SquidgeWorld Archive

A Day at The Range

Dar Hutson Scally

(December 14,1999)

Blair Sandburg took a sip of his mint tea as he popped his bagel out of the toaster, placing it on the plate in front of him. He grimaced at the thought of eating it, but he knew he needed to force something into his stomach to help settle his nerves. The thought of what he had to do today sent a momentary wave of dizziness through him.

Eight weeks in the Police Academy had done nothing to prepare him for this day, this

test of all tests. He had found everything at the Academy to be relatively easy. He already knew most of the laws and procedures. He knew how to write an effective report, how to testify in court, how to interrogate a suspect. All of these things he had basically learned "on the job" over the last four years working with his Sentinel. In fact, the Academy instructors had suggested he didn't really need to do the full course. He could take tests to demonstrate his knowledge. They would let him know when to show up for the firearms training.

But he hadn't wanted to be set apart. He wanted to show all of the others that he could pass the Academy just like everyone else. And to do that, he had to actually attend.

And when it came to firearms training he had worked harder than he had ever worked on anything in his life. This was the part of police work that he found to be the most difficult. He didn't care how good of a shot he ever got to be. He still didn't really think he'd ever be able to shoot anyone.

He hoped that if he practiced and got to the point that he could actually hit what he was aiming for, maybe he would be able to make those "shoot the weapon out of their hands" shots like Jim was always doing. That had always amazed him. Of course, he wasn't alone. Those kinds of shots amazed everyone. The instructors at the Academy had been very clear about that.

It's not about pinpoint accuracy, they had said. It's about aiming for the chest and hoping that you at least hit somewhere on the body and incapacitate the threat. Heroic shots like you see on tv don't happen in real life. Don't even try it, they had said. You would only end up dead. While you're trying to get off the perfect shot, the bad guy is blasting away at you. He doesn't care about any perfect shot. He just wants to kill you. And if you're too preoccupied with trying 'not' to kill him, you'll be dead before you get a chance to re-think your decision.

Anyway, today was Blair Sandburg's day to "qualify" with his service weapon. This was the final week of the Police Academy. Then it would be off to field training, where everyone would be assigned to a patrol car with an experienced veteran "field training" officer. After two weeks of field training, each new police officer would receive their permanent duty assignment. Of course, his was already pre-determined. At least he wasn't the only one in his Academy class to be going directly into detectives. There were two others, one a former Military MP and one a former Sheriff from a small town in North Carolina. Both of them would be going directly to the Fraud Division as Detectives, just as Blair was going directly to a coveted spot in Major Crimes.

Blair took a bite of the bagel and chewed slowly. Maybe a bagel wasn't the best choice. It gummed up into a ball in his mouth and he swallowed it, washing it down with his now cooling tea. Looking at his watch, he realized that would have to do. He was out of time. It wouldn't do to be late for his time slot at the firing range.

He tossed the bagel in the trash and dumped the tea in the sink. Then, putting on his jacket and taking a deep breath, he walked out the door.

Jim Ellison glanced at the time on his computer. Ten a.m. Blair should be getting ready to shoot right about now. He sent up a little prayer that his soon to be official partner would pass the tests. He knew he would do fine on the indoor target range, and probably the outdoor range as well. The problem for Blair would be with the real scenarios range. This was where an officer had to walk through a mock city street and be ready to shoot at the appropriate targets as they popped out at him. It required split second decisions and it required shooting some very real looking dummy people. It was actually fairly simple. The ones who were pointing a gun at you, you shot. The ones who held up their hands or a cell phone or a radio, or any other innocuous items, you didn't.

Most officers erred on the side of shooting unarmed civilians. There was a tendency to get caught up in firing and shoot at everything that moved. Jim wasn't worried at all that Blair would do that. He was more worried that Blair would hold back on shooting and miss the bad guy dummies.

Jim looked at the empty desk next to his and longed for it to be occupied by Detective Blair Sandburg. He smiled when he thought about the gold plated name plaque they had all chipped in on. It was currently stored in Simon's desk, waiting for Blair's first official day at work in Major Crimes. That would be a day for celebration.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief. Two down. He couldn't believe he had scored 100 on both the indoor and outdoor range. Maybe all that practice really did make a difference. He had thought his hands would have been shaking so badly that he wouldn't have been able to come anywhere near the target, but when it came time to actually shoot he was able to pretend he was just practicing again and that nobody cared how he scored. He had faced worse pressure than this in his life. He wasn't going to let a simple test of shooting skill fluster him.

Now came the most difficult part, at least for him. He walked over to wait for his turn at the city street simulation. This was, for him, the nightmare of all tests. He would have to walk down this block long street, ready to shoot, ready to determine in split-seconds which movements around him were peaceful civilians and which were weapon carrying threats. They had each tried this course during training at least a couple of times. Each time he had done it, he had failed to shoot when he should have shot. If it had been real life, he would either have been shot himself or let an innocent hostage get killed because of his hesitation to shoot.

He was determined that today would be different. He was going to psyche himself up to feel like this was a real situation. He was sure that if it felt real enough to him, he'd be able to react the right way.

"Hey, Sandburg. How's it going?" Bruce Wilkins walked up to get in line behind him. "I heard you scored 100 on the range."

Blair turned and nodded. "Yeah, must have been a fluke."

"No way. I've seen you practicing everyday." Bruce said. "You've gotten to be a good shot."

Blair managed a weak smile. "Maybe so, but that's not going to help me here."

Bruce smiled. He knew this had been the hardest thing for Blair to handle. "Hey, you'll do fine. After shooting so well on the indoor and the outdoor, you only have to score 50 on this to pass."

Blair shook his head. "That might be all they'll require, but if I only score 50 on this, I'll do it over until I get it right."

They stood in line, Blair bouncing on his heels, for another half an hour before it was finally Blair's turn.

"Sandburg, you're up next."

Blair stepped up to the starting line and checked his gun, making sure he was loaded and ready. Then he checked to make sure he had a clip ready to reload in his pocket. You had to be ready on this simulation. Sometimes they set it up so that you had to reload before you were done, sometimes not. Each time you went through the course it was different. They had all of the scenarios numbered and kept track of which ones you had already faced. So, they made sure each officer got a new scenario each time they did the course.

Blair nodded to show he was ready and pulled his gun out, holding it with both hands down low in front of him. The bell rang and he stepped onto the street.

Everything else disappeared for him. He was alone on a city street. It was daylight. He was supposed to be looking for three escaped bank robbers who had just fled the scene of the robbery. They could be anywhere.

He walked carefully along the street, briefly wishing he had sentinel sight or hearing. He could feel the sweat building on his face and wished he could take a moment to wipe his sleeve across it, but he couldn't take a chance that something would happen during that moment. There were normal street noises playing in the background, sounds of traffic and people talking, kids playing. It was strange to hear that, when there was no visual evidence to go with it. No cars on the street and so far, no people.

Suddenly there was movement off to his right and he pulled his gun up, ready to make a shot if necessary. Then a child jumped out from behind a crate and he dropped his gun back and kept walking. Next, a dark figure popped out at him from an alley and within a moment he could see the gun rising in the hands of a masked man. Before the gun could be aimed at him, he called off his warning. "Police, freeze!"

The gun continued to rise toward him. He shot and the bad guy dummy dropped.

He kept walking, feeling a little more confidant now. Next, a woman came out at him, holding up a dark object. He pulled his gun up to a ready position, then dropped it back down as he distinguished the object in her hands to be a large cell phone. He walked on.

There was a car parked on the side of the road. He remembered last time he had walked down this way , there had been a bad guy dummy behind this car. It had jumped out and shot him and he hadn't reacted fast enough. This time, he wasn't going to miss it. As he approached the car, a basketball rolled out into the street from behind the car. He kept his gun at the ready and stepped a little closer, waiting to see if a child followed the ball or someone more sinister.

It was a woman, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, carrying a backpack. He looked at her carefully and was about to drop his gun from the firing position when he saw her arms rise. He was able to shoot fast enough to stop her from blowing his head off with the AK47 she had in her hands.

Blair continued down the street. He was almost done, and none too soon. He was starting to feel shaky, probably from all the stress and not having eaten a decent breakfast. His stomach was churning away. He hoped once this was over with, he could go meet Jim for a nice lunch. Hopefully, a celebratory lunch.

Simulated rain was an interesting surprise. He didn't know they had that. But suddenly this end of the street got dark and rain started falling. Lights started coming on in the building windows and streetlights came on. He hadn't done this in the dark before.

Before he had a chance to wonder if the dark would make any difference, he caught movement coming at him from both sides of the street at the same time. He held his gun ready and crouched to make himself a lesser target, swinging from one side to the other.

The first one to appear was an elderly man with a cane hobbling out from the right. Then, to the left, another man came out, this one pulling a gun up, aiming at the man with the cane. Blair could see that he was about to fire and for a moment he forgot where he was. He just knew he had to protect the old man. He took a shot at the man with the gun and the plastic gun went flying out of the dummy's hands.

Simon walked by Jim's desk, glancing down as he walked. Expecting to see a report being worked on, he stopped short. Jim was sitting there, staring into space while his hand scribbled on a blank sheet of paper. It had obviously started out as a doodle, but was now just a black blob where Jim's pencil had repeatedly scratched at the same spot.

"Jim." Simon called, gently.

No response. Simon stepped beside him behind the desk and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Jim." He called, gently shaking him.

Jim shook, startled out of his thoughts, and looked over at Simon, then around him, as if suddenly realizing where he was.

"Sorry, sir. I guess I just had my mind on something." Jim said.

Simon smiled, remembering what was going on today. "Haven't heard from Sandburg yet?"

"No. He should be just about done by now." Jim said. "I'm taking him out to lunch. Would you like to join us?"

"That sounds good." Simon answered. "Only if he passes, though. I don't think I want to be around a depressed Sandburg today."

Jim smiled. "He'll pass."

Blair walked off the course, putting his gun in its holster on the back of his belt. He walked over to the scoreboard to check his score. He was sure he had passed. He just wanted to see his score.

It would show his total score for his tests today. You had to get a total score of 78 to pass. He looked on the computer screen at the listing, finding his name and followed it across for his scores. 100 on the first test, 100 on the second test, and 100 on the last test. His total score was 100. Nobody got 100 for their total score. For one part or another, yeah, but not for the total. How could this have happened. He was amazed.

"I can't believe I got a hundred." He stammered.

Suddenly, he realized he was feeling a bit light headed and queasy, so he decided maybe he'd better go sit down for a few minutes. He turned to walk over toward the benches, but the world was getting fuzzy on him and dark around the edges. He heard someone calling his name and turned to look at them, but before he could see who it was he felt himself being sucked into a black hole. He didn't even feel the ground hitting him.

Jim grabbed the phone on the first ring, expecting it to be Sandburg calling him to let him know how he scored on the test. He didn't expect to hear the voice of Sgt. Lindeman from the police firing range.

"Ellison, this is Joe Lindeman from the range. Listen, Blair Sandburg has you listed at the top of his notification list."

"What happened?" Jim blurted out anxiously. "Is he all right?"

"Well, he just passed out on us about 20 minutes ago. The medic unit is enroute to Cascade General with him right now." Lindeman said.

"Did anything happen? Why did he pass out?" Jim demanded.

"Nothing happened. He was fine and then he passed out. We don't know why. He was looking really pale there." Lindeman explained. "One of the other rookies, Bruce Wilkins, went along to the hospital with him."

"Okay, thanks for the call." Jim said, standing up, as he hung up the phone.

Simon had glanced up when he heard Jim's phone ring and had been waiting for him to get off the phone. Seeing him hang up, Simon got up from his desk and walked out of his office.

"Well, Jim, how did he do?"

Jim grabbed his jacket off the rack behind his desk and started putting it on. "I don't know. I don't even know if he finished. That was Sgt. Lindeman on the phone. Sandburg passed out and is on the way to the hospital."

"Passed out!" Simon repeated. "Hold up, Jim. I'm coming with you." He said, heading to his office to grab his jacket.

The emergency room was rather busy for midday on a Wednesday. The waiting room was packed with people waiting to be seen and others waiting to see how their family members or friends were doing. Jim walked through the room, hardly noticing anything. His hearing was already tuned into trying to find his partner. Over the years, he had become really adept at picking Blair out of a crowd. It wasn't just his heartbeat. It was even the sounds of his breathing and movements and the smell of his herbal tea on his breath.

Jim followed his senses into the emergency room. Simon followed Jim. They walked to a curtained off area, where a young, muscular black man jeans and a gray t-shirt stood nervously. As they walked up, he looked at them and stepped toward them.

"Detective Ellison?" He asked. Jim nodded.

"I'm Bruce Wilkins. I was at the range with Blair when he passed out."

Jim motioned to Simon. "Captain Banks." Simon and Bruce exchanged greetings.

"What happened?" Simon asked.

PART 2

Jim pulled the curtain back a few inches and peeked inside. There was a doctor on one side of the bed and a nurse on the other. Sandburg appeared to be conscious now, but he was lying there very quietly and looking very pale.

Jim turned back just in time to hear Bruce Wilkins account of the moment Blair had passed out.

"He had just looked at the score totals and said he couldn't believe he got a hundred and then he passed out. I tried to catch him but I wasn't close enough, but luckily he didn't hit anything when he fell."

"Wait a minute." Simon exclaimed. "Are you telling me that Sandburg shot a total score of one hundred?"

Bruce smiled. "Yeah, amazing, huh?"

Jim chuckled inwardly, wondering if anyone in the history of the Cascade Police Firing Range had ever before shot a perfect score. He had always come close but never done it himself. Leave it to Sandburg to accomplish the impossible. He wondered if that could be all there was to this passing out thing. The kid had a right to be in shock if he got a perfect score. And he probably hadn't eaten this morning, again. He allowed himself to relax a little. It was probably a combination of low blood sugar and the sudden relief of several days worth of stress worrying over this test.

Just as Jim was talking himself down from crisis mode, the doctor and nurse pulled the curtain back and came out.

Jim glanced at Blair. He was lying on his side, barely awake. He had an IV going and was hooked up to a heart monitor. Not standard procedure for a case of low blood sugar. The worry meter shot up again.

"Doctor, How is he?" Jim asked.

"Are you a relative?" The doctor asked.

Dual, conflicting answers came from different voices. At the same time Jim was saying, "No." Blair was saying, "Yes."

They all turned their attention to Blair, stepping closer to the bed. He looked at Jim and smiled a weak little smile, then turned to the doctor.

"He's the closest thing to a brother I'll ever have." Blair said, forcefully. "Just pretend he really is my brother, okay?"

The doctor nodded. "Okay. Mr. Sandburg's blood count is far too low which led us to believe he's bleeding internally somewhere. We've just verified that. I suspect a bleeding ulcer, but I can't be sure until we have further tests done. I have a call in to a gastroenterologist. We're going to get an endoscopy done. That should tell us something."

"Why so sudden?" Jim asked. "If it's an ulcer, shouldn't he have been having pain for awhile before it got bad enough to bleed?"

"Sometimes they sneak up on people. Some people have symptoms but they aren't severe enough to cause them concern. We really don't know anything for sure yet, so let's just wait and see what the test shows."

"Okay. Thanks." Jim said.

The doctor started away. "I'll let you know when the specialist arrives. Then you'll all need to step out to the waiting room for about a half hour while the test is done. In any case, I can pretty much guarantee we'll be admitting him, so you can stop in at the admissions office and take care of some paperwork while he's occupied with the test, if you'd like."

Jim nodded and turned back to look at Blair. He blended in well with the white sheets, he was so pale.

"Blair, I'm going to go now that you've got your "blessed protector" with you." Bruce said, smiling at Blair.

"Thanks, man." Blair said. "Sorry I interrupted your shooting."

"Hey, no problem. What's another day of anxious anticipation?" Bruce smiled and waved as he turned away and walked out.

Jim and Simon each took a side of the bed to get closer to Blair. He looked at each of them and sighed. Then a little smile lit his face.

"Hey, did you guys hear what I scored at the range today?" He asked. "Lindeman says it's a new record."

Jim smiled. "Yeah, I should know. I'm the guy who used to hold the record."

Blair laughed, then lapsed into quiet, pulling the sheet up around his shoulders.

"Cold?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded.

"Let me see if I can get some blankets for you." Jim said, walking away toward the nurses station.

"So, how are you doing, Sandburg?" Simon asked.

Blair glanced in the direction Jim had gone, then looked back at Simon and smiled shyly. "Simon, keep an eye on Jim for me, okay? You know, in case anything happens."

"Nothing's going to happen, Blair. You're going to be fine." Simon insisted.

"I know, I know, but just in case, it would make me feel better if I know you're taking care of Jim." Blair broke out in a wide grin suddenly. "You know, he is kind of high maintenance sometimes."

Simon smiled. "Sure kid, don't worry. I've got it covered."

Simon took a really close look at him. He thought maybe his color had gotten a little better since they had first come in. Maybe the IV was helping some.

Jim walked over with a blanket and carefully spread it over Blair, helping it pull it up to his neck and tuck it around him on the sides.

"I think I'll go call in and let everybody know what's going on." Simon said, stepping away. He turned back and looked at Sandburg. "Don't worry, kid." He said. "You'll be okay."

Blair smiled and nodded.

Jim stood quietly for a few minutes. Then he reached down and pushed Blair's hair back for him.

Blair smiled sleepily at him. "I'd like to just go to sleep."

"I don't think so." Jim said. "Just not yet, okay? They'll be coming to do that test on you soon. After that, they'll probably put you in a room, and then you can go to sleep. Can you wait that long?"

Blair nodded, looking at his friend's worried expression. He pulled his hand out from under the blanket and reached for Jim's hand.

"Blair." Jim began. "Have you been having stomach pain for awhile?"

Blair looked away. "Well, not really. I mean, just a little, and some nausea, but nothing that would make me think it was an ulcer or anything."

"Have you been feeling stressed?" Jim asked, hoping he wasn't responsible for causing Blair to get an ulcer. He knew the last few months had been extremely stressful, but he had felt like Blair was really enjoying the new twist in his life. At least, he hoped it hadn't all been an act, to make him feel better about how things had turned out. He had realized finally that Blair had always put him first and it bothered him. He didn't want Blair to sacrifice his happiness for him.

"Jim! Jim!" Blair called out to him.

Jim came back to awareness, looking back to Blair.

"Don't DO that!" Blair said. "I thought you had zoned, and man I've got to tell you, right now I don't have the energy to deal with that."

"Sorry, buddy. I was just thinking." Jim said, guiltily. "You didn't answer my question."

"Jim, I don't feel stressed. I did when all the publicity was going on. I mean, being hounded by reporters is pretty stressful. But since they've laid off and I've been doing the Academy thing, I've been pretty happy. I am where I want to be. I've enjoyed the Academy and I really want to work as your official partner. I'm going to be a good detective, one you can be proud of, maybe even one my mom can be proud of. You've got to believe me here, Jim. This isn't your fault or anybody else's. You know stomach ulcers can be caused by a virus."

Jim nodded. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure. I know I haven't always been the most reliable "Blessed Protector" at times in the past. But that's over with. Like you said to the doctor, I am the closest thing to a brother you have and as far as I'm concerned, you are my brother, my little brother, so that means I'm in charge of looking out for you." He smiled as Blair's hand tightened on his own.

The doctor stepped over with another doctor. "This is Dr. Whiteside. He'll do the endoscopy."

"Hi." Dr. Whiteside said, stepping closer to the bed. He looked over at Jim. "If you'll just wait in the waiting room, we'll just be about a half hour. I can tell you something as soon as the test is done."

Jim nodded, then looking at Blair, said, "I'll be back soon."

Blair nodded.

Jim glanced back as he walked out. The doctor had pulled the curtain around Blair's bed.

Simon and Jim waited just outside the emergency room doors. Jim paced nervously. It had been 45 minutes already. They had said a half hour. Why was it taking so long.

"I can't believe this, Simon." Jim groaned. "As soon as everything seems like it's going fine, this has to happen. Why does everything always seem to happen with Blair? It's as if there's some cosmic writer sitting there thinking up bad things to throw at him. I wonder if he's ever gone a whole year without a trip to the hospital. Or worse, maybe it's only since he's been hanging around with me."

"Jim, you know this isn't because of you. This has nothing to do with you." Simon argued. "I think you're not happy if you can't find a reason to feel guilty."

"So, I feel guilty and I'm still not happy." Jim said. "I'll feel a lot better when the doctor gets done with this test. I can't stand the waiting."

Just then, an ER nurse pushed the door open, almost banging into Jim as he paced by. "Mr. Ellison?"

"yes ?"

"You can go back now." She said.

Dr. Whiteside was waiting by the foot of the bed. Blair was lying quietly, looking half asleep.

"He'll be out of it for awhile." The doctor said, handing Jim a picture. "This is the inside of Blair's stomach." He said. He pointed to a dark bubbly looking spot near the top. "This is a fairly decent sized bleeding ulcer. I injected it with a drug to try to curtail the bleeding. It appears to be working, but we won't know for sure for a few more hours. We're going to move him to a room in the Critical Care unit."

Seeing the fear in both men's faces, the doctor jumped in. "Don't let that scare you. That's where he can get the attention he needs. I think he's going to be fine. Probably be home in a couple of days. We just have to make sure the bleeding stops and get him started on some medication to keep it from starting again and keep the acid out of his stomach so it can heal."

"So, what caused this?" Jim asked. "Was it stress?"

The doctor smiled. "We can't really pinpoint a cause. Sometimes it's caused by a virus, sometimes over use of aspirin or other medications. There's even some indication that drinking too much coffee or tea can start an ulcer. As for stress, undue stress can always contribute to poor health, but we have no indication that it's the case here."

"They'll be moving him to his room soon. I'll check in on him tomorrow to talk to him about the test. You hold onto that picture for him, okay?"

Jim nodded. "Thanks, doc."

A nurse stepped by Jim and Simon and efficiently took a blood sample from Blair, then left them alone. Blair barely stirred. His eyes were partway open but he was more or less asleep. Jim pulled the blanket up over him, carefully tucking him in on both sides.

He had only taken a little break to get a cup of coffee. He had been walking back to Blair's room, when he heard his partners anguished voice and heard his heartbeat speed up in fear. Jim quickened his pace and burst into the room. A doctor and a nurse were standing to one side of the room. Blair was curled up against the headboard of the bed, his head hanging forward, chin against his chest. He had the blanket pulled up around him, shivering under it.

He looked up weakly when Jim came into the room. "Chief?"

Blair seemed to be having trouble holding his head up. He leaned back against the back of the bed and looked pleadingly at Jim.

"Don't let 'em do it, Jim." He cried.

Jim walked over closer to the bed, before looking over at the doctor.

"We just told him we need to give him blood." The doctor explained. "His last blood count showed up way too low. And we don't know yet if he's stopped bleeding yet or not."

Jim looked down at Blair, shivering on the bed. He was looking very pale and weak. Why wouldn't he want a blood transfusion? It might be necessary. Couldn't he see that? He wasn't going to stand here and let him die from blood loss.

"Would you let me have a few minutes to talk with him?" Jim asked.

The doctor nodded and him and the nurse walked out, closing the door behind them.

Jim sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Blair over into his arms. Blair cuddled in against his chest, curling his hand around the pocket of Jim's shirt.

"Hey, buddy. Talk to me here. What's the problem with getting some blood?" Jim asked. "If you could see yourself, you'd know you need it."

"It's just something that happened before I met you." Blair pulled away, trying to see Jim's face, but he couldn't hold his head up. Jim eased him down onto the bed, keeping his arm around him and waited.

"I had this friend. We were really close. Closer than I had ever been to anybody, until you came along."

He smiled at Jim. "Then he was in a motorcycle accident and they gave him blood. He needed it, I guess, cause he had lost a lot in the accident. Almost lost his leg. But anyway, he died a year later from Aids. He was really sick for half of that time.

I stayed with him and helped take care of him. I don't want to die that way, Jim. I don't want to go through that and I don't want to put you through that. I can't."

"No, Chief, listen to me." Jim argued. "You have to let them give you blood. I can't sit here and watch you bleed to death. They have safer blood collection methods now than they did then. You can't worry about something that has a small possibility of happening, when faced with something that IS happening right now.

God, Blair, I'm sitting here watching you fade away. I can't do this." Tears started forcing their way out of his eyes and his sniffle drew Blair's attention.

Blair looked up at his Sentinel. The tears were flowing freely down his face and Jim hadn't even moved to wipe them away. He just sat there looking down at Blair with a look of fear on his face.

Suddenly, Blair realized there was no way he could do this to Jim. He'd have to take his chances with the blood. He trusted Jim and if Jim was so sure it was necessary then he guessed maybe it was.

"Okay." He said, quietly.

"What?" Jim asked.

Blair smiled. " I said, okay. They can give me blood. I'll take my chances. I have the feeling even if I refuse, you'll just wait for me to pass out and give it to me anyway."

Jim nodded and pulled Blair in for a hug. "You were reading my mind, weren't you?"

Simon walked into Blair's room carrying two cups of coffee, knowing Jim would be there and probably need a cup by now. It was early morning, not quite 7a.m. He was on his way to the station and figured he'd stop off and see how Blair was doing this morning. He knew if he had gotten worse, Jim would have called him during the night, so he figured he must be either the same or better.

He opened the door and stepped quietly into the room, setting the coffee down on the table. Both of them were asleep, Blair curled on his side on the bed, and Jim sitting on a chair by his side, slumped over onto the bed, his head next to Blair's.

He wondered how long Jim had been sleeping like that. He was going to be stiff when he woke up. He took a careful look at Sandburg and decided he looked better. Certainly his color was better. He had looked like a ghost the day before.

PART 3

Simon took the lid off his coffee cup and started sipping his coffee. Hazelnut mocha. Coffee couldn't get any better than this, he thought, letting the warm liquid slide pleasantly across his tongue.

A tiny giggle from the bed caught his attention and he looked over to find Blair awake and watching him.

"Sandburg, what's so funny?" He asked in his gruff Captains voice.

"Hey, Simon. I was just thinking how you looked like that coffee was about the most precious thing in the world."

"At this time in the morning, it is." Simon answered, smiling. "So, how are you doing this morning?"

Blair glanced down at his Sentinel.

"Shh, He's had a rough night." Blair said quietly. "I'm doing much better than yesterday. They gave me a blood transfusion during the night. I guess I needed it cause I felt better after."

"Doctor been in yet this morning?" Simon asked.

"No, not yet." Blair answered. "Hey, did I really do what I think I did yesterday? I feel like maybe I dreamed the whole day. It's kind of fuzzy."

"Tell me what you think you did and I'll let you know." Simon answered.

"Well, I remember going to the firing range and shooting a perfect score." Blair said hesitantly. "But that must have been a dream. Nobody gets a perfect score."

Simon nodded. "Is that all you remember?"

"No, I remember passing out and I remember waking up in the emergency room. I just want to know what really happened at the range."

"Well, I talked to Joe Lindeman last night after I left here. He says you shot a perfect score and you were so shocked that you passed out. He says, he almost passed out himself when he saw you had scored a hundred. Nobody has ever done that before in the three years they've been running the simulation test."

Blair looked amazed. "So, it's true." He whispered.

Simon smiled and nodded, sipping his coffee.

Jim chose that moment to stir, the smell of coffee pulling him to wake up.

"Simon." He said, lifting his head from the bed. He stretched stiffly and looked over to the extra cup of coffee on the table.

"That for me?" He asked.

Simon picked up the coffee and handed it to Jim. He pulled the lid off and drank. It was still warm.

"Thanks."

He took a good look at Blair, noticing his color had improved and he looked stronger.

"Hey guys, how about me?" Blair complained. "I'm hungry and I could really use something warm to drink."

"You can have some water. No food until the doctor says it's okay." Jim said.

"You must be feeling better if you're hungry." Simon commented.

"Yup, better enough to go home." Blair said adamantly.

"I don't know about that, Chief." Jim said. "You had me really worried last night."

Blair looked sadly at Jim. "I know. I'm sorry. I was just being silly."

"It's okay. I understand. I'm just glad you're feeling better." Jim said.

Later that morning, Jim sat on the edge of the bed talking to Blair, when Dr. Whiteside came in.

"Good news." He said right away. "Your blood count is up. The bleeding has apparently stopped. You can have something to eat as soon as you're ready."

Blair perked up. "How about now. I'm starving."

"I'll tell the nursing staff to put you on the list for lunch. They should be bringing it around in about a half hour. And as long as you don't come up with any unforeseen problems, you should be able to go home in a day or two. We'll have a couple of prescriptions for you to take for a few weeks and we'll want to do another endoscopy in about a month to see if the ulcer has gotten better. It might even be completely healed by then. I've seen it happen."

"Thanks, doc." Blair said. "Now go tell the nurses I need food, please. Or I'll have to call in a pizza delivery order."

The doctor laughed. " I'll drop in to check on you tomorrow."

"Man, Jim, I don't know what I was so worried about, anyway. Qualifying was easy." Blair said. "I still don't want to ever have to shoot anybody, but at least I know I can handle a gun."

Jim laughed. "Next year when you go to qualify, I'm coming along." Jim said. "And I'm having an EMT standing by!"

Blair laughed. "Hey, you're the one who'll need it, next time you have to qualify! From the stress you'll suffer having to try to beat my score!"

Jim grabbed Blair's hand and squeezed it gently, looking at him with a relieved smile. "Whatever you say, partner. As long as you're there."

"I will be. You can count on it."

The End