Chapter Text
Seeing Through the Darkness
Jim opened his eyes. He knew Blair was watching him, waiting for his reaction, any reaction. Jim closed his eyes and turned his head to face the wall, away from Blair's attention.
"Jim," Blair said tentatively. "C'mon, man. The doctors told us it could take awhile for your vision to return."
"Chief, it's been two months. Think we gave it the 'little while' already. Think we have to look at the real possibility I will never see more than gray shapes, ever again."
Blair reached out to Jim's shoulder, trying to comfort his best friend with his touch. The guide had dreaded the day that his sentinel would give up and give in to his blindness. He had hoped, no, prayed to every deity he knew or read about, to take this burden from Jim. Still, every day, they would go through this same routine.
Jim would awaken, but keep his eyes closed. He would listen for Blair to wake and then call to him. Lastly, after Blair said he was ready, Jim would open his eyes. Every day since the incident, it was the same. Gray, plain nothingness. This nothingness had finally crept into the detective's soul, drawing away the last of his hope.
Jim could not see Blair's watery eyes, but he could hear the stuffiness in the grad student's breathing and his increased heart rate. "Jim," Blair started but could not find the rest of the words to express himself. The police observer rarely found himself wordless, but lately dealing with Jim and his blindness, words failed him. He wanted nothing more than to protect this wounded man, take away the uncertainty that faced him. Jim would never be alone. Blair simply could not allow it; the deep affection between them was too powerful.
Still, since the blindness, he could feel Jim pushing him away. The detective never wanted to be the one to hurt anyone; so to avoid giving pain, he would distance himself from that person. Even before the blindness, he did not see that pushing away hurt the person he wanted most to protect. Blair had hoped that Jim learned his lesson after Alex, and would stop trying this technique on him.
"Chief, I need to..I need to be alone right now. Can you give me a little space?" Jim asked quietly.
"Jim, man, we are in this together. What happens to you happens to me."
Abruptly Jim sat up in his bed and knocked away his friend's hand. He turned toward Blair's voice, hoping his blank glare was aimed at his guide. "Together, huh?" Jim practically spit out the comment. His eyes were open wide as he continued with his rampage. "So, you can't see either? Everything is gray to you too? You need a white cane to find your way around your own apartment? All those books you're reading, they're in Braille, right? You need someone to tell you what color clothes you have on? Do you still remember what...what your friend, no, brother looks like?" Jim said brokenly, finally running out of steam.
He bowed his head, eyes closed, drawing in ragged breaths. For long moments Jim sat there, too exhausted and ashamed to raise his head. He knew Blair had been supporting him from the time of the incident forward. Blair, his friend and constant companion, was always there with a kind word or support, both physical and emotional; but finally Jim's frustration and grief had burned a hole in his control and months of feelings he had hidden away finally came loose.
Blair, sensing the emotional pain his sentinel was experiencing, gently placed his hand on Jim's bowed head. Knowing that the walls the tall detective had been building up to hide behind were starting to crumble, Blair thought very carefully about what to say next. He wanted those walls to stay down. He wanted his sentinel to stop feeling like he had to push his guide away, somehow protecting Blair from himself and his blindness. The curly headed observer shook his head, causing his hair to sway back and forth. No, he was going to let Jim know he was not alone. That whatever Jim wanted, or didn't want, was fine with Blair. Jim had become the family he never experienced in his childhood. Blair finally had a brother and would never desert him.
Slowly Blair reached out for Jim's hands and placed them on either side of the guide's face, with his own hands on top of Jim's. He encouraged Jim's fingers to move until they were exploring on their own. At first Jim's movements were slow and deliberate. Then, he began moving his fingers through Blair's hair, combing it as he went through the wavy locks. The speed of the exploration increased, as if this were the last time Jim would ever 'see' Blair again. He kept retracing the temples of his guide, while also brushing his fingers across Blair's closed eyes. It was here the sentinel stopped all movement except for the fingers by the corners of his guide's eyes. He felt the moisture beneath Blair's lashes flow against his fingertips. Jim slid both palms down either side of Blair's face and drew his guide's forehead to rest against his own.
Jim pulled back from the emotional and physical connection, took a breath, then smiled at Blair.
"Thanks, Chief," Jim said with all the respect he could put into those words. "You knew just what to say -- nothing. Showed these old eyes I can still see. I can see you just fine, brother, just fine."
Part 2
As Jim and Blair worked on their breakfast preparations, Blair remembered what Jim had told him just a short while ago. Jim had said he could 'see' him just fine; he understood that vision was more than pixels and rods and cones. It was the ability to perceive the whole person, past the style of clothes, the color of eyes. Jim could do that now.
Jim finished measuring the coffee into the filter. He closed the drawer of the filter holder and reached for the coffee pot. Jim sidestepped to the kitchen sink faucet to fill it. He used his hearing to realize when the water was close to the top, then felt for the water level to know when to stop the water flow. He returned the pot to the coffee maker, poured the water in the top opening, then replaced the pot on the warmer of the coffee machine. Lastly, he flicked on the coffee maker and the machine began its familiar gurgling.
Blair watched with pride as his sentinel did this daily chore. In the past, before the incident, they had shared kitchen duties many times. However, after the blindness had bullied its way into their lives, Jim was reluctant to do anything that might embarrass himself in front of the person that meant so much to him. Today, however, Blair could see that Jim was more comfortable with himself. He knew that they had a long road in front of them if the blindness continued, but today, at that moment, was the best that Blair had felt in a very long time.
"Chief," Jim said, turning to where he could sense Blair was standing by the stove. "About this morning, I, um, thanks, man. I was feeling pretty low. As usual, in typical Ellison style, I took it all out on the person who just happened to be in 'firing range'. You are my brother in everything but blood." Jim paused, took a deep breath and continued. "Anyway, oh man, this is hard. Um...Anyway, I can't guarantee I won't sound off to you again, but just know it is a knee jerk reaction. You know, consider the source and blow it off!"
Blair smiled. "Jim, you are stuck with me, man. So, yeah, I will most definitely blow it off. I know the 'jerk' well enough now to understand what drives him," Blair said with a grin on his face.
Jim smiled and turned back to face the dripping coffee machine. The aroma of the fresh coffee filled sentinel's sense of smell. He was feeling better now. He was doing 'normal' activities. He was...he was kidding himself Jim thought abruptly. What was he going to do now? Jim still hoped the blindness was temporary; hoped the 'little while' the doctors suggested for the blindness to recede was around the corner. But the cop was a practical man in all ways.
Jim knew he would get disability pay from the police department, since the incident happened while on duty. He also knew he had some savings put away. He had been saving Blair's rent payments, when he made them, so that the overworked teaching fellow would also have a savings account. Would that be enough to live on? Would he have to depend on Blair to support him? Would Blair finish his dissertation, receive his doctorate and move on?
No, his thoughtful guide had told him this morning he would always be there for him. After all, they were brothers. Huh, Jim thought; Steven was his 'blood' brother and they had only recently begun to tolerate each other? The thoughts kept drifting through Jim's mind as he continued smelling the coffee, slowly drifting into a dark zone where his mind floated, unaware of his guide, unaware of the concern in his voice.
"Jim! C'mon man. Jim! Come back to me now. Its safe to come back," Blair stated quietly while he rubbed on Jim's back. "Please, man, come back to me." The guide pleaded with the still zoned out sentinel. Blair had been trying to pull Jim from this zone for over ten minutes. Usually he could just rub the big man's arm, speak a few words and Jim would shake his head as he came out of the zone.
Blair fought back his rising concern. Jim had not zoned in over two years; why had he started now and why at such a deep level that the guide could not reach him? What sense could the tall detective have zoned out on... Jim was making the coffee before the zone...the COFFEE! Of course, the police observer thought, it is the smell of the fresh coffee that started it, but then something the sentinel was doing or thinking about at the time, drew him in further. The guide determined that Jim delved into himself while using the zone to start it off.
Okay, Blair thought, two can play this game, detective. The excited student looked around the kitchen for the ammunition to bring his sentinel back from the danger of a long zone out. Talking while rubbing the large man's back had not worked so Blair knew he had to engage another sense. The quick thinking observer opened and reached in the refrigerator for a yellow lemon-shaped, plastic squeeze container. He removed it and twisted off the lid, heedless of where it rolled. The flannel clad guide dabbed a little of the tart juice on his baby finger, then gently touched between the lips of the totally still sentinel.
"C'mon man," Blair said as he again rubbed the motionless man's back. If this doesn't work, I might have to call for help, the despairing guide thought reluctantly. God knows what the doctors at a hospital would think of this condition. Blair squeezed a couple of more drops on his finger and again placed it between the lips of his best friend. "Jim, buddy, come back to me. Whatever has you in its grip, let go." The guide felt his control snap. "Come back to me, please. Don't leave me! You're the only constant in my life! I need you, man!"
Blair was shocked to find himself begging. "If you stay like this, oh man, if you stay like this, they'll take you away from me!" Blair pleaded. The sentinel stood still, on his vacant watch, as the guide stumbled over to the phone on the wall and began to dial for the ambulance. This would be the vehicle that would take his sentinel, his best friend and constant companion away from him.
Part 3
As Blair reached for the phone on the wall, the worried guide decided he would call Simon first. No one at the hospital would be able to help his sentinel, Blair thought. With the police captain also trying to help, maybe together they could bring the sentinel back from his zone. The police observer hit the button for speed dial direct to Simon's office. Just like Jim, Simon practically lived at Major Crimes. Blair could hear the ringing in the receiver, followed by a click and then, "Banks."
"Simon," Blair said, relieved that Simon really was in his office.
"Sandburg! How's it going? Haven't heard... "
The guide interrupted the police captain's questions. "Simon, I need you to come to the loft, now! Jim zoned and I can't seem to get him out of it. I'm hoping that between the two of us? Oh God, if he stays this way too long, Simon, you know, man, too long and he could stop breathing. Simon? Simon, you there man?" the teaching fellow asked breathlessly.
"Yeah, Blair, I'm here. Hang in there, kid. I'm on my way. Don't worry about Jim. He's too stubborn to just stop, well, stop anything, including breathing. Ok. Take a deep breath, and hang in there. Should be there in about 8 minutes."
With that the captain of the Major Crimes department hung up his phone, grabbed his coat off the rack in his office and launched out of his office, yelling to Taggert to hold down the fort' while he was gone. He would call the office as soon as he could to let them know what was happening. With that, he was out the door and into the hallway. By some stroke of luck, an elevator was just letting people out and showing the down arrow. Simon jumped in the elevator and hit the button for the parking garage level. He tapped his foot impatiently as the doors slowly closed.
Once alone, he shut his eyes, tilted his head upward and gave a short prayer to whoever watched over sentinels and guides. The large police captain had tried to display his positive confidence to the worried observer. However, since the incident, he noticed that Jim was quick to become depressed. He hoped, well, he hoped Jim would come out of this zone.
Blair hung up the phone and looked back at his sentinel, his best friend. Jim had not moved and the time was not ticking in their favor. The young guide quickly scooted over to the loft?s door and unlocked it, in preparation for Simon's arrival. Blair then dashed over to the stereo set. He found a Santana CD, and in one fluid motion placed it in the player while almost simultaneously hitting the play button. Santana's rhythms bounced off the walls of the loft, but these sudden sounds did not affect the still man in the kitchen.
Okay, thought Blair. If I'm right, and he zoned on the coffee aroma...I remove the source!! "I am SO stupid," the curly-headed guide said out loud while vigorously shaking his head. He reached around his sentinel, picked up the pot by its' handle, dumped all the coffee into the sink and watched as it was swallowed by the drain. Jim still stood motionless.
Blair started over with his efforts to stir his sentinel to awareness. Now this will work, the re-energized observer assured himself. He had removed the cause of the zone out; now all he had to do was convince his sentinel to open himself up. Rubbing Jim's back again, the teaching fellow quietly repeated, "Come back to me, sentinel. Come back to your guide, your partner."
In the back of his mind, Jim could hear music. There was also a tart taste on his lips. He could feel a hand rubbing on his back, along with softly spoken words from his guide. Jim could detect his companion's elevated heart rate and smelled, fear? What was scaring his friend? The partially zoned sentinel could not remember how he entered this fog-like state, but he knew he had to get back to his guide, his constant support.
Jim tried to tell Blair that he was here, that he could hear his words, but nothing worked. The tall detective's voice would not function, arms would not move, legs were stiff and unbending. My eyes, thought the sentinel, are open, yet I cannot see. It was then the wounded man remembered that his vision had been damaged. * I am, oh God, no, I am blind.* The memory came crashing back.
The sentinel had been worried Blair would leave him after the dissertation was finished. Jim did not want to be alone anymore. Blair completed his life. That very bouncy, excitable, occasionally frustrating guide was the best thing in this messed up existence he called a life. He needed to tell Blair, he needed to tell Blair?
"...-air," was the first sound the guide had heard from his sentinel in the last half hour. The word was so soft, he almost missed it. But that sound encouraged the newly confident friend to start rubbing gently with his palms on either side of the still man's arm.
"Jim, Jim," Blair whispered into his best friend's ear. "I'm here, Jim, I'm here. C'mon man, come back to me. I need you buddy."
"B-air," Jim quietly breathed out again. Blair touched the sentinel's face with his hands now, slowly moving the detective's head while rotating his palms softly against the cool cheeks of his awakening friend.
Suddenly the door of the loft flew open followed by Simon, with his coat billowing behind him. "Sandburg!" he shouted, and then turned his head to watch the scene in front of him.
Blair was slightly bothered by Simon's gruff entrance, but turned all his attentions back to his partner. Simon simply stood his ground to watch the interaction between these two close friends slowly play out.
The guide continued to touch the tall detective's cheeks until Jim started to move his head slowly back and forth, as if trying to shake water out of his hair. Blair removed his palms from Jim's face, and put one hand on the back of his sentinel again.
"Jim," Blair uttered sentinel soft. "Say something else buddy. Let me hear you again."
"S...nbur, thirsty."
Blair immediately grabbed a glass from the cupboard behind him, put some water in it and put the glass to Jim's lips. Slowly, the now aware sentinel reached up with his own hands to help hold the glass. The supportive guide continued to help, but Jim did most of the work and was able to drink the water until the glass was empty.
"Jim, man, you feeling better now? You want to sit down?"
"Blair," Jim started, then cleared his throat. "Blair, I'I can't see you," the sentinel admitted.
"Oh, man, I know, I know," Blair said almost inaudibly.
"Jim," Simon spoke up. "Jim, it's okay. Remember what happened?"
At that question, Blair turned sharply to look at Simon. The usually friendly eyes of the teaching fellow bored straight through the police captain; Simon started to wrap his coat back around himself, suddenly feeling very cold. The observer clamped his eyes closed, tilted his head downward, drew his lips taught and shook his head deliberately at him. Simon realized at that moment, he had overstepped some invisible line.
The captain knew Jim was coming out of a zone out, knew his friend was a little confused. It had happened in the past. Simon had always answered any question the detective asked while trying to reestablish his situation. The police captain was just doing standard operating procedure. Still, from the look, no, the protective glare, Blair had given him, he recognized his curt reminder as to how Jim lost his vision was more information than the sentinel could handle at that moment.
Blair turned his attention back to the reawakening sentinel. "Jim," the restrained guide said as he rested his palms on each of the sentinel's shoulders. "You lost your vision a couple of months ago. You are recovering from a deep zone out. Let's go to the couch, so you can relax."
Blair walked with his best friend until they were at the couch. Jim could feel the seat of the couch at the back of his knees and began to sit down slowly. The curly-headed student stayed close by to watch as his partner settled into the couch. Jim slowly allowed his head to lie on the back cushion. The sentinel took a deep breath, held it, and then released, just as he and Blair had done on numerous other occasions.
"Chief," Jim said to Blair, knowing he was standing next to the couch. "Last thing I remember was we were making breakfast, right? What caused the zone'"
"Coffee, man. It was the potent smell of the coffee," the guide responded calmly. "I think you were, well, don't know for sure, thinking pretty hard about something, then you were just - gone."
Jim purposefully did not recount what he remembered before the zone out. The police detective couldn't tell his young, but tolerant, companion that he was afraid of a sightless future; that he was afraid that Blair would leave, or worse, stay out of pity. If the sentinel remained blind *God, he hated that word!* he was worried that his guide would give up his own future to stay with a useless, blind man. Jim did not want to 'live off' the pity of his best friend. He wanted Blair to have a full life; a life that wasn't restricted to the habitual needs of a blind man.
In that light the sentinel was afraid for himself but at the same time afraid for his guide. The detective feared that the dreams Blair had held since childhood would be destroyed if he stayed with Jim. He wanted Blair to continue on with his studies and achieve his goal. Once the doctorate was completed, Blair would be free to move on, away from the dead weight of the impaired detective. Only, thought the sentinel, how do I live without part of my soul?
Part 4
Blair fixed his eyes on his best friend: the tall, quiet man was deep in thought. Based on their shared history together, the grad student knew his sentinel was once again burying any real emotion in order to protect him. Jim's 'blessed protector' mode was in full swing, but Blair's experience in this partnership gave him reason to believe, at least this time, he was not the one in need of protection. His eyes focused on the reclining detective.
Time to take the bull, or bull-headed in this case, by the horns and go on the offensive. "Jim, man, whatever you're contemplating, forget it; I know you too well. It's time we stop this waiting game. We've played by the doctor's rules long enough. What do you say we go back to the hospital today and meet with a specialist?"
"Blair, do you really think it will make a difference?" the weary detective asked. "Dr. McKimble said it would take?"
"...Jim," Blair interrupted, "we've waited long enough. He missed something. I don't know what, but he did. That doctor really expected your vision to return, yet, here we are, no further than we were before." Blair said with his trademark bounce in his body and voice. "C'mon man, we need to become more aggressive. Anything worth having is worth the effort. Your vision is so worth it: what do you say?"
"I don't want to be...um, well, I don't want to be built up again only to be let down. I'm not sure I have it in me, Blair," the detective admitted quietly.
Blair was about to speak when Simon stepped out of the shadow of the kitchen and joined in the conversation. "Jim, listen to the kid! He's right and you know it." As Simon continued, Blair closed his eyes in meditation. "At least the Jim Ellison I used to know would agree. It is time to go to the next level to seek help. Get a move on, Jim. What's the worst that could happen?" the police captain challenged.
Blair reflected on Simon's challenge, hoping his best friend would take action. He could feel himself sinking into a warm space in his mind. He could see Jim in this space, his blue, seeing eyes fixed on his guide. Wordlessly, they stared at each other, knowing each other's thoughts. Sentinel and guide, two beings, together but separate, sensed each other, breathed in unison.
Jim closed his eyes, not that it made a difference. What was the worst thing that could happen? It already did happen. His livelihood, his purpose, his very senses were now working at four-fifths quality at best.
However, the sentinel's mind continued, if another doctor looks at his eyes and determines this is as good as his sight will be, what harm would there be in that? On the other hand if a doctor found a reason for the blindness that could be treated effectively, then?.
"Let's go!" the sentinel announced while standing up from the couch.
"That's the attitude, man. Yeah, let's go!" Blair said while reaching for his partner's elbow. He guided his friend to the door of the loft. The folded cane the detective used when he left the loft was on the table by the door. The energized guide picked the cane up, putting it into his friend's left hand. Jim continued to hold onto the left elbow of his constant companion, as the bouncing teaching fellow opened the door to the loft and lead his friend out to their unmapped future.
Simon decided to let the two men go to the hospital without him. He knew from past experience that those two would be focused on each other; each trying to be whatever the other needed. The police captain never met two such men before, yet he had witnessed many close detective pairings. None matched the level of dedication these men demonstrated toward each other. This was more than friendship or respect; it was symbiotic.
He watched Blair 'guide' his friend into the detective's truck. Once they were both settled in the vehicle, the flannel clad student pulled out into the street and headed off to Cascade General. Simon smiled thinking of the poor staff that was about to encounter a determined guide in his own 'blessed protector' mode. Yup, beware of the Sandburg zone. Many have entered, but few have returned in the same mental state they started in!
**********************
Blair parked the truck close the hospital entrance. Feeling certain already, his voice reflected his new self-assurance to his partner. "This is going to work, Jim. Just you see, it's going to work," the guide said as they both exited the truck. The bouncing grad student put his left elbow by his friend's right hand and immediately the detective latched onto his guide. They entered the hospital and walked up to the information desk.
"We are here to see the chief ophthalmologist," Blair said confidently.
"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist droned without looking up from her papers.
"No, but ..." the guide started to say before the receptionist recited.
"I'm sorry, but without an appointment, you will be unable to meet with Dr. Beeking. His schedule is so full..." she continued to bombinate. Her squeaking voice caused the sentinel to cringe as she spoke.
"No, you hang on," Blair demanded. "This man," his voice softened as he gazed at his sightless friend, "was told to wait for his vision to return almost two months ago. Something should have happened by now. I've done enough research about Jim's original diagnosis. I know there should be some kind of change by now. Yet, my partner hasn't seen any kind of improvement. So, no, we will see Dr. Beeking today!"
"He will look at Detective Ellison and ...and..." Blair had tears in his eyes as his confidence began to melt. He wanted to say that Dr. Beeking would look at his friend and immediately determine the problem. He wanted Dr. Beeking to cure his soul mate so very much. He wanted... Warmth.
He felt warmth filtering through the soft, flannel fibers of his shirt. His sentinel's palm was gently drawing circles on his back. This gentle touch allowed the guide to focus within himself. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out. The grad student could smell the after-shave his partner had applied this morning. He could almost taste the tension in the air. Still, as the detective continued his calming touches, the tension began to dissipate. Jim's presence guided him to find his own center; to draw upon the calm that was buried under the strain of the last two months. Filtering out everything but his sentinel's deliberate breaths matching his own, the guide was able to return to the situation with more focus.
Blair could see the receptionist finally looking directly at his puffy eyes. "Sir. I, ah, I'll work your friend into the doctor's schedule. I can't promise what time that will be so you may want to take a seat and relax." She looked at the tall, quiet man behind the younger one she had just addressed. "If either of you want coffee or tea," she paused, looking again at Blair, "there's some machines at the end of the hall." At that, she returned her attention to the computer screen.
The sentinel's hand softly pushed on his guide's back until the silent message to the rest of his body was received. It was time to move, to find a seat to await the appointment with Dr. Beeking.
Waiting in the hospital, as both sentinel and guide had done for each other before, was never easy. Waiting let the mind wander to places sometimes better buried and forgotten where bad dreams belonged. Waiting in this particular hospital awoke those dreams -no, nightmares- of the not so distant past. A past that revolved around one instantaneous, life-changing event.