Title: Nine Months

Author: Carol Rose Cappe

email addy: crcbeav@yahoo.com

Disclaimers: standard

Warnings: permanent disability, partner betrayal ...also, see notes below

spell checked only

thanks go to SH for her help, happy birthday dear Huntress

Note: despite the title this is not a mpreg story. this is not a death story. The permanent disabilities are amputation and blindness

Nine Months
by Carol Rose Cappe/the beav

Blair and Jim decided to buy sandwiches and drinks for lunch, and eat in the small parkette near the station. It was a warm, sunny day in late September, and they wanted to take advantage of the pleasant weather before winter came. It also gave the two men a much needed break from sitting at their desks doing paper work.

Jim was raising his can of cola to his lips when he felt a sharp sting below his jaw. He swatted at the bee, and tried to tell Blair that he only remembered being stung once before. He never got the chance. His airway immediately closed up, he could not speak, and he gasped for breath. He dropped the can, and fell off the park bench to the ground, clutching his throat in agony. He saw Blair bend over him, then use his cell phone to call for help. Jim lost consciousness.

Jim felt a kiss on his forehead, and heard his father whisper 'goodbye'. Strange. He tried to open his eyes, to move any part of his body, to ask someone what was going on. Nothing. He started to panic. No. That would not help him. Keep your head, Jim. You can't see, but use your other senses to figure things out.

He was in the hospital. A tube was down his throat. It hurt. He heard the hiss of the respirator as it breathed for him. He felt the tape around his mouth. It itched. Some of his teeth hurt. He struggled, but again he could not even blink his eyes. His chest ached. He realized other monitors were attached to his body. A blood pressure cuff was around his arm, and it automatically inflated and deflated. He felt electrodes on his chest, and on his head. His head? Why? What were they doing to him?

William left the room. Someone else bent over him. Megan. She was crying, and he felt her tears land on his cheek. She left, others came and went. Stephen, Henri, Simon, Rafe, Joel. Finally Jim understood. He was dead. They were saying their goodbyes, and then he would be disconnected from the machinery that was keeping his body alive.

It didn't make sense. How could he be dead? Was this what death was like, some awful limbo state where you were still aware of your surroundings? Jim prayed for release. Maybe when the machines were turned off...

Blair was the last. Jim ached to kiss him, to hold him, to tell him one last time how much he loved him. Blair said the words he longed to say. He heard footsteps. Blair had been holding his hand. He released it, and stepped back. There was activity going on around him. The electrodes were removed from his head.

"Mr. Sandburg, it's been twenty-four hours. The scan we just did confirmed that there is no brain wave activity." A light was shone in Jim's eyes, but he was unable to blink. A sharp instrument poked his body in various places, he felt the pain but his body remained still. "Mr. Ellison is brain dead. I'm sorry. Have you come to a decision?"

"Jim wanted to donate his organs if ... if he died. What's going to happen?"

"I have to co-ordinate with the retrieval team, but you're free to stay here in the meantime."

"When will his body be available for burial?"

"Within thirty-six hours. We'll make the arrangements with the funeral home. His body will be treated with the utmost respect, and there's no reason you can't have an open casket."

Jim had listened to the conversation between Blair and the doctor in horror. As he suspected he was, for all intents and purposes, dead. That much was obvious.

Blair kissed him one last time. His sobs were heartbreaking, but Jim was powerless to comfort his lover. Blair left the room, and Jim was alone.

***

Jim heard the sounds of many people moving around and talking. He sensed that some time had passed since Blair had said his final goodbyes. He wondered if dead men sleep. His right arm throbbed. His eyes stung. There was a sharp pain in his lower back. He refused to consider what that meant.

He was cold, and he was lying on a hard surface. Jim realized that he was now in an operating room. He remembered reading what could be taken from a dead person; heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, intestines, knee joints, skin, eyes. Shit. The so-called harvesting had already started. Jim frantically tried to move. He was immobile. Then he tried to zone. Anything to escape what was going to happen. That too didn't work. Even his attempts to dial down his sense of touch were unsuccessful.

He waited, praying that it would be over quickly. He was resigned to his fate. He thought of Blair.

Some visual signal that he was unaware of must have started proceedings. Without warning, he felt unbelievable pain throughout his body. He finally was able to react. He lifted his left arm, moved it around wildly, and felt his hand make contact with somebody's face.

Pandemonium

Blackness.

<> <> <>

Jim regained consciousness. His heart was beating. Thank goodness. He hadn't been buried while still in some curious half-alive state. Time to take stock of his condition. He still had the breathing tube down his throat, but somehow he knew that he was now capable of breathing on his own. He explored his body with the fingers of his left hand. He felt a faint scar on his chest, and he touched a tube imbedded in his stomach. Further exploration revealed catheters and collections bags to look after his waste products. Tentatively he reached up to his face. Eye
patches covered empty eye sockets. Just as he had suspected.

Several minutes passed before he had the courage to find out why his right arm had been so sore. About two inches below his elbow - nothing. Horrified, he gently probed the stump. Tender, but healed. Why? Vaguely he recalled hearing about donor limb reattachments. Is that what his arm had been used for?

So, just where was he? And how much time had elapsed since that fateful lunch in the park with Blair. And what of Blair?

Cautiously Jim extended his hearing. He heard faint conversations, and a radio was playing softly somewhere. He realized it was June, and he had spent the last nine months in this long-term care facility. It was three in the morning. He felt behind his head, and pressed a button. A tinny voice asked who was in Mr. Ellison's room. He pressed the button again. Someone entered the room. He waved.

END