SquidgeWorld Archive

"//" denotes Blair's thoughts and speaking on the spirit plane.

It all happened so fast. Doesn't it always? Another high-speed chase. The kid came out of nowhere. I swerved to miss him and rolled the truck. Something went wrong. Doesn't it always? Sandburg's seatbelt malfunctioned. I walked away. He lies on that bed, a machine breathing for him. Unconscious. And I sit vigil here--ever the Sentinel--watching over my Guide....

###

"Mr. Ellison?" A soft voice intruded upon his thoughts. "Jim?"

"Oh, Casey ... hi. Sorry. It's just...."

"I know. It's never easy to let them go." The nurse pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down. "I've seen so many families going through exactly what you're going through now, and it never gets any easier, but you really do have to think about what Blair would want. The way you've described him--so alive, so vibrant--I can't imagine he'd want to spend the rest of his days hooked up to this machine. You've done the right thing, you know. It's going to hurt, hurt like hell, but you know in your heart that it's right."

Silent tears tracked down Jim's cheeks. It had been almost nine weeks now. Nine weeks of agony. Nine weeks of waiting, hoping that Blair would wake up and they could go on with their lives as though nothing had happened. Nine weeks on the ventilator. Nine weeks it had taken to come to this decision. Nine weeks. An eternity and the blink of an eye.

They had been in pursuit of a felon, a serious offender who had just killed an innocent woman in order to effect his escape. Jim had no intention of letting the man get away. The chase through the streets of Cascade had been high-speed and treacherous. More than one close call was avoided during the pursuit. But then it happened. A young boy, not looking where he was walking, stepped out in front of their oncoming truck. Jim had jerked the wheel hard to the right to avoid the child, sending the vehicle into a roll. He remembered watching in horror as the passenger side door was torn from its hinges and the force of the impact snapped Sandburg's seatbelt. The young man had been thrown from the vehicle, somersaulting through the air to land head-first on the unforgiving concrete of a neighborhood driveway.

The head injury had been severe. Blair had been in surgery for hours while the doctors assessed the damage, and tried to control the swelling and pressure caused by hematoma. His left hip had also been severely dislocated, although not broken, thank God. The outlook wasn't good. The kid couldn't breathe on his own, so he had been put on the ventilator. But now, with so much time past and Blair still in a coma, still on the machines, the time had come to make a decision.

When it became apparent that Naomi could not be located, Jim realized that the burden of the decision had fallen onto his shoulders. This was his partner, his friend ... the man who had saved his life and his sanity when his senses had suddenly come back on-line in Cascade. He owed this man more than he could ever repay, but would keeping him alive, with no hope of recovery, be repaying the debt? No, he had decided. It would simply be selfishness on his part. A selfishness that didn't want to let go of something that had been so good. Blair had brought life and light back into his gloomy world, and he would be forever grateful. Now was the time to prove how much Blair meant to him. Now was the time to let go.

Jim took a deep breath. "When?"

"We can do it whenever you're ready," Casey answered softly.

"Can we bring in one of those recliners from the lounge?"

"I'm sure we could manage that. Why do you want it?"

"I just thought ... I don't want him to die alone on that bed. I want him to know I'm here for him, that he's not alone and that it's okay to let go."

"I understand," Casey said. And she did. Quietly, she left the room to make arrangements.

Within minutes, a recliner had been brought into the room and set up next to the bed. Jim made himself comfortable and cleared his throat. He found it increasingly hard to speak past the lump forming around his Adam's apple. "I'm ready."

Casey draped his lap with a disposable, waterproof pad. "Things could get a little messy when Blair passes," she explained. "Wouldn't want you ruining your clothes."

"I was in the Army before I became a policeman. I've seen worse. Just get on with it, would you, before I lose my nerve and change my mind?"

Quietly, and without ceremony, Casey pressed the switch, turning off the respirator. With the quick efficiency of much practice, she removed the tracheotomy and feeding tubes. It took only a minute to untangle Blair from the equipment which had kept him alive the past two months. When she was finished, a pair of orderlies lifted Blair, placing him in Jim's waiting arms.

And then they were alone.

Jim opened all his senses to maximum. Cradling Blair in his lap, he buried his face in his Guide's hair, feeling its softness, drinking in the scent of shampoo. He listened intently as Blair's heart sped up briefly, then began to slow. He heard the soft exhalations of breath, felt them ruffle the hairs on his arm. And he waited.

"It's okay, Chief." His voice barely audible, even to sentinel ears. "I'm letting you go. I promise you I'll go on living. I don't want to, but I promised you that long ago, and I'll honor my word." He tilted Blair's face up, studying the peaceful repose, memorizing every detail--long, dark lashes laying softly against his cheeks; full lips, slightly parted as though to speak, to tell him good-bye.

//I'm so tired, Jim,// a soft voice whispered in his mind. //It wasn't your fault, man. I forgive you. I'm just so tired....//

He could no longer hold back the tears. Sobs wracked his body, his arms wrapping tightly around his precious charge so as not to dislodge him. He buried his face once more in the soft mahogany curls. "I love you, Blair. Always know that I loved you. Why didn't I tell you while I still could? Whenever you're ready, Chief. It's okay to let go." But deep in his heart, he knew it wasn't. He didn't want to lose this important part of himself--his partner, his Guide, his love ... the other half of his soul.

###

"Jim?" A gentle hand on his shoulder brought him out of a light doze. He looked up to see Casey smiling at him. "We need to take care of Blair now," she told him.

Jim wrapped his arms tightly around the warm body in his arms. He wasn't ready to let go yet. Wait. Warm? He focused his senses and felt the gentle rise and fall of Blair's chest; heard the soft susurration of his breath, the beat of his heart. Somewhere deep inside, the icy fist which had clenched his own heart let go. Blair was alive and breathing on his own.

"He's a fighter, isn't he?" Casey asked.

"Oh, yeah. He may be small, but he's tough." Jim was still processing. He had been so prepared for Blair's death that he was having trouble believing the truth that lived and breathed in his arms.

//Oh, yeah. Tough as nails. People are always underestimating me. Maybe that's why I'm the one to always get mugged, shot at, kidnapped, drugged, molested ... but I'm still here. Still fighting.//

"We didn't have the heart to come in sooner," she told him. "You two looked so comfortable." She smiled again. "But we really need to get him back in bed. Now comes the hard part."

"Letting go wasn't the hard part?" Jim wondered.

"Oh, no. Now things get really interesting," Casey told him. "Let's get Blair settled, then we'll talk."

//No. Really. I'm comfortable here. I don't wanna get back in that damn bed. Jim? Jim!!!//

Once again, the orderlies appeared and lifted Blair from Jim's lap. They settled him on the bed, and Casey reinserted the feeding tube.

"The doctor will be here soon to tell you what you can expect now," Casey explained. "Coma patients require special care. It can be very trying on the family and friends."

"But he'll wake up soon now, won't he?" Desperation tinged Jim's voice.

//I am awake! I can hear you! Jim! Jim ... can't you hear me?//

"We've no way of knowing, Jim. The doctor will talk to you. I'm sorry, but I really have to go. I'll be back to check on Blair a little later."

"Casey?" The nurse paused in the doorway. "Thanks."

//Yeah ... thanks. Hey, Jim ... is she at least cute? Tell me she's cute, man.//

"You're welcome, Jim. I'm really very happy for you. I hope things work out." She smiled warmly at the detective, then turned to leave.

//She sounds cute.//

Jim settled back down next to the bed, taking Blair's hand and enclosing it in both of his own. "We're going to make it, Chief ... together."

//You bet that damn box of Cracker Jacks we are! Jim, how can you survive without me? Look at you, man ... Cracker Jacks?// Blair released a mental sigh.

---------------------------

"Mr. Sandburg is a lucky man," Dr. Ramsey commented. "So far, he's beaten the odds."

"What are his chances for recovery, Doctor?" Jim studied the hazel eyes across from him intently.

"That's never certain with coma patients; it varies from individual to individual," the doctor hedged. "Mr. Sandburg is in what we would call a Level II coma. He can't open his eyes or speak, although he can and does make unintelligible sounds. He doesn't respond to verbal commands, but in the presence of a painful stimulus, he shows a localized response. Fifty percent of patients with this degree of brain injury die within the first six hours. Mr. Sandburg has safely passed that milestone, but given his current vegetative state, I hesitate to hold out too much hope."

"You don't know Blair, Doctor. He's a fighter. He doesn't give up."

"There's always room for hope, Mr. Ellison," Ramsey assured him, "but don't get your hopes up too high. If Mr. Sandburg should awaken, his chances for recovery are greatly improved. Cognitive recovery is generally rapid during the first six months after a patient wakes, and then continues at a slowing pace for the next one to three years. There are always exceptions, of course."

"Blair's one of those exceptions. You'll see."

"I hope for your sake that you're right." Doctor Ramsey sighed. Imparting this news to the family of coma patients was never easy. "If I were you, I'd start looking for a good care facility. The discharge planner with social services can give you a list of recommendations. Mr. Sandburg is stable now. There's no reason to keep him in the hospital."

"Good. I'm taking him home with me, then." Jim was adamant. He knew this was the best decision he could make regarding Blair's care.

"I would highly recommend against that, Mr. Ellison. Caring for a comatose patient in the home is extremely difficult. The time that you would need to spend on his care alone would be staggering. You'd need medical equipment--including a hospital bed. Then there's the physical therapy. In order to keep Mr. Sandburg's muscles from seizing and locking him into a fetal position, you'd have to work daily on flexibility and range of motion exercises. You'd need an experienced caretaker for him during the times you need to be gone. A retired nurse experienced with coma patients would be best. The expense will be enormous."

"Damn the expense. That doesn't matter," Jim spat. "Blair matters."

"I understand that, Mr. Ellison, but I still would highly recommend against this decision. There are excellent care facilities available...."

"No!" Jim slapped his palms on the table separating him from the doctor. "I'll learn what I need to learn. I'll find him a qualified caregiver. What the insurance doesn't cover, I'll find a way to manage. Blair will do much better at home than in some care facility. I won't put him in a damn nursing home!"

"It is, of course, your decision," Doctor Ramsey admitted. "But I'd be remiss in my duties as Mr. Sandburg's physician if I didn't try to dissuade you."

"Well, you've done your best to scare me, Doc, but it didn't work. I want Blair at home. He needs to be at home." Jim was determined. "I'll order the equipment--the hospital bed, whatever else you say he needs--and once it's set up, I'm taking him home."

Doctor Ramsey sighed. He honestly felt Ellison was making a mistake, one that could cost his patient his health, or even his life. But the detective had legal power of attorney over Mr. Sandburg, so the decision was ultimately out of his hands. "Well, then, I suppose everything that needs to be discussed has been covered. You'll have to sign the release forms, freeing the hospital of responsibility for this decision. I would highly recommend a good rehabilitation nurse and physical therapist visit in-home on a regular basis."

"Are we finished here? Because I have some calls I need to make." Jim dismissed the doctor with a gesture.

"Indeed we are," Doctor Ramsey agreed, walking out of the conference room with a heavy heart. Mr. Ellison obviously didn't realize what he was getting himself into.

###

"Doctor Ramsey doesn't understand about us, Chief," Jim explained. "He doesn't know anything about our bond, about what we do for each other. He doesn't know how much happier you'll be at home. I'll have everything you need there, and I'll take good care of you. I promise."

//I know you will, Jim. I'm so glad to be going home. I wish there was some way to let you know. I feel so helpless. I am so helpless. God, I hate this!//

There was no apparent reaction to his words or touch from the man on the bed. Only the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the rhythmic beating of his heart let Jim know he was still alive. He wanted nothing more than to gather Blair into his arms, as he had that first afternoon, and hold him until he woke up. Don't take too long, Chief, he thought. I don't think I can stand this for very long. I need to hear your voice. The silence is deafening.

###

It took a few days before the equipment was delivered to the loft and properly set up. Casey came over on her day off to make sure that Jim had everything he needed for Blair's return home. "And you have the nurse and PT set up?"

"Yes, thanks to your recommendations. Everything's set." Jim surveyed the newly-arranged living room. A hospital bed was set up in front of the balcony doors, giving Blair a view of the outside world to his right and a panoramic view of the loft to his left. Vertical blinds had been installed to keep the sun from shining directly on Blair. "Things are going to work. I know they will."

"You're taking on a great responsibility here. You know that Blair can't be left alone for any length of time. If you need to run to the convenience store, he'll be okay, but when you go to work, you'll have to have the nurse here." Casey handed Jim a list, neatly typed on parchment stationery. "This is a reminder list of what you need to do for Blair, how often and when. If you have any questions, please feel free to call me. Those are my numbers at the bottom: home, work and cell."

"Thanks, Casey. I really appreciate the help." Jim was sincere. The young nurse had taken a fancy to Blair, and had been nothing but understanding and kind to Jim. He knew he could count on her to answer any questions, day or night, or offer any aid that she was able. It was reassuring because, despite his bravado at the hospital, Jim was frightened.

"When do you expect the ambulance bringing Blair?"

"Around three this afternoon."

"Nervous?"

"Honestly?" Jim looked down at the five-foot-two nurse. "Scared shitless."

"Got any questions before I go?"

"No, not really, but if I think of anything, I'll give you a call."

Casey eyed the new recliner situated at the foot of the bed. "Are you planning to hold him the way you did in the hospital?"

"I was hoping to, yeah."

"Actually, I think that would be really good for both of you. Physical and mental stimulation is very important for comatose patients. While it's still a bit controversial, there are studies that show reading to the patient, playing their favorite music, telling them about your day when you get home from work ... all help to stimulate the brain and make recovery at least a bit more likely. Many comatose patients are more aware than they're given credit for. Don't talk about Blair like he's not in the room. Talk to him. It's hard keeping up a one-sided conversation, but it's every bit as important as the physical therapy. Think you can do that?"

"I'll give it my best shot. And holding him ... that's okay, too?"

"I think it's great. Touch is important to everyone ... from a simple pat on the shoulder to a full-fledged hug. We all need it, but bedridden patients rarely get more than what's needed to tend to their physical needs. It's just not the same. I think you and Blair will do fine. Mind if I come to visit now and then? See how you're doing?" She smiled shyly.

"No, I don't mind at all. I think I'd like that, in fact."

"Good. Well, I'd better get out of here. Charlie's going to think I've abandoned him."

"Charlie?"

"Charles Baker, my fiance."

"Congratulations. When's the big day?"

"February 14th." She grinned. "You work hard with Blair, and I'll invite you both to the wedding."

"We'll be there," Jim said with the confidence of a man who had no idea what he was getting himself into.

------------------------------

"'The Yanomamo kinship system also reflects the rules of lineage exogamy, brother-sister exchange and reciprocity. Their kinship system is called the "bifurcate merging" type with "Iroquois" cousin terms.' You really understand all this stuff, Chief?" Jim sighed, laying the book in his lap and studying the still figure in the bed. "Yeah," he answered himself. "This is probably old hat for you, huh?"

//That's Anthro 101, man. Read that when I was a freshman, for gosh sakes! But thanks for trying. It's good just to hear your voice.//

Jim picked up the book once again. "'Within each generation, all the males of one lineage call each other "brother," and all women call each other "sister." Males of lineage X call males of lineage Y "brother-in-law" and are eligible to marry their sisters.'^ Ewww. Really, Chief, you read this stuff?" He closed the book and tossed it on the coffee table. "How about a little music, instead?"

//Music is good. How about something by Santana?//

Getting up, Jim shuffled through Blair's collection of tapes and CDs, finally picking one he recognized. Soon, the haunting tones of the Australian didgeridoo and tribal drums filled the room. "Incacha called this 'earth music,'" he reminded his friend, walking over to the bed, brushing silken strands of hair from Blair's cheek. "I used to complain about your damned jungle music, Chief, but I miss it now. It's too quiet here. I'm only just now beginning to realize how much your presence has changed my life. I guess sometimes we have to have something taken away from us before we realize how precious that something was. I love you, Blair. Don't make me do without you too long, okay?"

//I'm not the one in control here, but I'm doing the best that I can. You love me? I figured that now you wouldn't have to worry about me breaking all your precious house rules. Comatose patients don't eat potato chips on the couch with their feet on the coffee table. But, you really love me? God, man, I love you, too. Wish I could tell you how much....//

Jim moved down to the foot of the bed. Taking one of Blair's stockinged feet in his hands, he began a gentle massage with the balls of his thumbs. After he'd thoroughly worked the foot over, he flexed the ankle and pushed carefully, bending Blair's knee up toward his chest. He released the tension, then flexed the leg again.

//That really feels good. Don't stop now.//

After several repetitions, Jim moved on to the other foot and leg, being more careful with the range of motion exercises due to fact Blair had dislocated that hip.

//Oooh ... ow ... careful, Jim. Ooowww...//

"Sorry kid," Jim apologized, almost as though he had heard the protests. "I'm being as gentle as I can. We gotta keep those muscles of yours moving and limber, or they'll contract and you'll end up in a fetal position. I'm sure you wouldn't want that."

Blair shuddered mentally at the thought.

"Are you settling in okay?" he asked, moving to Blair's hands and arms, massaging and flexing in an effort to keep the muscles limber. "I haven't been able to spend much time with your caretaker. Casey says Jeannette's really good. I hope so. You know how much I hate having to leave you here. If I could, I'd spend all my time with you."

//Hell, man, you need a life of your own. Don't make me your scapegoat. I suppose I'm as good as can be expected, everything considered. Jen's a great lady, but, man, I gotta tell you, I really hate it when she gives me sponge baths! Geez! She's almost like my mother, and even Mom hasn't seen me naked since I sprouted hormones. I'd much rather have you tend to my more intimate needs ... if you know what I mean.//

"I know. I know. You'd want me to have a life. Well, this is my life, kid. You're my life. I-I didn't want to say anything, but I've been having sensory spikes at work. Sometimes my senses go crazy, sometimes they shut down. Sometimes it's just one, other times it's a combination. I need you, Chief. God, I need you back at my side." He laid down the arm he'd been working.

//You're having sensory spikes? Why didn't you say something before? This is serious! Damn! What can I do? I really hate being so helpless. Maybe if you hold me, Jim? Maybe the physical contact will help.//

"I'd like to hold you for a bit, if you don't mind." Jim disconnected the feeding tube and gathered the unresponsive body of his friend, settling them both into the recliner. He positioned Blair's head on his chest, tucking him under his chin. He paid special attention to Blair's comfort, as he was sure the hip was still hurting. His hand tapped a gentle rhythm on Blair's arm in time with the music that still played softly in the background.

Jim closed his eyes and released a contented sigh.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

Jim?

Jim spun around, looking for the source of the familiar voice. In the underbrush about a hundred feet in front of him stood a wolf. "Blair? BLAIR!" As he watched, the wolf morphed into the familiar form of his Guide. "My God, Blair!" He ran forward, embracing the young man, feeling the embrace fiercely returned.

Are you okay, big guy? You look beat. Blair let his fingers trace the familiar contours of Jim's face, barely believing they stood there together. Jim reveled in his Guide's touch, craving the grounded feeling it gave him.

"I've needed you so badly. Blair ... I...."

I know. I've needed you, too, big guy. You said you were having sensory spikes?

"You heard?"

I can hear you, Jim. I hear you reading to me. I hear the music you play. I hear you cry at night when you think you're alone ... I heard you say that you love me. Blair smiled sweetly, if a little sadly, at the older man. I love you, too. I have for a long time. I just never felt the time was right, you know, to tell you? He paused to savor the feel of his Sentinel's arms around him, protecting him. I want you to know how much I appreciate it all. It means a lot to me that you take so much of your time to keep me entertained.

"I have to admit, I do it as much for myself as for you. I need you, Blair. I need to be near you, to touch you. It grounds me and realigns my senses. I'd go crazy, or shut down completely, if I couldn't spend time with you. Just doing the therapy with you every day has helped. Even though you can't respond, the physical contact has helped enormously."

Really? 'Cause you know, man, I worry about you.

"Really, yeah." Jim pushed back slightly, holding Blair at arm's length. "How is it you're with me now? Talking to me now?" His face was alight with wonder.

This is the spirit plane. Anything's possible here. Blair snuggled back into Jim's arms, burying his face in Jim's chest. This feels so good. Damn, I've missed you. Hold me forever, Jim. Please.

"I miss you, too Chief. Believe me, I do!"

Jim, I'm scared. I don't like being locked into a body that won't respond. I scream, and you can't hear me. I reach out, but can't touch you.

"You scream? Blair, I've never heard you. God, I'm sorry if I've hurt you."

It's okay, Jim. I call out for you a lot when you're gone. Even Jen doesn't hear. It's so frustrating! I just get lonely, I guess. Your presence grounds me. Jim felt warm tears dampen his shirt. He tightened his grip, not wanting to let go ... ever. But enough of that. Tell me about the sensory spikes.

"I'm having trouble at work. So far I've managed to mask it pretty well. Simon notices, I'm sure, but he hasn't said anything, yet. If you don't come out of this coma ... I don't know. I can't live like this, Blair.... I need to hear your voice again in the real world." He sighed, holding out his hands in supplication. "This is nice, but it isn't good enough. I don't know what I'm going to do if you don't come back to me. I can't live like this, Blair. I love you too much."

I'm sorry, Jim. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to be like this.

"Of course you didn't, Darwin! What are you thinking? This was your fault? No. No, kid. It's my fault. That you're here, and I'm in trouble ... it's all my fault." He felt himself ready to cry, as well. "I'm the one who should be saying I'm sorry. And I am sorry. God, Blair! What have I done?"

Jim, man, don't do this to yourself. It was an accident. I know that. I'm just so frustrated that I can't help you when you need me. I feel so impotent, so helpless. I'm used to doing things for myself. I just want that back. I want to be able to help.

"You're helping me now." Jim hugged Blair tighter. "This is the best I've felt since the accident. God, what a nightmare this has been!" He sighed heavily and let go, stepping back a couple paces. "Our time's up, kid. I've got to get you back into that damn bed."

No, Jim, not yet. Please?

"I have to, Blair. It's getting late, and I need to get to bed. Gotta go to work tomorrow, you know."

Sleep with me tonight? came the plaintive request. I need to know you're close. You need me, too. I can't help you with your senses if I can't at least touch you. Let me help? Let me show you how much I love you...?

"Sure, kid. If that's what you want. We have to go now. I'm sorry."

If we must.... Good-night, Jim.

"'Night, Chief." He watched as the young man standing in front of him morphed back into the wolf and trotted off into the brush. He sighed heavily...

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

...and opened his eyes. Blair lay, snuggled in his lap, as unresponsive and quiet as ever. If that was a dream, he hoped to God he'd have another. He really did feel more centered, more in control, than he had for months.

Lifting Blair from his lap, he placed the young man back in bed. "G'night, Chief." He turned to go upstairs.

//...no...//

He paused, turning back. Had he heard that? Even with his senses mostly back on-line, he wasn't sure. Blair lay still and quiet on the bed. //Sleep with me tonight?// The words echoed in his mind. He looked at the tiny hospital bed. It would be crowded, but he'd promised. Stripping to his boxers, he considered the logistics of sleeping in the same bed as Blair. With a bit of arranging, he managed to turn Blair onto his side without obstructing the feeding tube or urinary catheter, then climbed up behind him, spooning against the warmth of his Guide. Wrapping an arm around Blair to stabilize him, he closed his eyes, dropping almost immediately into a deep, contented sleep.

###

It had been just what he needed. Whether it had really been Blair's idea for him to spend the night, or his own need to get his senses under control, the morning found the Sentinel fully on-line and functioning properly. "Thanks, Chief. Don't know what I'd do without your help." His smile was genuine, not forced, for the first time in a very long time.

//You're welcome, big guy. Any time.... Tonight would be good.// Blair smiled inwardly at the remembered warmth of having his love beside him.

Jim carried his breakfast over to the recliner, setting the dishes on the TV tray he was using as a temporary table. Pulling out the newspaper, he began reading the headline stories between bites of eggs and toast. Their morning ritual was interrupted by a knock at the door.

//Better go answer the door, Jim. You know how Jen hates to be kept waiting.//

Jim set the paper on the tray, and went to answer the door. "Ah, Jeannette. Come on in," he greeted Blair's regular caretaker. Jeannette was an older woman, fifty-something and a little plump, but with a great sense of humor and a no-nonsense attitude. Although he hadn't had a chance to spend much time with her himself, he liked the spunky woman.

"Good morning, Mr. Ellison," she greeted him. "Brought you a treat." She held out a plate of decadent-looking chocolate chunk cookies.

//Aw, Jim.... What did she bring this time? You know that stuff's gonna clog your arteries. I can't afford you having a coronary. I need you, man. You can't die and leave me alone. Not now....//

"Better not let Blair get a look at those," Jim quipped. "I always get a lecture when I bring any junk food into the house."

"My cookies are not junk food," Jeannette laughed, carrying the plate to the kitchen and setting it on the counter.

"If it isn't green or doesn't smell foul, it must be junk food," Jim informed her.

//You tell her, Jim. And put those cookies in the freezer! You don't need them. They're not good for you. You could have a stroke that puts you in a coma. What a pair we'd be then, huh? Don't do it, Jim! Please!//

"Yes, I noticed when I cleaned out your refrigerator that there was an unusual amount of ... exotic ... food spoiling in there. Figured it must have been Blair's." Laughter lit her green eyes. "Well, he's not going to begrudge you a little treat, I don't think."

//Wanna bet?// A mental sigh of resignation. //There goes the only decent food in the house.//

She walked over to the bed. "Good morning, Blair!" One hand stroked his left arm, while the other smoothed back the hair from his forehead. "You're looking good today. Have a good night's sleep?"

//Exemplary, thank you.//

"Oh, he slept like a baby," Jim smiled at her, wondering what she'd think if she'd seen them together the night before. Well, it didn't really matter. It wasn't any of her business anyway. At least Simon wouldn't have to hover like a mother hen today. He plucked a cookie from the plate and took a bite. "Mmmm ... these are great! Thanks, Jeannette."

"No problem. I enjoy baking." She smiled at the detective as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing to give Blair a sponge bath that morning. "You have a good day at work, but try not to be late. Blair gets fussy when you're late."

"Fussy?" Jim paused at the door. "He's comatose. How can he be fussy?"

"Oh, believe me, Mr. Ellison--he fusses." She carried the bowl of warm water over to the bed, setting it next to the piles of towels, soap and shampoo. "You probably don't notice because when you're around, Blair is relaxed. There have been days he's nearly fallen out of bed due to all his squirming around. I have to make sure I don't forget to keep the rails up."

"He can move?" Jim was incredulous.

"Why yes, didn't you know?" When Jim shook his head, she continued. "It's not coordinated or a conscious decision on his part, just some thrashing around. Usually happens just before you get home, so please try not to be late."

"Well, I'll be...." Jim mumbled in wonder. He walked back over to the hospital bed and placed a gentle hand on Blair's arm. "You behave yourself for Jeannette, you hear? Don't go giving her any of your grief. Save that for me. I promise I'll be home on time tonight." He patted Blair's arm before backing toward the door. "Take care of him for me, Jeannette."

//Jim? Jim! Don't leave now! Hey! I'd much rather you give me the bath. I mean ... oh, Jim. Pleeeeease?// Blair tried not to think as he felt himself stripped down to his birthday suit in preparation for the bath.

"I always do, Mr. Ellison," she said with a smile. "Good day to you now."

Jim walked out the door, closing it softly behind him.

"Let's just unhook you from all this stuff," Jeannette said, as she disconnected the feeding tube, then flushed it with water to clear the line. "I'll give you your meds after the bath."

//Terrific. Doped high enough to fly. Do we have to? I don't need any of the stuff the doctors seem to think I do.//

"I'll bet it feels good to get this off," Jeannette commented, rolling the condom catheter off Blair's penis.

//Geez, do you have to do that? Brrrr.// Blair mentally shook himself at the intimate touches. //Can we just get this over with? I'm freezing my butt off!//

Jeannette calmly went about caring for Blair's personal hygiene, blithely unaware of her charge's inner turmoil. She draped him with towels, but it wasn't enough to keep the ever-cold anthropologist warm. When she was finished with the bathing, she administered the meds through the feeding tube, flushing it again before reconnecting it to the bag of feeding solution.

"Now for your favorite part," Jeannette turned a wry smile on her helpless patient. "The catheter."

//Oh, God....// Against all propriety and sense of decency, Blair felt the beginnings of an erection form as the nurse rolled the condom catheter back into place. An actual moan escaped his lips, causing Jeannette to smile.

"A little sensitive today, are we?"

A flush rose to his cheeks, coloring Blair's pale features. He tried to squirm away from the intimate touch, but was limited by an excruciating pain as his hip injury reminded him of its presence.

"There, there. All done," Jeannette assured him. She dressed him warmly before putting away the bathing articles. Returning to the bed, she lowered the railing. "Time to turn you over, Sweetie. Gotta keep those bedsores at bay. Nasty little critters." Pulling the blanket back, she positioned her hands under Blair's unresponsive body, being careful to give extra support to the injured left hip. She rolled him onto his right side, propping him in place with extra pillows. "There you go. You ought to be more comfortable now."

//Thanks, Jen. Now I've got a nice view of the balcony. Has Jim watered the plants lately? That was my job, you know.//

"Sleep well, Blair, and don't worry. Jim promised to be home on time tonight."

-----------------------------

Jim kept his promise, arriving home before the heavy evening traffic caught him in its relentless grip.

"Welcome home, Mr. Ellison," Jeannette greeted him. "Blair had a very good day today. I know he'll be pleased you're home."

"No 'fussing'?" Jim wondered.

"Not at all. It was almost as though he sensed you were coming." Jeannette ran a soft hand across Blair's forehead, smoothing a few stray hairs out of the way. "I'll just leave you two be.... I fixed a little extra at lunch. Thought you could just reheat it for an easy dinner." She smiled at the detective as she wrapped her coat around her shoulders.

Jim smiled indulgently at the matronly nurse. "Thanks, Jeannette. I'm sure it'll be great."

###

After dinner, Jim settled down to watch some TV. His eyes kept wandering to the still form in the bed next to him, and he contemplated bringing Blair to snuggle with him in the recliner. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Rising to answer, he was surprised to see Simon Banks and Joel Taggart standing in the hall.

"Hope you don't mind, Jim," Simon apologized. "We were just coming back from having a beer together, and thought it might be nice to stop by and see how you and the kid were doing."

"Come on in." Jim welcomed his Captain and his fellow detective.

Simon and Joel walked in, unable to keep from staring at the hospital bed set in front of the balcony doors. Drawn like moths to a flame, they approached quietly.

//Hi, Simon! Hi, Joel! Great you could come over! Wish I could offer you a beer, or something, but you're going to have to depend on Jim to remember his manners as host.//

"How is he?" Joel asked, picking up a frail hand and cradling it in his larger ones. "He looks so pale."

//I'm great. Couldn't be better. Wait. I take that back. Conscious would be better ... but I'm doing okay, really.//

"He's doing fine. Really," Jim echoed Blair's thoughts.

It was the first time any of the Major Crimes gang had seen Blair outside the hospital. Jim was grilled almost daily by the caring group, but none had had the nerve to actually visit until now.

"Do you think he's aware of anything?" Simon wondered. "I've heard some coma patients can hear what's going on around them."

//You're coming in loud and clear, Captain, Sir.//

"It would be hell for someone as kinetic as Blair to be aware of his surroundings while locked in an unresponsive body." Joel shook his head, remembering all the times Sandburg had literally bounced into the bullpen, full of more energy than four people should possess. "It'd kill him. I almost hope he can't hear us."

//Don't worry, Joel. It's cool. Jim's with me. He brings me to the spirit plane, and we talk. I'm free there, man. I can walk, talk, laugh and love. It's not so bad. Nice of you to care, though.//

Jim turned to the burly detective. "'Kinetic'?" he smiled. "I didn't know you knew such big words."

"Blair's not the only person in this room who's been to college, you know," Joel retorted.

//Go, Joel!// Blair cheered.

"But he's the only one with enough brains to teach at the college level," Jim teased.

//One for Jim.// Blair marked a mental tally.

"Yeah," Jim continued, getting back to the original question, "I think he's aware of what's going on. I do my best to keep him stimulated, but it's hard when communication can only go one way." Thank God for the spirit plane, he thought. If only I could reassure them that Blair's really okay.

//Offer them a beer, man. Where's your manners?//

"You guys want a beer?" Jim asked, turning toward the kitchen.

"Thanks, Jim, but we've gotta get going," Simon declined. "I've got Daryl at home this week, and I'm late enough getting back as it is."

//Tell Daryl hi for me, okay, Simon?//

"Say 'hi' to Daryl, from both of us," Jim replied, escorting the two men to the door. "I'm really glad you dropped by. I'm sure Blair enjoyed the company, too."

"Take care of the kid, Jim," Simon ordered, smiling kindly.

"You know I will," the detective answered.

"Bye, Blair," Joel called across the room, waving his farewell to the bed-bound man.

//G'night, Joel ... Simon. Thanks for coming by.//

The door closed behind the two visitors, and Jim was once more left to the deafening quiet of his home.

-------------------------

The routine was becoming stifling. Each morning he'd go to work, leaving Blair in the hands of his caretaker, Jeannette. Each evening he'd come home, to find nothing had changed. He'd sit by the bed and read journals to the young anthropology student. He'd play Blair's favorite CDs. He'd work with Blair on the exercises the physical therapist taught him each week. Jim held his Guide in the recliner almost every night before going off to bed. But no reactions. No movement. No sound. Despite the comforting spirit talks that had such a healing effect on his own mind and soul, there appeared to be no improvement in his partner's condition.

Jim was frustrated. Frustrated and frightened. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand this if there wasn't any improvement. He'd had Blair home for over a month now. It was early September, and the crisp fall days were calling to him to spend some time outside. But he couldn't go out. He couldn't leave Blair alone.

Weekends were the worst. He dreamed of camping trips and fishing, of fresh mountain air and gurgling streams. But he had to stay home, had to tend to his totally dependent charge. He sighed. God forgive him, but lately traitorous thoughts of putting Blair into a care facility had entered his mind. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. Maybe Dr. Ramsey had been right. Maybe he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

"I need a break, Chief," he said, closing the book he'd been reading aloud. He looked over at Blair as he stood. No reaction. Not that he'd expected one. He needed to get out of the loft, even if it could only be briefly.

//Sure you do, Jim. Take five. I'll be right here.//

"You'll be okay for an hour or so," he murmured. He fussed with the blankets, checked the feeding tube and emptied the urinary collection bag as he spoke. "I'm going to the gym for a workout. I won't be long. Promise."

//No, Jim! You can't leave! Don't leave me alone! Don't you know? Can't you feel me? I need your presence. I need you here. You're my lifeline, Jim. You're my sanity, my healing. You can't leave! Please!//

Jim reached out to stroke Blair's cheek. "It's not you, you know. I just need to get out for a bit." Already guilt was creeping in, eating away at his resolve to leave. He turned abruptly and strode toward the door, grabbing his gym bag as he passed. Slipping out into the hall, he closed the door before he had the chance to change his mind. He needed this. What could one hour hurt?

//Please...? Don't go....// The sound of the door closing was too much for Blair's fragile psyche. He could feel the beginnings of a panic attack building inexorably in his chest. //Jiiiimmm!!!//

###

Refreshed from his workout, Jim Ellison strode back toward the loft, feeling much more relaxed. He felt up to his responsibilities again, at least for now. But Blair was more than just his responsibility. How could he have even considered sending him to a care facility? Without his Guide, no matter how incapacitated, the Sentinel could not continue.

As the key turned in the lock, Jim felt a rising unease. Stretching his senses out before him, he realized that something was not quite right in the loft. He hurried inside, immediately crossing the room to Blair's bed.

An icy fist closed over his heart at the sight that greeted him. Blair lay turned on his side facing the balcony. His blankets were in a tangled disarray around his limbs. The smell of spilled urine hung sourly in the air from the disconnected catheter.

"Oh, God, Blair! What happened?" He began disentangling his Guide from the dirty sheets, throwing them to the floor with disgust. Disgust at himself for having left Blair alone. "I'm so sorry ... so sorry." He rolled Blair onto his back and raised the head of the bed a bit so that his Guide was reclining comfortably.

He then went to fetch clean sheets and a clean set of sweats for Blair. He balanced a bowl of warm water on top of the linens and clothes, with a washcloth and towel draped over one arm, as he hurried back to the living room.

He lifted Blair out of the bed, laying him in the recliner. Shaking out the new sheets, he quickly made the bed.

As he gazed at Blair resting in their recliner, Jim was sorely tempted to cuddle with him there and pray for a visit to the spirit plane. He badly needed to talk with his Guide, to get the reassurance that he was all right, that he forgave Jim the indiscretion of leaving him alone.

With the efficiency of practice, he stripped Blair, tossing the soiled clothing onto the heap at the foot of the bed. He then washed the young man with the warm cloth and toweled him dry. After dressing him warmly, he settled into the recliner with Blair resting in his lap. "Talk to me, Babe," he whispered into Blair's ear, desperate for reassurance. "Please talk to me. Forgive me...."

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

Where were you, man? Why did you leave? The bitterness in Blair's voice stung the Sentinel.

"I - I needed to get out for a bit. Needed some time alone." Before the vision-Blair could protest, he hurried on. "It was wrong. I shouldn't have gone and left you here. If I could go back and change what happened, I'd do it in an instant."

I cried out for you, but you weren't there to hear me.

"Oh, God, Blair ... I'm so sorry!" He wrapped his arms around the frightened young man to try and comfort him, pulling him in close. "It was selfish of me to go. I don't know what I was thinking. Nothing's more important in my life right now than you."

I thought you loved me! I hate this.... Blair murmured into the comfort of Jim's chest. I hate this body that won't respond. I hate not being with you, not being able to help you. I can't blame you for wanting more. I want it, too.

"I do love you, Babe. I just needed some time away. I didn't know how frightened you were. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. You have to give this more time ... give it time."

How long? How long do we have to endure this? I'm sick of it. I wish I'd just stopped breathing when they turned off the respirator.

"DON'T say that! Don't even think it!" Jim pushed his Guide back, looking him squarely in the eyes. "We'll get through this together. I believe in you. Don't give up on me now."

Blair's shoulders slumped. I'm just so scared. It's like having claustrophobia and being locked in a closet--forever. I pound and I scream, but nobody hears, nobody sees ... not even my Sentinel. Tears tracked silently down his cheeks.

Jim reached out and brushed away a tear with his thumb, before pulling Blair back into his embrace. "Tell me what happened tonight. I need to know."

I knew you were unhappy--wanted a break from the constant responsibilities of caring for me. When you said you needed to go to the gym, to get out of the loft, I understood, but I didn't want you to go. I was terrified of you leaving. I tried to call out, tried to get your attention, but all I heard was the door closing.

Jim could feel warm tears dampening his shirt as Blair recounted the events of that evening.

I wanted to get up, to follow you. I tried really hard, Jim, but I finally gave up.

The wheels began turning in Jim's mind, and suddenly the gears locked into place. "You tried to move? To get up and follow me?"

Yes. I didn't want to be left alone.

"My God, Blair! Do you realize how I found you? You must have been thrashing around to have tangled your sheets like that." Jim's eyes were alight with hope. "You wanted to move, and you did!"

The sniffling stopped, and Blair tilted his head to look up into excited blue eyes. I did?

"You bet you did! Blair, you've got to try for me--in the morning--try for me. Open your eyes. Smile. Anything. Just try really hard like you did tonight."

I - I guess so. I can try. I just want this nightmare to be over, he sighed, sounding defeated and tired.

"It's almost there, kid. I can feel it. We've topped the hill and it's time to go down the other side. Time for you to come back to me." He tightened his hold on the trembling young man.

Time to come home.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

The bright morning sun washed over the still figure in the bed as Jim carried his breakfast across the room to sit next to his friend.

"It's time to come home, Blair," Jim spoke softly. He reached over to brush errant curls from the pale face. "How about opening those baby blues of yours for me? You promised to try. Remember?" He studied the peaceful countenance intently, waiting for some sign of recognition.

There! Did he actually see Blair's eyelids flutter? He turned his concentration onto those eyes, willing them to open. Again, a subtle movement, becoming stronger.

"You can do it, Blair! Come on, Love. Don't give up on me now!" His breakfast forgotten, Jim stood and bent over the recumbent figure, willing him to open his eyes. Time seemed to stand still for the Sentinel as he felt the slide into sensory zone-out begin.

//No, Jim! Wake up! Come on, man, don't zone on me now. I need you.//

Jim shook himself back to awareness. Had Blair spoken? No. He remained silent and still. But something ... someone ... had pulled him back from the edge of a zone-out. He shook himself, then looked at the figure in the bed. Blue eyes smiled up at him.

"Blair!" Jim's smile outshone the sun.

The young man blinked once.

"Yes! Yes, Blair! That's it!" Jim's excitement was infectious. He thought he saw the tiniest of grins reflected on the full lips in front of him. "Blink once for 'yes,' twice for 'no,' okay?"

One blink. And the return of the grin.

"Um, blink 'no' for me, just once, so I'll know this is for real." Jim waited anxiously, wondering if Blair's responses so far had been controlled or random.

A slight pause, then two well-considered blinks. And the grin.

"All right! Break out the champagne! Time to celebrate!" Jim pressed the button to raise the head end of the bed, allowing Blair a better view of the balcony and loft. "Welcome back!"

His comment was greeted by a single blink.

"I'm gonna go call Simon ... and Casey--tell them the good news!"

###

He returned a few minutes later, smiling widely. "I convinced Simon to let me have a few days off. We've got work to do!" His pronouncement was greeted with a grin. "And Casey said she'll drop by this evening after she gets off work. She was really excited about the news."

Blair blinked once, then smiled.

Heartened by the smile, as well as the blink-reaction, Jim decided to test his Guide's limits. "Can you move your head? Turn it from side to side?" He watched closely, eager for an answer.

Tension tightened the muscles around Blair's eyes as he concentrated on trying to move. Finally, a soft sigh escaped his lips, and he blinked twice, frowning slightly.

Jim picked up Blair's hand, cradling it in both of his own and squeezed gently. "Don't sweat it. You tried. It'll come. It's just going to take some time." He smiled reassuringly. "Would you like for me to read you some more from that new anthropology journal?" He waved the magazine in front of the grad student's face and was rewarded with a single blink. Settling comfortably into the recliner, Jim began to read.

###

There was a knock on the door around 7:00 that evening. Jim dragged himself away from Blair, who had finally fallen asleep.

"Casey! Good to see you!" Jim hugged the petite nurse, welcoming her into the loft.

"It's good to see you, too, as always," she smiled brightly, hugging Jim back. "I hope you don't mind," she continued, indicating a middle-aged woman standing next to her. "When you called to tell me Blair was awake, I asked Rachel if she'd mind coming along."

She turned to the older woman. "Rachel, this is Jim Ellison, Blair's partner and friend."

Rachel held out her hand in greeting. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about the two of you from Casey. I hope I'll get the chance to know you better."

"Jim, Rachel is a speech language therapist. I thought it might be a good idea to bring her along for a 'spot check' on Blair's abilities. How's he doing, anyway?" she asked, eyes straying to the bed in the living room.

"Pretty darn good considering the scare he gave me last night." Jim had the decency to look vaguely embarrassed.

"Scare?" Casey looked over to the bed, where Blair was sleeping peacefully. "What happened?"

"I was feeling sorry for myself," Jim admitted. "I needed to get out of the house, away from all this." He waved his hand vaguely in the air. "I was only gone an hour. Just a quick workout in the gym." He dropped his hand and turned to look at the nurse with a hint of despair in his eyes. "When I got home, Blair had twisted around and disconnected his catheter. He was tangled in his blankets.... Almost scared me to death."

"I can imagine! Want me to check on him for you?"

"I think he's okay. I haven't noticed anything unusual. But this morning...." Jim's eyes danced with excitement.

"What happened this morning?" Casey asked, genuinely curious, when Jim paused.

"Blair opened his eyes, and he smiled!" The normally solemn man was becoming more animated by the minute. "He can blink 'yes' and 'no,' so we had ourselves a little conversation."

"That's wonderful!" Casey enthused, crossing the room toward the balcony and the bed situated in front of the large, glass doors.

Rachel followed, curious to see the young man Casey had told her so much about.

"He's sleeping," Jim informed her as she reached the bed.

"That's fine. I'll be careful not to disturb him." With quiet efficiency, the young nurse checked the feeding tube and urinary catheter. Everything was functioning normally, and she could see no sign of infection or other problems. "He's looking great. I think you made the right decision bringing him home like this. I know it can be a real strain, but the benefits are enormous. You know, if you ever feel the need for another night off, I'd be more than happy to come by and keep Blair company."

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that," Jim protested. "Blair has a caretaker, but I hate disturbing her in the evenings or on weekends. I can handle it."

"Look, James Ellison," the petite woman stood, arms akimbo, "you spend all day at work, then come home to more with Blair. I know you enjoy being with him, helping him, but everyone needs some time to themselves. I'm sure Blair understands that, too. He'd want for you to get away once in a while to relax, do something for yourself. It's just not the best idea to leave him unsupervised."

From her position near the foot of Blair's bed, Rachel covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a giggle. Casey might be small in stature, but she made up for it with generous amounts of old-fashioned gumption. Listening to her stand up to the six-foot-two, All-American cop was priceless.

"But you told me before that a short time would be all right," Jim reminded Casey.

"That was before I knew how Blair would react to being left alone. Before I knew he could react." She smiled encouragingly.

Jim cleared his throat softly, cocking his head in the direction of the bed. Casey turned to look and found her gaze matched by the most beautiful pair of deep blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"Well, good evening, Blair! I'm Casey, and this is my friend, Rachel." She stepped over to the bed and lifted one hand, squeezing lightly.

Rachel came to stand beside the nurse, smiling at the young man. "Hi, Blair."

Blair gave them a slight grin.

"See what I mean?" Jim's voice beamed with pride. "Hey, Blair!" he greeted his companion. "Have a nice nap?"

"Yeah." The voice was low and slurred, and very very soft, but definitely Blair's. His eyes traveled to the pretty nurse who had turned a hundred megawatt smile on him, and then to the face of his astounded Sentinel.

"My God, Blair...!" Jim stood slack-jawed with astonishment.

"This is wonderful!" Casey enthused. "Anything's possible now."

"When did he first wake up?" Rachel asked.

"Just this morning," the stunned detective answered.

"How long has he been in a coma?"

"About three and a half months."

"Would you happen to have any applesauce handy?" Rachel asked. "I'd like you to try something, with both of your permission, of course."

"I think so," Jim answered, turning to walk into the kitchen, followed by the speech therapist. He dug around in the depths of the refrigerator, finally pulling out a glass jar.

"Could I trouble you for a small bowl and spoon?" Rachel asked.

Jim provided the requested items and watched as she spooned a bit of applesauce into the bowl, added some water to thin it, and stirred.

Picking a napkin off the counter and tucking it in her pocket, Rachel walked back over to the bed. "All right, Blair, we're going to see if you're capable of swallowing solid foods. Okay?"

"'Kay." The voice was slightly stronger this time.

Rachel offered the bowl to Jim. "Want to give it a try?"

Fleeting panic danced across the Sentinel's eyes. "That's okay," he answered quickly, "you go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Is this all right with you, Blair?" she asked.

Blair nodded in agreement.

Rachel raised the head of the bed so that the young man was sitting upright. "You know, this is much better than taking all your nourishment through tubes." She spooned up a bit of the honey-thick applesauce, pressing it to Blair's lips. He opened his mouth to take the offered treat, swallowing with some difficulty. Half of the applesauce dribbled down his chin when he failed to swallow completely. Rachel pulled the napkin out of her pocket, and wiped him clean.

"Good try, Blair!" She patted his shoulder and was rewarded with a grin. Turning to Jim, she smiled. "I'm very encouraged by his response. The fact that he's speaking, and that he has some control swallowing, is a good sign."

"I-it's incredible," Jim stammered, still slightly stunned.

"I would have to agree with you on that," Rachel concurred. "Because he's been unconscious for so long, and on a feeding tube, his mouth and throat muscles are going to be weak. What I'd like you to do, Mr. Ellison," she instructed, "is to call Blair's doctor and get a referral to me. I'd like to do some testing using a video fluoroscope to study his ability to swallow different densities of solids and liquids. After that, I can recommend a feeding schedule and therapy to help strengthen the muscles for both swallowing and speech. I'd also like to do a full cognitive evaluation, especially since head trauma caused his coma."

Jim's smile softened his stern features. "Hear that, Chief? It won't be long now. We'll have you up and around in no time."

"You've both still got a very long road to travel," Casey reminded him, not wanting him to get his hopes up too high, too soon.

"Oh, I know nothing will happen overnight," Jim clarified, "but now there's hope." Soon we'll be able to really talk again, Chief, he thought. That warmed his heart as nothing had since his first spirit talk with his Guide.

"There certainly is," Casey affirmed. "I'm very happy for you both. Just remember, I'm expecting both of you at my wedding in February." She smiled broadly. "Blair, you've got your work cut out for you, but I think with Jim's help, there's a good chance you'll make it."

The grad student smiled at her, a barely visible nod signifying his agreement.

###

Once the nurse and speech therapist had departed, Jim couldn't get Blair situated into the recliner fast enough.

"Mmmmm," his Guide commented, snuggling his head into position beneath Jim's chin.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

"Blair! Where are you?"

Over here, man, by the river.

Jim walked through the dense jungle foliage, following the sound of running water. He emerged onto the bank of a gurgling stream to find his Guide seated cross-legged on a large rock.

Come join me, he offered, patting a place next to himself on the stone.

Jim walked over and settled next to his Guide.

Cat got your tongue, Jim? Blair smiled mischievously.

"I'm still in shock, I guess," Jim admitted. "You're awake. You can talk! I didn't know you could talk!"

Hell, man, neither did I. Blair tried skipping a stone across the water, failing miserably. He turned his smile back on his Sentinel. It's work, man. Really hard work. But I wanted to try ... wanted you to know I could.

"Well, I'm impressed." Jim turned to smile at his Guide. He wrapped his arms around the younger man and squeezed. "Anything seems possible now."

I'm glad Casey suggested the speech therapist. I think I'm really gonna need the help. Blair stared at his broken reflection in the fast-moving stream. I don't have any trouble knowing what it is I want to say, but I'm having problems wrapping my mouth around actually forming the words. He sighed. I really want to be able to talk with you again, Jim. I want out of that damn bed. I want to go camping and fishing and to a Jags game. I want to go back to the university. I want to love you, man, like you deserve. I want ... I want my life back. He leaned his head against Jim's broad chest, relaxing into the embrace.

"Yeah, Babe, I know. So do I." Jim's simple reply was heartfelt.

They sat quietly for a while, contemplating the rushing water. The beauty of this place was undeniable, but it wasn't reality. Reality was where it counted. Jim closed his eyes, zeroing his hearing on the steady beat of his Guide's heart...

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

...and awoke to find Blair smiling up at him.

###

The following day, Jim called Dr. Ramsey, who was more than willing to fax a referral to the speech therapist. He called Rachel, and found she had had a cancellation in her schedule. There was time that afternoon to fit Blair in. Jim arranged for a transport van to take Blair to the hospital.

"Hey there, Blair! Good to see you again so soon!" Rachel greeted her patient as she wheeled him into the room where the exam would be done. With Jim's help, she transferred Blair into the exam chair which was nestled between the X-ray machine and a table.

"Okay guys, here's how this goes down," Rachel said. "Jim, you'll have to leave the room, as we're working with X-rays here. You can stand behind that glass partition," she pointed, "and watch the procedure, if you wish.

"You," she said to Blair, "are going to have to drink one of my special barium 'shakes.' I'll warn you now, they're nasty."

"Do I ... have ... to?" Blair asked with difficulty.

"That's what you're here for. I'm afraid that you do," Rachel sympathized.

"Just pretend it's one of those algae shakes of yours," Jim suggested, screwing up his own features at the thought of the green concoction.

"But ... those are ... good, ... man," Blair protested.

"Whatever you say, Chief. Just drink this stuff for the pretty lady. Okay?"

Blair made a face, but nodded. Rachel went to get the drink and other consistencies of liquid and food trials, and shooed Jim from the immediate area.

Watching from behind the Plexiglas barrier, Jim dialed up his hearing to listen as Blair swallowed the barium shake. He grimaced in sympathy as his partner choked on the thick liquid, trying to push it away. With great patience, Rachel saw to it that he drank enough to get a valid test of his abilities, as well as trying the solid foods.

She conducted the X-ray test with quiet efficiency. When they were finished, Jim returned to help transfer Blair back to his wheelchair.

She turned to Jim and smiled. "Well, it's going to take a little work, but Blair has more control than most coma patients who have only just awakened. I'm going to release him to start eating and drinking again. Start with purees and thicker drinks, he'll still choke on thinner consistencies. I'll call to set up a therapy schedule with you."

"The sooner, the better," Jim answered fervently.

"I know you're anxious, but this will have to go slow," Rachel warned. "Casey tells me Blair is quite a fighter, though. That kind of determination in a patient goes a long way toward effecting recovery."

"I've never known him to give up, and he's been in some pretty tough situations," Jim told her.

"Good. Glad to hear that." She turned to her patient. "Well, Blair, looks like the free ride's over. You're going to have to go back to work now."

Blair smiled and gave her a thumb's up sign.

"Let's get you back home, Chief."

Blair lifted a hand to wave farewell as Jim wheeled him down the corridor toward the exit.

"Bet you're glad that's over, eh?" Jim chuckled, as they made their way to the waiting van.

"Yeah," Blair answered, dark curls bobbing as their owner nodded slowly.

###

That evening, Jim appeared at Blair's bedside, fishing pole in hand. "Hello, Chief," he greeted alert blue eyes.

"Hi. What's that?" Blair's speech was still slightly slurred, but his meaning was clear as he pointed to the object in Jim's hand.

"I spent the day doing some research on the internet..."

"Uh-oh." //Jim on the internet always means trouble. Whatcha planning to do with the fishing pole, big guy?//

"...and discovered an interesting therapy I thought you'd like." He raised the pole above the bed, with the line dangling several inches above Blair's head. Jim's largest and brightest fly fishing lure (sans hook) suspended from the end. "Just follow the lure with your eyes. As you gain strength, you can follow with head movements as well."

//Oh, God, Jim ... you can't be serious!// "Nooo...."

The lure moved slowly from left to right.

"No, no, no ... nonononono...." //Jim, this is embarrassing, man!//

"You're supposed to follow the lure with your eyes