim sat up in his chair, looking at his friend in concern.

"Yeah. I think I was," Simon nodded.

"Are you being careful?"

"Yes. But there's something else, Jim."

"What?"

"There was a witness."

"I thought you said..." Jim's voice faltered as he followed Simon's gaze to the bed. "Sandburg. He saw, didn't he?"

"I think so, Jim. Several people heard him call out to me," Simon rested his hand on the detective's arm for a moment. "I think Sandburg saw the shooter and was trying to knock me out of the way. I think the shooter was aiming at me and got the wrong target instead."

"God," the hoarse whisper came from stiff lips.

"Jim," Simon watched as Jim's eyes closed in fatigue.

"Simon!" Jim's eyes snapped open and he surged out of his chair. "If Blair saw the shooter..." the sentence was left unfinished.

"Already taken care of, Jim. Two uniforms are at the door. I've already cleared it with the hospital administrator. Everyone coming into Sandburg's room will be screened.

"Thanks, Simon," Jim sagged back down into his chair, leaning forward to cover his face with his hands, tiredly rubbing at gritty eyes.

"You need to go home and get some rest, Jim."

"I can't leave, not yet. As soon as he wakes up, maybe I'll go for a little while. He won't be able to talk, Simon. He'll be scared," Jim said.

"But he will be okay?" Simon suddenly needed reassurance.

"Yeah. The doctor said the bullet didn't do any damage, just caused swelling from the trauma. He shouldn't have any trouble once the swelling has gone completely down."

"It's going to be fun trying to keep him quiet," Simon said with a gentle smile.

"I'll look forward to it. I just want him to wake up," Jim looked over at the bed.

"I know," patting Jim's arm once more, Simon stood. "I'm going to go then. I'll be back later on tonight. Can I bring you anything?"

"No thanks, Simon."

"Rafe and Brown want to know if they can come too."

"Blair would like that."

Simon walked over to the bed and reached out to caress Blair's cheek. "I'll see you later, Sandburg," Simon whispered.

Jim watched as the Captain exited the room before leaning back in his chair. His eyes burned with fatigue. He did not want to chance going to sleep, but knew that he was almost at the end of his rope. Glancing once more at the still figure on the bed, he leaned his head back and let heavy eyelids close. He stretched his senses out to automatically monitor his partner's vitals, letting the strong familiar heartbeat lull him into a restless sleep.

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Blair floated upward, the white clouds that surrounded him with soft billows began to part. Tentacles of light danced across his face, tickling closed eyelids.

He knew he was drawing close to consciousness again and he tried to resist. He liked this world better. Memories of previous episodes of consciousness were still much too clear in his mind. Thoughts of horrific pain and suffocating devices burst across his mind and he reached out to hold onto the cotton comfort that encompassed him. They slipped through his fingers like vapors of smoke, leaving him desolate.

Soft sounds began to filter through the silences. A voice pulled at him, it's tone familiar. Words surrounded him, though he couldn't quite make them out. He knew that voice, knew that it represented safety and love. He reached out towards it, letting the soothing cadence draw him forward.

At first he thought the words were meant for him, but as the sounds became clearer, he realized someone else was in the room.

He knew his Sentinel's voice, indeed it was the anchor that was pulling him toward consciousness, but the other voice was unfamiliar. Blair tried to place it but fatigue filled his being when he tried to bring his thoughts together.

Awareness came slowly. Blair realized that the pain that he had experienced on previous episodes of consciousness had subsided into a dull throb. He did not have as much trouble breathing either. If he could just figure out why he was so tired.
The voices continued and Blair let the words drift over him, attempting to understand their meaning but was again filled with confusion.

No permanent damage. Full recovery. Swelling reduced.
Who was Jim talking to? Who was he talking about?

Flashes of memory began to filter into his thoughts. Pictures of Simon, Brown and a busy bullpen began to roll across his mind like an old fashion movie projector. Blair remembered a stranger and a gun--a gun pointed at Simon.

A sharp gasp erupted from his chest as the memories crowded into his confused brain, causing the voices to fall silent.

Blair felt a touch of panic when he could not longer hear the Sentinel's voice, but relief quickly followed at a familiar touch.

"Chief?"

Blair opened heavy eyes to see his Sentinel leaning over him, a questioning look on his face that turned to a relieved smile at the recognition in Blair's gaze.
"You gonna stay with me this time, Chief?" Jim asked as he gently reached out to touch Blair's cheek.

Blair leaned into the gentle touch as he closed tired eyes, a contented smile was his only answer.

"Blair?"

"Mmm-hmm," the burst of pain that followed caused Blair to surge upward, panic filled eyes springing open in horror. Tension filled him, causing a tightness in his throat that made breathing difficult.

"Easy, Chief," Jim eased down beside his friend and gently lifted him into a sitting position. "Shh. Relax" He brought Blair up to lay against his chest, gently supporting his head with one hand. "I've got you. Just take slow easy breaths, okay?"

Blair laid his head on his Sentinel's shoulder, letting the soothing words wash over him and relieving the tension that encircled his neck and throat.

As the rhythmic monotones hypnotized him, the tightened muscles in his neck began to relax, allowing refreshing oxygen to slip past and ease the burning in his lungs.

One breath. Two.

"That's better," Jim rocked slightly, the hand resting on the back of Blair's head began a slow massage, allowing the younger man to further relax. "Just keep breathing."
"Jim," Blair again tensed as pain surged forward.

"Don't try to talk yet, okay? Just concentrate on breathing, slow and easy," Jim's voice again brought a sense of peace. "I'm right here."

Blair let himself relax, listening as Jim continued to give little speeches of encouragement.

"Mr. Sandburg?"

Blair opened his eyes to seek out the owner of the unfamiliar voice, letting his gaze fall on the tall man that stood behind his partner. His face was familiar somehow but Blair couldn't quite place it. Closing his eyes once more, he pressed closer to Jim, knowing that his partner would take care of any business that the man wanted.

"Blair. This is Dr. Ragnor. He has been taking care of you the past few days," Jim explained, shifting his weight slightly to get Blair into a more comfortable position.

"Glad to see you have decided to join us, Mr. Sandburg. How are you feeling?" the doctor asked as he moved to the side of the bed.

"Thirsty..." Blair winced at the hoarse sound that came out of his mouth.

"How about a sip or two of water?" the doctor asked, reaching over to pour a little water into a small glass that resided on his bedside table.

The doctor held the glass as Blair slowly sipped the water. The cool refreshing liquid helped ease the extreme dryness that had burned his throat before.

Exhausted, Blair let his head fall back on Jim's shoulder. Any unnecessary movement brought on twinges of pain to his neck and upper chest, so Blair was determine to remain as still as possible.

"Blair?"

"Tired..." a soft moan accompanied the single word. Blair quickly determined that talking was out too.

"It's okay. Just rest, you're going to be just fine," Jim assured, smiling a little as the younger man relaxed, snuggling closer and giving a soft sigh as he let sleep reclaim him.

Jim waited for a moment, listening as his Guide's breathing deepened as he sank further into sleep. He tenderly laid the younger man back against the pillows, gently brushing unruly curls from his forehead.

"He means a lot to you, doesn't he?" Jim raised his eyes to see the gentle smile on Dr. Ragnor's face.

"Yeah, he's my partner. And my best friend," Jim returned his gaze to Blair's face.

The doctor patted Jim's shoulder. "He is going to be just fine, now. You really should go get some rest, Mr. Ellison."

"He really did a lot better this time, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. And each time will be a little better. The crisis really has passed. Now go."

"I am a little tired," Jim admitted. "Maybe for a little while."

"Good. I'll see you sometime tomorrow then," Dr. Ragnor said, reaching out to shake Jim's hand before he exited the room.

Jim stood and reached out to pull the blankets up around Blair's neck. He leaned down to whisper in his Guide's ear.

"Hey, Chief. I'm going home for a while, but I'll be back before you know it. You just rest," Jim smiled at the sleeping you man, giving his cheek a gentle stroke before heading toward the door.

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Andrew Carthridge eased up on the accelerator, watching as the dark maroon sedan that he had been following pulled over to the curb in front of the small brick house. The tinted windows of his rented car allowed him to see out. He was able to watch the activities that went on around him, but vision into the dark green vehicle was limited. He had followed the progress of Captain Simon Banks for the last four days.

He cursed silently, thinking back to the episode that had gone so drastically wrong. The long hair kid had come out of nowhere, taking the bullet that was meant for Banks. He had not meant for an innocent to get hurt, but it had been worth it when he had seen the look on Simon Banks' face as he had held the bleeding young man.

It had been easy to slip through the crowd that day and escape. In fact, when he had gone into the building, he had not given a thought to how he was going to get out. Thinking back on it, he had not had a plan at all. He had allowed the anger in his soul to overwhelm him, only wanting to exact vengeance for a wrong done.

Carthridge drove past the car slowly, glancing into the car as he went by. Turning the corner, he pulled over to the side and killed the engine. Turning in his seat, he watched the activities that were going on behind him. A triumphant smile stretched across his face as he planned the perfect retribution for Simon Banks.

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Jim pulled into the hospital parking lot and quickly found a parking space. Reaching over to grab the gym bag that he had packed for his partner, he noticed some files that were on the passenger floorboard. Leaning over, he picked them up and glanced at them briefly.

He remembered picking the files up from records the day Blair had been shot, but had since forgotten about them. Shrugging, he tucked them under his arm, thinking that he could go through them later.

Strolling through the hospital halls, he let Sentinel hearing pick up that one special heartbeat. It was strong and steady. The tension that he had been carrying around al morning slowly eased. His Guide was alive. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

"Wilson," he greeted the guard that stood at Blair's door. "How's the patient?"

"Been sleeping a lot," Wilson returned with a grin. "Captain Taggert was here earlier."

"Did Sandburg wake up?"

"Maybe for a minute Still having a lot of pain, though. The nurses are keeping him medicated."

"Good. When are you going off duty?"

"My relief comes on at eight," Wilson replied.

"You on tonight?"

"Yeah. I guess I'll see you later," Wilson smiled at the big detective as Jim went into his partner's room.

"Later," Jim said.

Walking over to the bed, a happy smile covered his face as bright blue eyes gazed up at him.

"Jim," the soft whisper reached his ears.

"Well, hey," he dropped the gym bag at the foot of the bed and laid the files on the bedside table. He lowered the side rail and carefully sat on the side of the bed. "You're awake."

Jim laughed as Blair rolled his eyes at him.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he smoothed a curl from Blair's cheek.

Blair brought his hand up to his throat for a minute and frowned. "Hurts a little," He croaked.

"Are you supposed to be talking?" Jim asked with a frown.

"Not really."

"Well then, don't," grinning as his partner rolled his eyes again.

Blair reached over and touched Jim on the arm. "Joel." He whispered as he pointed to a bag that rested on the chair.

Jim reached over and retrieved the bag. "What's this?" he asked as he reached into the bag and pulled out a white board with a pen and eraser attached to it.

Blair took the board from Jim's hand. Raising one knee, he positioned the board and started to write.

JOEL BROUGHT THIS. SAID IT WOULD HELP UNTIL I CAN TALK BETTER.

"He did, huh?"

SAID I HAD TO HAVE SOME WAY TO KEEP YOU IN LINE.

"Listen, Junior," Jim paused as he saw the look of pain that crossed his friend's face.

"You okay, Chief?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on Blair's arm.

BEGINNING TO HURT BAD.

"You want me to get the nurse?" Jim asked. At Blair's nod, he reached over to push the call button.

"Jim," Blair reached up to finger the bandages that covered his neck.

"Don't talk, buddy. It'll just make the pain worse," Jim took the board from Blair's hand and put it on the table beside the files. Taking the smaller hands in his own, he gazed at the beloved features of his Guide. "It'll get better, Chief. You just have to hold on."

The door opened and the nurse entered. She carried a small tray with a syringe on it.

"I figured it was time for some pain medication. It's been a few hours since his last shot." She smiled at the two men before she inserted the needle into Blair's IV line.

Jim smiled at her. Barbara Jenkins had been Blair's day nurse since he had been brought in. Jim appreciated the special car she gave his partner.

"Thanks Barbara," he said.

"You're welcome. Did you get some rest?" she finished giving Blair he medication and proceeded to check his vitals.

"Yeah, I did."

"Good. We were beginning to think that we were going to have to admit you too," she smiled over at Jim. "For exhaustion."

"I was getting a little tired."

"There, that should do it," she said, smiling as she saw that her patient was already getting sleepy.

"Thanks, Barbara," Jim said again.

"No problem," she returned before leaving the room.

Jim turned his attention back to the young man on the bed. "Better, Chief?"

Blair nodded, his eyelids closing as the medication worked its way through his system. "Better." He whispered.

"Shh. Just rest now," Jim instructed as he watched his friend slip into a restful sleep. "I'll be here when you wake up."

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