Guarded Optimism Part Two
Part Two of Guarded Optimism
*~*~*
The case specialist walked swiftly down the corridor in front of Jim, stopping to press the button beside the huge automatic doors at the end. She turned to him as the door swung open. "They took him to recovery a little while ago but he coded."
Jim stopped suddenly, looking for a handhold along the wall, his ears ringing. "Wh...what?"
She stopped, placing a tiny hand on his back. "They got him back, but he's critical. The doctor will be able to tell you more." After a few seconds, she turned and started walking again, her ponytail swinging from side to side as Jim following slowly after her.
A small room at the end of the hall held two chairs and a little round table and she motioned for him to sit. "He'll be in recovery for a few hours, but when he's more stable you'll be able to see him."
She left him alone, but a doctor entered soon after and stuck out a slender hand to shake. "I'm Shelly Owens."
"Jim Ellison." He returned the firm hold, rising half way until she took the seat across from him.
"As you know we had to explore Mr. Sandburg's abdomen for bleeding. His right kidney and liver are still bruised, but his spleen had to be removed and a small tear in the lining of the large bowel had to be repaired." She reached up and took the green scrub hat from her head, crumbling through her hair with her hand. "He's very weak, he's lost a lot of blood and its put a lot of stain on his heart. He coded, but we got him right back and I've increased his fluid intake and adjusted some of his medication to help eliminate the strain. We can only wait and see."
Jim nodded, releasing his hands from tight fists, flexing his fingers to renew the flow of blood, ignoring the tingling that raced from tip to wrist.
"Do you have any questions?"
Shaking his head, he stood when she did. "Someone will be out to get you when you can see him."
*`*`*
Hours later a nurse led him to a ward, Simon had already gone into work. "You can visit for five minutes every two hours while he is in recovery."
Pastel curtains sectioned off the beds arranged in a semi circle around a huge nurse's desk. Doctors and nurses moved from space to space, checking on patients and delivering medications or talking to love ones that stood by the beds.
Blair was toward the middle, a nurse sat in a raised stool, writing something in a chart. She smiled when Jim walked in and up to his friend. "He's doing good."
He nodded, eyes following the tubing carrying crimson fluid to a line leading to the side of Blair's throat, the tape peaking out from a hole in the plastic collar.
Blair's eyes seemed bruised, his face a little puffy and he was covered with a silver lined blanket
"He has some swelling from blood loss, but his vitals are stabling, his fever is down and he's on his last transfusion. I think he'll be back on the ward in a few hours."
Jim just stood for a bit, placing his hand on top of Blair's, surprised when he felt a tiny twitch
The nurse smiled, glancing at the clock over the nurse's station. "He's coming up from sedation. They need to test the extent of his spinal and neck injuries."
Nodding, Jim gave the hand laying on top of the sheets a gentle squeeze, hoping that Blair could feel him, hoping that his friend knew he wasn't alone.
"I gotta go for a bit, Chief." Jim squeezed the fingers one more time. "I'll be back a little later."
*`*`*
The buzzing was gone...
Something cool caressed his body and someone was holding his hand, fingers moving gently over tendons, feather light.
His hand moved slightly, getting a gentle squeeze in return.
"I gotta...g..bi...cheeeefff."
The words washed over him, but he knew that voice...
Jim?
*`*`*
Two days later Jim sat in Blair's room, watching as a doctor pulled the sheets and blanket up. Blair's pink toes were peeking out the bottom of white support hose that extended all the way up to his thighs.
A parade of people had been in and out all morning; the breathing tube was removed and replaced with an oxygen mask, resting on the gauze that protected his healing nose. The drainage tubes from surgery were emptied and IV bags were replaced, the central line in his neck removed.
The nursing staff bathed him and shifted his bed so that he was on his back, the padded panels replaced by a removable hard plastic body cast; the new collar on his neck was softer and smaller.
Blair had opened his eyes a few times throughout the morning, but they were glassy and unfocused.
The Neurologist was using a few fingers to tap along Blair's legs, lifting and bending his knees.
The man held a short metal object, running it from heel to toe and Jim watched as Blair flexed his feet. "That's a very good sign. We'll check him again a little later once most of the drugs have worked their way out of his system."
Jim stood, shaking the doctor’s hand. "Thanks."
Alone again he sat, pulling a book from the duffle he brought from home. It was a mystery novel Blair had given him months ago.
A few pages in, he heard the familiar stride of his friend and boss. "Hey, Jim...is he better today?"
Creasing the page to save his place, he stowed his book in the side table drawer. "He's doing really good."
Simon sunk into the other chair, sighing. "I got some news."
Jim sat forward, the fine hairs on his neck rising. "What's wrong?"
"Seems Marks was only survived by a younger sister. She's an assistant to Maxwell Landers, the new D.A."
Not liking where this was going, Jim stood, moving to the door. "Let's talk outside, I don't want..." he nodded toward Blair and Simon stood and followed him, pulling the door closed.
"Rafe got a call this morning from Landers requesting information. He kicked it over to me and I informed him that there wasn't enough evidence, but I don't think he'll let it go."
Before Jim could answer a familiar women stepped from the elevator and headed toward them. Her black hair hung loosely around her pale face and she smiled briefly when she saw him. "Hi, Jim."
"Um...hi Molly."
"I ah...I was hoping to see Blair. I heard he was doing better." She looked from him to Simon and back again.
"Yes, of course. I'll be right back, Simon." Jim ushered her in, holding her as she suddenly sunk into the chair by the bed. "It's alright. He looks a little banged up, but he's doing a lot better."
"Can I...do you mind if I have a minute alone with him?" She pushed herself up, legs shaking so much that she had to hold on to the raised rails of the bed.
"I'll be right outside." She nodded, not bothering to look at him as he slipped out. Her heart was pounding and Jim could detect a faint bitter smell, but figured she was just upset about seeing Blair for the first time after the accident. His roommate had been dating her on and off for a while, but Jim didn't think it was anything serious.
Simon waited a bit down the hall, leaning against the nurse's station. "I'll see if I can stall, but you let me know as soon as Blair is awake enough to talk."
Jim nodded, ears still attuned to his friend's room and the thundering pounding of Molly Ranshaw's heart. Turning, he started back down the hall.
"Jim? Are you listening to me?" Simon followed along and Jim held his hand up, stopping just outside the closed door.
"God Blair...I'm so sorry...I didn't mean for..."
"Jim?" His boss's voice made him jump and he turned to ask him to be quiet, but the door to Blair's room flung open and Molly pushed past them and hurried down the hall.
"Sorry," she whispered, tears clouding her voice.
Jim started to follow, but stopped when Simon grabbed his arm. "What's going on, Jim?"
Shaking his head, he turned to go back into Blair's room. "Nothing, it's probably nothing."
Simon followed, stopping at the door. "Just keep me informed. I'll check in with you later." He cast a quick look toward Blair before leaving.
Jim returned to his seat, trying to get his brain around Molly's reaction. He picked up his book, opening it to the last section he read and looked briefly at Blair.
His friend's eyes were open wide, his head turned slightly in his collar, looking right at Jim.
"Blair?" Jim jumped up, book falling to the floor with a soft thud.
The dull blue eyes blinked once then closed. "Blair...stay with me."
He reached up and pressed the call button, heart tripping when Blair opened his eyes again.
"Can I help you?"
"He's awake. Get the doctor."
*`*`*
Jim stood off to the side, hovering near the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, but Blair couldn't see his face.
People gathered around him, touching him and asking him stupid questions, but he was confused and he hurt...
Everything hurt.
"I know your throat is sore, but try to answer the questions Mr. Sandburg."
He tried to nod his head, but his chin bumped into something, sending a searing pain down his neck and chest. The mask over his face clouded as he breathed in a shallow tattoo, his heart pounding so fast it hurt his ribs.
"Just say calm, you're going to be alright."
"'urts." The word came out breathy and weak, tiny bolts of pain erupting as he tried to swallow, his mouth was dry and his tongue felt huge.
"They'll get you something in a minute, Chief. Just try to relax."
He moved his eyes around frantically, looking for Jim, but his friend wasn't in his limited line of view. People huddled at the bottom of the bed, but Blair couldn't tell what they were doing, cool air raced up his legs and when he looked down he could see the sheets moving, but his legs were numb.
What’s happening?
He tried to move his legs then shift but nothing seemed to be working.
Oh god...what’s happening?
"Easy buddy." Jim had moved near his head, leaning over the raised rails, running a hand up and down his arm, and god, he could feel it.
He could feel Jim's hand...
"Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair sniffed, looking for the person to go with the voice, feeling tears stream down his face and into his hair. "You're doing really well. We're going to give you something to take the edge off the pain and then we have to run some tests."
A fuzzy figure moved to his side and almost immediately the pain ebbed. He could hear his own labored breaths evening out and a gentle hand wiped at the wetness on his face.
"That's it buddy..."
People talked near by, but their words were distorted and when he next opened his eyes, his room seemed empty.
"I'm right here, Chief." Jim stood and moved closer. "How you doing, buddy?"
"'kay..."
"I know you feel a little weird, but that's the drugs. You're going to be fine."
"Wh..appen?"
Jim hooked the chair and sat, resting his hands on the bed. "You were in a car accident over eight days ago. You lost control and hit a pole on Berkshire. Someone came along later and called it in."
Blair watched his friend with hooded eyes. "M..baaad?"
"It took them a while to get you out. When you got here they rushed you into surgery to repair your spine."
Blair's eyes opened as he tried to understand what Jim was saying.
"You broke your back, but they patched you up. You have a few ribs healing and you cracked your skull. Everything is on the mend."
"Hurt?"
"What hurts, buddy? I'll get the nurse." Jim started to stand, but Blair managed to raise his arm and pull on Jim's sleeve.
"Noo...hurt?"
Slumping back into his chair, Jim ran his hands though his short cropped hair. "What do you remember, Chief?"
Blair thought back, remembering that he had just finished mid terms.
"Miid..t..term?"
Jim's head dropped then he looked at Blair. "That was over two weeks ago."
Before he could ask anymore, two men came in. "Mr. Sandburg? We're here to take you to imaging."
They released the breaks on his bed and started to roll him through the door. "Jim?"
"I'm here. I'm going to go make a few calls and meet you back here, okay Chief?" His friend walked beside him until they reached a bank of elevators. "I'll see you soon."
*`*`*
"He doesn't remember the accident, Simon." Jim cradled his cell phone close, the lobby of the hospital mostly empty except for a few security guards talking behind a check in desk.
"What did you tell him?"
"Just that he got hurt, but was going to be fine. I don't think he can handle hearing about Marks just yet."
His boss sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'm sending Rafe and Brown over this evening to get his official statement. I want you to let them do all the talking, see if we can get this thing wrapped up even if he doesn't remember. Landers is just blowing smoke up my ass...he doesn’t have anything."
"Yeah, all right. But why don't you come with them. I'm sure Blair would appreciate the visit."
Jim smiled as he disconnected, only picking out a few words of his boss's reply.
A familiar woman stepped into the elevator car as Jim turned the corner. "Hold the elevator, please."
A petite hand stuck out to hold the door open and Jim stepped on, "Hi Molly."
"Jim." She smiled, clutching a tan teddy bear. "I'm sorry about before...it was just a shock, I guess."
The car stopped and they exited, walking side by side to Blair room. "It's understandable, but Blair's not in his room. He woke up earlier and they're running some tests."
She stopped walking and Jim turned to see why. "I'm ah...I forgot something, Jim. Can you give this to him for me?" She shoved the bear into his hands and walked briskly back down the hall.
What is she afraid of?
He sat the gift on Blair's tray table and picked up his book, just thumbing through the pages, thinking about Molly's strange behavior.
It didn't make sense that she was so upset, maybe she just feeling guilty that she didn't do anything about Marks...like calling him a cab.
'Or maybe she's just guilty.'
Whoa...where did that come from?
Jim looked toward the bear and the little card attached to the blue ribbon around its neck, but before he could act Blair was wheeled back into the room.
Jim jumped up and followed the bed until the head was pushed against the wall and the breaks set. Blair's eyes where closed but opened as soon as the bed came to a stop.
"Hey there."
A nurse came in and sat a pitcher of water and a few small cartons of juice along with a cup on the tray table. "The doctor is putting you on a liquid diet. You can drink as much as you like."
Jim pointed from the water to the juice.
"Water."
He poured the cool fluid into the cup and capped it with the lid and straw, holding the tip to Blair's lips.
Blair sipped for a few seconds, swallowing seemed a bit easier.
"I almost forgot Molly stopped by." Jim put the cup back on the tray and held up the bear. "You want me to read the card to you."
"Maybe later...I'm really tired." Blair's eyes drifted shut again.
Jim sat the bear on the bed near Blair's cast arm. "You never did tell me how you two met."
Blair's looked at him for a second, a small frown on his face. "I met her years ago. I was doing a study for my Masters..."
*`*`*
When he awoke some time later he could make out soft talking and the droning of the TV. Cracking open his eyes he could see two blobs sitting off to the right of his bed. Blair opened his mouth to say something, the healing bruises and cuts pulling as he parted and licked his dry lips. "Hey."
"Hairboy." Browns jovial greeting split through his head like a freight train and he slammed his eyes shut, riding out the spike of pain.
"Sorry," his friend lowered his voice. "How ya feeling Blair...can I get the nurse or something?"
Shaking his head he chanced a second look, seeing the man hovering over him. "'m 'kay... Hey Rafe."
"Blair. You're looking a lot better."
Brown sank back into his chair, tapping his fingers along the armrests, but Rafe stayed standing near him. "Me and H are working on your car accident and needed to ask a few questions to wrap it, if you're up to it."
Blair nodded, relieved to realize the thick collar around his neck was gone, but the sticky hot plastic of the body cast molded to his skin and he could feel a tickling wetness pooling at the base of his back.
"Okay," Rafe pulled a notepad from his pocket. Blair could hear the pages flipping as he closed his eyes and blew out a small breath. "Jim said you might not remember much, but let me tell you what we know."
Blair listened as Rafe talked about the evening out he had spent with some friends and colleague from Rainier. He could remember the plans that he had made to celebrate, dribbles of images returning since Jim had told him his last clear memory had been from a few days before the accident.
He knew Molly had organized an impromptu party at the Paper Moon. She had just been accepted for a grant she proposed to conduct a study on the physiological effects of pain on the body and personality. She was involved with a group that worked out of Moorgate Pharmaceuticals, but Blair wasn't sure of the specifics.
"That's about it, man," but it irked him that he couldn't really remember the party or even what he had done that day.
"Jim told us you left the apartment around five to meet with some people. He had to come in to take care of some paperwork and was at the office when the call came in."
"I'm sorry, but I'm just not sure what I did." Blair moved his legs, sliding his heel up the sheet, wishing he could roll over. Tiny aches were making themselves known, little cramps rippled through his belly and his chest itched. He raised his good arm and scratched through his gown above the cast. "I remember bits and pieces, but it's...like a dream."
"It's okay, Blair. We understand." Rafe looked to Brown and then turned back to him. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you need to know. From witnesses at the bar we determined you left with John Marks. Apparently he had been drinking pretty heavily and when he started to disrupt others you confiscated his keys to drive him home."
Blair stopped scratching, dropping his hand to his chest, feeling his heart pick up pace.
"I'm really sorry, Blair..."
"No...uh..." he could feel beads of sweat breaking out on his face, his teeth chattering as he tried to catch his breath. "Wh..what are you saying, man?"
Brown stood and grabbed up his hand, squeezing gently. "We're really sorry, Blair."
God, oh god, no…
He looked around frantically, eyes landing anywhere but on the two men that stood so close to him. "I ah...I'm really need a minute here."
"S'kay Blair. Jim will be back in a bit. We'll check in with ya later." Brown gave one more gentle squeeze before turning away.
Tears burned his eyes, but he waited for the door to close before he let them fall.
God...
Crying hurt his face, but he couldn't help it. His eyes burned and the cut near his mouth was breaking open with each sob.
I killed my friend...
*`*`*
Jim shifted through the last few pages of Blair's current journals, reading everything he could on Molly Ranshaw.
The living room was dark, the blinds pulled to deflect the rays of the setting sun. He had managed a shower and shave, boiling some pasta to eat with leftover sauce he found in the freezer.
Blair had recorded some of his feeling for the woman, but it seemed that the relationship had fizzled, that Molly was seeing someone new.
"Molly's been great and I'm so happy for her. We're all waiting to see if she gets her grant. I know she'll be a real asset to Moorgate and this could really launch her career."
Nothing seemed to point to anything obviously out of order. By all accounts Molly was on her way to the career of her dreams and she and Blair had remained friends.
Good friends.
Dropping the book back to the coffee table, Jim grabbed his computer and popped in the index floppy. He waited for the listing to pull up and scrolled down to find Molly's name. Opening the file, he found some information as it had pertained to Blair's study. Molly had answered Blair's ad for study participants, but there wasn't a lot on her. She complained of being sensitive to light and smells, but Blair noted that she suffered from migraines and that her symptoms were probably side effects of the headaches.
Sighing, he shut the program down and pushed aside his ill feelings. He couldn't really find anything and with nothing to go on...
Glancing at the clock, he tidied up, rinsing his dishes and stuffing Blair's journal back in his bag to take to the hospital. Blair's doctors were pleased about his recovery so far, but the next few days were going to be critical. They were going to remove some of the machines and tubing, see if they could get him up and around. A physical therapist was scheduled to come in to work with him, as it was likely that he was going to have some weakness.
Picking up his keys and slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he left the loft and jogged down the steps into the cooling night air.
The hospital parking garage was crammed full and he had to park on the very top level, taking the elevator to the concourse with the walk bridge over to the hospital.
The halls were mostly empty, although the rooms he passed on the way to Blair's seemed full of visitors. Blair's door was ajar, but the lights were off and Blair was propped on his side, turned away from the door, a few pillows along his back to support him.
"Hey, Chief...you awake?" Jim dropped the bag near the foot of the bed, slipping into his seat, pleased to see an arrangement of flowers and a few get well cards scattered over the heating unit under the window. "Simon said he was coming by tomorrow to see you."
"Why didn't you tell me?" His friend's voice was strained and flat, his shoulders began quivering and shaking, and the sour scent of tears mingled with the smells of antiseptic and Blair reached Jim's nose.
"I'm sorry," he stood and came around the bed, kneeling down and reached his hands through the rail and patted the healing knuckles that held tightly onto the cool metal. "I just thought you should concentrate on getting a little bit better."
"I guess I missed the funeral...oh, man..." the cloudy voice cracked, going up a notch. "That's why Rafe and H were here..."
Jim moved quick, rubbing a hand over Blair's arm. "Don't worry about that. It's just a formality. We know that you weren’t drunk and it appears that whatever happened, you tried to regain control."
"I wish I could remember," Blair whispered, rubbing against the soft pillow to dry his face, wincing when he bumped his nose. "Man, I should call Molly, she must be devastated."
Jim shook his head, not understanding. "Why's that, buddy? We're they close?"
A small snort escaped his friend as he raised his cast arm to rub at his forehead. "You could say that. They were seeing each other."
*`*`*
Jim shoved the last of his steak, egg and cheese bagel in his mouth, quickly wiping his greasy fingers and lips on a crumpled napkin. He stuck the trash back in the bag and slid from the truck, dumping the remains of his breakfast in the first trashcan he could find on the way into the hospital.
Blair was scheduled for a visit from the therapist this morning and Jim wanted to be close by in case his friend needed him.
The revelation the night before still bugged him, but he decided to let it drop for the time being, thinking he might get to talk to Molly and straighten a few things out. There was no evidence of foul play and her teary eyed apologies could mean anything.
The building was crowded for the early hour, patients walked the corridors, dragging IV poles behind them, and visitors milled about, talking with sickly looking people or standing on the front walk to take a smoke.
Blair's ward was a bit more subdued, most people too sick to move around and he was grateful that his friend was being moved today out of the intermediate care to a regular room.
One more step toward recovery.
With any luck Blair could be home in as little as ten days.
The nurse at the desk smiled as he passed and he gave a little wave, recognizing her as one of the many who had taken care of his friend at some point. Shirley, a pleasant dark skinned beauty stood outside Blair's room, a few unidentified tools in her hand.
Jim strolled up to her, "Morning...what's going on?"
Shirley smiled, bright eyes sparkling as she ran a hand over her short-cropped hair. "Good morning. Mr. Sandburg has a visitor."
"Oh..." he listened for a second, picking up a light soft voice.
"I told him I would give him a few minutes, but I've got to get him ready for the P.T. visit this morning." She looked at her watch, "I'm going to go check on the schedule, confirm some times. I'll be right back."
Jim nodded, ears still attuned to the room beyond the closed door.
"But it's all my fault, Blair."
"No it's not, Molly. You couldn't have known what he would do...I just wish I was paying better attention."
"Do you think I should knock?" Shirley was back, pushing a large rolling cart to rest against the wall, knocking on the closed door even as she asked. "Mr. Sandburg? We really need to get you ready."
A chair scraped along the floor; skin rubbing against her clothes and then she spoke. "I'll talk to you later, Blair." And Jim could hear the plastic bed cover crinkle and creak and lips meeting, a short smacking sound followed by a tiny sigh. "Call me, okay."
Tiny footsteps approached the door and then it swung open. Molly slipped out and smiled up at Jim. "Hey."
"Hi, Molly." He frowned at her apparent happiness, utterly confused.
The nurse pushed in her cart and greeted his friend before he got into the room. Blair was lying on his back again, head raised a bit and a tray of uneaten food pushed to the side.
Shirley made small talk, asking why he didn't eat. "I guess I'm a little nervous about today...hi, Jim."
He nodded, talking his usual seat.
"Do you want Mr. Ellison to stay while we take care of some things?" Shirley was already pressing gauze over one of Blair's IV sites, pulling out the tubing.
"It's okay with me."
She nodded, pressing against the tiny drop of blood that welled up, quickly covering it with a bandaid.
Blair eyed him from across the room. "You heard, didn't you?"
He couldn't deny it, "A little, yeah."
*`*`*
Blair laid his head back against the pillow, trying to ignore what the nurse was doing to his body, trying to figure out what to say to Jim.
That's the one thing they don't tell you about the hospital...how they violate you on a daily basis. How you're at the mercy of those taking care of you.
His favorite nurse worked quickly, removing the other IV bag and tubing, but capped off the port without removing it. "We're leaving one incase you need it."
He nodded numbly, closing his eyes. The blankets were shifted up and the compression hose he had on were peeled off. Blood rushed up and down his legs, prickly and strange and the tube in his penis stung as she swiftly pulled it out.
"Sorry," she soothed, patting a petite hand against his naked thigh. The blankets were rearranged as she moved back toward his head, pulling down the sheets to expose his chest.
The cast that enclosed the trunk of his body had a few Velcro strips on the right side and she pushed up his gown and pulled them open. Cool air hit his skin and a putrid smell reached his nose.
Poor Jim...
But he kept his eyes closed as she removed a few sticky leads from his chest that were left from a few days ago when he was taken off the heart monitor. He looked down the length of his body, watching as she emptied and measured the fluid from each of his four drains. "I think these will come out in a day or two. The doctor might take the ones from your back today."
He was feeling a little warm suddenly.
The doctor breezed in while she was examining his stitches. "Good morning."
Blair nodded, not really feeling much like talking, letting his eyes drift closed again.
They talked quietly over his head and he only paid them any attention when they talked to him directly. At one point he squinted at his friend to see a bright smile and Jim jumped up to help them sit him up after they closed and secured the cast. "Depending on how you do in physical therapy, we'll send you home with something more light weight and comfortable."
His head swam once he was upright on the bed with his legs dangling over the edge. Jim held onto his side, supporting him under the elbow and allowing his cast arm to rest against his own.
He hung his head, feeling Shirley sidled up against his other side after Dr. Owens undid the straps and removed the plastic that encased him.
It felt good to get it off.
"Okay, Blair. Just relax. You should only feel a little pressure." She pressed something against his back and he jumped when the tubing under his skin snaked out.
Her fingers picked along his spine, pulling up pieces of surgical tape that covered his stitched. "These look great."
Buy the time they got him laying flat without his cast, he was sweating and feeling sick.
"We're going to leave it off until the therapist comes to do a few test." The doctor slid off her gloves and tossed them. "Probably this afternoon they'll have you up out of bed."
*`*`*
Jim used a damp cloth to wipe Blair's forehead. His friend was still looking a little green. "How ya feeling, Chief?"
"Mmm...better."
Shirley had given Blair pain meds in the form of a needle to his hip before she left and it seemed they were finally taking effect.
"You want to talk about it?" Jim patted the cool cloth down Blair neck and over his chest before tossing it on the tray table, pulling the chair closer so Blair wouldn't have to strain his neck to see him.
"I just wish I could say for sure...it's all so hazy...was I wearing my new blue shirt?"
Jim laughed, nodding his head. "Yeah...but I'm afraid it didn't make it."
"It's not Molly's fault...not really."
Jim shifted forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "What did she tell you Blair?"
"I know I never told you much about her, but we go back a bit...she suffers from headaches and sometimes she reacts before thinking."
"Was Marks a Sentinel?" Jim blurted, needing to know at least that much.
Blair eyed him, but carefully shook his head. "No, man. He had a few heightened senses and I think he maybe was struggling with another...sound may have been developing, but I couldn't help him...he wouldn't let me."
"Did Molly cause the accident, Chief?"
"I don't know...she thinks she did. She told me that they were fighting constantly and Johnny was drinking. She drove him to the party and apparently had a fight over me." Blair raised a hand to scratch at his chest and Jim resisted the urge to slap his fingers away.
Blair closed his eyes and stayed quiet for a few minutes, Jim knew he was on the verge of sleep, but Blair jerked his eyes open again. "She told me that he thought she was spending too much time with me, but I was trying to tell her how she might help him...I told her a lot of stuff, maybe too much."
Jim raised an eyebrow at that, but kept quiet.
"She told me that when he got out of the car, she turned the volume of the stereo all the way up and turned the power off...I think maybe while I was driving him home one of us turned the radio on and the loud sound caused him to freak out...I don't know, maybe th...that's what hap..."
Jim mulled it over as Blair finally drifted to sleep. On one hand Molly's intentional actions most likely caused a death and grave injury to Blair.
On the other hand Blair himself probably gave her the ammunition to cause the harm.
There wasn't any measure of law to judge what may have happened.
And that didn't sit too well with Jim.
No sooner had Blair finally dropped into a deep sleep then the therapist showed and woke him up.
She talked with Blair briefly before she started to manipulate his limbs, bending and stretching his legs. Blair was breathing heavy by the end of the session, tears streaming down his face as she rolled him into the front of the body cast, securing the fasteners, pinching his skin.
She was rough and brisk, turning and shifting Blair, but she had a bright smile and held and patted Blair's hand when she was done.
"Tomorrow we're going to go to occupational therapy on the fourth floor. See if we can get you walking."
*`*`*
There is nothing quite as liberating then walking under your own steam.
At first Blair couldn't remember whether it was heel, ball, toe or toe, ball, heel...but by the end of his first session he was hanging heavily between the support rails, hands sweaty and slick where he held them, dragging his feet forward one glorious step at a time.
That was over a week ago and now he could do laps in the corridors with his old man walker, but at least he was moving.
He was dressed in his own clothes and tennis shoes, a lighter weight brace encircling his middle, he pressed forward...lift, step, step...lift, step, step.
Jim whistled from the end of the hall and Blair blushed at the praise. "You ready to blow this joint, Chief?"
He nodded, eyeing the wheelchair Jim was pushing, but as he moved closer he could see it was filled with Blair's things...a plant from Simon and fresh flowers from the guys at the station. Jim ducked into his room to grab a bundle of balloons and the little tan teddy. "I think we got everything."
Blair followed beside him, saying good-bye to the staff...taking the time to give Shirley a small hug. "Take care of yourself."
He waited in the lobby as Jim drove Simon's car to the entry, helping him sit in the seat and buckle up, folding up his walker and stowing it in the trunk.
The ride through the city was calming, despite the traffic and seeing their building after so long was almost too much.
Jim unloaded everything, settling him on the sofa with a soda and the remote, leaving the walker within easy reach, setting the teddy bear on his lap with a small smirk before going to get some more things from the car.
The phone rang and Blair leaned carefully forward to grab the cordless from the coffee table. "Hello..."
He listened to the unfamiliar voice, looking toward the door when Jim returned, nodding his head in response to what the person was saying. Jim took the phone from his hands, talking briefly with the caller before clicking it off and setting it on the table.
"I'm sorry, chief."
Blair looked up through unshed tears, "I should have seen this coming, she was depressed."
"It's not your fault...you can't help everyone." Jim sat next to him, resting his arm along the back of the couch, letting it casually fall over Blair's shoulders.
"I should have helped her..." Blair leaned closer to his friend. "I should have done...something."
The tiny tan teddy bear fell unnoticed to the floor as Blair leaned on his best friend's shoulder.
His tears were for Molly and Johnny, but mostly for himself.
"Shhh...it's okay..."
But he couldn't stop; his outlook on life was guarded at best...he sure as hell wasn't feeling like his optimistic self...
He felt like he was splintering into a hundred pieces.
But the arms around him tightened and he suddenly stopped, wiping the wetness from his face on his sleeve.
He was alive and on the road to recovery...
He survived and that had to mean something...
*`*`*
The End
Next story in the seriesMy Buddy and Me
*~*~*
The case specialist walked swiftly down the corridor in front of Jim, stopping to press the button beside the huge automatic doors at the end. She turned to him as the door swung open. "They took him to recovery a little while ago but he coded."
Jim stopped suddenly, looking for a handhold along the wall, his ears ringing. "Wh...what?"
She stopped, placing a tiny hand on his back. "They got him back, but he's critical. The doctor will be able to tell you more." After a few seconds, she turned and started walking again, her ponytail swinging from side to side as Jim following slowly after her.
A small room at the end of the hall held two chairs and a little round table and she motioned for him to sit. "He'll be in recovery for a few hours, but when he's more stable you'll be able to see him."
She left him alone, but a doctor entered soon after and stuck out a slender hand to shake. "I'm Shelly Owens."
"Jim Ellison." He returned the firm hold, rising half way until she took the seat across from him.
"As you know we had to explore Mr. Sandburg's abdomen for bleeding. His right kidney and liver are still bruised, but his spleen had to be removed and a small tear in the lining of the large bowel had to be repaired." She reached up and took the green scrub hat from her head, crumbling through her hair with her hand. "He's very weak, he's lost a lot of blood and its put a lot of stain on his heart. He coded, but we got him right back and I've increased his fluid intake and adjusted some of his medication to help eliminate the strain. We can only wait and see."
Jim nodded, releasing his hands from tight fists, flexing his fingers to renew the flow of blood, ignoring the tingling that raced from tip to wrist.
"Do you have any questions?"
Shaking his head, he stood when she did. "Someone will be out to get you when you can see him."
*`*`*
Hours later a nurse led him to a ward, Simon had already gone into work. "You can visit for five minutes every two hours while he is in recovery."
Pastel curtains sectioned off the beds arranged in a semi circle around a huge nurse's desk. Doctors and nurses moved from space to space, checking on patients and delivering medications or talking to love ones that stood by the beds.
Blair was toward the middle, a nurse sat in a raised stool, writing something in a chart. She smiled when Jim walked in and up to his friend. "He's doing good."
He nodded, eyes following the tubing carrying crimson fluid to a line leading to the side of Blair's throat, the tape peaking out from a hole in the plastic collar.
Blair's eyes seemed bruised, his face a little puffy and he was covered with a silver lined blanket
"He has some swelling from blood loss, but his vitals are stabling, his fever is down and he's on his last transfusion. I think he'll be back on the ward in a few hours."
Jim just stood for a bit, placing his hand on top of Blair's, surprised when he felt a tiny twitch
The nurse smiled, glancing at the clock over the nurse's station. "He's coming up from sedation. They need to test the extent of his spinal and neck injuries."
Nodding, Jim gave the hand laying on top of the sheets a gentle squeeze, hoping that Blair could feel him, hoping that his friend knew he wasn't alone.
"I gotta go for a bit, Chief." Jim squeezed the fingers one more time. "I'll be back a little later."
*`*`*
The buzzing was gone...
Something cool caressed his body and someone was holding his hand, fingers moving gently over tendons, feather light.
His hand moved slightly, getting a gentle squeeze in return.
"I gotta...g..bi...cheeeefff."
The words washed over him, but he knew that voice...
Jim?
*`*`*
Two days later Jim sat in Blair's room, watching as a doctor pulled the sheets and blanket up. Blair's pink toes were peeking out the bottom of white support hose that extended all the way up to his thighs.
A parade of people had been in and out all morning; the breathing tube was removed and replaced with an oxygen mask, resting on the gauze that protected his healing nose. The drainage tubes from surgery were emptied and IV bags were replaced, the central line in his neck removed.
The nursing staff bathed him and shifted his bed so that he was on his back, the padded panels replaced by a removable hard plastic body cast; the new collar on his neck was softer and smaller.
Blair had opened his eyes a few times throughout the morning, but they were glassy and unfocused.
The Neurologist was using a few fingers to tap along Blair's legs, lifting and bending his knees.
The man held a short metal object, running it from heel to toe and Jim watched as Blair flexed his feet. "That's a very good sign. We'll check him again a little later once most of the drugs have worked their way out of his system."
Jim stood, shaking the doctor’s hand. "Thanks."
Alone again he sat, pulling a book from the duffle he brought from home. It was a mystery novel Blair had given him months ago.
A few pages in, he heard the familiar stride of his friend and boss. "Hey, Jim...is he better today?"
Creasing the page to save his place, he stowed his book in the side table drawer. "He's doing really good."
Simon sunk into the other chair, sighing. "I got some news."
Jim sat forward, the fine hairs on his neck rising. "What's wrong?"
"Seems Marks was only survived by a younger sister. She's an assistant to Maxwell Landers, the new D.A."
Not liking where this was going, Jim stood, moving to the door. "Let's talk outside, I don't want..." he nodded toward Blair and Simon stood and followed him, pulling the door closed.
"Rafe got a call this morning from Landers requesting information. He kicked it over to me and I informed him that there wasn't enough evidence, but I don't think he'll let it go."
Before Jim could answer a familiar women stepped from the elevator and headed toward them. Her black hair hung loosely around her pale face and she smiled briefly when she saw him. "Hi, Jim."
"Um...hi Molly."
"I ah...I was hoping to see Blair. I heard he was doing better." She looked from him to Simon and back again.
"Yes, of course. I'll be right back, Simon." Jim ushered her in, holding her as she suddenly sunk into the chair by the bed. "It's alright. He looks a little banged up, but he's doing a lot better."
"Can I...do you mind if I have a minute alone with him?" She pushed herself up, legs shaking so much that she had to hold on to the raised rails of the bed.
"I'll be right outside." She nodded, not bothering to look at him as he slipped out. Her heart was pounding and Jim could detect a faint bitter smell, but figured she was just upset about seeing Blair for the first time after the accident. His roommate had been dating her on and off for a while, but Jim didn't think it was anything serious.
Simon waited a bit down the hall, leaning against the nurse's station. "I'll see if I can stall, but you let me know as soon as Blair is awake enough to talk."
Jim nodded, ears still attuned to his friend's room and the thundering pounding of Molly Ranshaw's heart. Turning, he started back down the hall.
"Jim? Are you listening to me?" Simon followed along and Jim held his hand up, stopping just outside the closed door.
"God Blair...I'm so sorry...I didn't mean for..."
"Jim?" His boss's voice made him jump and he turned to ask him to be quiet, but the door to Blair's room flung open and Molly pushed past them and hurried down the hall.
"Sorry," she whispered, tears clouding her voice.
Jim started to follow, but stopped when Simon grabbed his arm. "What's going on, Jim?"
Shaking his head, he turned to go back into Blair's room. "Nothing, it's probably nothing."
Simon followed, stopping at the door. "Just keep me informed. I'll check in with you later." He cast a quick look toward Blair before leaving.
Jim returned to his seat, trying to get his brain around Molly's reaction. He picked up his book, opening it to the last section he read and looked briefly at Blair.
His friend's eyes were open wide, his head turned slightly in his collar, looking right at Jim.
"Blair?" Jim jumped up, book falling to the floor with a soft thud.
The dull blue eyes blinked once then closed. "Blair...stay with me."
He reached up and pressed the call button, heart tripping when Blair opened his eyes again.
"Can I help you?"
"He's awake. Get the doctor."
*`*`*
Jim stood off to the side, hovering near the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, but Blair couldn't see his face.
People gathered around him, touching him and asking him stupid questions, but he was confused and he hurt...
Everything hurt.
"I know your throat is sore, but try to answer the questions Mr. Sandburg."
He tried to nod his head, but his chin bumped into something, sending a searing pain down his neck and chest. The mask over his face clouded as he breathed in a shallow tattoo, his heart pounding so fast it hurt his ribs.
"Just say calm, you're going to be alright."
"'urts." The word came out breathy and weak, tiny bolts of pain erupting as he tried to swallow, his mouth was dry and his tongue felt huge.
"They'll get you something in a minute, Chief. Just try to relax."
He moved his eyes around frantically, looking for Jim, but his friend wasn't in his limited line of view. People huddled at the bottom of the bed, but Blair couldn't tell what they were doing, cool air raced up his legs and when he looked down he could see the sheets moving, but his legs were numb.
What’s happening?
He tried to move his legs then shift but nothing seemed to be working.
Oh god...what’s happening?
"Easy buddy." Jim had moved near his head, leaning over the raised rails, running a hand up and down his arm, and god, he could feel it.
He could feel Jim's hand...
"Mr. Sandburg?"
Blair sniffed, looking for the person to go with the voice, feeling tears stream down his face and into his hair. "You're doing really well. We're going to give you something to take the edge off the pain and then we have to run some tests."
A fuzzy figure moved to his side and almost immediately the pain ebbed. He could hear his own labored breaths evening out and a gentle hand wiped at the wetness on his face.
"That's it buddy..."
People talked near by, but their words were distorted and when he next opened his eyes, his room seemed empty.
"I'm right here, Chief." Jim stood and moved closer. "How you doing, buddy?"
"'kay..."
"I know you feel a little weird, but that's the drugs. You're going to be fine."
"Wh..appen?"
Jim hooked the chair and sat, resting his hands on the bed. "You were in a car accident over eight days ago. You lost control and hit a pole on Berkshire. Someone came along later and called it in."
Blair watched his friend with hooded eyes. "M..baaad?"
"It took them a while to get you out. When you got here they rushed you into surgery to repair your spine."
Blair's eyes opened as he tried to understand what Jim was saying.
"You broke your back, but they patched you up. You have a few ribs healing and you cracked your skull. Everything is on the mend."
"Hurt?"
"What hurts, buddy? I'll get the nurse." Jim started to stand, but Blair managed to raise his arm and pull on Jim's sleeve.
"Noo...hurt?"
Slumping back into his chair, Jim ran his hands though his short cropped hair. "What do you remember, Chief?"
Blair thought back, remembering that he had just finished mid terms.
"Miid..t..term?"
Jim's head dropped then he looked at Blair. "That was over two weeks ago."
Before he could ask anymore, two men came in. "Mr. Sandburg? We're here to take you to imaging."
They released the breaks on his bed and started to roll him through the door. "Jim?"
"I'm here. I'm going to go make a few calls and meet you back here, okay Chief?" His friend walked beside him until they reached a bank of elevators. "I'll see you soon."
*`*`*
"He doesn't remember the accident, Simon." Jim cradled his cell phone close, the lobby of the hospital mostly empty except for a few security guards talking behind a check in desk.
"What did you tell him?"
"Just that he got hurt, but was going to be fine. I don't think he can handle hearing about Marks just yet."
His boss sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'm sending Rafe and Brown over this evening to get his official statement. I want you to let them do all the talking, see if we can get this thing wrapped up even if he doesn't remember. Landers is just blowing smoke up my ass...he doesn’t have anything."
"Yeah, all right. But why don't you come with them. I'm sure Blair would appreciate the visit."
Jim smiled as he disconnected, only picking out a few words of his boss's reply.
A familiar woman stepped into the elevator car as Jim turned the corner. "Hold the elevator, please."
A petite hand stuck out to hold the door open and Jim stepped on, "Hi Molly."
"Jim." She smiled, clutching a tan teddy bear. "I'm sorry about before...it was just a shock, I guess."
The car stopped and they exited, walking side by side to Blair room. "It's understandable, but Blair's not in his room. He woke up earlier and they're running some tests."
She stopped walking and Jim turned to see why. "I'm ah...I forgot something, Jim. Can you give this to him for me?" She shoved the bear into his hands and walked briskly back down the hall.
What is she afraid of?
He sat the gift on Blair's tray table and picked up his book, just thumbing through the pages, thinking about Molly's strange behavior.
It didn't make sense that she was so upset, maybe she just feeling guilty that she didn't do anything about Marks...like calling him a cab.
'Or maybe she's just guilty.'
Whoa...where did that come from?
Jim looked toward the bear and the little card attached to the blue ribbon around its neck, but before he could act Blair was wheeled back into the room.
Jim jumped up and followed the bed until the head was pushed against the wall and the breaks set. Blair's eyes where closed but opened as soon as the bed came to a stop.
"Hey there."
A nurse came in and sat a pitcher of water and a few small cartons of juice along with a cup on the tray table. "The doctor is putting you on a liquid diet. You can drink as much as you like."
Jim pointed from the water to the juice.
"Water."
He poured the cool fluid into the cup and capped it with the lid and straw, holding the tip to Blair's lips.
Blair sipped for a few seconds, swallowing seemed a bit easier.
"I almost forgot Molly stopped by." Jim put the cup back on the tray and held up the bear. "You want me to read the card to you."
"Maybe later...I'm really tired." Blair's eyes drifted shut again.
Jim sat the bear on the bed near Blair's cast arm. "You never did tell me how you two met."
Blair's looked at him for a second, a small frown on his face. "I met her years ago. I was doing a study for my Masters..."
*`*`*
When he awoke some time later he could make out soft talking and the droning of the TV. Cracking open his eyes he could see two blobs sitting off to the right of his bed. Blair opened his mouth to say something, the healing bruises and cuts pulling as he parted and licked his dry lips. "Hey."
"Hairboy." Browns jovial greeting split through his head like a freight train and he slammed his eyes shut, riding out the spike of pain.
"Sorry," his friend lowered his voice. "How ya feeling Blair...can I get the nurse or something?"
Shaking his head he chanced a second look, seeing the man hovering over him. "'m 'kay... Hey Rafe."
"Blair. You're looking a lot better."
Brown sank back into his chair, tapping his fingers along the armrests, but Rafe stayed standing near him. "Me and H are working on your car accident and needed to ask a few questions to wrap it, if you're up to it."
Blair nodded, relieved to realize the thick collar around his neck was gone, but the sticky hot plastic of the body cast molded to his skin and he could feel a tickling wetness pooling at the base of his back.
"Okay," Rafe pulled a notepad from his pocket. Blair could hear the pages flipping as he closed his eyes and blew out a small breath. "Jim said you might not remember much, but let me tell you what we know."
Blair listened as Rafe talked about the evening out he had spent with some friends and colleague from Rainier. He could remember the plans that he had made to celebrate, dribbles of images returning since Jim had told him his last clear memory had been from a few days before the accident.
He knew Molly had organized an impromptu party at the Paper Moon. She had just been accepted for a grant she proposed to conduct a study on the physiological effects of pain on the body and personality. She was involved with a group that worked out of Moorgate Pharmaceuticals, but Blair wasn't sure of the specifics.
"That's about it, man," but it irked him that he couldn't really remember the party or even what he had done that day.
"Jim told us you left the apartment around five to meet with some people. He had to come in to take care of some paperwork and was at the office when the call came in."
"I'm sorry, but I'm just not sure what I did." Blair moved his legs, sliding his heel up the sheet, wishing he could roll over. Tiny aches were making themselves known, little cramps rippled through his belly and his chest itched. He raised his good arm and scratched through his gown above the cast. "I remember bits and pieces, but it's...like a dream."
"It's okay, Blair. We understand." Rafe looked to Brown and then turned back to him. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you need to know. From witnesses at the bar we determined you left with John Marks. Apparently he had been drinking pretty heavily and when he started to disrupt others you confiscated his keys to drive him home."
Blair stopped scratching, dropping his hand to his chest, feeling his heart pick up pace.
"I'm really sorry, Blair..."
"No...uh..." he could feel beads of sweat breaking out on his face, his teeth chattering as he tried to catch his breath. "Wh..what are you saying, man?"
Brown stood and grabbed up his hand, squeezing gently. "We're really sorry, Blair."
God, oh god, no…
He looked around frantically, eyes landing anywhere but on the two men that stood so close to him. "I ah...I'm really need a minute here."
"S'kay Blair. Jim will be back in a bit. We'll check in with ya later." Brown gave one more gentle squeeze before turning away.
Tears burned his eyes, but he waited for the door to close before he let them fall.
God...
Crying hurt his face, but he couldn't help it. His eyes burned and the cut near his mouth was breaking open with each sob.
I killed my friend...
*`*`*
Jim shifted through the last few pages of Blair's current journals, reading everything he could on Molly Ranshaw.
The living room was dark, the blinds pulled to deflect the rays of the setting sun. He had managed a shower and shave, boiling some pasta to eat with leftover sauce he found in the freezer.
Blair had recorded some of his feeling for the woman, but it seemed that the relationship had fizzled, that Molly was seeing someone new.
"Molly's been great and I'm so happy for her. We're all waiting to see if she gets her grant. I know she'll be a real asset to Moorgate and this could really launch her career."
Nothing seemed to point to anything obviously out of order. By all accounts Molly was on her way to the career of her dreams and she and Blair had remained friends.
Good friends.
Dropping the book back to the coffee table, Jim grabbed his computer and popped in the index floppy. He waited for the listing to pull up and scrolled down to find Molly's name. Opening the file, he found some information as it had pertained to Blair's study. Molly had answered Blair's ad for study participants, but there wasn't a lot on her. She complained of being sensitive to light and smells, but Blair noted that she suffered from migraines and that her symptoms were probably side effects of the headaches.
Sighing, he shut the program down and pushed aside his ill feelings. He couldn't really find anything and with nothing to go on...
Glancing at the clock, he tidied up, rinsing his dishes and stuffing Blair's journal back in his bag to take to the hospital. Blair's doctors were pleased about his recovery so far, but the next few days were going to be critical. They were going to remove some of the machines and tubing, see if they could get him up and around. A physical therapist was scheduled to come in to work with him, as it was likely that he was going to have some weakness.
Picking up his keys and slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he left the loft and jogged down the steps into the cooling night air.
The hospital parking garage was crammed full and he had to park on the very top level, taking the elevator to the concourse with the walk bridge over to the hospital.
The halls were mostly empty, although the rooms he passed on the way to Blair's seemed full of visitors. Blair's door was ajar, but the lights were off and Blair was propped on his side, turned away from the door, a few pillows along his back to support him.
"Hey, Chief...you awake?" Jim dropped the bag near the foot of the bed, slipping into his seat, pleased to see an arrangement of flowers and a few get well cards scattered over the heating unit under the window. "Simon said he was coming by tomorrow to see you."
"Why didn't you tell me?" His friend's voice was strained and flat, his shoulders began quivering and shaking, and the sour scent of tears mingled with the smells of antiseptic and Blair reached Jim's nose.
"I'm sorry," he stood and came around the bed, kneeling down and reached his hands through the rail and patted the healing knuckles that held tightly onto the cool metal. "I just thought you should concentrate on getting a little bit better."
"I guess I missed the funeral...oh, man..." the cloudy voice cracked, going up a notch. "That's why Rafe and H were here..."
Jim moved quick, rubbing a hand over Blair's arm. "Don't worry about that. It's just a formality. We know that you weren’t drunk and it appears that whatever happened, you tried to regain control."
"I wish I could remember," Blair whispered, rubbing against the soft pillow to dry his face, wincing when he bumped his nose. "Man, I should call Molly, she must be devastated."
Jim shook his head, not understanding. "Why's that, buddy? We're they close?"
A small snort escaped his friend as he raised his cast arm to rub at his forehead. "You could say that. They were seeing each other."
*`*`*
Jim shoved the last of his steak, egg and cheese bagel in his mouth, quickly wiping his greasy fingers and lips on a crumpled napkin. He stuck the trash back in the bag and slid from the truck, dumping the remains of his breakfast in the first trashcan he could find on the way into the hospital.
Blair was scheduled for a visit from the therapist this morning and Jim wanted to be close by in case his friend needed him.
The revelation the night before still bugged him, but he decided to let it drop for the time being, thinking he might get to talk to Molly and straighten a few things out. There was no evidence of foul play and her teary eyed apologies could mean anything.
The building was crowded for the early hour, patients walked the corridors, dragging IV poles behind them, and visitors milled about, talking with sickly looking people or standing on the front walk to take a smoke.
Blair's ward was a bit more subdued, most people too sick to move around and he was grateful that his friend was being moved today out of the intermediate care to a regular room.
One more step toward recovery.
With any luck Blair could be home in as little as ten days.
The nurse at the desk smiled as he passed and he gave a little wave, recognizing her as one of the many who had taken care of his friend at some point. Shirley, a pleasant dark skinned beauty stood outside Blair's room, a few unidentified tools in her hand.
Jim strolled up to her, "Morning...what's going on?"
Shirley smiled, bright eyes sparkling as she ran a hand over her short-cropped hair. "Good morning. Mr. Sandburg has a visitor."
"Oh..." he listened for a second, picking up a light soft voice.
"I told him I would give him a few minutes, but I've got to get him ready for the P.T. visit this morning." She looked at her watch, "I'm going to go check on the schedule, confirm some times. I'll be right back."
Jim nodded, ears still attuned to the room beyond the closed door.
"But it's all my fault, Blair."
"No it's not, Molly. You couldn't have known what he would do...I just wish I was paying better attention."
"Do you think I should knock?" Shirley was back, pushing a large rolling cart to rest against the wall, knocking on the closed door even as she asked. "Mr. Sandburg? We really need to get you ready."
A chair scraped along the floor; skin rubbing against her clothes and then she spoke. "I'll talk to you later, Blair." And Jim could hear the plastic bed cover crinkle and creak and lips meeting, a short smacking sound followed by a tiny sigh. "Call me, okay."
Tiny footsteps approached the door and then it swung open. Molly slipped out and smiled up at Jim. "Hey."
"Hi, Molly." He frowned at her apparent happiness, utterly confused.
The nurse pushed in her cart and greeted his friend before he got into the room. Blair was lying on his back again, head raised a bit and a tray of uneaten food pushed to the side.
Shirley made small talk, asking why he didn't eat. "I guess I'm a little nervous about today...hi, Jim."
He nodded, talking his usual seat.
"Do you want Mr. Ellison to stay while we take care of some things?" Shirley was already pressing gauze over one of Blair's IV sites, pulling out the tubing.
"It's okay with me."
She nodded, pressing against the tiny drop of blood that welled up, quickly covering it with a bandaid.
Blair eyed him from across the room. "You heard, didn't you?"
He couldn't deny it, "A little, yeah."
*`*`*
Blair laid his head back against the pillow, trying to ignore what the nurse was doing to his body, trying to figure out what to say to Jim.
That's the one thing they don't tell you about the hospital...how they violate you on a daily basis. How you're at the mercy of those taking care of you.
His favorite nurse worked quickly, removing the other IV bag and tubing, but capped off the port without removing it. "We're leaving one incase you need it."
He nodded numbly, closing his eyes. The blankets were shifted up and the compression hose he had on were peeled off. Blood rushed up and down his legs, prickly and strange and the tube in his penis stung as she swiftly pulled it out.
"Sorry," she soothed, patting a petite hand against his naked thigh. The blankets were rearranged as she moved back toward his head, pulling down the sheets to expose his chest.
The cast that enclosed the trunk of his body had a few Velcro strips on the right side and she pushed up his gown and pulled them open. Cool air hit his skin and a putrid smell reached his nose.
Poor Jim...
But he kept his eyes closed as she removed a few sticky leads from his chest that were left from a few days ago when he was taken off the heart monitor. He looked down the length of his body, watching as she emptied and measured the fluid from each of his four drains. "I think these will come out in a day or two. The doctor might take the ones from your back today."
He was feeling a little warm suddenly.
The doctor breezed in while she was examining his stitches. "Good morning."
Blair nodded, not really feeling much like talking, letting his eyes drift closed again.
They talked quietly over his head and he only paid them any attention when they talked to him directly. At one point he squinted at his friend to see a bright smile and Jim jumped up to help them sit him up after they closed and secured the cast. "Depending on how you do in physical therapy, we'll send you home with something more light weight and comfortable."
His head swam once he was upright on the bed with his legs dangling over the edge. Jim held onto his side, supporting him under the elbow and allowing his cast arm to rest against his own.
He hung his head, feeling Shirley sidled up against his other side after Dr. Owens undid the straps and removed the plastic that encased him.
It felt good to get it off.
"Okay, Blair. Just relax. You should only feel a little pressure." She pressed something against his back and he jumped when the tubing under his skin snaked out.
Her fingers picked along his spine, pulling up pieces of surgical tape that covered his stitched. "These look great."
Buy the time they got him laying flat without his cast, he was sweating and feeling sick.
"We're going to leave it off until the therapist comes to do a few test." The doctor slid off her gloves and tossed them. "Probably this afternoon they'll have you up out of bed."
*`*`*
Jim used a damp cloth to wipe Blair's forehead. His friend was still looking a little green. "How ya feeling, Chief?"
"Mmm...better."
Shirley had given Blair pain meds in the form of a needle to his hip before she left and it seemed they were finally taking effect.
"You want to talk about it?" Jim patted the cool cloth down Blair neck and over his chest before tossing it on the tray table, pulling the chair closer so Blair wouldn't have to strain his neck to see him.
"I just wish I could say for sure...it's all so hazy...was I wearing my new blue shirt?"
Jim laughed, nodding his head. "Yeah...but I'm afraid it didn't make it."
"It's not Molly's fault...not really."
Jim shifted forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "What did she tell you Blair?"
"I know I never told you much about her, but we go back a bit...she suffers from headaches and sometimes she reacts before thinking."
"Was Marks a Sentinel?" Jim blurted, needing to know at least that much.
Blair eyed him, but carefully shook his head. "No, man. He had a few heightened senses and I think he maybe was struggling with another...sound may have been developing, but I couldn't help him...he wouldn't let me."
"Did Molly cause the accident, Chief?"
"I don't know...she thinks she did. She told me that they were fighting constantly and Johnny was drinking. She drove him to the party and apparently had a fight over me." Blair raised a hand to scratch at his chest and Jim resisted the urge to slap his fingers away.
Blair closed his eyes and stayed quiet for a few minutes, Jim knew he was on the verge of sleep, but Blair jerked his eyes open again. "She told me that he thought she was spending too much time with me, but I was trying to tell her how she might help him...I told her a lot of stuff, maybe too much."
Jim raised an eyebrow at that, but kept quiet.
"She told me that when he got out of the car, she turned the volume of the stereo all the way up and turned the power off...I think maybe while I was driving him home one of us turned the radio on and the loud sound caused him to freak out...I don't know, maybe th...that's what hap..."
Jim mulled it over as Blair finally drifted to sleep. On one hand Molly's intentional actions most likely caused a death and grave injury to Blair.
On the other hand Blair himself probably gave her the ammunition to cause the harm.
There wasn't any measure of law to judge what may have happened.
And that didn't sit too well with Jim.
No sooner had Blair finally dropped into a deep sleep then the therapist showed and woke him up.
She talked with Blair briefly before she started to manipulate his limbs, bending and stretching his legs. Blair was breathing heavy by the end of the session, tears streaming down his face as she rolled him into the front of the body cast, securing the fasteners, pinching his skin.
She was rough and brisk, turning and shifting Blair, but she had a bright smile and held and patted Blair's hand when she was done.
"Tomorrow we're going to go to occupational therapy on the fourth floor. See if we can get you walking."
*`*`*
There is nothing quite as liberating then walking under your own steam.
At first Blair couldn't remember whether it was heel, ball, toe or toe, ball, heel...but by the end of his first session he was hanging heavily between the support rails, hands sweaty and slick where he held them, dragging his feet forward one glorious step at a time.
That was over a week ago and now he could do laps in the corridors with his old man walker, but at least he was moving.
He was dressed in his own clothes and tennis shoes, a lighter weight brace encircling his middle, he pressed forward...lift, step, step...lift, step, step.
Jim whistled from the end of the hall and Blair blushed at the praise. "You ready to blow this joint, Chief?"
He nodded, eyeing the wheelchair Jim was pushing, but as he moved closer he could see it was filled with Blair's things...a plant from Simon and fresh flowers from the guys at the station. Jim ducked into his room to grab a bundle of balloons and the little tan teddy. "I think we got everything."
Blair followed beside him, saying good-bye to the staff...taking the time to give Shirley a small hug. "Take care of yourself."
He waited in the lobby as Jim drove Simon's car to the entry, helping him sit in the seat and buckle up, folding up his walker and stowing it in the trunk.
The ride through the city was calming, despite the traffic and seeing their building after so long was almost too much.
Jim unloaded everything, settling him on the sofa with a soda and the remote, leaving the walker within easy reach, setting the teddy bear on his lap with a small smirk before going to get some more things from the car.
The phone rang and Blair leaned carefully forward to grab the cordless from the coffee table. "Hello..."
He listened to the unfamiliar voice, looking toward the door when Jim returned, nodding his head in response to what the person was saying. Jim took the phone from his hands, talking briefly with the caller before clicking it off and setting it on the table.
"I'm sorry, chief."
Blair looked up through unshed tears, "I should have seen this coming, she was depressed."
"It's not your fault...you can't help everyone." Jim sat next to him, resting his arm along the back of the couch, letting it casually fall over Blair's shoulders.
"I should have helped her..." Blair leaned closer to his friend. "I should have done...something."
The tiny tan teddy bear fell unnoticed to the floor as Blair leaned on his best friend's shoulder.
His tears were for Molly and Johnny, but mostly for himself.
"Shhh...it's okay..."
But he couldn't stop; his outlook on life was guarded at best...he sure as hell wasn't feeling like his optimistic self...
He felt like he was splintering into a hundred pieces.
But the arms around him tightened and he suddenly stopped, wiping the wetness from his face on his sleeve.
He was alive and on the road to recovery...
He survived and that had to mean something...
*`*`*
The End
Next story in the seriesMy Buddy and Me