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Disclaimer: As usual, the characters belong to Pet Fly, not me. This story was not beta'ed, so read at your own risk. All errors are mine and I do not share!
Feedback: Yeah, sure youbetcha!
A.N. This story is a little 'schmaltzy', but my muse "has left the building" and I was on my own!! (Not a pretty place).
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The room was dim and cool, soothing for the soul. Sunlight filtered through the panes of the stained glass. The individual in the room did not notice the changes in the colors streaking into the area as the sun moved overhead. Time was now the enemy. Too much time had already passed. They told him the odds were against the injured man. A person without oxygen for that length of time usually did not survive. Those that did, like the man fighting for his life two floors up in this hospital could be 'damaged' in some form. These survivors could loose some level of mobility, mental skills, memories or any combination. The doctors also said he could stay in the coma for a very long time. So, the friend and roommate decided to wait for a while in the hospital chapel. He thought prayer might be like chicken soup; it may not help, but it certainly would not hurt.
He had no idea how long he sat on the hard, wooden pew. He realized the room was almost dark. The colorful reflections through the stained glass no longer brightly illustrated the small space he had occupied for a long portion of the day. He looked up as he heard the door swing into the room.
"Simon..." he spoke hesitantly.
"I've been looking all over for you. Tried calling you on your cell, but I can see now why you could not answer," the police captain grumbled. "I thought you..." he paused as he watched the eyes widen to appear like a drop of color in a vast sea of white.
"Tell me Captain. I thought I could do more good down here. He..he..didn't know I was there. I sat by that bed..." he paused as he tried to remember what day it was,"...for three days. Nothing changed. Nothing. The respirator kept pumping. The heart kept beating. Blood continued to pulse through his body, but..." he gasped, "...but he never moved. Nothing. I..."
"He's awake," Simon interrupted. "He's asking for you."
"Awake? ah...Talking?" the waiting man showed a glimmer of smile. "Asking for me?"
"Am I speaking in another language? Yes. He. Asked. For. You." The large police captain said slowly and clearly. "So, are you going to see him?"
As the smile grew on the man's face, he turned to the door, moving faster than he had in the past four days. As he pulled the door in to leave the room, he looked back at the captain. "Thanks, Simon. He's come this far. I..." His eyes started to glisten from the moisture he would not allow to fall. He turned his back to the police captain and left the rooming, running to the staircase that would take him to his best friend's room.
He pushed the door out as he exited onto the third floor. His stride more purposeful, his destination nearby, his demeanor more confident, he walked up to the ICU nurse's desk. Clearing his voice to speak, the nurse looked up, smiled. "Go ahead. He's waiting for you."
With a grin that would even make Scrooge smile. "Thanks, Laura."
He entered the dimly lit room, looked at his friend reclined on the bed. The respirator was removed, no longer hissing in the background. The heart monitor and blood pressure indicators were still attached, but the volumes were muted within the small room.
"Chief."
"Jim."
Time was no longer the enemy. Time would heal the balance of the wounds. Together, sentinel and guide, detective and observer, best friends, would face any battles necessary.
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A.N. I decided not to decide!! Either man would have waited, either would try whatever it would take to help his friend, so...who is injured and who waited? You decide, I couldn't!!