SquidgeWorld Archive

Per Chance To Dream
by Chopecdar aka Dar Hutson Scally
2-20-2000

Blair Sandburg slammed the breaks again, cursing his luck that had him driving around in this lunchtime traffic jam. He was supposed to be at the station almost an hour ago. Jim was not going to be happy with him. He had gotten tied up at the University in an interesting discussion with a group of students. They had been debating the existence of true psychic or telekinetic ability. Several of them cited several instances of people seeming to be able to bend and move things just by concentrating. One student, Andrea Dawson, suggested that all human beings were born with the potential for psychic and telekinetic abilities, but that because of our societies disbelief these abilities were usually dampened early in life and never developed. She believed that most people experienced precognitive dreams but forgot them upon waking up. Considering his experiences with Jim Ellison and Molly, the ghost, Blair felt sure that Andrea was right. He had wanted to continue the conversation, but had suddenly noticed the time and realized that even if he left right away, he would have a hard time making it on time. Jim had wanted him there by 1:00pm.

He looked at his watch as traffic stopped again. Two o'clock. Great. He was now officially an hour late. Jim was not going to be happy with him. He wondered what was backing traffic up so badly today. It was usually backed up a little during lunchtime, but not nearly this bad. Well, might as well face the music. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit the speed dial to Jim's desk.

He listened to the phone ring as he inched his car forward, only to stop again. Horns blared all around him. Drivers were getting irritated and impatient.

"Ellison." Jim's cranky voice sounded in his ear.

Blair took a deep breath. "Jim."

"Where the hell are you Sandburg?" Jim demanded. "I had to postpone that interview. You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I know, man. I'm sorry. I'm stuck in traffic on South Parkway." Blair explained.

"Oh, yeah, there's an accident at South Parkway and Deerborne." Jim said, calming down. "I just heard about it a few minutes ago."

"Yeah, well, I don't know how long it's going to take me to get there." Blair tried to look ahead to see if traffic was moving at all, but he was just at the point of going under the overpass that was the interstate so he couldnt see very far.

"I could use your eagle eyes right about now, Jim. I can't see if traffic is moving up ahead at all or not." Blair said, taking another glance in front of him.

Just then, a movement from up on the overpass caught his eye and he looked up to see what looked like a large piano falling straight toward him.

He had only a moment to scream out the name of his Blessed Protector before he saw the piano land on top of his car, crushing him inside. He didn't even have time to feel the pain that he knew must be there, before the blackness engulfed him.

Blair suddenly sat up in bed, gasping for a breath of air. His chest felt constricted and his head was pounding. He was momentarily confused, before he realized he had been dreaming. God, what a dream that was. He wondered what significance there was in dreaming that a piano dropped out of the sky and crushed you. If he had been taking piano lessons right now, he'd have taken it as a sign that he should give them up.

He sat still, trying to calm his breathing, as he glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Five A.M. Too early to get up yet, but he didn't think he'd be able to get back to sleep. He could feel the adrenaline running through his bloodstream. He felt like he had just ended a three mile run.

He threw himself back to lie on the bed and tried again to calm his breathing. He couldn't shake the feeling that something heavy was lying on his chest. He wondered if he was getting a chest cold and the congested feeling was what had caused the weird dream.

A knock on his bedroom door told him that he had awakened his Sentinel roommate.

"Sandburg, you okay?" Jim's voice called from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, Jim, you can come in." Blair called in a hoarse voice.

"Just had a bad dream." Blair explained, as Jim walked over to him, sitting on the side of the bed facing him.

His breathing still hadn't calmed down completely but he was managing to get it under control. He put a hand up to his forehead and rubbed, trying to get rid of the pounding headache, but it seemed determined to stay.

"Headache?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded. "It was the strangest dream. I was driving along and somebody dropped a piano on me."

Jim smiled. "That is pretty weird." He said, standing up. "Let me get you some ibuprofen."

Blair pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. He had finally managed to get his breathing calmed down and was feeling a little better, but he didn't think he'd be able to get back to sleep.

"Wait." Blair called. "I think I'll just get up and have some tea. I don't think I can get back to sleep right now."

"Okay." Jim answered, standing by as Blair pushed himself wearily out of bed. His head was pounding and he felt like he couldnt get a good breath. It reminded him of when he was a kid and had had asthma. He hadnt felt like that, except when he had a bad cold, since he was around twelve years old when he had seemed to pretty much outgrow his asthma problem. He hoped he wasnt getting it back. He remembered the doctor saying that kids who were prone to having asthma were more likely to continue to have problems as adults, but that some of them seemed to grow out of it and never have problems again.

Maybe that dream had just been too realistic. He pushed it out of his mind as he took a step toward the door. He felt shaky, but he was sure some nice warm tea would help.

As soon as Jim saw that Blair was moving around okay, he turned and headed out toward the kitchen. "I'll put the water on." He said.

"Jim, man, why don't you go back to bed. You don't have to stay up just cause I can't sleep."

Jim smiled. "It's okay. I don't think I can go back to sleep now either."

Blair came out of the bathroom to find his cup of tea waiting for him on the coffee table. Jim sat nearby with a cup of hot chocolate.

"Thanks Jim." Blair said as he sat down and carefully picked up the tea. He took a sip and felt the warmth slide down his throat. It felt good and he started to calm down. That dream, as unrealistic as it had been, had really shocked him. He wondered if there was some deeper meaning to it or if eating pickles right before bed really did cause strange dreams like his Aunt Mary had told him when he was a child.

"Feeling better?" Jim asked, taking a gulp of his hot chocolate.

Blair nodded. "Yeah, that was just a really weird dream. I guess that'll teach me to eat pickles right before going to sleep."

Jim laughed. "Pickles, huh?"

"Yeah, I had this Aunt Mary when I was a kid. Well, she wasn't really an aunt, but she was a friend of my mothers and we lived with her for maybe a year or so. Anyway, she had some set ideas about what was acceptable bedtime food and pickles were definitely on the no way list. She also said it was bad to eat any meats or raw vegetables at night. She said eating the wrong things at bedtime could give you nightmares or even make you sleepwalk."

"Did you?" Jim asked.

"What?"

"Sleepwalk."

"No. At least I don't think so. But there was this one night when I woke up with muddy socks on and I know they were clean when I went to bed. But it was dry outside. We hadn't had rain in at least a few days, so I never did figure out where the mud came from."

Jim finished his drink and got up, heading for the kitchen.

Blair reached over to the coffee table to sit his drink down but somehow let go of the cup a little too close to the edge. As if in slow motion, he saw the cup start to fall. His only thought was 'No, don't fall.' and suddenly he saw the cup slide back onto the table as if it had been pushed by an invisible hand.

'Whoa, what was that?' He thought to himself. 'That was just plain weird. Maybe I need to go back to bed and try to get some more sleep.'

Suddenly his headache flared back up, pounding away like little hammers were banging against the inside of his skull. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes, falling sideways to lay across the couch.

"Blair." Jim called. "Here, take this."

He opened his eyes to find Jim offering him two ibuprofen and a glass of water. He sighed and reluctantly sat up and took the pills and the water and gulped them down. He didn't like taking drugs, even non-prescription ones, but he liked to be in pain even less.

He handed the glass back to Jim, who took it and set it on the coffee table. Then he sat on the end of the couch, put a pillow on his lap, and pulled Blair over to lie down.

"Just relax. Go to sleep if you can. But just rest, don't think about anything." Jim said in a quiet soothing voice.

When Jim started gently rubbing his temples, he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

"Blair, can you hear me?" Jim's voice called out to him. He heard a moan and wondered if it had come from him. He dragged his eyes open and looking in front of him, found that something was lying over top of him. He tried to focus on it to see what it was but all he could make out was a dark shape.

"Blair?" Jim's voice again.

He turned his head to the side and squinted, seeing Jim's worried face peeking through a gap that could only be about five inches wide.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, Blair, it's me." Jim said. "How're you doing in there?"

"In here?" Blair asked in a confused voice.

"Don't worry, we'll get you out soon." Jim said. "Does anything hurt?"

Blair took a moment to absorb that question. Did anything hurt? Well, yeah, just about everything hurt. But he wouldn't tell Jim that.

He took a breath to tell Jim that his head hurt and his chest felt strange, or at least he tried to take a breath, but his lungs didn't want to cooperate and he felt like he only got a half a breath. That scared him and he felt his adrenalin flow and his heart race.

"Blair, you have to try to stay calm." Jim demanded. "Just take shallow breaths. It'll be okay. We'll have you out of there in no time."

Out of where? Blair wondered. He looked down toward his chest to see what was making him have so much trouble getting a good deep breath. What was that? It looked like piano keys. If he could bend his chin down just another inch or two he could play a song. He giggled, thinking about it and then wondered how he had ended up stuck under a piano. This had to be some kind of weird dream. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he pretended to sleep in his dream, that would make him wake up.

Blair awoke gasping for air. That constricted feeling in his chest was back. But at least the headache had eased up a little. He looked up to see Jim eyeing him worriedly. A hand across his forehead told him his friend was checking him for a fever.

"Feeling any better?" Jim asked, satisfied that there was no fever.

"Headache's better." Blair said. "Still there, but better."

Jim nodded. "Take a deep breath."

"What?" Blair asked.

"Take a deep breath." Jim demanded.

"Okay." Blair sucked air into his lungs, but couldn't get a deep breath. It made his chest feel tight. He gave it up after a couple of trys left him panting.

"I'm taking you to the clinic." Jim announced. "Go get dressed."

"I'm fine, Jim. I don't need to go to the clinic." Blair said. I used to have asthma when I was a kid. It sort of kicks back in whenever I get a cold. Its never very bad, nothing to worry about.

"Blair, there's something wrong with your lungs. You're not breathing right." Jim explained, worriedly. In all the time that Ive known you, your breathing has never sounded like this. Now, get ready. We are going to the clinic."

Blair looked at Jim's worried expression and gave in. "Okay."

Blair was quiet during the ride to the clinic. He could tell that Jim was worried and if Jim was worried then maybe he should be worried. After all, not only could the Sentinel hear if something didnt sound right with the way he was breathing, but he had also been a medic. Blair kept trying to tell himself that it was just a touch of asthma kicking in but thoughts of what else it could be kept terrorizing his mind. He just kept telling himself he couldn't have cancer in his lungs since he had never smoked and never even allowed himself to be near someone who was smoking. But, now he was really starting to worry and the anxious feeling that was overtaking him seemed to be making him feel even more short of breath. He glanced over toward Jim to see if he had noticed.

Jims jaw was clenched and the expression of worry was plain to see. Blair looked away, staring out his window, trying to calm his growing fear. They were almost at the clinic, just another couple of blocks to go. A kid on a bicycle was racing down the hill on Granite Rd. Suddenly, Blair realized that the kid was scrambling to apply brakes that didn't seem to be working. If he couldn't stop in time, he'd end up flying out into traffic when he got to the intersection. Blair stared hard at the bike, praying it would stop. He envisioned the brakes coming unstuck and gradually slowing the bike down and then stopping it. As he watched, the bike slowed and then stopped just as it came to the corner.

Blair looked at the kid as they passed by. He had jumped off the bike and was shaking in relief. Had he done that? Had he made the brakes suddenly work just by thinking about it? He didn't have more than a moment to consider the idea. Suddenly the headache that had faded into the background, now flashed like a bolt of lightning through his skull. He winced and closed his eyes, grabbing his head and leaning forward in his seat.

"Chief! Chief, answer me!" Jims voice sounded from far away. It sounded like he was calling from the other end of a long tunnel. Blair slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the bright daylight. He pushed himself to sit back in his seat, only then realizing that the car had stopped moving.

The car door opened and Jims hand touched his face, turning it to look at him. "Blair? His voice was full of worry. Can you get up?"

It took a moment for the request to filter through. He looked at Jims worried face. His headache was trying to fade away again, which was fine with him. He smiled, trying to reassure his Sentinel.

"I'm okay." He said, stepping out of the car to prove it. See, not even dizzy.

Jim was holding onto him, his hands clutching at both of his shoulders, ready to grab him if he started to fall. He pushed the truck door shut with his foot and looked at Blairs eyes.

"Hows your head?" Jim asked.

"It's better now. It hurt really bad for a couple of minutes, but its feeling better now." Blair said. "I'm okay, really."

Jim nodded, but his clenched jaw betrayed his worry. He slipped one arm around Blairs shoulder and led him into the clinic. Blair felt protected and cared for. It was a good feeling, so in spite of the fact that he was feeling fine enough to walk around on his own, he allowed Jim to keep supporting him as they walked over to a chair in the waiting room. Then Jim left him to sit there alone while he went up and signed them in. Blair watched as Jim talked to the receptionist at the desk, probably trying to get him bumped ahead of all the other people waiting. There was quite a crowd, he realized as he looked around the large waiting area. They were lucky to have found free seats.

Soon, Blair realized that Jim had sat back down next to him and was eyeing him worriedly. Blair looked up at him and smiled, but Jim didn't seem reassured. He put his arm around Blair and pulled him over to lean against him. For some reason, even though he was sort of feeling better, he allowed himself to relax against Jims chest, closing his eyes and trying to rest.

PART 2

Cold. Cold and numbness. That was all he felt. He opened his eyes and looked around him. Piano keys sitting on his chest reminded him where he was. He heard noises all around him, but they seemed far away, muffled. He felt something warm against his hand, and moved it. Someone squeezed it gently and he realized someone was holding his hand. He looked over and saw Jim looking at him.

"Jim." He said, surprised at how weak and feeble he sounded.

"Chief, How're you doing?" Jim asked.

Blair felt confused. How did he get here? And why didn't they just move the piano off him and get him out of here?

"What's happening?" He asked. He felt like he couldn't get a good breath and he fought off the panicked feeling that tried to come over him.

"Blair, you need to stay calm. They're trying to get you out. It won't be much longer, okay?" Jim said.

"Can't breathe." Blair said.

"Yes, you can. Just take shallow easy breaths." Jim said.

"Why is it taking so long?" Blair asked. "How long have I been stuck?"

"It's been about 45 minutes since the accident. They have a crane on the way here to move this piano off of you. It's pretty heavy." Jim explained.

"Piano's aren't that heavy. Why can't they just move it?" Blair asked.

"Chief, it's not a real piano, buddy. It's a marble sculpture of a piano. They were moving it to the Cascade Center for the Arts. It's supposed to go in front of the building." Jim said.

A marble piano. That thing must weigh tons. No wonder he couldn't breathe. He was being crushed. He looked at Jim again, wondering if he was going to die here. Jim's expression was full of worry, but not hopelessness. He must think he at least had a chance.

"Hey, Jim man. I need to know." Blair started. He took a few breaths, trying to keep calm.

"What?" Jim asked.

"How am I doing?" Blair asked. He watched Jim's face as he waited for an answer.

Jim squeezed his hand, smiling reassuringly and started to answer, but then stopped. His expression got serious and he spoke. "Blair, I'm not going to lie to you. They think you're crushed under there. They don't know what's going to happen when they lift that piano off you."

"I'm not going to make it, am I?" Blair asked, taking a labored breath, looking at his best friend.

"You can't think that way, Blair. You have to be ready to fight." Jim said, vehemently. "You're going to be okay. You're going to get through this."

Blair looked at him. Jim was scared. He could see that now. Scared but not resigned, not defeated. He gave Jim a confidant look and nodded slightly.

"It's okay, Jim. I'll be okay. You'll see." He said.

Jim nodded.

"Jim, they're ready." Blair heard Simon's voice from somewhere behind Jim.

"Simon?" Blair called out in a weak voice.

Jim let go of his hand and stepped back. Simon looked in at him. He looked at the worried face of Jim's Captain.

"Hey, Blair, howre you doing?" Simon asked gently.

"I'm okay. Simon, you've got to watch out for Jim." Blair said. "I need to know he'll be all right."

Simon started to nod, but was suddenly pulled aside and Jim's angered face appeared. "I won't Blair. I won't be okay, so you'd better stick around. I'm not letting you go, so just put that thought out of your mind. You hear me?"

Blair nodded, feeling Jim take his hand again.

"How's he doing in there?" Another voice called out from behind Jim. Jim let go of his hand and stepped back. A paramedic peered in at him.

"Mr. Sandburg, how are you feeling in there?"

"Okay, so far." Blair said.

"Good. We're getting ready to move this thing off of you. When we lift it, we expect youre going to experience a sudden change of blood pressure. We haven't been able to determine what kind of injuries you might have under there, but as soon as we get you free, we'll be pulling you out. We have a landing sight set up just down the road. We'll by flying you out to the Shock Trauma center. All we need you to do is relax and trust us, okay?"

"Okay." Blair said.

Jim was back, holding his hand, clutching his hand, as if he was a lifeline, and maybe he was. Blair squeezed that hand with all the strength he could muster and looked at Jim. He tried to smile reassuringly, but he knew that Jim could sense his fear.

The sound of heavy equipment moving reached his ears, then the piano keys were moving away. Suddenly, he felt his body falling away from him, and a scream escaped him. His last vision before he was swept away was of a single tear escaping Jim's eye and dripping down his mournful face. As he felt himself floating away, he wondered if he was dying. Then there was only a black void.

"Mr. Sandburg."

"Chief, Wake up now." Jim's voice called to him. "They're ready for you." Jim's hands shook him awake. He opened his eyes and saw a woman dressed in white looking expectantly at him, a clipboard in her hands.

He looked back at Jim, pulling himself up to sit, and wondered how long he had been sleeping. He felt disoriented, like he was in a fog.

"Can you get up, Blair?" Jim asked, standing, reaching down to help Blair up.

"I'm okay." Blair said, standing slowly. He looked around, standing still for a minute. Actually, he felt much better. Maybe some sleep had been all that he needed.

"I feel better." Blair said, looking at Jim. He took a deep breath and found that he could without a problem. He smiled at Jim. Jim looked more puzzled than relieved.

"This way, Mr. Sandburg." The woman he assumed was a nurse said, turning toward the doorway.

Blair followed her, glancing back at Jim and giving him a reassuring look. As he turned again to walk down the hall, he saw Jim sit down to wait and wondered if he was tracking him with his ears and if he would be listening in. He decided that he probably would, since he figured if their positions were reversed he would listen in to Jim.

Blair pulled the blanket over his cold hospital gowned body and shivered on the gurney. He was back in the little exam room he had started in. They had taken him for chest ex-rays, an EEG, and an EKG, and taken numerous blood and urine samples. He felt like he had answered a million questions. It felt like he had been here for hours and he wondered what Jim was doing all this time in the waiting area. He was probably getting worried, wondering why it was taking so long. Now, he was just waiting for the doctor to come in and go over the results of his tests. He wondered if they had found anything. He actually felt much better now than he had earlier. His headache was down to a dull pain, hardly worth mentioning, and he felt like he was breathing normally again, no weighty congested feeling.

The door opened. Blair, expecting to see the doctor come in, was surprised to see Jim step into the room. He walked over to his side and smiled.

"I was such a pest out in the waiting room, they said I could come back here and keep you company." Jim explained. "Hows it going?"

Blair smiled. "Hey, I'm feeling a lot better. Right now, I'm just bored and cold. I have so much to do at home. I hope we can get out of here soon."

The doctor came in then, clipboard in hand. "Well, Mr. Sandburg, how are you feeling now?"

"Just tired. You guys wore me out." Blair answered.

"Hows the headache?"

"Not bad. Still there, but not bad like it was." Blair said.

The doctor nodded, looking down at the chart. "Well, we have'nt found anything to explain your symptoms. Your tests all came out within normal range, with the exception of the EEG which was suggestive of a possible problem. Any family history of Epilepsy?"

Blair shook his head. "I didn't have any seizures."

"No, not that we know of, but there are different types of seizures. Some patients with Epilepsy only get the mild type we call petite mal seizures. These sometimes exhibit as a brief time of unawareness, like losing track of where you are. People who observe this report it as looking like the person is daydreaming, staring off into space. When someone has this type of seizure it can last anywhere from seconds to a few minutes and it usually leaves the patient with a headache, sometimes a pretty severe headache. From your tests, I can't say that's what's happening to you. I just want you to be aware of the possibility. I strongly suggest that you don't drive or put yourself in any kind of situation thats going to demand perfect attention for a few days at least, until we see if you're going to have any more problems. This could be an isolated incident. It could still turn out to be something viral. Were sending some of your blood samples out for testing. We'll let you know when we get the results and if you have any more symptoms, I want to see you back in here. There are more tests we can do if you continue to have problems."

Blair nodded. He needed time to absorb what the doctor had said. He might have epilepsy? That seemed hard to believe. He didn't think it was true. He thought about the moments when his headache had suddenly flared up. He hadn't spaced out right before the headache came. In fact, now he remembered he had been concentrating really hard just before each incident. He looked up from his thoughts to see that the doctor had gone and Jim was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to get up to get dressed. He smiled at his worried looking partner and sat up.

"I'll get dressed and meet you out front." He said.

Jim nodded. "You sure you're okay? Not dizzy or anything?"

"I'm fine now, Jim." Blair said.

Jim looked him over, then, walked out, closing the door behind him. Blair got up and dressed quickly, wanting to put this place behind him. He felt so much better now. He wondered why he had allowed himself to be talked into coming in here in the first place. Then he remembered the worry he had seen in Jims face and realized he'd done it for Jim. Of course, he had been hoping this trip would reassure Jim that he was okay so he could stop worrying. Instead, it had given him more to worry about. If this was the beginning of a new life of dealing with a chronic illness like epilepsy, his whole life was going to be changing drastically. If he couldn't be trusted not to have seizures at any moment, they certainly weren't going to let him keep working with Jim. The most important part of his life was in danger of being ripped away from him. How could he deal with that? The answer was simple. He couldn't. He didn't have epilepsy. He was sure of it.

He tied his shoes and walked out, feeling confident that this had been some kind of virus or something and he'd be fine now. He was guide to his sentinel and he was sure that was how it was meant to be. Nothing could be allowed to mess that up, so there was no way God would allow him to get epilepsy or anything else that would keep him from being Jims guide. He walked over to Jim with a smile on his face.

"Lets get something to eat. I'm starved." He suggested.

"Okay, whatever you want." Jim said, putting a hand on his shoulder to steer him out the door.

"Where do you want to eat?" Jim asked as he started the truck.

"Anywhere but Wonderburger." Blair said.

"The Tavern?" Jim asked. That was one of Jim's favorite steakhouses and they had a really good salad bar that Blair could feast on. Blair nodded. "Sounds good."

They drove in silence to the steak house. Blair occasionally caught Jim glancing over at him, eternally worried.

"Jim, man, I'm okay." Blair said. "You don't have to keep checking me out."

Jim nodded. "Sorry. I don't mean to."

"I know, but really, I am fine now. Whatever this was, it's gone. When they get those blood tests back they'll probably find some kind of weird virus that only lasts a day and it's already gone. There's nothing to worry about."

Jim smiled and nodded. If Blair wanted to believe there wasn't any problem, he would force himself to believe it too. At the moment, his partner seemed fine, but he couldn't shake the image of him earlier from his mind. He had looked really bad. It had scared Jim. It was going to take a lot to get him to stop worrying.

The restaurant wasn't crowded. Somehow it had turned into afternoon so they were between mealtimes. That was fine with Blair. It meant they'd probably get their food faster. They were seated immediately and Jim skimmed over the menu while their waitress brought coffee. Blair didn't need to look at the menu, knowing already that he would go for the fully stocked salad bar. He watched as Jim decided on a sirloin steak with a baked potato and set the menu down. Their waitress, Chrissie, as the pink nametag identified her, stood by the table ready to take their orders. She wrote down Jim's medium rare steak and told Blair to help himself to the salad bar.

He returned to the table within a few minutes with a plate full of salad. Sitting down, he took a sip of his coffee before picking up his fork. Looking at Jim, he noticed that his sentinels attention had suddenly been drawn to the front door.

He had just started to reach around to pull his gun out of its holster, when three men charged into the steak house, guns drawn, threatening everyone. The big one yelled. "Everybody put your hands flat on the tables and you won't get hurt."

Blair watched as Jim reluctantly left his gun where it was and put his hands slowly on the table. Blair laid his hands flat in front of him and looked around. Besides the other seven diners divided between three tables, there was only the waitress Chrissie, a cashier, and probably a cook. As soon as that thought occurred to him, it must have also occurred to the hold-up men. The big guy, who seemed to be in charge, headed toward the kitchen, yelling at his two friends as he walked. "Keep an eye on them while I check the back."

Within a few moments, he was back, looking angry. "Well, I guess the cook ran out to get help, so we don't have much time. You, missy, open that cash register and put the money in a bag. Turning to the customers, he smiled. And you people, slowly take out your wallets, money, and jewelry and put it on the table, then put your hands back flat on the table. As soon as we get what we came for, we'll get out of here and leave you alone."

Blair put his watch and his money on the table. His wallet was in the truck in his jacket pocket. Then he looked around him, watching the others do the same. He looked at Jim, as he put his wallet on the table and looked at Blair. At that moment Blair realized the danger. If they looked inside Jims wallet while they were still here, they would see that he was a cop. That knowledge could end up getting them both killed. He looked over at the three men. The big one was still watching Chrissie as she filled a bag with the cash from the register. The other two were walking from table to table picking up cash and wallets and stuffing it in their pockets. When they came to their table, Blair looked away, not wanting to make eye contact with either of them. The smaller of the two grabbed their belongings off the table and stuffed them into his jacket pockets, then looked at Blair.

"Whats with you? You don't have a wallet?" He demanded, pointing his gun at Blairs face.

"No man, I left it home." Blair said.

"Convenient for you." The guy said angrily. "How do I know it's not in your pocket and you just don't want to give it up?"

The big man came over to the table. "What's the problem over here?"

"This little guy says he left his wallet home." The guy said. Blair looked at him, thinking he wasn't enough bigger than him to be calling him a little guy.

"You holding out on us?" The big guy asked. "Cause it wouldn't be a good idea to be holding out on us."

"No, man. I just don't have my wallet with me." Blair insisted.

"He doesn't." Jim said. "Thats why I was buying lunch."

The guy looked angrily at them, then turned and grabbed Chrissie, putting his gun to her face.

"You come up with a wallet now, or she's getting a free trip to the next life." He said, smiling evilly.

Blair panicked, reaching around his pockets, trying to find anything that could pass as a wallet, wishing he had brought his jacket in from the truck. Suddenly, he felt like a charge of lightning was bouncing through his brain. He almost expected to see sparks flying from his head. He looked around him and watched in shock as the three men dropped their guns, screaming in pain and clutching at their hands. Then, as he looked across the room at the salad bar, heavy plastic plates started flying from where they were stacked and hit the three men in their faces, knocking them down. Within moments, he saw Jim kicking the guns out of reach of the men and handcuffing the big one. He pulled his gun out and held it on the other two, not that they were up to attacking anyway. All three men were dazed, trying to figure out what had just happened.

The charged up feeling in his head started to clear and was quickly replaced by a severe headache. He leaned forward over the table and rested his head on his arms, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. Outside, he could hear police pulling up and soon he sensed that Jim was sitting down across from him at the table.

"Chief, are you okay?"

Blair opened his eyes and forced his head up to look at Jim. The headache was pounding away, making his vision blurry, but he didn't want to go back to the clinic, or worse, to the hospital, so he forced a smile and said, "Sure Jim, I'm fine."

Jim looked at him, a weird expression on his face. "What happened?" He asked.

Blair looked around him, watching as the uniformed officers led their prisoners out. The other diners were all staring at him and Chrissie was sitting in a booth, crying.

"Can we just go home now, Jim?" He asked quietly. "I lost my appetite. I would really just like to go home and lie down."

Jim eyed him, nodding. "Yeah, you do look a little pale. But I really think you need to eat something. How about we go home and Ill fix you some soup?"

Blair nodded gently, trying not to jar his aching head too much. The pain had sort of mellowed out a little but didnt seem to be going away.

"All right, you just sit here a few minutes while I talk to the officers and see if they mind us waiting until tomorrow to give a full statement." Jim said, walking off.

Blair had started to fall asleep when Jims hand shook his shoulder. "Okay, Chief, lets go home now."

He got up and followed Jim slowly out to the truck. Jim opened the door for him and made sure he hooked his seat belt before closing the door. He leaned his head back and slept.

PART 3

"Jim, I think he's waking up." The voice of Simon Banks rang out from a distance.

Blair heard a hoarse moaning from far away, but it was getting closer. Then he felt a cold hand touch his face and he tried to pull away.

"He's still way too hot, Simon." Jims voice said. "Can you get me some more of that rubbing alcohol?"

Blair tried to think, tried to remember what was happening. Why was he hearing them from so far away? Why did he feel like he was awake but not really awake?

Something cold and wet swiped across his skin, first his face, then down his arms and chest. He listened carefully. The moaning sound had stopped. He could hear the crackling sound of a fire. At first it scared him but then he recognized it as a fireplace burning. It was small and close by. He felt like he was lying on a thick blanket and he was cold. He felt himself shiver.

"Blair?" Jims voice was calling to him. "Chief, can you wake up for me?"

He tried to open his eyes but they felt like they were glued shut. Maybe his mouth would work better.

"Jim?" He called out. He felt like he was yelling but the sound only came out as a whisper. Good thing Jim was a sentinel. Nobody else would have probably heard him.

"I'm here, Chief. Can you open your eyes?" Jim asked.

"Cold." He complained.

He felt blankets cover him and tuck in around his shoulders. It felt nice and he started to drift back to sleep.

"No, Chief, I need you to wake up now. I have some medicine for you. I need you to wake up long enough to take it and drink some water. Can you do that for me?"

Drink some water. That sounded good. He was thirsty, very thirsty. But hed have to open his eyes to drink water. Hed have to wake up enough to swallow without choking. Maybe if he opened his eyes hed remember what was going on. He pushed himself up through the fog and tore his eyes open just a crack.

Jims worried face leaned over him on one side and Simons on the other. He looked from Jim to Simon and back again.

"Where are we?" He asked.

"First, let me get this medicine in you before you fall asleep again." Jim said. "Help me sit him up, Simon."

He felt himself being lifted to a sit. Then Jim held him up while Simon piled numerous pillows behind him. Then they gently leaned him back to an almost sitting position against the massive pillow pile. He looked around and saw that he was on the floor on top of some sleeping bags. There was a fireplace with a toasty fire going strong only a few feet away. He should have been warm so close to the fire but he still felt chilled and weakly tried to snuggle in the blankets covering him. The strength, or lack of it rather, in his arms, reminded him of wet noodles. Looking further around he realized they were in a cabin.

"Here you go, Blair." Jim slid a capsule into his mouth and held a glass up to his lips. The water was cool and felt good going down but he only managed to get a few mouthfuls down before he felt like he might throw up. He turned his head away.

"Feel sick, Jim. Gonna barf."

"No, no youre not. Just keep it down. We need to get your fever down, Chief." Jim said.

Blair swallowed and tried to keep his mind off the queasy feeling. "Where are we?"

"We're in a cabin in the mountains. Don't you remember coming up here?" Jim asked.

"We were supposed to be skiing." Simon said. "But we got caught in a massive snow storm and then you got sick."

"There was a piano." He said. "I was crushed under a giant piano."

He tried to keep his eyes open, looking at Jim's face. There was worry there. He smiled, trying to let Jim know he didn't have to worry.

"I'm okay." He said. "Hey, did you know I could make things move just by thinking about it?"

He shivered again. "I'm so cold, Jim. Do we have any more blankets?"

He felt his eyes closing but before he drifted away again, he heard Jims worried voice talking to Simon.

"We have to do something, Simon. He's delirious. Maybe we should put him in the tub."

"Blair, come on Chief, were home, buddy." Jim called to him. He felt cold air hit him as the door opened.

He opened his eyes. He was in the truck and Jim was standing by his door waiting for him to get out.

"Jim, what happened?" He asked. "How did we get here?" He looked around, confusion clouding his thoughts. He reached up and felt his head, trying to see if he had a fever.

"Still have that headache?" Jim asked.

"Headache?" Blair asked. Actually, yeah, he did have a headache.

"Come on." Jim said, gently pulling him out of the truck. Keeping his hand on his shoulder, Jim led him to the door of their building.

As the elevator took them up, Blair looked at Jim. "We were in a cabin with Simon." He said, quietly, beginning to doubt his sanity.

"You were asleep, Chief. You were dreaming." Jim said.

"I remember something about a piano." Blair said.

Jim nodded. "That was your dream this morning. You said a piano fell on your car as you were driving."

Blair nodded. "Right, I remember that. And we were just at a steak house that got held up right?"

Jim smiled and nodded. "Do you remember going to the clinic?"

"Yeah, but I feel fine now except for a little headache. I think I just need some sleep." Blair said.

They walked through the door, hanging their jackets on the hook. Blair started to walk toward his room, but Jim took his arm and led him over to the couch.

"Not yet, buddy. We need to get some food into you, remember. You said you'd eat some soup." Jim said.

"Now, sit down and relax for a few minutes. You want some tea with your soup?"

"No, just some water would be good." Blair said.

Jim watched him as he ate his soup. Something was obviously bothering his sentinel.

"What?" Blair asked.

Jim looked away, an embarassed look on his face. "Nothing."

Blair looked at him. "Come on Jim. It's obvious something is bothering you. What is it?"

"Well, back at the restaurant, do you remember what happened?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah, we caught the bad guys."

"But do you remember how it happened?" Jim asked.

Blair smiled. "Oh, you mean how I made them all drop their guns."

"You did do it, didn't you?" Jim said. "But how?"

"I don't know, but it seems like when I think about something happening and really concentrate, I can make things move. I made those plates fly across the room too."

"But how? And why do you suddenly have this ability now?" Jim asked.

"I don't know, but it gives me a headache every time I do it." Blair said.

Blair finished his soup and set the bowl down on the coffee table.

"Can you...." Jim began.

"Show you?" Blair asked. He looked at the soup bowl on the table and concentrated on making it move. Nothing happened. Then he tried to just make the spoon move, but still nothing happened.

"I don't know. It's not working. Maybe I used it all up, whatever it was."

Jim nodded, picking up the bowl and heading to the kitchen with it.

"I guess you should go get some sleep." Jim said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Blair nodded, standing up and stretching. "I'm fine."

He picked up the bowl from his soup and turned toward the kitchen. A wave of dizziness came over him and he felt the bowl start to slip from his hands. No, he thought, don't let it fall. As the bowl left his hand, it started to fall toward the floor, but after only a few inches, it flew across the room into the kitchen and landed in the sink, the spoon clattering inside it as it also fell from the air. Blair looked at Jim, who was standing there in shocked amazement.

Blair took a step and the pain hit. His head was going to explode. The fire in it radiated through his skull and flashes of lightning blasted into his eyes. He slammed them shut and grabbed at them, feeling himself fall to the floor.

"Chief!"

From a distance he heard Jim's voice calling to him and then a comforting hand touched his shoulder, but the pain in his head was too much for him and he felt himself drift away in a sea of tortured darkness.

Water. All around him, water. No, not water, not again. He didn't want to die in water, not again. Please don't let me die in water, his mind screamed. He tried to open his eyes but they felt so heavy. He just knew he had to get away from this water. He tried to sit up, tried to move anywhere to get away, but suddenly he felt strong hands holding him, keeping him in the water. It was cold and he wanted to get out, but they wouldn't let him move. He struggled against the hands and in the distant fog he heard his own voice protesting.

"No, no water!"

"Blair, Chief, its okay." Jims voice slowly filtered into his foggy brain.

"It's okay. You're just in a bathtub. You have a fever. Were trying to get it down." Jim said, soothingly.

"Just try to relax. You know you can trust me, don't you? Just relax."

Slowly, Jims words made sense to him and he let go. He was too tired to fight anyway. He felt so weak he didn't think he could even climb out of the tub himself anyway. So, he relaxed and concentrated on opening his eyes. Finally he got them cracked half way open.

Looking around he saw that he was in a tub. It must have been an old fashioned footed tub cause it wasn't stuck to the wall. It wasn't even in a bathroom. He could see the fireplace across the room. And on either side of him Jim and Simon held onto his shoulders and supported his head.

"Chief, feeling any better?" Jim asked.

He looked toward Jim, trying to focus on his face but his vision was a little blurry. He looked down at the tub. They had put him in here in his blue plaid boxers. He looked over toward Simon, whose face, even blurry, showed his worry and concern. He tried to smile for him but wasn't sure his face was cooperating with him. Then he turned his head toward Jim.

"Jim, can I get out of here? Its cold." He asked, trying not to whine.

Jims hand clamped over his forehead, then slid down the side of his face, gently feeling his skin. It felt nice and he was sad when it pulled away.

"Okay, it feels like your temperature has dropped some. Well get you out. You just relax and lets us lift you out, okay buddy?"

"Okay."

He never realized how hard it was to relax and let somebody pick you up. His body jerked reflexively, trying to do its own moving, even though his brain was telling it to relax. Within moments it seemed, he was dressed in dry sweatpants and t-shirt and wrapped snuggly on his sleeping bag bed by the fire, cuddled in several blankets. Somewhere along the way his eyes had snuck closed and he forced them open again, not wanting to fade away. He was trying to make sense of what was happening. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes he woke up somewhere else. He was feeling very confused. Was it all a dream? Was he dreaming even now?

"Jim." He called out. "Jim!"

Suddenly Jim was back by his side, looking worriedly at him. "I'm here, Chief. Its okay."

"Is this real?" He asked.

Jim smiled. "Yeah, this is real. Think you can stay awake for awhile, maybe get some soup down?"

"Thirsty." Blair said.

"Good." Jim said.

A glass of water suddenly appeared in his hand and a couple of capsules in another and Blair realized it was Simons doing. Jim held the water and medicine while Simon lifted him and propped him up with pillows. Then the pills were in his mouth and the water soon followed and he was gulping it down like he had just come off a desert. But Jim pulled the glass away.

"Not too much at once." Jim said. "Lets let that settle first."

Blair nodded, suddenly realizing that his stomach was already protesting the intrusion. He swallowed, trying to fight the nausea, but it was winning. He looked at Jim, a moan escaping him, but no words would come out. He opened his mouth to try to warn them. His stomach must have seen the clear escape route. Jim must have had a bowl sitting close by ready for just this event, cause just as the water and medicine made its return trip he found the bowl positioned under his mouth.

He felt his face wiped off and being lowered back to rest on his pillows, but somewhere along the way his eyelids had lost the war again and he was just too worn out to bother trying to open them. He felt himself drifting away, Jims voice calling from far away, but he just didn't have the energy to answer. The dark fog enveloped him and he floated away.

PART 4

An ambulance. That's where he was. He recognized the feeling of lying out flat on a gurney while rushing through traffic, the sound of the siren and the occasional slowing down at each intersection. All of this filtered in to his mind along with an intense pain in his side. He tried to take a deep breath, but something was covering his face. His eyes popped open as a gasp escaped him.

"It's okay, Blair, you're okay." Jims voice came to him from near his head.

"Blair." Another voice called to him. He looked toward it and saw an EMT leaning over him. He looked down and realized an oxygen mask was covering his face and a collar surrounded his neck. He tried to relax.

"We're on the way to the hospital." The EMT said. "You just try to relax. You're going to be okay."

He didn't feel like he was going to be okay. How did he get here? What was going on? He remembered something about a mountain cabin, but that didn't seem right. Then he remembered a huge piano landing on him. But surely that couldn't have really happened. That was just too absurd. He thought a little more and remembered making an inept group of robbers drop their guns and hitting them with plates that he had made fly through the air. That couldn't be right either. Nobody could make things fly through the air just by thinking about it. He drifted off again, wondering when reality would catch up with him.

An ambulance. He was in an ambulance. He could feel the movement of the tires against the road. He peeled his eyes open to see Jims worried gaze watching him. An EMT sat nearby monitoring his vital signs. He could feel a blood pressure cuff on one arm and an IV on his other.

"Jim."

"It's okay, Chief. Were on our way to the hospital." Jim said. "Do you remember what happened?"

Blair thought about it. What had happened? He was in a car accident. A piano had fallen out of the sky and hit him. No, that couldn't be right. Wait, wasn't he just in a bathtub full of cold water? He remembered lying by a fireplace with a mound of blankets covering him. But then he remembered falling in the loft, passing out after making a bowl fly across the room. No, people couldn't make things fly. He thought some more. He had been at a clinic, hadn't he? Was that just this morning? The doctor there had said something about epilepsy. Did he have a seizure?

No, no, he couldn't have epilepsy. He wouldn't be allowed to work with Jim if he might have a seizure at any time. He felt a knot of worry eat its way through his stomach and he felt a tear drip out of the corner of his eyes and slide down his face.

"Chief, it's okay. You passed out. You'll be okay. Relax." Jims voice soothed him. He felt a fuzzy warmth come over him and drifted away.

An ambulance. What was he doing in an ambulance? He struggled to get his eyes open. They felt like they were glued shut. He heard the siren. It seemed loud but at the same time muffled somehow. Something sharp pricked him in the arm and a warmth snaked up his arm. A voice was reading off some numbers and he listened trying to figure out what they were saying. Slowly he realized it was an EMT reporting in to the hospital, giving his vital signs to a doctor. Then it was quiet, except for the noise of the siren and the tires running along the road.

"Chief, relax now. Were almost to the hospital." Jims voice reassured him. "You're going to be okay."

"What happened?" Blair managed to ask in a weak voice. He pried his eyes open a slit and looked for the source of Jims voice, but he couldn't get focused enough to see and let his eyes slide shut.

"You've been sick, remember? We were up in the mountains, in a cabin. The snow finally cleared enough that we could get out. You've had a high fever for three days now."

"mmm" Blair managed to get out.

"Just relax, buddy. You're going to be okay. We'll be there soon." Jim said.

There had been no time for an ambulance. When Jim and Simon had found Blair lying on the floor in the kitchen, Simon had called directly in to dispatch, finding that the closest two EMT response units were already out on calls, making the earliest possible eta on an ambulance twentyfive minutes. That was too long. They could have him to the ER before then if Simon drove with lights and siren going. So, they carried him down to Simon's car and Jim cradled him in the back seat while Simon sped toward Cascade general. As he drove he called ahead to alert the ER staff to their impending arrival.

Blair moaned and stirred, and moaned and stirred, as if trying to find a comfortable position but never succeeding. He didn't wake up. He showed no signs of awareness. Again, Jim wondered how long he had been lying there on the floor. How long ago had he eaten the poisoned candy? How long had that stuff been floating around in his bloodstream? Had he eaten enough of it to be fatal? Jim looked down at the candy box sitting by his feet. There had only been three pieces missing. Were three pieces enough to kill?

The fog started to lift. He could hear voices far away. He listened carefully, finally able to make out that it was Jim and Simon talking. There were no beeps. That was a good sign. He knew just from the smell that he was in the hospital. No beeps meant that he wasn't in too bad of shape, no heart monitor necesary. Now if he could only remember how he had gotten here. He tried to think, to remember what he had been doing, where he had been. Too many strange thoughts bounced around in his head. Had he been dreaming? What had been the reality? He remembered being in at least three different places. There was car accident involving a giant piano. That didn't seem too likely. Then there was passing out in the loft. That could have happened. He could believe that one, but that also included his being able to make things fly just by thinking it. That also didn't seem too likely. The other thing he remembered involved having a high fever in a mountain cabin somewhere. He remembered Jim and Simon taking care of him. That one made sense, but he didn't remember going on any trip to a mountain cabin. The last he remembered they had been quite busy with cases in Major Crimes, not a likely time for it's Captain and one of his senior detectives to go off on a skiing trip. So, what had really happened? None of what he remembered made much sense. He wondered if his reality was finally going to start making sense and stay put.

The moan drew their attention. "He's waking up." Jim said.

Blair opened his eyes slowly, looking for Jim and Simon. Finding both of his friends standing by his bedside looking worriedly at him, he smiled.

"Hey." He said, his voice sounding hoarse and weak.

"Chief, how do you feel?" Jim asked.

Blair paused a moment, paying attention to how he felt. Actually he felt fine, except for a little headache, and feeling tired and weak. He looked down to see that he had an IV hooked up to one arm. He looked back at Jim.

"I'm okay. What happened?" He asked.

"You don't remember?" Jim asked.

"I'm a little foggy." Blair said.

"Do you remember that box of candy someone left you on your desk in your office?" Jim asked. "You thought it was from a student."

Okay, he remembered that. He had gone into his office just before going home on Friday. There had been a box wrapped in red paper with a little note, just saying thanks. The note was unsigned, but the box had been a box of all natural Bessie's Best carob coated exotic candy, made right here in Cascade of all natural fresh ingredients. These were expensive candies, but one of Blair's favorites, a special treat. He remembered saving them for later, thinking he'd eat some after dinner that night. They'd be perfect with a cup of tea.

"I remember the candy." Blair said.

"It wasn't left there by a student, Chief. It was left there by Tim Mordin." Jim said. "And before he left it there, he spiked the candy with a combination of a sedative and a hallucinogen. It's lucky you only ate three pieces. The doctor said a fourth piece might very well have been fatal. As it was, it knocked you out for two days."

He remembered Tim Mordin. He had been a rather inept hold-up man who had tried to commit a robbery at a convenience store full of witnesses, including Blair, who had managed to distract him just at the right time for the responding police officer's to grab him.

"How did you find out?" Blair asked.

"That was easy. Tim's wife, Maggie, found the practise runs of the candy and the drugs in her husband's shop, so she brought it in to us. We had it checked out and figured out what he was up to, but we weren't sure of his target until we caught up with him and found a list of names and addresses of all of the witnesses to his last robbery, including you. Your name and two of the other's were already crossed off." Simon said.

"I spent the whole night Friday night searching for Tim Mordin, trying to stop him from passing the doctored candy to anybody and all along you were lying on the floor at home, passed out from having eaten it." Jim said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Chief."

"You couldn't know." Blair said. "What about the other two names?"

"We caught both of them before they ate the candy." Simon said.

Blair laughed. "You guys wouldn't believe the weird dreams I had."

"It was probably the drugs." Jim suggested. "That combination would have to give a person strange dreams."

"There was a giant piano. It was made out of marble and it fell on my car with me in it." Blair said.

Jim smiled and walked to the other side of the room, picking up the morning paper. He folded the page over and held it up for Blair to see. "You mean like this one?"

The picture showed a man standing in front of an oversized marble piano. According to the caption, he was the artist. The piano sculpture was due to be delivered to the Cascade Center for the Arts this coming Tuesday. A ceremony was scheduled for Tuesday night. Blair looked at the picture, then back at Jim.

"What day is this?" Blair asked.

"It's Monday morning." Simon answered.

"Okay." Blair said, thinking he would have to stay off the road on Tuesday, at least until after that piano had been safely delivered.

"Then I dreamed we were stranded in a mountain cabin and I was sick with a really high fever. You had a fire built up and said we were there for skiing but we got snowed in." Blair said.

"Well, we have been discussing a ski trip. That must have been on your mind. We were talking about renting a cabin up at Mt.Gable." Simon said. "Maybe we should rethink that idea?"

"It was just a silly dream, Simon. No reason to give up on a great trip." Blair said.

He was reluctant to mention the other dream. It was just too weird. He had to have a really strange imagination to think he could move things with thought waves or something.

"What else?" Jim asked.

"Well, this one is really weird. I kept making things move just by thinking about it happening. We were in a steak house and it was being held up and I made the robbers drop all of their guns and then I made plates fly through the air and whack them on their heads."

"Well, that would be a nice ability to have." Jim said. "Pretty weird though."

"No stranger than hyperactive senses, I would say." Simon said.

"But every time I did it, I got a really bad headache, so I think even if I could do something like that I wouldn't want to. It was like lightning bolts shooting through my head. I don't ever want to have a headache like that for real." Blair said.

"Anything else we should know about?" Jim asked.

"How soon can I get out of here?" Blair asked. "I feel fine now. I just want to go home."

"The doctor is supposed to stop in to check on you this afternoon. Once he sees that you're awake he'll most likely agree that you can go home." Jim said.

"Until then, is there anything we can get for you, Sandburg?"

Blair thought a minute, then smiled. "Do you think you could get me something to eat? I think it's been a few days and I'm kind of hungry."

"I think we can handle that, Chief." Jim said.

They headed for the door. Jim turned back just before walking out. "We won't be gone long." He said.

The door closed behind them and Blair suddenly felt very lonely. He also suddenly realized he was very thirsty. He looked around, finding a cup with a straw in it on the table beside the bed. He had to stretch his arm out to reach it and had just started to pull it from the table when it started to slip from his hand. It tipped over the side of the table. He was getting ready to lose his water and he was sooo thirsty. His mind cried out 'NO!'

The cup righted itself and slid firmly into his hand. He looked at it, then he looked toward the door as his reality shifted again.

"Jim....."

The End

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Thanks for reading.