Ellison startled awake, leaning over to look at the clock next to his bed. He ran a hand over his face wearily, trying to determine what had pulled him from slumber. Thinking he’d heard something, he listened, but the loft was dark and quiet. Turning up his Sentinel hearing, Jim focused in on the room downstairs. He could hear his friend’s heartbeat, going too fast for him to have been asleep, along with a soft whimper. Instantly, he was up and racing down the stairs, hitting the switch to the hall light outside Sandburg’s room.
“Blair?” The detective entered, the light shining in through the door more than enough for a Sentinel to see by. And what he saw was his partner curled in a tight ball in his bed, tears streaming from his eyes. In two strides he was kneeling beside the futon, pushing the heavy mass of curls back from his friend’s face. “What is it, Chief? What’s wrong?”
Growing alarmed, Ellison rested his hand against Blair’s forehead, but found no sign of fever. He quickly checked his partner over, but likewise found no signs of anything amiss. Frowning, Jim tilted his head, trying to look into his friend’s eyes. After a moment, he came to the conclusion that Blair’s distress did not seem to be stemming from anything physical, but it was more like he was afraid.
“What happened, buddy?” he whispered soothingly, rubbing his partner’s arm. “Bad dreams?” The Sentinel, realizing that it could take some time to calm Sandburg down and mindful of the gooseflesh that had raised on his arms, climbed into the bed behind him, sliding under the covers and wrapping his arms around his friend, holding him tightly. One hand stroked the tangled curls, but Blair found the other hand next to his heart and laced his fingers though Jim’s.
“It’s all right, Chief,” the detective murmured. “You’re safe. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Within moments, Sandburg’s trembling had stopped and he closed his eyes, soon lulled back to sleep by the continued reassurances of his friend. Ellison shifted slightly, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could, wedged up against the wall as he was in the narrow futon that was not quite big enough for the two of them. He knew he was probably in for a miserable, sleepless night, but nevertheless, he remained where he was.
“Come on, Chief,” Jim urged, pulling his friend past the large fish tank that decorated the waiting room. Blair was always fascinated by the aquarium and would sit next to it for as long as he was allowed, watching the colorful tropical fish swimming leisurely behind the glass. But they were running late that morning, thanks in part to a phone call from Naomi. She had finally thought to check in, calling Major Crimes from India and having Simon inform her that Jim was currently off duty, caring for Blair at home. So her next call was to the loft, to add her opinion that the detective was nuts for taking on the burden of caring for her son. Ellison had listened to her, biting his tongue except for an “I hear you”, and then using the long distance static as an excuse to hang up.
Once he delivered his friend to the waiting technicians, the Sentinel wandered down to the ICU and sat in the waiting room until Lauren had the time to join him for coffee.
“Are you all right, Jim?” she asked as they seated themselves at their usual table in the cafeteria.
“Yeah, fine,” he answered automatically, eyes on his cup.
“You don’t look fine,” she prodded gently. “You look like something’s bothering you. Come on, talk to me.”
“I’m just getting so tired of everyone chastising me,” he blurted out wearily. “People that normally don’t give a damn what I do telling me that I’m making a mistake and burdening myself for nothing.” He sighed, his fingers unconsciously kneading his brow. “I don’t know. Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” the nurse replied. “The only person whose opinion matters is your own. So it really comes down to you. Do you think you’re making a mistake?”
The Sentinel stared down at his coffee for long moments, his shoulders tensely hunched. Then he let out a long breath, relaxing as he sat back in the chair, lifting his eyes to meet her calm gaze.
“No,” he answered softly, but with conviction. “I don’t. I think I’m doing the right thing. Doctor Norris doesn’t seem to think he’s any better, but I know he is, Lauren. There’s a spark to him now. It’s subtle, but it wasn’t there when he was in that hospital. It may seem like nothing, but to me it makes everything I’ve done so far worthwhile.”
“Then that’s your answer,” she told him, smiling broadly. “That’s what’s important. Everyone else can stuff their opinions.”
“Maybe I should start telling them all that, in those words.” Ellison grinned slightly, then sobered once more. “You know, Sandburg once gave up a trip to Borneo. It was for some anthropological study, and it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. But he declined it, all for me and for our project.”
“He sounds like a wonderful friend,” Lauren murmured, not bothering to ask why a police observer would have cause to join an anthropological expedition. She assumed there was more to the story that she’d initially been given, but she respectfully didn’t press the detective for details.
“He is,” the Sentinel agreed. “And after he gave up what could have made his whole career for me, how can anyone think it’s a sacrifice for me to give up a few months of work?”
“Jim, I’m overwhelmed at what you’ve done for Blair,” the nurse said proudly. “Most people start something like this with the best of intentions, but they all too soon realize they’ve taken on more than they can handle or they weren’t prepared for the commitment involved. But you’ve really dedicated yourself to Blair’s recovery, and I honestly believe he’d still be in a coma right now if it hadn’t been for you. So don’t let people on the outside who don’t understand fill your head with doubts. You keep following your instincts, and do what you think is right. You keep hanging in there, and everything else will fall into place, I promise you that.”
“Thank you, Lauren,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I have to get back to the ward.” She rose, pausing beside him to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s hard, but don’t lose hope now. You’ve both come so far, and Blair’s working his way back to you.”
“He sure is taking the long way.” But Ellison gave her a real grin this time, reaching up to cover her hand with his own, squeezing it gently before he let her go and hoping that the poor soul she was going up to check on knew how lucky he was to be under her care.
Jim finished his coffee and went back up to wait for Doctor Norris to call him into her office. Which she did before too long, leading him in and perching behind her desk, glancing through Blair’s file as he made himself comfortable in one of the plush armchairs.
“And how has he been doing this week?”
It was her standard opening question.
“About the same,” the Sentinel replied. “But...”
The doctor looked up at him as he hesitated.
“I think he had a nightmare last night.”
“Oh?” She put the file down on her desk, folding her hands on top of it. “Tell me about it.”
She listened patiently as Jim described what had transpired the night before, but when he finished talking she shook her head slightly, removing her thick glasses.
“I have to tell you, Detective,” she began. “I find it highly unlikely that Mr. Sandburg suffered a nightmare. It could have been any manner of physical discomfort. Headache, stomachache, a cramp, perhaps.”
“No,” he insisted, his fists clenching as his irritation rose. “It wasn’t anything physical. I’m telling you, he was upset by something. Afraid.”
“He doesn’t have the cognitive ability to dream,” the doctor argued.
“How do you know that?” Ellison demanded. “You’ve told me yourself, you don’t know what’s happening in his head. How can you be so damn sure that there’s no way he could have had a bad dream?”
“His EEG results are not good,” she told him, trying to remain patient as her own irritation grew with the man who constantly refused to accept her medical opinions. The doctor picked up the file, flipping through the pages. “The pattern of his brain waves hasn’t changed since the first time we performed the test on Mr. Sandburg. What the machine is reading are two types of brain waves that shouldn’t be seen in a healthy, alert adult. They are waves that should only be detected in deep sleep, and the fact that Mr. Sandburg is awake while we perform these tests indicates severe brain damage. I’m sorry, Detective. I know how hard you’ve been working with him, but judging from his test scores, I just don’t think he stands much hope for recovery.”
For a moment, the Sentinel looked like he’d been punched in the gut. But then he took a deep breath, swallowing hard as he recalled Lauren’s encouraging words.
“We’ll see about that,” he muttered through a tightly clenched jaw.
The Sentinel cursed the white mist swirling around him, swatting at it ineffectually, more out of anger than out of the hope of clearing a window.
“I hear you,” he yelled at the jaguar when it snarled at him from somewhere up ahead.
No ordinary man would have been able to hear the big cat pacing restlessly back and forth on the path in front of him, although it did make substantial noise when it got tired of waiting and lit out through the bush.
Cursing again, he tried to follow, but every blind step he took was hindered by vines and roots, the underbrush blocking his way. Trying not to think about what wonderful creatures might be crawling along right next to him, he tried to open his sight. But not even his Sentinel abilities would allow him to see his way through the dense fog.
“Damn it!” he shouted in frustration as a sharply pointed branch scraped his cheek, coming dangerously close to his eye. Sandburg was there. None of his senses could detect him, but the Sentinel knew his friend was in the jungle. He could feel his presence. The jaguar was his only chance. Somehow, he had to follow the cat, who would lead him to his guide. The Sentinel pushed forward, forcing his way past a tangle of bushes, and stepping off into a great, yawning void....
“I don’t believe this,” Ellison muttered, staring at the paper in his hands in disbelief. He read the invoice three times, then ran to the phone, yanking the receiver off the wall and forcefully beating the buttons as he punched in the number. “Hi, Sally,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “It’s Jim. Yes, I’m fine. How have you been? Good. Listen, I really need to speak to my father. Is he around? Great, thank you.”
“Hey, Jimmy,” the elder Ellison greeted him after a brief wait. “What’s going on?”
“Well, I just got the monthly bill from the hospital,” the detective told his father. “And strangely enough, it’s been marked ‘paid in full’. Is this your doing?”
“Well, technically you said that you didn’t need any help,” William pointed out. “But I figured a young graduate student probably doesn’t have much of an insurance plan.”
“Dad, why?” the Sentinel sighed. “Not that I’m trying to sound ungrateful, but what are you doing this for?”
“Jimmy, you’re right,” the older man said softly. “I don’t understand why you’re doing what you’re doing. But you were wrong about something. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to admit that you love someone. I love you, and if you’re doing what you think is right, then I’ll support you. I thought a lot about what you said, and I’ve decided I owe your friend a debt as well. Because, somehow, he filled up a void inside of you. One I helped to create. And you were right about the past being the past. I can’t change it, but I can try and make up for it. So just let me do this for him. For both of you. It’s the least I can do.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Jim whispered.
“Just say that you won’t hesitate to call on me if there’s anything you need.”
“I will,” he vowed, meaning it this time.
“How are you doing otherwise?” the senior Ellison asked.
“Me? I’m doing ok,” the detective replied. “I’ve got some money saved up, so we’ll be fine for awhile yet.”
“No, I mean how are you DOING?”
“I’m ok,” the Sentinel assured him, grinning slightly as he realized his father was expressing an interest in more than just his finances. “A little busy, but I’m good.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I miss you, Jimmy. Maybe when your friend is doing better, we can all have dinner.”
“I’d like that,” Jim told him sincerely.
“I would, too. Now remember, Jimmy, anything you need. I’m just a phone call away.”
Ellison hung up the phone, staring blankly at it in wonder for a moment before shaking his head to clear it. Blair was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, and the detective went to join him, easing himself down beside him. Oddly, Sandburg showed little interest in the television, but he would watch the dancing flames of the fire or the raindrops sliding down the balcony doors endlessly.
“Well, Chief,” he murmured softly. “I know if you could, you’d say that you were glad something good came out of this mess. I never thought I’d be making dinner plans with my father again.” He locked his hands behind his head and grinned. “You were just bound and determined to reunite us, weren’t you? Although I have to say, your methods are just a tad extreme.”
A knock on the door sounded just as Ellison was finishing signing his name to the check. He quickly jotted down the total in his bank book, stuffing the check into the payment envelope and licking it to seal it shut as he rose and headed toward the door.
“Simon.” He couldn’t help the note of surprise in his voice as he swung the door open and saw his captain there. “What brings you here?” He had been keeping in touch with the guys in the MCU by phone, giving them updates on Sandburg’s condition, and had even stopped in once or twice when he was running errands in the city while Blair was at Hopewell. But it was the first time he had seen one of his colleagues outside the precinct since he began his leave.
“I know I shouldn’t have dropped in on you like this,” Banks began apologetically. “If you’re busy...”
“Actually, I was just paying some bills, so I’m glad for the distraction.” Ellison opened the door wider and stepped aside to admit his friend. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.” Simon entered the loft, slipping out of his coat and draping it over a nearby chair.
“So, what’s up?”
“Nothing, really,” Banks said, hoping he didn’t come across as uneasy as he felt. “I just wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”
“They’re going,” Jim shrugged. He made his way back to the table with Simon trailing behind. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks,” the captain murmured absently. His eyes were focused on Sandburg who was seated at the table, busily scribbling on a sheet of paper. “Is he any better at all, Jim?”
“I’d like to think so,” Ellison sighed. “But the doctors don’t seem to agree with me. They say his improvements are the result of “environmental conditioning” and ‘instinctive response to stimuli’. Whatever the hell that all means. I know it doesn’t mean they think his brain is functioning beyond a primal level, even if he can pull off a few ‘parlor tricks’.”
“Parlor tricks?”
“Here, Chief. Let’s show Simon what you can do.” The detective leaned over his friend, ripping off the top sheet of paper on the pad to expose a clean one underneath. Holding Blair’s hand, he positioned it over the center of the paper and began outlining a ‘B’, then let go and stepped back. After a few moments, an uneven but distinct L-A-I-R followed and Sandburg looked up expectantly. “Good job, buddy,” Jim told him, nodding his approval. Blair smiled, and bent his head back down over the paper, scribbling once more.
“That’s great,” Simon agreed, with guarded enthusiasm.
“Yeah, he picked it up pretty quick. Although I have to admit I don’t think he understands that its him.”
"I know that’s a big step up for him,” Banks said softly, deciding to say his piece and not beat around the bush. “But has he made any other improvements? Towards taking care of himself, or even showing any cognizance?”
“He’s feeding himself now,” Ellison answered.
“You told me that a month ago, Jim,” Simon reminded him. “That was an accomplishment, but have there been anymore recent developments?”
“Where are you going with this, Captain?” the Sentinel demanded, growing defensive.
“I’m looking out for you,” Banks shot back. “Look, Jim, everyone appreciates what you’re trying to do here. But you can’t go on like this. Sandburg needs 24 hour care, and you’ve been giving it to him nonstop for the last two months. You have to bathe him, and dress him, give him meals, run him to the doctor, and on top of all that, keep an eye on him in between so he doesn’t get into any trouble or wander off or hurt himself. It’s too much to ask of one person. It’s not healthy, it’s no kind of life for you, and you can’t keep it up.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” Ellison snapped. “If you’re going to tell me to farm him back out to one of those overcrowded facilities, you can save your breath.”
“No, but you should think about maybe hiring someone. A personal care attendant or a day nurse. Someone that can help shoulder the burden. Everyone admires your efforts, Jim, but its time to start hearing the doctors when they tell you Sandburg’s never going to get any better.”
“Oh, screw the doctors!” the Sentinel yelled. “They’re the same damn doctors that told us he wasn’t going to live in the first place. And then they said he’d never come out of the coma. And then it was he’d never be able to function enough to sit up or walk and that he’d be a vegetable the rest of his life. So what the hell do they know, anyway?”
Ellison moved to stand in front of the balcony doors, looking out at the sun sparkling over the bay. Simon took his glasses off, running a hand over his face before slipping them back on and glancing over at Sandburg. Blair had looked up during the outburst, but he had quickly gone back to doodling once the shouting stopped.
“Simon?” Jim’s voice was calm. “Feel like taking a walk?”
“Sure,” Banks agreed, feeling a little unsettled. He had anticipated an aggressive reaction from his gruff detective, but he didn’t know what to make of the sudden shift in his mood.
The Sentinel went over to the wall and grabbed his jacket, slipping it on quickly. He picked up the one hanging next to it and returned to the table.
“Come on, Chief,” he said, taking the pencil from his friend’s hand and laying down on the table. He gently pulled on Sandburg’s arm to get him to stand and proceeded to put his jacket on him. “We’re going to take a little walk,” he continued, zipping up his friend’s coat. “And there might be a little something in it for you.” Mindful of the wind, Ellison gathered up his partner’s wild curls, pulling them back from his face and securing them with an elastic band that he dug out of his jeans pocket. He grabbed his Jags cap for himself, and led the way to the door.
The trio left the loft and began strolling down the street, Blair in between Jim and Simon with the Sentinel’s hand on his back to direct him. A cool breeze was blowing in off the water, but the sun was warm in the bright blue sky. All in all, a beautiful day in Cascade, full of the promise of the coming summer. They walked in silence for a few blocks, until they came to a stop in front of an ice cream stand, recently opened for the season, where Ellison ordered a cone.
“Here, buddy. Like this.” He took a few licks of the ice cream to demonstrate to Blair what to do. Sandburg watched him for a moment, then stuck his tongue out slightly. The Sentinel gave him a taste of the ice cream, and Blair started in surprise at the coldness of it. But the creamy sweetness convinced him to try another lick, and then he was hooked. Ellison passed him the cone, grinning as Blair held onto it tightly, lapping at the ice cream with unbridled enthusiasm. “You want anything, Simon?”
“Just coffee.”
Jim ordered two, handing one of the steaming styrofoam cups to Simon and paying the cashier. He grabbed a handful of napkins out of the dispenser, and steered Sandburg over to sit on a nearby bench. Banks followed them, sipping at his drink, and perched on the arm of the bench next to his detective.
“I can’t believe there’s no hope for him,” Ellison said finally, looking up at his captain. “I know he’s not progressing as fast as we’d all like, but he is making improvements. They may be baby steps, but its something. He can write his name, that proves he can still learn. And as for taking care of him, it’s really not that much work. He’s always cooperative, always quiet, always content. Makes me feel like kicking myself for all the times before this all happened when I wished he would just shut up for two minutes. I’d give anything now to hear him babbling on and on about some ancient culture or forgotten tribe.”
“I know what you mean,” Banks agreed sadly. “I never thought these words would come out of my mouth, but I’d gladly take another trip to the Sandburg Zone.”
“I know he’s still in there, somewhere, Simon,” Jim said quietly, but with firm conviction. He reached out to turn the cone around in Blair’s hands so that he could get at the other side, which was starting to drip heavily. “He’s in there, and I just can’t give up on him. Can you understand that?”
“Yeah,” Simon sighed. “I guess I can.” He wasn’t as convinced as his detective, but he knew all too well how stubborn Ellison could be. And ultimately, it was his decision and his alone to make regarding Sandburg’s care, and it was obvious he wasn’t yet ready to throw in the towel.
They made small talk for a few minutes, watching the sun begin to dip down into the shimmering bay, before Banks decided to head for home.
“I didn’t mean to be such a hard ass back in the loft,” Jim told him, pulling out his stash of napkins and wiping the ice cream drips from Blair’s chin and fingers. “I really do appreciate you looking out for me, Simon.”
“Listen, Jim,” the Captain said, somewhat hesitantly. “Well, me and the guys have been keeping our distance a little bit. But we kind of got the impression that was what you wanted, and we wanted to respect that. But you know if you ever need anything, I mean anything at all, we’re all just a phone call away.”
“Thank you, Simon,” Ellison replied sincerely. “That’s good to know.”
“Take care of yourself.” Banks reached out to shake his detective’s hand, and gave Blair’s shoulder a little squeeze. “You too, Sandburg. Remember,” he called over his shoulder as he started walking toward his car. “Anything. Just call.”
“Right.” The Sentinel waved, watching his captain leave, before turning to his slightly sticky friend. “Come on, Chief. Let’s head home.”
Ellison opened the fridge, sliding in the dish of leftovers he’d just covered and pulling out a beer. He twist off the lid, sending it sailing smoothly into the garbage can with a flick of the wrist and took a long pull on the bottle.
“Guess I shouldn’t have given you that ice cream so close to dinner, huh Chief?” he asked. Blair hadn’t eaten much and had mainly just played in his food. Jim slid the plate away from him, scraping the remainder of the meal in the garbage and rinsing off the dish in the sink. He yawned, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he looked at the clock. Simon’s visit had put them behind in their usual schedule, and the weary Sentinel decided to leave the rest of the kitchen clean up until morning.
“Come on, buddy,” he said, taking Sandburg by the arm. “It’s bath time.”
As the tub was filling with warm water, Ellison gathered up towels and Blair’s pajamas, laying everything out in readiness. He turned the tap, cutting the water off, and undressed his friend, helping him step into the bathtub where he sat down with a splash and a delighted grin.
“Yeah, you got me,” Jim commented wryly, looking down at the damp spots on his jeans. He stood back for a few minutes, drinking his beer, while Sandburg splashed around in the water a bit more. Suddenly, he sat up, looking up at the Sentinel, and slid his tongue out slightly. “Well, didn’t take you long to learn that one, did it? Pavlovian response or not, you’re still smarter than that damn dog,” Ellison chuckled, stepping up and pulling down the shower nozzle. “No more ice cream tonight, Chief, but we’ll do it again soon, I promise.” He turned on the spray and quickly checked the water temperature before dousing his friend. Pouring a dollop of herbal shampoo on his palms, the detective went to work.
Cleaned and rinsed, the Sentinel got his friend out of the bathtub, wrapping a large, fluffy towel around him and leading him out to sit on his bed. He took a second towel and applied it to Sandburg’s dripping curls, squeezing all the water from them. Tossing the wet towel to the floor, he picked up a brush and carefully combed through his friend’s hair, gently detangling the snarls. Ellison paused for a moment, running his fingers through the wild curls. The section of his head that had been shaved when he’d had surgery had grown enough length back so that it looked normal once more. With a hint of satisfaction, Jim picked up the hair dryer and eliminated the remaining dampness from his friend’s hair. Granted it would have been a lot easier to cut the curls off and let him grow a beard, but it was something the detective refused to even consider.
“Tired, Chief?” he asked, as Blair moved forward to lean up against him, resting his head against the Sentinel’s stomach. “Me, too.” Idly he thought about what Simon had said to him, about it all being too much for one person to handle. Instinctively, his strong arms encircled his friend, hugging him tightly to him, and Jim leaned down, resting his cheek against the top of Blair’s head, feeling the warmth and breathing in the sweet herbal scent of his curls. “We’ll show him, won’t we, buddy?” he murmured. “We’ll show ‘em all.”
Ellison stroked his friend’s hair gently, before extricating himself and standing Blair up. The Sentinel removed the towel from around him and finished drying him off, then got him dressed in a T shirt and sweatpants. He got Blair settled down for the night, then went to the fridge and snagged another beer, although it went largely untouched as Jim almost immediately fell asleep on the couch in front of the tv.
The detective checked on his friend, who had fallen asleep curled up on the couch. Not for the first time, he wondered about the so called “harmless” tests the hospital staff was inflicting on him. Sandburg often appeared weary after his Wednesday sessions, and even though Dr. Norris insisted that they never caused him any pain, it was obvious to Ellison that they were stressful to Blair in some regard. Deciding to let him rest for awhile, he moved out to the balcony, closing the door softly behind him.
Looking out over the bay, Jim took a few deep breaths of air and tried to force himself to relax. He’d been experiencing headaches lately, and his senses had been unexpectedly spiking on him here and there. The control he’d had for so long was beginning to waver, and he was starting to worry about using his senses at all, out of fear that something would go wrong. Not really fear for himself, although he knew that if he fell into a zone, Sandburg wasn’t there to bring him out of it. His concern was more directed at the thought of what would happen to his friend if anything happened to him.
His thoughts drifted back to when Blair was in a coma, and how he’d made the connection between that and a zone out. Stimulating his senses had helped to bring Sandburg out of it, just as it brought him out of a zone. And now Ellison couldn’t help wondering if there was still a connection. He’d woken up his friend’s body, but now the question was how to wake up his mind. What form of stimulation was required to jolt Blair back to reality? He struggled with the question, but was unable to come up with the answer. For they had been trying every type of mental stimulation they could think of, but nothing was working. However, the detective remained convinced that there was a trigger out there. He just needed to find it.
The Sentinel gripped the railing of the balcony, taking in several deep, calming breaths as his eyes scanned the streets below. Resigned to the fact that he was going to have to continue on with the tests that Sandburg always forced on him if he wanted to keep control of his senses, he focused his sight on a hot dog cart down by the bay. Hearing Blair’s voice in his head, the echo of how his guide used to coach him, he began trying to piggyback his sense of smell to his sight. Filtering out all the other scents in the air, focusing on the small cart, so far away.
By the time he reentered the loft, pain was throbbing behind his eyes, but a grin lit his face. Not only had he been able to single out the hot dog cart, he had kept at it, practicing until he was able to isolate the scents of the meat, the condiments, and even the cheap sunscreen the vendor was liberally sporting. Blair would have been proud. As he got himself a glass of water and began searching for where he had last left the aspirin bottle, the detective realized that even in his current condition, Sandburg still had the power to ground him. Not just with the memory of his past teachings, but by being near, filling the area around him with his presence. The sight of him, the scents, and the sounds of his breathing and heartbeat all helped to stabilize the Sentinel, helping him focus but keeping him in touch with reality. And hardly for the first time, Ellison reiterated the fact to himself that Naomi had been wrong. He preferred his friend alive, thank you very much, in any form he could get him. For that purity, that light, and that spark that was Blair had refused to die. And it was definitely something worth hanging onto.
A soft knock on the door jolted Jim awake. He winced as he sat up, his neck having gone stiff from dozing off with his head back against the couch at an odd angle. Rolling his head a few times and rubbing at the spot alleviated the soreness, and Ellison decided the door could wait a minute as he glanced to check on Blair and spied something in his hand.
“What’ve you got, Chief?” he asked, kneeling down on the floor and taking the item from him to examine it. It was a small, polished stone, carved to somewhat resemble a bear. He couldn’t remember having seen it before, but it definitely looked like one of the many trinkets Sandburg would collect. The detective didn’t know where his partner had found it, but he suspected it was probably way overdue time to give the loft a thorough cleaning, including under the furniture. “Just don’t eat it,” he advised wryly, handing it back as a second knock sounded.
“Jim? It’s Rafe.”
“Coming,” Ellison called out, rising and going to the door. He opened it to see his fellow detective in the company of a pleasant looking middle aged woman.
“Hey, Jim, how are you?” Rafe asked, smiling broadly.
“I’m good,” he replied, giving them a puzzled look but opening the door wider. “Come in.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever met my sister, Diane,” Rafe began as they entered the loft.
“No, but it’s very nice to meet you,” Ellison greeted her.
“Likewise, Detective,” she responded. “I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.”
“Besides being the best big sister in the world,” Rafe continued, grinning devilishly. “Diane just happens to be a registered nurse. And she very sweetly volunteered to come here tonight and stay with Blair so that you could take a break and come out with me and the guys.”
“Wow.” Jim was taken aback, not quite sure how he felt about the proposition. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing,” Rafe told him firmly. “This plan is non negotiable, Jim. So just go get your coat, ok?” He clapped the detective on the shoulder and went to go sit on the floor next to Blair. “How you doing, Sandburg?”
“My brother can be a little pushy sometimes,” Diane said softly. “But his heart’s in the right place.” She placed a hand on Ellison’s arm. “He explained the situation to me, Detective. And he’s right, you do deserve a break. Blair will be fine here with me for a few hours, so why don’t you go out and enjoy yourself?”
“All right,” the Sentinel agreed slowly. He wasn’t sure he felt right about leaving his partner alone with a stranger, but they had obviously gone to some trouble to arrange this and he definitely didn’t feel right about refusing such a generous offer. Quickly, he explained to Diane that Blair would be ready for bed soon and gave her the run through of getting him there, going over a few important details he thought she should know. He wrote his cell number down for her, along with his father’s number, the number of Doctor Norris’ answering service, Lauren’s cell number, and the number of the bar.
“Jim, for crying out loud, we’re just going out for a couple of beers,” Rafe protested. “It’s not like we’re going to be gone for days on end, you know.”
“I know,” Ellison sighed, a bit sheepishly. He moved to join Blair and Rafe on the floor. “I’m going out for a little bit, buddy.” He gently tilted his partner’s chin up to meet his gaze. “But I’ll be back soon. This is Diane, and she’s going to stay here with you until I come home.”
Blair watched him with clear blue eyes, giving no sign that he understood. Jim squeezed his shoulder and stood up, walking over to grab his jacket hanging by the door.
“It was good seeing you, Blair,” Rafe whispered, grinning happily as Sandburg smiled at him. The detective slid an arm around him, giving him a quick half hug. “You take care of yourself, and I’ll come see you again soon.”
He joined Ellison at the door, and they both stood there for a few minutes, watching Diane join Blair on the floor. It seemed that he was happy enough with her, but Rafe still had to coax the Sentinel out into the hallway.
“She really is a great nurse,” he reassured his colleague as they walked out to the car. “She works in pediatrics, and the children love her. She’s really got a way with kids. Their parents, too. I guess she’s just one of those people that everyone naturally trusts. Blair will be fine with Di, I promise you.”
“I know,” Jim sighed, climbing into the passenger seat of Rafe’s car. “It’s just that this is the first time I’ve left him since I brought him home, not counting his therapy. I’m just a little worried about how he might react if he realizes that I’m gone.”
“I can understand how you feel,” Rafe told him, turning the ignition. “But, Jim, sooner or later Blair is going to have to start getting used to you being gone. I know you want to be there for him, but you can’t spend 24/7 with him for the rest of your life. I mean, you are planning on returning to work eventually, aren’t you?”
“Eventually,” Ellison said flatly, his tone clearly indicating that he wanted the subject dropped. Rafe shook his head, but held his tongue and reached out to turn on the radio, filling the car with music for the duration of their ride.
They met the rest of the Major Crimes Unit at the bar, already staked out around a pool table and working on their second pitcher of beer. The Sentinel dutifully accepted the glass he was handed and took his turn with the cue, but he found he was unable to fully relax, a fact that did not go unnoticed by his friends.
“Jim,” Simon told him, attempting to sound stern but failing to keep the compassion from creeping into his voice. “You need to loosen up. Sandburg will survive without you for the night.”
“I know that, Sir,” the detective murmured absently. “But I think I’d feel better if I checked in. Excuse me.”
The rest of the guys watched him go, pulling out his cell phone as he left the noise of the bar for the quieter parking lot. He returned a few minutes later after Diane assured him that Blair was sleeping peacefully, giving them all an embarrassed grin as he hopped up onto a stool and picked up his drink.
“Everything ok?” Joel asked.
“Fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his beer. “I’m sorry. I know you guys probably think that I’ve gone off the deep end here. I don’t blame you.”
“We don’t think you’ve gone off the deep end,” Taggert placated him. “You’re just worried about Sandburg. We know that.”
“But that’s just it,” Ellison sighed. “I spend every minute of the day worrying about him. And I don’t know how to just shut that off. Even now, I have to fight the urge to look over my shoulder and see what he’s doing, make sure he’s all right.”
“Jim, I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe it’s time to take a step back,” Simon suggested gently.
“I’m not complaining,” the Sentinel clarified quickly. “I know you guys all think that I’m wasting my time with him. I tried and I failed and I should just accept it and move on. But I can’t do that.”
“Nobody’s saying that you should just write Blair off,” Joel told him. “But you’ve given up everything for him, and we just think you need to find some balance. Take some time for yourself, and get some of your life back.”
Ellison finished off his beer in two big gulps, setting down his glass with a sigh. He looked around the circle of friends before him, seeing the concern in their faces and knowing that they meant well. But he didn’t know how to explain things to them so that they could understand. For his actions were motivated by powerful feelings that defied words, but spoke to him through his heart and his soul.
“I know you’re right,” he said quietly. “I should start getting on with my life. But I don’t know what that is anymore. Blair helped me to become the person I am today. He became a very large part of my life. So how do I just go on with that, and leave him behind? So maybe that’s my answer. That bullet changed his life, and it changed mine as well. Maybe this is my life now.”
“What are you saying?” Rafe asked. “That you’re going to quit the force?”
“No, of course I can’t do that,” Jim sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. He looked up at his friends, his blue eyes shining with sincerity. “I do need to find a balance, but right now the scales are tipped in Sandburg’s favor. It feels right to me, somehow. And it’s not a burden, and I don’t feel like I’m sacrificing or missing out on anything. After all he’s done for me, I’m glad to be able to help him now. Maybe eventually I’ll decide that I’ve done all that I can and it’s time to give up. But I haven’t reached that point yet.” He sighed again, running a finger around the rim of his empty glass. “I wish I could make you guys understand all this. But I don’t even really understand it myself. All I know is that Sandburg and I are connected in some weird way. And as long as he needs me, I want to be there for him.”
The detective glanced around, seeing that his formerly boisterous companions had fallen silent. Sobered by worry for Sandburg, and concern for him. Things that none of them needed to be thinking about while they were supposed to be out having a good time.
“Next round’s on me,” he offered, picking up the empty pitcher as he slid down from the stool. He wove his way through the crowd to the bar, not wanting to wait for the waitress to return. Since he had just killed everyone’s fun, he figured he needed to do his part to get it going again. When he returned with the refill, he carefully doled it out into the glasses on the table, noticing that they were a member short. “Where’d Brown disappear to?”
“Don’t know,” Rafe shrugged, picking up his beer. “He said he had something he needed to do.”
“He didn’t leave, did he?” Ellison demanded, not believing that H would take off without saying goodbye.
“That would be a ‘no’,” Joel chimed in, grinning as he nodded across the bar. The rest of the men followed his gaze to see their companion climbing up onto the karaoke stage and taking his place in front of the microphone. But any good natured teasing died away in their throats, replaced by a sentimental lump as the burly detective began to sing in a soft tenor voice.
“The road is long,
With many a winding turn.
That leads us to who knows where,
Who knows where?
But I'm strong,
Strong enough to carry him.
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
So on we go,
His welfare is my concern.
No burden is he to bear,
We'll get there.
For I know,
He would not encumber me.
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
If I'm laden at all,
I'm laden with sadness,
That everyone's heart,
Isn't filled with the gladness,
Of love for one another.
It's a long, long road,
From which there is no return,
While we're on our way to there,
Why not share?
And the load,
Doesn't weigh me down at all.
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.”
“Thank you, H,” the Sentinel whispered when his fellow detective returned to them, amidst enthusiastic applause from the other bar patrons as well as quite a number of admiring females. Ellison cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Thank all of you guys. I really do appreciate this. What you’re doing for me.”
“You know we’re here for you,” Brown told him, slapping him on the back. “Whatever you need, my man.”
“That goes for all of us,” Joel added with conviction. “Anything we can do to help.”
Touched, Jim nodded his thanks to his friends. Clearing his throat again, he stepped forward and picked up his pool cue, chalking up the tip.
“Ok, I’m up,” he declared, determined to salvage some festivity out of the remainder of the evening. “Any takers?”
“You’re going down, Ellison,” Simon threatened, grabbing up the other cue.
“Rack ‘em up,” the Sentinel said with a deadly gleam in his eye. “Sir.”
“Have a good time?”
“Yeah, we did,” the detective replied, closing the door quietly behind him as Diane rose from the sofa. “Sorry it’s so late. I guess we lost track of time.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she assured him. “You deserved a night out. I would have been disappointed if you’d come back early.”
“Rafe’s waiting in the car,” Jim told her, grinning as he handed her the keys. “I’m afraid you’ll have to drive home.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” she laughed, taking the keys. “He can sleep it off on my couch tonight.”
“How did everything go here? He give you any trouble?”
“Not at all,” Diane answered. “He’s just as sweet as can be. I swear, you can see all the choirs of angels shining out of those big blue eyes when he smiles. Was he that serene before the accident?”
“Sandburg?” The detective snorted. “You couldn’t ever get him to sit down or shut up.” He paused for a moment. “Although, there always was a sense of peace around him. Even when he was flying around here talking a mile a minute as he tried to do ten things at once, there was something calming about him.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t lose that,” she said gently. “A lot of people with his type of injury become much more disturbed. Agitated.”
“Yeah, I know,” the Sentinel murmured. “Anyway, I can’t thank you enough for staying with him, Diane.”
“It was my pleasure,” she told him honestly as she picked up her coat and slipped into it. “Take care, Detective. I’ll keep a good thought for you and Blair.”
“I appreciate that.” He opened the door for her. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the car.”
After he had seen her safely downstairs, Jim returned to the loft and went to check on Blair, finding his friend deeply asleep. The detective went to his own bed, but sleep didn’t come so easily for him. His mind was racing, wondering if his friends hadn’t been right. Wondering if he was just kidding himself, believing that he still had the power to help in Sandburg’s recovery. And starting to think that he was holding on too tightly, and that it was time to begin backing off. Blair apparently hadn’t missed him at all, and Ellison knew he should be able to go out for a beer without turning paranoid and acting like an overprotective mother with a newborn back home. Sighing, he rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. He wasn’t exactly a fan of the idea, but maybe it was time to take everyone’s advice and think about hiring some outside help to take over some of Sandburg’s care. It was at least something to consider.
The jaguar was close, almost on top of him. It snarled menacingly as it paced around him, its tail brushing against his leg. Then it was gone, bounding off into the jungle. But the Sentinel made no move to follow it. Blinded by the thick fog, he was afraid to go forward. Afraid of another nightmarish fall down the black void. The cat screamed in the distance. He extended his hearing, trying to track the animal. And then he heard it. A strong heartbeat, one that he would know anywhere.
“Sandburg!” he shouted, taking a hesitant step forward. And then another. “Damn it, Sandburg! Answer me!”
He began to run, blindly plowing forward until he hit a tangle of vines. Recoiling, his boot snagged a knobby tree root and he fell heavily onto his back. As he lay there panting, a loud wolf howl filled his ears.
The Sentinel’s eyes blinked open, and he ran a hand tiredly over his face before glancing at his watch. He’d only dozed off for twenty minutes, but he still felt guilty. Stifling a groan, he pulled himself up to a sitting position and peered over the edge of the couch, catching sight of his partner still sitting out on the balcony. Since it didn’t look like their afternoon walk would be happening, Ellison at least wanted his friend to be able to take in a little fresh air and sunshine, but he berated himself for having dropped off and leaving Blair unattended while they were three flights up.
Jim had to fight off the urge to lay back down, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. He’d spent the previous night up and down, robbed of sleep due to annoying symptoms that were apparently impervious to aspirin and that had worsened by morning. His temperature was holding steady at 102, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up into an aching ball of misery and sleep it off, but glancing at his watch again, he knew he would have to get up soon. He’d have to get Blair in off the balcony before he could even think of closing his eyes, and apart from that, it was almost lunchtime.
Ellison stifled another groan as thoughts of food entered his mind. He’d managed to cut up a banana into a bowl of cereal for his partner that morning, but he felt much more queasy now and he was sure the sight of anything edible would send his stomach churning. Mulling over the possibilities, the Sentinel tried to determine what dish would be least offensive to him, wondering how Blair would feel about buttered noodles as he tried to summon the motivation to get up off the couch.
The motivation finally came in the form of a knock at the door. Simon had called earlier, explaining that Jim’s presence was requested at a parole hearing and that he would send the case file to the loft before the day was through. Anticipating that the visitor at the door was a uniform with the documents in question, Ellison rose, waiting for a few moments until the dizziness subsided and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders in an attempt to ward off a sudden chill, before he went to answer the door.
“Hey, Captain,” the Sentinel greeted him in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I’ve got those files for you,” Taggert told him, stepping into the loft. He started to say something more, but stopped abruptly as he got a good look at the haggard man before him. “Are you all right, Jim?”
“Yeah,” Ellison sighed, closing the door and hitching the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I think I may have picked up a touch of the flu, but I’ll be ok.” Cursing the newfound weakness that was making him tremble, he moved forward to sit back down on the couch. “So how come Simon has you playing messenger boy? Isn’t this your day off?”
“It’s supposed to be,” Joel replied. “I had to stop by and drop off a report, and I volunteered to run this stuff out here to you. Gives me a chance to say hi to Blair.” Spying the young man out on the balcony, Taggert went out to do just that.
“Do me a favor and bring him back in here, would you, Captain?” Jim called after him. He picked up the thick folder he’d been given and glanced through it, feeling the pounding in his temples growing stronger. “I’ll look at this a little later and get back with Simon,” he announced, tossing the file onto the coffee table as Taggert escorted Blair back into the loft, shutting the balcony door behind them before seating him next to the Sentinel.
“You look like hell, Ellison,” Joel declared fondly, giving the detective another appraising look. “Why don’t you go lie down for awhile?”
“I will, a little later,” he promised. “I have to get Blair something to eat first.”
“I can take him out to lunch,” Taggert offered. “It’s the least I can do for all those dinners he’s made for me.”
“That’s nice of you, Captain, but...”
“No ‘buts’,” Joel interrupted firmly. “Blair and I can manage for a little bit on our own, and it will give you some peace and quiet. You forget, Detective, that I outrank you. So I’m taking your friend into my custody, and you are going to go to bed and get some rest. That is an order.”
Ellison grinned slightly in spite of himself.
“Are you sure you can handle him?”
“We’ll make due, won’t we Blair?” Taggert gave the younger man a smile and a gentle squeeze on his shoulder before moving to the wall to retrieve his coat. He brought it over, and Jim put it on his partner.
“Joel’s going to take you out for a little while,” he said softly, gathering up the thick curls and letting them spill over the collar of his friend’s jacket. The Sentinel stroked his guide’s hair briefly, then let go as Taggert took him by the arm and helped him up.
“He’ll be fine, Jim,” the captain reassured him. “Don’t worry about him. And go to bed!”
“Yes, sir.” The teasing smile faded from Ellison’s face as he watched Blair disappear out the door with Taggert, hating to see him go. Not that he didn’t trust his colleague, on the contrary, he knew that Joel would take excellent care of his partner. If he knew how. There were a lot of subtleties involved, and Jim hated entrusting his friend to anyone who didn’t know them. But, he rationalized, they were only going to lunch. An hour, tops, and then Taggert would bring him back home. Not much could happen in an hour, and it would be an overwhelming relief to be able to collapse in his warm bed for that hour and lose himself to oblivion without worrying about what Blair was doing. The stairs looked like Mt. Everest to the fatigued Sentinel, but he managed to climb up them steadily enough, falling into bed and pulling the covers up over his head.
Ellison awoke a bit disoriented, but he quickly realized that he was feeling better. He was still tired and weak, but the aches and the chills had subsided, along with the feeling of malaise. Stretching and yawning, he let out a grateful sigh, preparing to curl back up and let himself drift back off. But then he realized how shadowy it was in the loft, and he flopped over to look at his alarm clock, astounded to see it was after six.
“Blair?” he called out as he sat up. “Joel?” But it was futile, for he could easily tell that the loft was empty. Telling himself he was being ridiculous, the Sentinel couldn’t help the worry that was creeping up on him. His friends had only gone out for lunch, and he just couldn’t imagine why they had not returned. Jim got up and went downstairs, turning on a few lights as he paced restlessly. Finally he decided that he would grab a quick shower, and if they hadn’t gotten back by the time he was done, he’d start making some calls.
The hot spray did wonders for helping him feel more human again, and while he was upstairs getting dressed, the door to the loft opened. Looking down, Ellison was relieved to see Taggert leading Blair inside.
“Where the hell have you guys been?” the Sentinel asked as he came trotting down the stairs.
“Sorry, Jim. I didn’t mean to worry you,” the captain apologized, picking up the tension in his friend’s voice. “I had some errands to run and I just thought you could use the rest, so I took Blair with me. We went out to the track to see Little Stogie, and then we came back and took a walk along the harbor. We already grabbed some dinner, but we brought you back some soup. I have to say, you’re looking a lot better.”
“Yeah, I think I got my foot out of the grave,” Ellison cracked, taking the paper bag Taggert handed him and opening it to inhale the warm aroma of the container of chicken soup, happy that his stomach chose to growl rather than churn. He set the bag down on the kitchen island and started to help Blair off with his jacket. “Joel, I... thank you. I guess I’ve never been good at asking for help. So, I really appreciate you looking after him all day.”
“It was my pleasure,” Taggert replied softly, meaning it with all his heart. Much like Jim had discovered early on, the captain had found a sort of quiet, life affirming peace in being with the young man. And it truly did please him to be able to help and care for Blair, who had slipped under his skin without him even realizing it, much like he had with everyone else. “Jim, you’ve been dealing with this all alone from the start. If that’s how you want it, that’s one thing. But it doesn’t have to be that way. I meant what I said to you at the bar last week. We all did. You’ve got friends just waiting to help you. Don’t be afraid to take advantage of that. You don’t have to be so isolated in this. All right?”
“All right,” the detective agreed softly.
“Ok.” Joel clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Then I expect to hear from you.” He moved over to stand in front of Sandburg, drawing him into a hug. “Blair, I’ll see you again soon. You take care, kiddo.”
Ellison walked him to the door, but Taggert paused in the entrance way.
“I don’t know if I’m as convinced as you are that he’s still whole in there somewhere,” the captain told him. “But now I see why you keep hoping.”
The Sentinel grinned, closing the door and heading back to the kitchen to eat his soup before it got cold.
“So that’s it, then?” he asked quietly. “You think it’s time to give up?”
“No, I’m not saying that, Detective,” Doctor Norris replied. “What I’m saying is that I don’t think there’s anything more we can do for Mr. Sandburg medically.”
“What about that oxygen therapy you’ve been trying with him?” Ellison persisted.
“I explained to you that it was an experimental treatment,” she reminded him. “Some physicians are documenting marked progress using HBOT with certain types of brain dysfunction, but there haven’t been any conclusive studies done on those with penetrating head injuries. It was just something to try, but so far, there haven’t been any changes in his EEG patterns or in the scores of his neurological exams.”
The Sentinel rose from his seat, moving to the window to look out at the dreary, overcast sky. His throat constricted tightly, and he had to swallow hard before he spoke.
“He was dragging his feet coming in here today,” he murmured. “He was hesitating, and he’s never refused to go anywhere before.”
“He’s learned to associated this building with being away from you, and having to endure tests that aren’t necessarily pleasant for him,” the doctor theorized. “But again, he’s just reacting to controlled stimuli, presented to him over time.” She rose from behind her desk and moved to stand beside him. “Detective, you’ve worked harder than anyone I’ve ever seen before. If determination counted for anything, Mr. Sandburg would have recovered completely by now. You deserve to be seeing positive results, and you don’t know how sorry I am that I can’t give them to you.” Jim was surprised to feel her hand move to rest consolingly on his shoulder. “Keep taking him to the rehabilitation facility, and keep working with him at home, but I’m going to reduce his sessions here with me. Bring him back in a month, and I’ll check his progress then. But frankly, Detective, I think we’ve reached a plateau, at least from a medical standpoint.”
“You really don’t think he’s going to get any better?” Ellison had to fight to keep his voice steady.
“Not without a miracle,” Dr. Norris answered gently. “Go ahead and take him home. I’ll see you both next month.”
The Sentinel nodded, leaving her office and going down the hall to collect his friend, his steps heavy with defeat. But as Blair smiled to see him, Jim couldn’t help but grin back, the light in those blue eyes helping to bolster his flagging hope. They left the hospital, and as Ellison glanced as his friend, strolling amicably alongside him, he realized all was not lost yet. Where a miracle might be a tall order for most people, somehow it just didn’t seem that implausible where Sandburg was concerned.
“Simon!” The detective paused in his restless pacing to greet his captain as he spied him approaching down the hall. “What are you doing down here?”
“I just finished up a meeting with the mayor,” Banks explained. “So I thought I’d just drop in while I was in the neighborhood and see how it’s going. Have you testified yet?”
“No,” Ellison replied in frustration. “They keep calling recesses and the defense is really dragging this out.”
“It was a high profile case,” Simon shrugged. “I’d be surprised if it all went nice and simple.”
“I don’t know why I even have to testify,” Jim grumbled. “There’ve already been about five witnesses on the stand, and all of the victims’ families are here to add their sides.”
“Because you were the arresting officer,” the captain reminded him. “You caught this sicko in the act and you have firsthand knowledge of the kind of violence he’s capable of.”
“Yeah, I know,” the Sentinel sighed. “I just wish they’d get on with it. I’m supposed to pick up Sandburg in about half an hour, and it takes that long to drive out to Hopewell.”
“That’s no problem,” Simon told him. “I can run out there and get him.”
“You don’t have to...”
“Listen up, Ellison, because this is the last time I’m saying this,” Banks barked authoritatively.
“You don’t have to say it,” Jim interrupted, holding up his hands. “I know. You guys all want to help and all I have to do is ask.”
“Well we wouldn’t have to beat the dead horse if you would just get it through your thick skull,” the captain said loftily. “Besides, your focus needs to be here, convincing the parole board not to let a killer back out onto the street. And you can’t do that looking at your watch every five seconds.”
“You’re right.” The detective sighed, digging in his pocket and pulling out his keys. He extracted the key to the loft from the ring and passed it over to his boss. “I’ll call Hopewell and let them know you’re picking him up. And I appreciate this, Simon.”
“Like I said, it’s no problem.” Banks started to go, but turned back to him. “It may surprise you, Jim, but you don’t have the market cornered in caring about Sandburg. The kid’s one of my team, and I make it my policy always to be there for my guys. Besides, he’s covered my back a time or two before.”
The Sentinel nodded, smiling slightly. Simon pointed at him then tugged at his tie before turning and moving down the corridor of the courthouse with his long stride. Ellison’s grin widened, and he straightened his own tie, relaxing slightly as he sat down on a bench to wait to be called to testify.
Jim climbed up into the truck, slamming the door and leaning his head back against the seat, staring out into the rapidly darkening parking lot for several long moments. With a heavy sigh, he pulled out his cell phone and called up the number, hearing the phone ring four times before the voice mail picked up.
“Hi, Lauren,” he began when the message prompted him to speak. “It’s Jim Ellison. I’m looking to hire some professional care for Blair, and I was wondering if you would be able to help me. Maybe give me a list of some good people or something. Anyway, give me a call when you have time, and we can talk about it. Thanks.”
He hung up the phone, tossing it onto the seat next to him and closing his eyes, running a hand wearily over his forehead. As much as he didn’t want to entrust Blair’s care to a stranger, he knew he was going to have to sooner or later. He was going to have to go back to work before too much longer, and he realized that he needed some backup for when situations like the one that afternoon cropped up. The Sentinel knew the guys at work were all sincere in wanting to help out, but they had their own lives, and like it or not, the time was approaching where he was going to have to reclaim his own. Trying to console himself with the thought that it wouldn’t be so bad, for he just needed someone during the day to take Blair to Hopewell and then he’d be home to work with him in the evenings, Ellison sighed again and opened his eyes, starting up the truck and hitting the lights. He still had some time, but he figured he might as well take advantage of it. Time to find somebody good, someone he could trust. And time for both him and Sandburg to get used to the idea. Although, he had a feeling it was going to be a lot harder on him than it was on Blair.
Jim arrived back home quickly, since rush hour traffic had mostly abated, and he pulled into a spot next to Simon’s car. Deciding he didn’t have energy for the stairs, he waited for the elevator and rode up to the third floor. Entering the loft, he found Simon sitting at the table, reading the paper, with Blair across from him scribbling madly in his notebook.
“How did it go?” Banks asked as he came in.
“They denied his parole,” Ellison replied, hanging up his jacket. “I was one of the last people called, so I decided to hang around for the verdict.”
“Good,” Simon grunted in satisfaction. “One less dangerous psychopath on the streets.”
“Yeah.” The Sentinel leaned up against the kitchen island. “Did you guys eat yet?”
“No, I was waiting to see when you were going to get here.”
“Why don’t you stick around, Simon?” Jim suggested. “We can order a pizza and watch the game.”
“Sounds good to me,” the captain agreed.
After a brief discussion of what to order, Ellison picked up the cordless phone and tossed it to his friend.
“Go ahead and call,” he instructed. “I’m just going to run upstairs and change.”
He trotted up to the loft and quickly shed his court suit for a more comfortable jeans and t-shirt ensemble. Upon his return, he and Simon settled in front of the tv with a couple of beers , the captain having shed his own coat and tie and undone a few of his more restrictive shirt buttons. They made small talk for a few minutes, but Banks soon realized that his detective was acting more subdued than usual.
“Are you all right, Jim?” he asked, concerned. “You seem a little down.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” the Sentinel replied. “Maybe a little depressed. It just gets frustrating, you know? Doing all this work and not having anything to show for it.”
“Jim,” Simon began quietly. “There’s a good chance you might never have anything to show for it. I know you want to keep hoping that Sandburg’s going to recover, but...”
“It’s more than hope,” Ellison cut in. “You know me, Simon. I’m hard and cynical and pessimistic, right?”
“Well, now that you mention it,” Banks grinned.
“I’ve never been one to fly on blind hope and faith,” the detective continued. “But I have been, ever since Blair was hurt. And I can’t explain why. It’s just... a gut feeling. Somehow I know, deep down inside, that he’s still in there. And that’s the frustrating part. He’s in there, and I just can’t figure out how to reach him.”
“You know, sometimes when we want something so bad, we start to imagine...”
“Oh, give me a break,” Jim blurted out. “This Sentinel stuff aside, I’m one of the most grounded people on the planet. I’m not casting aside reality in place of delusions.” He paused, wondering whether or not to reveal more to his friend, and deciding he needed to get it off his chest. “But I have been having dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“Dreams of the jungle,” Ellison confessed slowly. “Almost every night. There’s this fog, and it’s so thick I can’t see anything. But I can hear the black jaguar around me. Blair called it my spirit animal. And I know it wants me to follow it, but I can’t see anything to track it. Sandburg’s there, too. At first I could only just sort of sense him, but now I can hear him. His heartbeat. He’s close, but the fog’s too thick and I can’t see a damn thing. I just can’t find him.”
“I’m no psychiatrist, Jim, but that doesn’t sound too cryptic to me,” Banks told him. “It’s pretty metaphorical, if you ask me. With Blair’s condition, its like he’s lost. You can’t find him, you can’t find any way to help him with his recovery. Yet he has made small progresses, which is why you’ve been getting closer to him in the dream. It all adds up.”
“I’d agree with you,” the Sentinel hedged. “But these go beyond ordinary dreams. I wish they were, and believe me, I’ve tried long and hard to convince myself. But they’re too real. I can smell all the scents of the jungle. I can feel the humidity in the air, clinging to my skin. I can feel the plants brushing against my skin, and the sting of the brush scraping against me. It’s more than just a dream. This means something, Simon, and the one person who could explain it all to me...” He glanced behind him to where Blair was still seated at the table and sighed. “Guess I’m just going to have to figure it all out on my own.”
Whatever the captain was about to say was interrupted by a knock at the door. Jim rose and answered it, paying the pizza delivery boy and collecting the food. He arranged it all on the kitchen island and pulled out plates as Simon came to help himself. Ellison pulled Blair away from the table and got him set up with his meal at the coffee table, where he could keep an eye on him, before he filled his own plate and resumed his seat on the couch.
“Look, forget I said anything, all right, Simon?” he stated, catching the look his captain was giving him. “I don’t know what I was going on about. I think I’m just tired and grasping at straws.”
“I don’t pretend to understand any of this,” Banks said slowly. “And I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t all give me the willies. But if you want to talk about it...”
“No, let’s just forget it,” Jim told him. “The game’s starting.”
As he turned up the volume, the Sentinel was relieved to see his friend let the matter drop. He still believed in what he had said, but voicing it out loud had sounded crazy, even to him. It was better to keep his visions of the jungle to himself, as well as his faith that Blair could be well and whole, if he could only find the way to bring him back.
The evening passed by pleasantly, as both men got caught up in the game. Ellison realized how much he’d missed just hanging out with his friend, and greatly enjoyed an evening of normalcy, doing “guy stuff”. By the time the Seahawks had finalized their latest victory, he was much more relaxed and his mood had lightened considerably, laughing and joking with his captain as he gathered up the dishes and empty bottles and carried them out to the kitchen. Banks took the remote, flipping idly through the channels, coming to rest on the tail end of the evening movie as he waited for the news to come on, wondering if they were going to mention the denied parole of the notorious killer his detective had locked up.
Suddenly, Blair cried out, recoiling backward and turning to hide his face against the sofa, covering his head with his arms.
“Jim!” Simon called out, sliding off the couch to kneel next to Sandburg, backing up slightly as the young man flinched violently at his touch. “What’s wrong with him?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Ellison replied, running into the room and crouching down on the floor next to his friend. “Easy, Chief,” he murmured. “Take it easy. Everything’s all right.”
He reached out, and Blair let himself be drawn into his warm embrace, turning away from the couch to cling to the Sentinel.
“That’s it, buddy,” Jim whispered, holding his partner tightly in his strong arms and rubbing a hand up and down his back. “Just calm down. You’re ok.”
“Jim,” Banks began hesitantly, clicking off the tv. “I swear he reacted to the sound of those gunshots from the movie. My God, do you think he knows what happened to him?”
“I don’t know, Simon,” the detective answered, rocking his friend gently. “But something sure scared the hell out of him. He’s shaking like a leaf.”
“What can I do?” the captain asked, desperately wanting to help.
“Maybe a glass of water?”
Banks nodded and hurried into the kitchen, pulling a glass from the dish drainer and turning on the spigot. He stuck his fingers under the stream of water and while he waited for it to get cold, he glanced back at the sight of his best detective, sitting on the floor with his terrified partner cradled in his lap. If he hadn’t seen it himself, Simon probably wouldn’t have believed it, but there was no denying what he had witnessed with his own two eyes. Jim had been right, there was something going on under that mop of curls. And that thought both heartened him and frightened him, for hope could either be a blessing or a curse, depending on how things turned out. With a sigh, Simon filled up the glass and went to sit on the floor next to his friends.
For several minutes, all was quiet except for Jim’s soft reassurances and an occasional muffled sob. But eventually Blair began to relax, enough for Ellison to get his head up and coax a few sips of water into him from the glass Simon handed him.
“Here,” Banks said, handing him his handkerchief as he took the glass back.
Jim used it to wipe away the last lingering tears on his partner’s cheeks, stroking his hair as Blair dropped his head back down to rest against the Sentinel’s shoulder.
“Is he all right?” Simon asked quietly, taking his handkerchief back and cramming it into his pocket.
“Yeah,” Ellison replied, glancing down at his partner. “I think he’ll be fine.”
“Then I’m going to hit the road,” Banks stated, deciding that it would probably be best to leave them alone for the time being, and allow Jim to comfort his upset friend without him getting in the way. “Unless there’s anything else I can do?”
“No,” the detective told him with a small shake of his head. “I think I’m just going to go ahead and take him to bed. I’m sorry about this, Simon.”
“Sorry about what?” the captain demanded, putting on his jacket.
“Breaking up the party, so to speak.”
“That’s just typical Sandburg. He always did tend to be melodramatic.”
“Well I hope it won’t stop you from coming back,” Ellison grinned. “I enjoyed the evening. It was nice hearing another voice here other than my own.”
“You got it.” Banks knelt down, cupping a hand against Blair’s face briefly and giving him a smile before rising and heading out the door. “Call me tomorrow, all right?”
“Sure.” Jim waved as his captain let himself out of the loft, then turned his attentions back to his partner. Once the younger man had calmed down and relaxed, the Sentinel got him up and ready for bed. He went without any trouble, leaving Ellison to finish cleaning up the loft, wondering what this new development meant. For he hadn’t witnessed what had set Blair off, but if Simon claimed it was the sound of the gunshots from the tv, then that’s what it was. And the detective couldn’t help but think that even Doctor Norris would be hard pressed to explain that one away.
“Sandburg! Damn it, would you answer me!!”
He was close, the Sentinel knew it. But before him lay the void. He could feel the cooler air rising up from the bottomless pit, bringing with it the scent of musty earth. The jaguar ceased it’s pacing, flopping down in the brush to his right with a snarl. Carefully, he made his way toward it, making sure to stay back from the precarious ledge of the void. Blindly groping through the fog, crawling on his hands and knees to avoid the snarl of vines above his head, he approached the big cat. Reaching out, his fingers touched human skin.
“Incacha!”
“Why do you call me, Enqueri?”
“What am I doing here?” the Sentinel demanded, getting to his feet.
“You come here of your own choosing,” the Indian told him. “When you have completed the task at hand, you will be free to leave.”
“I’m trying,” he protested. “But I can’t find my friend. You have to help me.”
“That I cannot do,” Incacha explained. “For that is not your task.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You are the Sentinel. He is the Guide. You cannot find him. It is your guide who must find you.”
“What does that mean?”
But the Indian’s voice faded away, replaced by the snarl of the jaguar.
“No, Incacha, wait!” the Sentinel shouted. “Don’t go yet.” He reached out, touching soft fur. With a scream, the cat leapt at him, knocking him to the ground.
“Let’s sit here for a minute, Chief.” Ellison steered his partner to a bench next to the path that overlooked the harbor. Blair sat, squinting his eyes against the wind as he watched the joggers and rollerbladers and dog walkers go by. The Sentinel watched his friend for a minute, then turned to look out over the calm water. “I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said casually. “About the time we’ve spent together over the last couple years. Everything we’ve been through, you know? You’ve driven me crazy more times than I can count. But you’ve done so much more for me, and I never wanted to acknowledge that.”
The detective leaned back against the bench, replaying in his mind all of the long, hard hours Sandburg had put in at the station. Research he’d done, contribution he’d made, and cases he’d helped to make. Following Ellison into dangerous situations, risking his life, but never failing to watch his back, and always willing to help out in any way he was asked. And all of that was an aside to all the work he’d done in helping the Sentinel develop and master his abilities.
“I’ve never even thanked you,” Jim continued softly, turning his head to look at Blair. “So, thank you, Chief. Thank you for risking your life to be my partner. Thank you for being my friend when I thought I didn’t need or want one. Thanks for ignoring me when I took things out on you, and thanks for that occasional kick up the ass when I was acting like a stubborn idiot. And thank you for being a nurturing guide to a reluctant Sentinel.”
Ellison reached out a hand and pushed back a tangle of curls that the breeze was blowing into his friend’s face.
“But most of all, I guess thank you for just being there and being you. I may never have wanted this partnership, but now I can’t imagine life without it. I’m sorry it took me so long to say all this, Blair, and I wish I could have done it when you could have understood me.”
The detective slid an arm around his friend’s shoulders, causing Blair to look at him with a sweet smile, his blue eyes shining with innocence and trust. Jim felt his throat tighten, and he pulled his partner closer to him in a tight hug.
“I promise I’m never going to leave you, buddy,” he whispered into his friend’s ear. Letting him go, Ellison sat back, quickly wiping the traces of moisture from his eyes. “No matter what happens. I have to go back to work and we’ll have to get some help. But you and I are in this together for the long haul. You’ll always be my guide, Blair. Whether you know it or not. I’m never giving up on you.” He reached out, again holding the wind tousled hair out of Sandburg’s face as he found a smile of his own. “Come on, Chief. Let’s head home, and we can stop at the ice cream stand on the way.”
“Sandburg!”
The Sentinel had shouted until he was hoarse, but still no answer greeted his ears. He paced along the edge of the void, hearing his friend’s heartbeat pounding maddeningly close and catching the scent that was uniquely Blair in the breeze.
“All right, Chief,” he admitted, coming to a halt as his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I can’t get to you. You’re going to have to come to me. You can do it, Sandburg. I know you can.”
He paused, not detecting any movement in the jungle around him.
“Are you listening to me, Blair?” he yelled. “You have to try and find me. I’m here. I’m waiting for you. Please, Guide, come to me. Your Sentinel needs you!”
“Jim.”
The voice was directly behind him, warm breath tickling his neck. Startled, the Sentinel whirled around and lost his footing as the loose ledge started to crumble away. He fell, sliding down the edge of the void as his fingers desperately clambered for a hold to stop his descent. A strong hand clamped around his wrist and he reached up, clinging to the arm holding him like a lifeline.
Ellison jolted awake, panting a bit as he tried to shake off the residual effects of the intense dream. Willing his racing heart to calm down, he scrubbed his hands over his face, reassuring himself that he was safe in his own bed. Glancing at the clock, he debated getting up, since sleeping in was probably out of the question. But then the Sentinel froze, picking up the sounds of movement down below as well as the scents of breakfast. He bolted out of bed, grabbing his robe and yanking it on as he flew down the steps, coming to a complete halt as the kitchen came into view.
“Morning, Jim,” Blair greeted him, popping his head out from the depths of the fridge as he heard him approach. “Coffee’s ready. Eggs are going to be a few minutes. I could have sworn we had ham in here. You want bacon, instead?”
Sandburg glanced back at his roommate when he failed to get an answer, catching him staring open mouthed as if he were seeing a ghost.
“You all right, man?” he asked, shutting the door to the refrigerator and facing the detective. “You’re looking kind of spooked.”
“I’m fine,” Jim replied hoarsely, finding his voice and trying to comprehend what he was seeing before him. “How are you feeling?”
“Me? I’m good,” Blair answered with a shrug as he turned to the stove to stir the eggs in the skillet. “A little tired, but I did have a late night last night.”
“Chief,” Ellison began slowly, sliding down into a chair at the table before his shaking knees gave out on him. “What’s the last thing you remember? Before this morning, I mean.”
“Why?” the anthropologist asked, shooting him an odd look.
“Just indulge me,” the Sentinel urged, trying to overcome the sense of shock and sending up a silent prayer that he wasn’t hallucinating.
“Well, let’s see,” Sandburg said thoughtfully. “We wrapped up the case and you dropped me off at Ranier. I finished grading some tests and stopped off to get something to eat on the way home.”
“And after that?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I guess I came home and went to bed.”
“Blair, come over here and sit down.”
“I can’t, the eggs will burn.”
“Forget about the eggs,” the detective told him. “Please, Chief, this is important.”
“All right.” Sandburg turned off the heat and removed the skillet from the burner before taking a seat across from his partner.
“I don’t really know how to tell you this,” Ellison hedged. “So I guess I’ll just say it. What you just described happened six months ago.”
“What are you talking about?” Blair demanded.
The Sentinel told him the story, explaining it as best he could, watching his friend go from skepticism to confusion to horror as the tale progressed.
“Jim,” Sandburg whispered when he was done talking. “If this is some kind of joke and you don’t tell me now, I will never forgive you!”
“I wish it was a joke, Chief,” the detective said softly, his eyes stinging with tears. “But it’s not, I promise you.”
“I just don’t... What do I...” Blair looked at his friend helplessly, struggling to comprehend the bitter truth.
“I think maybe we should go and see the neurologist,” Jim suggested, reaching out and giving his partner’s arm a squeeze. “Maybe she can give us some answers. What do you say?”
Sandburg nodded, his breakfast preparations forgotten as he wandered dazedly off to the bathroom. The Sentinel poured himself a cup of coffee, downing it quickly and feeling rather dazed himself. When he heard the shower start a few minutes later, he picked up the phone and dialed the hospital, asking to speak with Dr. Norris, confirming that it was an emergency.
“Detective,” she answered after a brief wait. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he replied, straining to get the words out past the lump in his throat. “I just wanted to tell you that you got your miracle.”
Understandably, Doctor Norris had wanted to see her patient right away. So as soon as they were ready, Blair and Jim left the loft and headed to the hospital. Sandburg was uncharacteristically quiet during the ride, still trying to wrap his mind around what his partner had told him, struggling to come to grips with it. And the detective had no words to reassure him with, lost in his own confusion and fear that his friend was going to relapse at any moment. Once they arrived, Blair was immediately whisked away for extensive testing, leaving Ellison to pace restlessly in the waiting room, once again left to his lonely vigil for what he hoped was the last time.
Eventually, word began circulating through the hospital, and once the rumors made it down to the ICU ward, it was not long before Lauren joined him, her long hair flying behind her as she sprinted into the waiting room.
“Is it true?” she asked him, somewhat breathlessly.
“Yes,” Jim confirmed, grinning broadly. “He’s back!”
The nurse laughed and hugged him, squealing a bit as he picked her up off the ground and spun her around.
“He’s in with the doctor now?” she inquired, once he let her go.
“Yeah.” The Sentinel plopped down into a chair, running his hand over his hair as his mood abruptly sobered. “I tell you, Lauren, I’m going out of my mind here. There he was this morning, like nothing had ever happened. Of course I was relieved, happy... But I’m scared, too, and I just don’t understand. Why did he get better? Is it just a temporary thing? And they’ve had him in there for almost two hours. What are they doing to him? I hate not knowing if he’s all right.”
“Hang on,” she advised, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll go see what I can find out.”
She disappeared down the hallway and then returned a few minutes later, beckoning to him.
“They’re getting ready to take him for an MRI, but we can see him for a few minutes before he goes.”
Ellison quickly followed her down the hall as she effortlessly navigated the maze the made up the neurology ward, finally stopping in front of a door. Peering through the window, he saw his partner sitting on the edge of a bed, looking more than a little overwhelmed. But Blair quickly perked up as he entered the room, obviously glad to see him.
“Hey, Chief. How you holding up?”
“I’m feeling a little like a lab rat,” Sandburg told him. “But I’m doing ok.”
The detective rubbed his shoulder comfortingly and motioned to the nurse hovering in the doorway. “There’s somebody I want to introduce you to. Formally, that is. This is Lauren Pearson.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Blair,” she said softly, coming forward to take his hand, giving it a warm squeeze.
“Lauren took care of you in the ICU,” Jim explained. “And on top of that, she even managed to keep me in line.”
“No easy task,” Sandburg grinned. “Said with the voice of experience.”
“I don’t think either one of us would have made it through without her,” Ellison added appreciatively.
“Wow. Then I guess a simple ‘thank you’ is pretty inadequate,” Blair murmured.
“No,” Lauren assured him with a smile. “It’s perfect.”
The detective rolled his eyes as his friend grinned winningly up at the attractive nurse, silently marveling at how even his current situation wasn’t enough to distract the younger man’s one track mind. But Sandburg’s flirting was cut short as a technician arrived, as threatened, to take him for his next test. Picking up on the slight unease that came over his partner’s face, the Sentinel assured him that he’d be right out in the waiting room, watching him disappear down the hall before he followed Lauren back out to resume his vigil.
“I have to get back to the I.C.U.,” she told him. “And get that scowl off your face, Jim. He’s going to be fine.”
“Maybe I could convince myself of that if I knew what was happening,” he replied. “I just don’t understand it. How can he just suddenly be cured?”
“Does it really matter?” Lauren asked softly. Deciding she could spare another minute, she sat down next to him on the lumpy couch in the waiting room. “Jim, listen to me. I’ve been a nurse long enough to know you can’t underestimate the power of the human spirit. I’ve seen people recover from things that, from a medical standpoint, should have killed them without a doubt. Medicine is a wonderful art and it can save a lot of lives. But I’m convinced there’s another force out there at work, too. One that has the ultimate say. And one that decided it wasn’t Blair’s time yet. You two share a destiny, and this just wasn’t meant to be it. My advice is to not waste time worrying about the hows and whys. Just be grateful that he found his way back to you, and make the most of the future you have with him.”
“Who are you?” Ellison murmured, gazing at the kind woman, not for the first time finding himself in awe of the depth of her compassion and wisdom. She wasn’t just a nurse, of that he was sure. She was somebody special.
“I’m someone who’s about to be late,” Lauren told him, glancing again at the clock. “I have to get back to my patients.” But she hesitated for a moment after she rose, looking down at the detective coyly. “You know, now that Blair’s better, we won’t be seeing each other at the hospital anymore.”
“No, I guess not,” Jim agreed somberly. “So I guess that means we’ll just have to meet up somewhere else. How about Friday?”
“Well, I’m on duty until seven, but maybe we could grab a late dinner afterward?”
“It’s a date,” the Sentinel confirmed with a grin. “Although I don’t know how I’m going to break the news to Sandburg.”
“You weren’t lying when you said he was a charmer.” The nurse leaned down to whisper in his ear. “But I’ve already seen him naked.” She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek and stood back up, enjoying the slight blush that crept into the detective’s face. “See you Friday.”
Shaking his head, Ellison relaxed back against the couch as Lauren left the waiting room. For awhile he was content to sit and dreamily anticipate his date with the attractive nurse, looking forward to seeing her socially, and seeing her in something other than bulky hospital scrubs. And wondering if there was a promise behind that “naked” crack she had made. Ever since Blair was hurt, he hadn’t even given women a passing thought, a fact that was becoming very apparent to him now. But as the minutes ticked by into hours and he received no word on his partner, Jim’s agitation began to grow and the date was pushed to the back of his mind. He eventually gave in to the restlessness, getting up to pace around the small waiting area, until finally he was summoned to Doctor Norris’ office.
“Come in, Detective,” she greeted, opening the door at his knock. “I was just about to explain to Mr. Sandburg some of the preliminary test results, and he asked that you be included in the meeting.”
The Sentinel touched his friend’s shoulder briefly as he slid into the chair beside him, in front of the large oak desk.
“So,” he inquired, never one to beat around the bush. “What are we looking at? Is he cured?”
“I don’t have all the results back,” the doctor replied. “But his EEG is completely normal and he received a perfect score on the neurological exam. His brain function appears to be completely restored.”
“But how can that be?” the detective demanded. “Two weeks ago you were telling me it was essentially hopeless, and now today everything’s fine?”
“To be honest, I don’t really understand it myself,” she answered, pulling an x-ray out of the folder on her desk and sliding it into the frame on the wall, hitting the light switch to illuminate it. “Because of the angle the shooter was at, the bullet entered the skull here and came to a stop here,” she explained, illustrating for them on the x-ray. “It grazed the brain along here, rather than plowing through it head on, which is typical of gunshot wounds. I was silently hoping that the damage it inflicted was minimal, but when Mr. Sandburg awoke from the coma, it appeared that he had suffered extensive damage.”
“So what happened to reverse that?” Ellison almost shouted, wanting, needing answers.
“I’m not sure yet,” the doctor told him. “I can’t confirm anything now, but my best theory at this point is that the injury, the lack of oxygen, and the subsequent edema sent some of Mr. Sandburg’s brain cells into shock. He would have lost some due to the trauma of the injury, and dead brain cells do not regenerate. But undamaged cells are often able to step in and take over for those that are lost. There have also been recent studies that have found that neurons in the brain can exist for years in an idle state.”
“So what you’re saying is that his brain wasn’t damaged so much as it was just in shock?” the Sentinel asked.
“Well, it’s a little more complicated than that, but that’s basically the idea,” she allowed. “If that’s the case, then the oxygen therapy may have helped him after all. The brain consumes a large portion of the body’s oxygen supply, but it’s not able to store any. HBOT treatment allows six times the regular amount of oxygen to reach the brain than through basic respiration alone, and studies of drowning and electrocution victims have shown that the extra oxygen boost has been instrumental in reactivating idling neurons.”
“Is there any chance that they could deactivate?” Jim questioned hesitantly.
“Obviously, until I know for sure what triggered the recovery I can’t make any guarantees,” the doctor replied. “But I see no reason why Mr. Sandburg should regress neurologically.” She turned off the light and removed the x-ray, sliding it back into the folder on her desk. “Why don’t you take an hour or so, get something to eat, and then I’ve got some more tests I’d like to run.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work for us, Doc,” Ellison said quietly, taking a hard look at his friend, who had been strangely silent.
“What do you mean?” she asked, looking up in surprise.
“I mean that’s it for the tests today,” the detective stated firmly, holding up his hand when she started to protest. “Look, the shock of waking up and finding out you’ve just lost six months of your life is a lot to ask anyone to deal with. He needs some time, but what he doesn’t need are more tests. You need to give him a breather.”
“But...”
“No buts,” he insisted. “If and when he decides he’s up for it, he can come back. But we’re done for today. Come on, Chief.”
Ignoring the look of angry frustration the doctor shot him, Ellison escorted his friend out of her office and down the hall.
“Thanks, Jim,” Blair sighed gratefully as they halted in front of the elevators. “All those machines and all that poking and prodding... I was starting to get really creeped out in there.”
“Hey, what’s a blessed protector for?” The teasing grin quickly dissolved into something else... a smile of pure love and happiness. “Come here.”
“What?”
“Come here.” The Sentinel surprised his younger friend as he drew him into a tight, warm hug, right there in the middle of the busy hospital. “I missed you, buddy.”
Blair hugged him back fiercely, thankful for the comforting reassurance when the world around him was suddenly going crazy. Ellison stepped back as the elevator dinged and the door opened, but he kept an arm around his partner as they entered.
“Are you up for making a stop on the way home?” the detective asked. “I know a few guys that would just love to see you drop in.”
Ellison opened the door to Major Crimes and entered the large office, followed by his unofficial partner. At first their presence went unnoticed, and the detective nodded encouragingly at his friend. Sandburg took a few steps forward, looking around the busy room.
“Hi, guys.”
For a moment, a stunned silence fell over the detectives, but it was quickly replaced by exuberant chaos as the observer found himself surrounded. He grinned, looking around his flabbergasted circle of friends as they all talked at him at once. And then one authoritative voice bellowed out above the din.
“Sandburg! My office, now!”
Instantly humbled, Blair excused himself and meekly made his way to the captain’s door, trailed by the rest of the Major Crimes unit.
“Get in here,” Banks ordered as the anthropologist hovered in his door.
Obediently, Sandburg stepped forward and stood in front of the captain’s desk, stunned to see tears glistening in his eyes as he rose from his chair.
“You don’t know how damn long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Simon told him, coming around the desk to pull the observer into a hug as the crowd in the doorway grinned and ‘aww’ed. Glancing over at them, the captain released the young man and placed his hands on his hips. “Ellison! Would you care to explain this?”
“I thought you would have learned by now, Sir,” Jim said slyly. “Sandburg defies all explanation.”
“That he does,” Banks agreed appreciatively.
But the detective soon obliged, giving his friends the details of what had happened, at least as much as he was able. But for their part, the rest of the guys in the MCU didn't concern themselves with the details, they were just collectively grateful that Blair had recovered and wasted no time letting him know. Simon soon cut the celebration short, ordering everyone out of his office and back to work.
"Don't give me that," he ordered as his men all groaned and grumbled. "You all have jobs to do. And there will be plenty of time to sing Sandburg's praises after work. Dinner's on me."
Vastly cheered, the detectives obediently complied, giving the observer one last round of grins and slaps on the back as they filed out of the captain's office.
"Good to have you back, Hairboy," Brown announced enthusiastically.
"It sure wasn't the same around here without you," Rafe agreed.
"That goes for me, too," Taggert said quietly, pulling the younger man in for a hug. "We all missed you, son."
"What about you, Ellison?" Banks demanded. "I could use you back here, if you're quite through with your little vacation now."
"Well, as much as I enjoyed the peace and quiet," the Sentinel joked, giving a pointed look to his often loud boss. "I think I'm ready to start taking on the bad guys again."
"If you go get the forms from Vera now, I can push them through and you can start tomorrow."
Jim glanced at his friend, who understood and gave him a nod of reassurance that he'd be ok for awhile.
"Now, what about you, Sandburg?" Simon asked in a much gentler tone as the detective left them alone. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine," Blair sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just weird, you know? I keep thinking this is all a bad dream and I'm going to wake up soon. Or I keep waiting for someone to break down and tell me it's all an elaborate joke. I guess it really hasn't sunk in fully yet. Truthfully, Simon, I don't know what to think or feel."
"I can imagine it must be pretty overwhelming for you," Banks told him, pouring him a mug of coffee and handing it to the younger man. "We can do dinner another night, if you want. I didn't mean to just spring that on you, with no warning."
"It's ok," Sandburg assured him, taking a sip of the steaming, fragrant brew. "Actually it's probably a good thing right now. Give me something else to focus on, so I'm not sitting at home driving myself nuts."
"I tell you," the captain began, filling his own mug. "None of us thought you were going to make it there for awhile. And even after you left the hospital, to be honest, none of us ever thought you'd be the same again. But Jim never gave up on you. He kept insisting that you were going to be all right, and he was just bound and determined that you would recover. I've never seen him so focused or dedicated before. We all tried to tell him he was crazy, but he kept saying that somehow he knew you were still in there and he wasn't going to quit until he brought you back. I have to admit I tried to talk him into giving up more than once, but thank God he didn't. I've never been so happy to be proven wrong before."
"Wow," Blair murmured softly. "I guess I haven't stopped to think about what Jim went through during all this. Everything he must have done for me." The observer was silent for a few minutes, then he looked up at Simon, his blue eyes wide with awe. "I can't even imagine. He gave up everything for me, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did," Banks replied quietly. He went on to tell the younger man of his partner's dedicated care, starting with the hospital vigils, going over the coma stimulation program, the constant visits in the rehab hospital, as well as that final decision to take his friend home. The captain stressed that Ellison did more than just care for his partner physically, but mentally as well, and he did everything in his power to help his young friend retain his dignity, even if he was no longer aware of it.
"I don't know what to say," Blair whispered.
"I think that was the reason he kept the rest of us at a distance at first," Simon theorized. "He didn't want to see anyone looking at you with pity. And to be honest, that's how I thought I'd feel at first. But when I got up the nerve to go to the loft and saw you for the first time out of the hospital, I didn't feel sorry for you. I felt jealous."
"Jealous?" Sandburg asked in surprise. "Why would you feel jealous?"
"Because," the captain said, almost inaudibly. "I was wishing I had someone in my life who loved me as much as Jim loved you."
Blair looked away, trying to keep the tears stinging his eyes from falling. His throat was too tight to answer, so he just nodded slightly. Understanding, Simon clapped him gently on the shoulder and turned back to ruffle through some papers on his desk, giving the younger man a few minutes.
"I assume you'll be wanting your observer's pass back tomorrow, too?"
"Actually, I need to go over to Ranier tomorrow and see where I stand," Blair told him, swiping at his damp eyes before turning back around to face the captain. "Hopefully they'll work it out with me, given the circumstances, and I won't lose any of my funding."
"If they want to make trouble for you," Banks declared with his trademark scowl of ferocity. "You just give them my number."
The Sentinel hit the light switch as he entered the loft, tossing his keys down on the table and resisting the urge to help his partner take off his jacket. Sandburg managed the task on his own just fine, hanging his coat up and going over to flop on the sofa. Ellison watched him, wishing he could do something to make everything easier on his friend, who was doing his best to mask the turmoil in his eyes with a brave face. Though it was late, Simon’s dinner of celebration having gone on long into the night, he went and got two beers from the refrigerator, handing one to Blair before sitting in the armchair next to him.
"I'll get you the number Naomi gave to me last time she called," he offered. "I don't know if she'll still be there now, but it's a place to start to track her down and let her know you're all right."
Sandburg nodded as he took a sip out of his bottle, not really surprised his mother had gone. She had never been a woman who wasted any time dwelling on the past when she could be moving on. And she wouldn't consider it abandonment, not believing there was really anything left of her son to abandon. A belief that his roommate had apparently not shared.
“How did you know, Jim?” Blair asked quietly. “The guys all told me you insisted that I was still in here, intact. What made you so sure about that?”
“I don’t know,” Ellison sighed, uncomfortable, as always, with things that shadowed the spiritual or emotional or metaphysical plane. He was a detective, used to dealing with hard, cold facts and tangible evidence, and it disturbed him to encounter things that could not be easily explained. “I just felt it, somehow, I guess. I’d see this glint in your eyes sometimes, and I just knew in my gut that you were still here, locked away inside yourself. And then there were the...”
“What?” Sandburg demanded as his friend trailed off.
“You really don’t remember anything happening over the last six months?”
“No.” Blair shook his head, a blank look on his face. “I don’t even remember the shooting, man. Last thing I knew before waking up this morning was sitting in the diner having an omelette and going over my lecture notes.”
“I kept having these dreams of the jungle,” the detective confessed. “Well, not dreams, exactly. More intense. Real.”
“Visions?”
“I don’t know,” Ellison replied with a shrug. “Whatever they were, they kept coming. The jaguar was there, and I couldn’t see anything but I knew you were there, too. Only I couldn’t find you, no matter how hard I tried.” He glanced over to see his partner staring at the fire, a thoughtful look on his face. “Is this ringing any bells?”
“No, not really,” Blair answered slowly. “I mean, I don’t remember anything like that. But, something about the jungle... It seems vaguely familiar somehow.” He was silent for a few minutes, and Jim could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “Maybe that’s it. I mean, a bullet to the head is a pretty traumatic injury. So maybe, somehow, subconsciously I sent myself away to the jungle until I could recover.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Shaman do it all the time,” Sandburg continued, his excitement growing as his theory fell into place. “They take spiritual journeys. You know, they project their consciousness and descend into altered states. It’s a way to open your mind up for answers to questions or to gain knowledge. Or for healing purposes...”
The detective leaned his head back against his chair, trying to hold back the grin that was twitching his lips. He had always taken it for granted, but now he realized just how much he had missed his friend’s chatter. The enthusiasm bubbling warmly in his voice as the worlds tumbled over each other in a rush to keep up with the speed of his thoughts. Glancing over at his partner, the grin broke free to see him sitting upright on the sofa, legs crossed beneath him, hands gesturing and eyes sparkling with eagerness and intelligence. Grinning, even as the sight brought tears of happiness to his eyes. Fortunately, Blair didn’t seem to notice, too distracted with his current train of thought.
“Most tribal shaman take these types of journeys,” he frowned. “But they are usually able to control them, and they still retain some awareness to the outside world. However, some shaman are able to fall into deeper trances. Like the Shuar of Peru. They take a drug called ayahuasca to help them on their journeys. Or the ceremonial dancers in Bali. They dance to the point of ecstasy and collapse, and when they come to they have no memory of anything that happened.”
The anthropologist looked over at his friend, misinterpreting the grin on his face.
“You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”
“Oh, I’ve thought that for years,” Ellison teased him. “Actually, I was just imagining the good Doctor Norris’ reaction to this theory of yours.”
“Talk about thinking I’m nuts,” Sandburg shuddered. “That would probably bring on a whole new barrage of tests.” He was quiet for a moment, reliving the morning’s events. So confused upon learning he’d lost six months of his life, scared, feeling like a freak as the technicians kept coming at him with their machines and their needles and their incessant questions. Feeling utterly overwhelmed and desperately wanting an escape. An escape that his partner had given him. “Hey, thanks again for getting me out of there, man.”
“No problem.”
Blair fiddled with the label on his bottle, trying to remove the paper without tearing it as he tried to organize his thoughts.
“I owe you another thank you, too,” he said finally. “Although God knows there aren’t words to thank you for all that you did for me. I can’t even imagine the burden it must have been...”
“Hold it right there, Chief,” the detective interrupted, giving him a hard look. As Sandburg gazed up at him in surprise, Jim got to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh as he began pacing across the living room floor. “That’s all I heard out of everyone for the last six months. What a burden I was putting on myself, and it was too much for me to bear. I am just so damn sick of hearing that word, and I’ll thank you not to have to hear it coming from your mouth, too.”
“Yeah, but...” Blair began.
“Look,” the Sentinel tried to explain, crossing his arms over his chest as he faced his roommate. “You and I are friends, right? You told me yourself, that’s what friends do. They help each other.”
“Jim, this goes way beyond the usual kind of help,” Sandburg argued.
“What I did...” Ellison sighed again, struggling to put into words the feelings that defied any sort of verbal description. He sat back down, meeting his partner’s earnest gaze. “Chief, you’ve helped me out a lot over the last few years. Sometimes I didn’t want it, and sometimes I didn’t even realize you were doing it. But you’ve always been there for me. What would you have done if I never got my sight back that time I was blinded with Golden?”
“That’s not the same thing,” Blair protested. “I had to help you some, but you could still take care of yourself for the most part.”
“What would you have done?” the detective repeated. “You took care of me when I couldn’t see,” he went on when his friend didn’t answer. “And if the blindness had been permanent, I know you would have been there for me. Taking care of what I couldn’t, helping me learn to adjust. Probably nagging at me and devising all sorts of tests to better develop my other senses as compensation.”
The anthropologist chuckled slightly, knowing his roommate was most likely right.
“The point is,” Jim continued. “You would have done the same for me.”
“That doesn’t change anything,” Sandburg murmured, looking away. “When I think about everything you did for me... You gave up your job for me, man. Being a cop is everything to you.”
“Not everything.” The Sentinel reached out, laying a hand on his partner’s arm, causing him to glance back and meet his steady gaze. “I care about you, Blair. And you could never, ever, be a burden to me. Got it?”
The younger man nodded, his eyes brimming with tears and his heart too full to speak. Over the past few years, he had grown to love Jim Ellison with all his heart. And it had seemed like too much to ask that the feelings would be mutual. But although he never said it with words, the gruff detective’s actions had forever confirmed it in the mind of Blair Sandburg. Their friendship was, without a doubt, a two way street.
“It’s late,” Ellison declared, stifling a yawn as he checked his watch. “I need to get some sleep.” He rose and headed for the stairs, but he paused and turned back toward the living room. “Hey, Chief, let me ask you something. This shaman journeying theory of yours...”
“It was just an idea, Jim,” the anthropologist said defensively.
“Ok, but just for the sake of argument, let’s say it’s true,” the detective countered, undaunted. “So your subconscious bailed out and fled the scene, so to speak, and went to wait it out someplace safe until you were healed enough to return. Right?”
“Something like that.”
“I just have to ask. Why did you pick the jungle to retreat to?”
“I don’t know,” Blair replied, not having thought about that particular detail. He looked up over the back of the sofa and gave his partner a cheeky grin. “Maybe because I knew you’d come looking for me there and you’d bring me home when it was time to come back.”
“Forget I asked,” Jim told him. “Good night, Chief.”
He trotted upstairs to the loft and sat down on the edge of his bed, his mind replaying the words Incacha had spoken in his dreams.
“You are the Sentinel. He is the Guide. You cannot find him. It is your guide who must find you.”
He hadn’t found Blair in the jungle. Blair had come to him. And he hadn’t saved Blair, bringing him home. Blair had saved him. So where did that leave them? As he undressed, Ellison scrutinized the scenario, doing his best to interpret the symbolism. Maybe he had been the catalyst, but ultimately it was up to Sandburg to decide to come back with him. Or maybe it was a message that he was useless as a Sentinel without his Guide to watch his back. They had found each other, so maybe it was a reminder that their unique relationship was based on an equal partnership, and neither role was more important than the other for they needed each other to function individually. Or maybe he was reading way too much into things, and his so called visions were merely the product of an overactive imagination fueled by worry and fear for his friend.
But then it suddenly hit him as he recalled his own plaintive words in the jungle.
"Please, Guide, come to me. Your Sentinel needs you!"
From the beginning, during those first awful hours in the hospital, he'd had the feeling it was within his power to keep Sandburg alive. Only now did he realize he wasn't the one with the power. Blair had clung tenaciously to life, not for himself, but because his Sentinel had needed him. Throughout their association, he had never failed to be there for Ellison, putting him above everything else, even himself. Everyone who had lauded the detective for all he had sacrificed had failed to see the big picture. Naomi, as much as he hated to admit it, had been right. It had never been about Blair needing him. It was all about him needing Blair. And Blair's complete and utter devotion to fulfilling that need.
Shaking his head, Jim climbed into bed, suddenly not caring how or why his partner had been cured. Somehow, some way, be it a mystical, magical act, a triumph of modern medicine, an old fashioned miracle, or through the bond of their unique and powerful friendship, Blair had found his way back home to him. And that was truly good enough. The ins and outs of it all didn’t matter. His guide was whole again, back where he belonged. And where he would remain, as long as his Sentinel needed him.
Finis
"He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" Written by B. Scott and B. Russell
The Sandburg Zone
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