Part One

Part Two

//It’s been two weeks now. Fourteen days since we destroyed Blair’s life in an act of incredible stupidity. More than three hundred hours of watching him lying there, motionless, and being powerless to change anything.

The nights I spent on the spirit plane with this picture of a healthy Blair, of an unchanged spirit I wait to see resurfacing in the man in the hospital bed. I know that he tries to wake up. He tries very hard. Without success. With every passing day he is more convinced that he is really dead, that nothing we try will help.

At first, they dropped by every day. To see Blair, to talk to Naomi, to get rid of their bad feelings. Joel stopped first, after six days. He told me there weren’t anything he could do for the kid and that his family needed him. Rafe and H came four days ago the last time. They wanted to come back later; there was just too much work to do, too much overtime.

Simon comes every other day to the hospital. He would come more often, but Daryl needs him. He is under a lot of stress lately, and it starts to show. Major Crimes is understaffed, thanks to my staying with Blair, the present detectives still at war with their emotions about our fuck-up.

Megan comes every day. In fact, she spends every free minute with Blair or, after visiting hours, with Naomi. Sometimes she sleeps at the couch in the loft. I don’t mind. It seems to help her and it surely helps Naomi.

Naomi spends more and more time with meditation. She goes to the park for her cleaning rituals, smelling strongly of sage when she comes back. I simply dial it down and it doesn’t bother me. She needs all emotional support she can find. The last three nights she had been crying. I didn’t wake up – I sleep through everything when I’m on the spirit plane – but I noticed her red eyes in the morning. I’m afraid she gave up on him.

Abby keeps telling me how great he’s doing and that he could wake up every moment now. I really thought she was right when he opened his eyes yesterday and moved his left hand. But the movements are involuntary; he’s still trapped in the coma, as deep as the first day.

He’s physically healed. Someone in the hospital started mouthing off about a long-time care facility but Abby spun some story about wanting to study his ability to heal exceptionally quick. They seemed to buy it; there was no official notification.

Finally, it’s late enough to go to sleep. Every day the need to see Blair, to touch him, reassure myself my guide still exists somewhere, grows. It became nearly unbearable the last few days. God, I hope he wakes up soon. I don’t think I can stand that much longer.//

~-~-~

It was the sixteenth day after the accident. Naomi had left the hospital room for a short walk, too frustrated to sit much longer. Jim was convinced he would smell a lot of sage when she came back. It worked for her, so who was he to argue?

It was just before noon, so Megan was at work. He was alone in the room with his guide, reading the newspaper to him, when Blair woke up. It was not gradually or slow. One moment there was the deep coma, the next moment the young man was looking at Jim.

The only warning he got was the sudden increasing of his guide’s heartbeat. He looked up and was startled to see the eyes opening. Blair didn’t blink; he just opened his eyes and gazed at Jim’s face.

He pressed the button to call the nurse, then leaned over and took his friend’s hand in his own.

“Hey, Chief. I waited a long time to see you awake. Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am, Chief?”

~-~-~

//Do you know who I am, Chief?

Jim. James Ellison. Detective. Sentinel. Study object. Roommate. Object of my dissertation. Neat freak with a long list of house rules. A very private man, repressing his emotions, hard to deal with.

I can’t understand why I was so glad to live with him. That’s a man you better keep distance from. The one promised week should have been enough to study him in his domestic environment. Have I gathered new data for his dissertation in the last time? No, nothing I couldn’t have learned by observing him at work. I better move out, the danger of going native is to big. Maybe I already did.

What the hell possessed me to turn down the chance to go to Borneo with Dr. Stoddard? And why am I still tagging along when he’s doing police work? I’ve been kidnapped, shot at, drugged, poisoned - let’s not go into too much detail here, the list is simply too long. Am I completely out of my mind? I should get out of that situation, and fast at that. And let’s just be honest, he isn’t really forthcoming with information. I should do a few interviews with his co-workers, maybe talk to his father.

What is he doing here? He is not family. He is no friend. I don’t remember hearing words of friendship from him, ever. He just nodded when I mentioned it. I guess I’m just an acquaintance to him. He never even used my first name. Only the stupid ‘Chief’ he uses for anyone, even perps. I don’t like that stupid nickname.

So, why is he here? Am I under arrest? I can’t remember doing anything wrong. Or was it a crime to hit their ground with my head? I don’t think so. But maybe my memory is sketchy; I did bang my head after all. I should ask him, at least answer his question. How do I address him? I used to call him Jim, but that is hardly appropriate. God, Sandburg, how do you get yourself into these situations again and again?

Oh, right, I still have to answer him.//

“James Ellison. Hospital.”

Before Jim could answer, the nurse rushed in, Abby on her heels.

“Mr. Sandburg, good to see you awake. I’m Abby Nagel, your doctor. Call me Abby. How do you feel?”

“I have a headache.”

“That is no reason to worry. I’ll give you something for the pain later. Do you remember why you’re here?”

“I fell and hit my head.”

All answers right. But still, the emotionless voice alarmed Jim. That was so not Blair.

“That is right, Mr. Sandburg. Can you lift your right hand for me?”

A shaky hand left the sheet but fell back after two seconds. The blue eyes blinked a few times, then closed, this time for a sleep instead of a coma.

Abby motioned him outside. Naomi was just coming in from her walk and hurried to meet them.

“What happened? Is something wrong?”

Abby hurried to reassure her, moving them to a group of chairs.

“No need to worry, Naomi. He woke up shortly, now he’s asleep. He was able to answer my questions, but we have to do a few more tests to make sure he’s okay. You can see him briefly, but please, don’t wake him up.”

Naomi rushed into Blair’s room, moving fast but silent. Abby turned back to Jim.

“I will call you after the tests are done. We have to assess how we handle visiting hours from now on, it all depends on his condition.”

“Can’t we wait here for the results? We want to be here for him.”

“I don’t know how long it will take. I’ll let him sleep for now; he needs the rest. Let’s make a compromise. I’ll call you tomorrow morning, eight o’clock sharp, whether the tests are done ore not. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They shook hands, and then she went into the room to gather Naomi.

~-~-~

It took not much persuasion to convince Naomi to go the PD and talk to them in person. The entire way to the precinct she asked Jim how Blair had sounded, what exactly did he say, did he look like he was in pain, again and again. He answered her patiently, but had to suppress a relieved sigh when he drove into the parking lot.

He was worried, even more now. All the time his friend had been comatose the main question was whether he woke up or not. Now they had to wait and see which after-effects would occur. Blair had seen him, heard him, knew him. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Nobody could expect him to be his usual bouncing self after sixteen days in a coma. No need to worry. No need to worry at all.

The ride in the elevator was quiet, but he could tell that Naomi was only waiting for him to repeat his story to his colleagues, seeing if that brought up something not mentioned before. They stepped into Major Crime and were greeted by Rhonda’s worried expression.

“Jim, Ms. Sandburg, nice to see you. Is Blair alright?”

“Hi, Rhonda. No need to worry, we have good news. Is Simon in his office?”

“No, they’re all in the conference room. Should be finished every minute now.”

True to her word, the detectives and officers started to come back into the room. Soon they were surrounded by a large group of concerned policemen. Jim repeated his story a few times, until all of them had heard it firsthand. The reactions were spectacular. There were tears of joy in the eyes of the most stoic macho men and the smile on Megan’s face could have lit the northern hemisphere.

Disappointed to learn that the visiting hours had been cut back, they started to make a kind of schedule who would visit their observer when and what to bring along. Simon had a huge smile on his face. It had been a long time since the mood in the bullpen had been that good. There was only one thing wrong in the picture: Jim Ellison.

He knew his leading detective long enough to sense that Jim wasn’t as happy as he acted. The rigid set of the shoulders, the clenching of the jaw, the posture, all told him there was something unsaid. So he took Jim aside, asking him what was wrong.

“Nothing, really. It’s just, you know, we waited so long for him to wake up, hoping, that then it would be alright. And now we have to wait again, but somehow, this is worse. I know that all signs tell us we should be optimistic, but now we have to wait on the final verdict, you know, will he be Blair or a stranger with Blair's face or will he be handicapped, there is so much to fear.”

“You said he recognized you, he was able to move, he only had a headache. I think it all sounds pretty good, so stop to worry and get some rest. He will need you now more then before. Use the afternoon to go to the gym, do something for yourself. The work is only beginning now.”

“You are right, Simon. It’s the same like it was with the guilt. The fear won’t help a thing. I think a workout is exactly what I need at the moment. Thanks, Simon.”

Jim went back to the cluster around Naomi, answered a few questions more, and promised to keep them all up to date on their favorite observer’s condition. It took them a while to leave the building, meeting personnel of the other departments in the floor and elevator and especially the female part of them couldn’t get enough news on Blair.

Naomi was stunned by all that. She’d always known that her son made friends easily; she just didn’t expect the members of such a rigid organisation as the police to like her free-spirited boy. Maybe the pigs weren’t all bad. Okay, it may be that there were as much decent people on the force as there were in other professions. She just hadn’t met them before. Well, living is learning and she wasn’t above that.

On the way home Jim told her about his plan to go to the gym and she encouraged him. She would wait in the loft, glued to the phone, in case the doctor would call. But she wouldn’t call, because now all would take a turn for the better.

~-~-~

Jim came home exhausted. It felt good to exercise again, maybe he overdid a bit after sixteen days of sitting in a chair in the hospital and coming home to eat, clean and sleep. He would be stiff tomorrow, but he would be able to sleep. Now that Blair was awake there would be no visit to the spirit plane and he was hoping his exhaustion was winning over his worries.

Naomi seemed to have anticipated his condition. He found the dinner on the table, the loft sparkling clean and the woman in the middle of the living room, meditating. He found a notice from her beside the plate.

Dear Jim,

Eat something, leave the dishes, take a hot shower and go to bed. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.

Naomi

He smiled at her still form and then did as instructed. Naomi was an irresistible force, much like his guide. Obviously an inherited skill.

He fell asleep quickly and was more than surprised to be back in the jungle of the spirit plane. Sandburg was waiting for him as always, rushing to greet him.

“Blair! I didn’t expect to find you here today.”

The younger man was puzzled.

“Why, Jim? What has changed?”

Now it was Jim’s turn to wonder. The questioning eyes of his friend were genuine, Blair really didn’t know.

“You woke up today! Don’t you remember that?”

“No, Jim, I didn’t wake up. I was here all the time. I don’t understand it.”

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll find it out. I’ll ask Naomi tomorrow, okay?”

He embraced his distressed guide, spending the rest of his stay with comforting him. Blair didn’t ask again, just accepted all Jim told him, even tried to smile. Why couldn’t he simply have died without being showed what he had lost? Why was the fate so cruel? There must have been a lot of bad karma from his former lives. But he kept his composure for his sentinel’s sake.

~-~-~

Jim awoke with the awaited sore muscles. He could hear Naomi already awake and preparing breakfast. He forced his stiff limbs out of the bed and moved downstairs.

“Morning, Naomi. Thanks for the dinner. Did you sleep well?”

“Morning, Jim. Well enough, I’m just too impatient for Abby’s call. Still one and a half hours away. Breakfast will be ready in five.”

“Thank you.”

He took another hot shower to give his body a chance to relax. When he was ready, the breakfast was waiting for him. He could get used to having her around, but if he’d get his guide back sound and sane he would happily do all housework for the rest of his life.

When they were finished he used the moment to tell her about his nightly visions.

“I’m quite sure this is real, no dream or hallucination. I didn’t know about his accident when he was eight until he told me in that vision, but you confirmed the story. I don’t understand why he is still there. He said he didn’t leave that spirit plane; he is convinced he’s dead. I simply don’t know what to do.”

“I believe you. When I saw my baby I noticed at once that a part of his aura was missing. So maybe a part of him really died.”

“Do you see any way to unite the parts of him again? We tried meditation to return him to his body, but nothing worked.”

“I can only guess, but I’d try to convince both parts of him to reunite and then try to have physical contact to Blair while visiting the spirit plane. But it is only a guess.”

“It’s worth trying. When I spoke with Blair yesterday he was so distant, emotionless. It could be a consequence of the coma or he is really missing a part of his personality. That would certainly explain the visions, and why he feels dead.”

“We’ll see. I hope we can visit him today.”

He nodded at her, then cleared the table and did the dishes. He took his time, but when he finished there was still half an hour left. Naomi was eyeing the phone, too. To distract both of them he asked her a few more questions about Blair. A little more time of waiting and he’d be able to write his own dissertation about his guide. Blair would love that.

After a seemingly endless time of waiting the phone began to ring. Naomi was faster to grab for it and pushed the button for the loudspeaker.

“Hello, Abby?”

“Good morning, Naomi. Morning, Jim.”

“Morning, Abby,” they answered in unison.

“I’ve got mostly good news. Blair is in a remarkable good condition. He has problems to coordinate the movements of his arms and legs, but with a few hours of physical therapy we should be able to remedy that. His attention span is very short at the moment, but usually it gets better after a few weeks. He is very calm, until now he’d shown no emotions about the accident. Has he always been a controlled person?”

“No, he’d always been very emotional. He was never good at hiding his feelings.”

“Well, we’ll have to observe it. It might be a permanent change of personality, but it is much too early to assess that. You can visit him from two till five pm. But only you two at the moment. We’ll see later about other visitors.”

“Thank you, Abby. We’ll be there at two o’clock. Bye.”

“Bye, Jim, Naomi.“

They looked at each other, both thinking the same. Abby’s report had, if not outright confirmed it, at least not contradicted their suspicion. Now they just had to hope their remedy would work.

~-~-~

Blair was enervated by all the tests, questions and constant appearing of nurses and doctors. He was tired. Why didn’t they leave him alone for at least a while? And all these fake smiles. His head still throbbed, but he stopped to complain after a while. They wouldn’t give him anything until their tests were finished. And they always found new examinations to make, or another nurse would come in and ask the same questions as the one before.

He wished he could at least get angry and tell them all to go to hell. But he was too tired to do that. Doctor what-was-her-name-again had told him that his mother and Detective Ellison had been with him every day. Thank god, she sent them home. He already had to deal with too many people. Oh goody, the next nurse. Asking the same stupid questions.

He simply turned around, facing away from the nurse and tried to sleep. It didn’t work. She simply talked louder. What was she talking about? Visitors. Ellison and Naomi. In five minutes. Oh, joy. Staying awake? Why should he? Oh, right, visitors. Naomi’s visit he could understand, but what was Ellison trying to accomplish?

Who was talking to him in this insisting loud voice? Nurse, check. Did she ask a question? He turned around, looking at her with questioning eyes.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Sandburg? Your mother and detective Ellison will be here in five minutes. Can you try to stay awake?”

“Your tests done?”

“Yes, we’re all done. You did good.”

“What about pain meds. My head is killing me.”

“I’ll talk to Dr. Nagel”

“See that you do that.”

What an image of competence! Was it really too much to ask for a moment of peace, without his head threatening to burst?

A knock at the door. What now, a nurse with manners? Right, visitors. Both smiling like mad. Goody, now I have to humor them, while my head is trying to fall off. He forced his features into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

“Hi, Sweety. I’ve waited so long to see your beautiful eyes again. How do you feel?”

“I have a headache. Maybe they’ll give me something if you ask them. I’ve been trying for seven hours now, without success.”

“Abby will be here every moment. She’ll give you something.”

“Sure.”

The door opened again, without knocking of course. He had seen that face before. Oh, yes, the nurse he asked for a painkiller, empty-handed, what else. The doctor was following her.

“You still have a headache, Blair?”

He nodded very carefully. After approximately two hundred questions and demands for a painkiller they expected him to be pain-free. Did he give her the permission to use his first name? He didn’t think so.

“I give you a shot. It should work pretty fast.”

She did another examination, just for show - to convince the visitors she was actually doing something for her money, he was sure. Slowly the pain in his head began to ebb away. Finally.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.”

She smiled at him and took place beneath his bed. So, not only his two visitors, but additional a nosy doctor to entertain. His day went better every minute. Not.

For the next hour he had to answer questions about his past. It was hard to follow them, he often lost track of their statements. But they appeared to be satisfied by his answers. Then the doctor left him alone with his visitors.

They asked really strange questions. Did he feel as if a part of him was missing? Did he have strange dreams while he was unconscious? Did he feel different now compared to the time before the accident?

Accident. A nice way to put it. The pigs tried to make him look foolish, managed to nearly kill him. After a while with them and the strange questions, he started to wonder about their sanity. Where would all that lead to? He couldn’t follow them anymore, so he shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

Jim could tell that Blair was feigning sleep. Blair should know, that he would know. Did he forget about the sentinel abilities? When Naomi left the room to talk to Abby again, he asked the young man.

“Blair, I know you’re awake. Do you know what your dissertation is about?”

Tired blue eyes opened again.

“Sentinels.”

“Right. Do you know what a sentinel is?”

“A person with five enhanced senses.”

“Did you find a study object, Blair?”

“You.”

Okay. The memory was intact. But there were simply no emotions. All answers were given in an even, dispassionate voice.

“Do you know that you’re my guide?”

“No guide. Researcher. Objective.”

“Blair, do you remember meeting me on the spirit plane?”

“No.”

“Blair, a part of you, a vital part is trapped on the spirit plane. We have to reunite both parts of you. Do you agree?”

The cop was definitely insane. He was still the same person, only the damned restlessness was finally gone. But he didn’t feel good enough for a lengthy discussion, so he simply told Ellison that he was tired and wanted to sleep. The cop finally got it and left the room, but not before promising - or threatening, depending on the point of view - to be back the next day. Peace at last. Blair closed his eyes and was asleep within seconds.

~-~-~

Jim and Naomi spent the evening discussing their observations. Naomi played the devil’s advocate, searching for natural reasons for the changes in Blair. There were plenty, but still, after all the talking they were both convinced their assumption was correct.

In the night he conferred with his guide, hoping he had an idea how to fix it. Blair was dismayed when Jim told him that his altered personality didn’t want to be Jim’s guide. He racked his brain to solve the problem, but the only idea he did come up with was giving the pod-Blair his journals to read, maybe he would realize then that something, some part of him, was missing.

~-~-~

The next day in the hospital was equally frustrating. Blair refused to see any visitors except his mother. So she brought him the journals and asked him to read it. The conversation was as difficult as it was the previous day. Blair only answered direct questions with short, detached sentences. The young man kept his cool while Jim and Naomi were ready to burst from pent-up frustration, she inside the room, he waiting outside.

~-~-~

After his mother left him Blair studied the journals on the bedside table. He was bored, so he decided to take a look at them. It was a strange reading matter. He remembered all the events but the comments were incomprehensible to him. They were full of all kinds of emotions he couldn’t recall or even understand. One thing he did apprehend: his life had been much richer before.

Maybe the ridiculous idea the cop had mentioned was not so stupid after all? He was fed up with feeling angry all the time, an anger he had no capability to express. If it wouldn’t accomplish anything else, he might just be able to shout that stupid nurse into the next century.

He called the loft and told his mother that he was ready to try this ‘reunion’. She was obviously happy to hear that, but he wasn’t in the mood to chat with her. He kept the call short and tried to be polite, but failed again.

~-~-~

“How will we do that, Naomi? Do you think we should tell Abby?”

“I’ve got no idea. She seems to be pretty open-minded. But if it is as simple as we hope, we don’t need to tell her.”

“And if not?”

“Then we’ll find another solution, Jim. It can’t go on like this. This is not my son anymore. He changed his personality once, I don’t want to experience that again.”

“That happened before?”

“When he woke up after the electric shock he was another person. He wasn’t hyperactive before the accident, but he was afterwards. He was kind of obsessed with death for a few weeks. He spent a lot of time in a hospice and talked to Ms. Evans. She was dying from cancer and he stayed with her every minute of his free time. On her last day she gave him that book about Sentinels and his obsession shifted to that topic. He even did his Master’s thesis on it.”

“Yes, he mentioned it to me. An interesting topic, I think.”

“Maybe. I’ve heard it around three million times and my enthusiasm decreased a little bit every time.”

“I hear that, Naomi.”

She laughed out loud. Her mood was much better now. There was a silver lining on the horizon. Maybe it would work. Surely it would work. It just had to.

Jim was too nervous to feel anything else. This was the one chance to get his guide back. The visits on the spirit plane were relaxing, but he’d rather have the real thing. He really hoped they could solve the problem soon, it was getting harder to hide the little fact that Blair wanted no visitors from the guys in Major Crimes.

They would certainly assume the young man avoided them because he blamed them, if they became aware of that fact. Or he had to explain the altered personality to them. Which would lead to the blaming thing, too.

~-~-~

Blair was tired. His day had been stressful with two hours of various tests in the morning and then another hour spent with physical therapy. The therapy wasn’t painful or unpleasant; he was just tiring very fast and the exercises left him drained. The perfect foundation for whatever voodoo his mother and the cop wanted to celebrate. And pigs could fly.

There was a knock at the door. Showtime. Ellison and his mother moved in, both with forced smiles on their faces. Or maybe it was genuine; he wasn’t able to tell these days.

“Hallo, Sweety, how do you feel today?”

“Tired.”

Jim could see that. Fatigue was Sandburg’s constant companion since he resurfaced from the coma. There was nothing left from the almost legendary energy he’d possessed formerly.

“Hi, Chief. Abby said you did great with your exercises. I know therapists, they only stop when you drop.”

“You got that right. So, what now? How do you want to do it?”

“You still want to do it? It wont work otherwise.”

“I’m positive. So, get on with it.”

Jim and Naomi took place beneath the bed. Blair’s condition had one benefit, he wasn’t afraid of whatever there might come.

“Blair, I want you to breathe slowly. You remember meditation, right? Good. Try to breathe in Jim’s rhythm. Jim, concentrate on that special place, slow your breathing down.”

Under Naomi’s gentle ministrations Jim slowly went into a trance and felt himself slip away from reality. Naomi noticed it. She was having a hard time trying to keep Blair’s attention. The young man’s focus kept slipping and she was coaxing him kindly and quietly. The last thing on her mind was disturbing Jim’s concentration.

Blair felt himself drifting. It was a very strange sensation, as if he were floating. An odd image took shape before his inner eye. A jungle, but with a tinge of blue. And it just went weirder. He saw a copy of himself. A not really precise copy. The other one had still long hair and he was smiling broadly. Ellison moved into the picture, taking place beside that other Blair.

Soft words invaded the scenery. Naomi’s voice cooed, urged him to move closer to the others. In the back of his mind he was wondering how Naomi new what was going on, but he quickly dismissed the thought. It simply didn’t matter. His not-quite-mirror-image smiled at him.

“Hi, Blair. I miss you. I want to be part of you again. Please, let me join you, let’s get whole again.”

“How? What do we do?”

He got no answer. His copy just reached out to him and he took the hand without hesitation.

Blair opened his eyes and looked into the concerned eyes of his mom and Jim. He felt fantastic, ecstatic and complete. Without a word he grabbed both visitors and hugged them fiercely.

“Are you okay, Blair? How do you feel?”

“I have a headache. But except that I feel great. Too good to be in a hospital. When can I go home?”

Jim grinned at Naomi.

“That sounds like the man we know and love. It really worked!”

“Said man is present. So talk to me or let me sleep; I’m tired.”

“Sure thing, Blair.”

Naomi gave him a kiss on the forehead and left the room. After a moment’s hesitation Jim did the same.

“Sleep tight, little brother.”

If he weren’t so tired he’d think about it. Why Jim suddenly used his first name. What happened to elicit a display of affection from the older man. Why Naomi was so laid-back. But all that could wait until he was able to keep his eyes open.

~-~-~

The next morning he awoke refreshed. An incredible sight greeted him. He remembered meeting her before. What did she say? Dr. Abby Nagel. Call me Abby.

“Good morning, Abby.”

“Good morning, Blair. How do you feel today?”

“I feel great. Could be the company. I really enjoy waking up with a beautiful woman in my room.”

Abby was stunned. Was that the same taciturn young man she met? He looked absolute adorable with his flirtatious smile and bright blue eyes. What a change! She had to pull herself together and keep in mind that he was her patient. With the speed he was healing that might change in the near fortune. Well, a girl can be dreaming.

“So. No headaches anymore?”

That sounded almost professional. Was there something like love at the first smile? Get a grip, already. Keep it professional. A strict doctor-patient relationship. She began to consider how fast she would be able to release him.

“Just a little one. So Abby, what’s the schedule for today?”

“Well, first breakfast, then a few more tests and physical therapy. After that it’ll be time for lunch and then you can have visitors. But first of all we’ll get you off these machines. Your readings have been very good the last thirty six hours and there should be no risk to turn them off.”

“Does that mean I can go home soon? Not that I want get rid of you. It’s just that me and hospital food aren’t on best terms, you know?”

“Oh, but there had been a dramatic improvement. Now you can actually recognize the food group of your dish, if you look very carefully.”

“And I slept through that historical event? Damn.”

She gently removed the electrodes, in her mind repeating her mantra to keep it professional. God, she behaved like a schoolgirl having her first crush. She quickly finished her work and left to collect herself.

Blair was smitten. That doctor was definitely the woman of his dreams. Smart, funny and absolutely gorgeous. Too bad she kept her distance. But he wouldn’t give up. She was worth every effort.

A soft knock at the door announced the arrival of his breakfast. He eyed the tray warily. Light food. Flabby toast and a white mush. Why does light food in hospitals always meant this awful white stuff? He pushed the tray away, dreaming about a piece of cheesecake.

He grabbed the phone from his bedside table and dialled the number of the loft.

“Ellison.”

“Hi, Jim, it’s me. You’ve got to help me, man. The nurses have the hots for me and try to keep me here at all costs. You don’t believe what I’ve got for breakfast. They try to starve me; nobody can eat that stuff.”

“Can I conclude from your ramblings that you want me to smuggle food into the hospital? Something actually edible?”

“Would you, Jim? Please, please, please? I’d be in your debt for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll do my very best. See you in a few.”

He put the phone away and settled down to wait. After twenty-five minutes his partner arrived, accompanied by Abby. Blair tried to look contrite, but failed miserably.

“Breakfast, Chief. All items approved by your doctor.”

Jim started to unpack his bag. There was enough food for at least five persons.

“Cheesecake! I’d kiss you but I have to keep my macho image in front of that beautiful woman. Can you stay and eat breakfast with me?”

Jim cast a questioning look at Abby, noticing her blush. She nodded and he settled down beside the bed, moving the offensive tray farther away. He invited Abby to join them and a few minutes later they were all three munching happily.

~-~-~

“Simon! Good to see you! How are you, man?”

“Shouldn’t that be my line? I’m fine. How are you, Blair?”

Whoa. Simon called him Blair. Almost as scary as hearing his first name from Jim.

“I’m fine. As good as new. And tomorrow I can go home. Or hobble home, walking is still a bit difficult, but it gets better. Mark - he’s my physiotherapist - is very satisfied with my progress.”

“Jim mentioned the problems with your hands and feet. Are your hands getting better, too?”

“Yeah. I can already write if the pen is thick enough. So, Simon, what did I miss during my nap? Has Daryl graduated in the meantime?”

Simon’s face fell. Blair berated himself. It was a stupid idea to joke about it. He should have kept his big mouth shut. The time spent with the cops had taught him not to talk about difficult and emotional matters. Another lesson not learned. It was his usual reaction to crack jokes about things he couldn’t voice otherwise, while Jim and Simon avoided such topics altogether.

“Listen, Blair, I’m really sorry. There is no excuse for what we did to you. I could have been, I should have been the one to prevent it. But I didn’t. I don’t think I will ever forgive myself. How can you even stand to look at me?”

Ooo-kay. That was really a surprise. A pleasant one. He took Simon’s hand and smiled at the large man.

“It’s okay, Simon, really. I know it was an accident. We’re good, man.”

Simon squeezed the hand. He was relieved and grateful that the kid held no grudge against him. After a short while he thought better and hugged the young man tightly. Then they started to chat about Daryl’s latest girlfriend and how to keep a teenager from tearing down a house with loud Rap music.

~-~-~

It felt so good to be home again. Jim and Naomi waited on him hand and foot. They tried to fatten him up. He didn’t think he could eat tongue again for the next few years. All his favourite food was always within easy reach. It was funny the first few hours. After then it was annoying. But his two mother hens enjoyed it and he let them have their fun.

Over the last two days he heard a lot of apologies. Megan had hugged him during her entire visit, stroking his short hair and crying with relief and guilt. Joel’s visit was not much better. The big man had hidden his feelings quite well for more than two weeks, but the fact that he owed Blair so much had blown his guilty conscience out of proportion. Blair’s sweatshirt was wet with the tears of a cop for the second time.

Rafe and Brown had been calmer, but it took him a lot of coaxing to get them to look at him and convince them that he really forgave them. Their intentions might have been good but the conversations left him emotionally drained and exhausted. Jim’s silent apologies were much easier to receive. The sentinel was very attentive to his needs, sought physical contact to comfort him and talked to him, avoiding nothing.

Jim came back into the living room and sat down beside him on the couch, getting him out of his musings. Sensitive fingers probed his neck muscles. Oh, bliss, another massage forthcoming. The movements of his hands were nearly normal again but the exercises were hard on his shoulders and sentinel fingers were the best remedy for the painful knots.

“Lie down, Chief. It looks like you could use a massage.”

Yep. Blessed Masseur strikes again. He removed his shirt while Jim got the oil. Nearly purring while his friend worked his muscles he continued the conversation they had interrupted when Rhonda knocked at the door. She brought him a beautiful orchid that now sat on the coffee table.

“Do you think, like, the universe is trying to tell me something?”

“How so?”

“Well, first I get fried by this wire, now I nearly kicked the bucket again. I’ve got the distinct impression the universe is still testing how to get rid of me. Am I lucky because I survived or am I the worst trouble magnet in the world? – Don’t answer that!”

“I am the lucky one because you survived.”

“Wow, you actually admit you like me. I’m so touched, Big Guy.”

“Smartass.”

Blair snickered. It was so good to feel alive again. He remembered the first days in the hospital, but it felt like something he saw on TV, somewhat unreal. No real feelings, just these annoying pragmatism. Hopefully he’d never go back to that pod personality.

He’d never admit to Jim that he was really worried about his close calls, so he made jokes. What would happen next time? Probably something equally offbeat, like tripping over his shoelaces and drowning in a puddle. Better not think about it and hope the next time will be far, far away.

“What did Naomi say? Will she be back for dinner?”

“She didn’t know, Blair. She and Megan became very close friends in the last couple of weeks. You never know what the two of them are up to.”

“Mom is really sticking around this time. It’s nice to have her close.”

“She is a great person.”

Jim finished his massage and helped him up. Blair’s life was nearly perfect at the moment. With Naomi and Jim he had the two most important people of his life close by and Abby had called him this morning. Life was very good, indeed.

~-~-~

Patiently Jim waited for his friend to return home. He was on a date with Abby, after the doctor had finally asked him out when he was declared healthy. The two of them were too much alike; Jim didn’t think it would work out for them. He shuddered at the thought of a bunch of curly-haired, hyperactive and too smart for their own good kids running through Cascade, causing mayhem.

The sound of Blair’s ‘classic’ car, also known as the piece of junk, announced his arrival. A few moments later he heard his guide’s steps. The date was obviously a big success; he could hear his friend singing softly in the staircase. A love song. Oh my.

The keys rattled in the lock and moments later, Blair breezed in. Grinning broadly he jumped over the back of the couch, the landing worth a 9.0 from the German judge.

“So, Chief, I take it the evening went well?”

“Fantastic! She is smart, funny and beautiful. We’ll go out again Saturday, to the gallery. We even like the same artists.”

“You sure you’re not twins? Separated at birth, maybe?”

Blair shot him an evil glare, which turned feral. Jim didn’t like the expression of his guide’s face, didn’t like it at all. Blair moved to the kill.

“Remember, Jim, you promised me tests. I intend to hold you to that.”

“You did hear that? What else do you remember?”

“Well, I didn’t actually. But you just confirmed it. Did you make any other hollow promises I could abuse? I feel in the mood to annoy a sentinel!”

“Sandburg!”

What a wonderful noise, his guide’s laughter. Thank god, Blair didn’t know about his promise to forget the house rules. Heck, he would do that anyway. But he definitely drew the line at the algae shakes. He would never try one of them. Never. He meant that.

The End

Feed the author! Email: MagPie