Pickup Sticks

by LilyK

Note: My only contribution to writing a missing scene, ever. My version of what happened at the hospital sometime after Blair is admitted and before he's released from the hospital.

Rated PG

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Detective James Ellison pressed the call button next to Blair Sandburg's hospital bed, keeping his finger against it until he had two nurses and the physician on duty coming at a dead run. The doctor approached the bed, speaking to Jim in an incensed voice.

"Detective, what do you think you're doing? I thought something was wrong, that Mr. Sandburg was in trouble. You have no right to startle half the staff on this floor..."

Jim cut off his irritated rant, "Doctor, get him off that ventilator now! He's waking up, and he's going to be scared enough without being hooked up to that thing."

When the doctor saw Jim's distraught face, he calmed down just a bit. "Listen, I know you want him to wake up, but he shows no signs of regaining consciousness. Please be patient. We're doing everything…"

Jim honed in on the doctor's position, approaching him, and glaring down at him as well as he could with his damaged eyesight. His fingers itched to reach out, grab the doctor and give him a good shake, but he tamped down the feeling quickly. Jim knew he would be escorted out of the hospital if that happened. He already had to argue with the doctor about being allowed to stay with Blair because policy allowed only family in ICU. He wasn't family? Like hell, he had argued. He was the only family Blair had, and if they wanted him out, they had better arrest him and have him hauled off. Ellison stayed.

Jim tried desperately to focus his vision that was still suffering from the effects of the Golden. While he could see the doctor's outline, details were blurred by the Golden haze. His remaining Sentinel senses, however, were undamaged and Jim had noticed the oh-so-subtle changes in Blair's body. His breathing and heart rate barely registered as changes to those sensitive senses, but he knew. He felt every slight change to Blair's rhythms as if Blair were screaming at him.

"Check again," he growled at the doctor. With the distressed detective glaring at him, the physician decided to humor him. Much to his surprise, he now saw the signs of his patient coming out of the coma. He glanced up at the partially blind detective and wondered how in hell he had known. Even with his skills, he had a hard time picking up on them this early in Blair's retreat from the darkness.

The physician went to work quickly, removing the tube in Blair's throat. He ordered a change in IV solution and the administering of oxygen, and had him transferred to a private room on the third floor. He accompanied his patient and with the help of the floor nurse, had Blair settled comfortably within a short time. While the doctor performed his duties, he glanced occasionally at Ellison. He was aware that Jim was also experiencing physical complications with his eyesight from the same drug that sent his partner into the coma. While he didn't understand how the detective knew Blair was waking, he realized the concern that Jim had for Blair.

The doctor's voice was reassuring when he spoke to Jim. "Detective, he'll be all right. He should be fully awake within the next twelve hours. I've put him on a very light sedative to keep him calm and comfortable, so he may be groggy for a while, and the ventilator tube will have caused some discomfort to his throat. He may not be able to speak right away, but he's young and strong, he'll recover.” At Jim's curt nod, the doctor added, “He's completely out of danger. He'll be okay.”

Jim was intently focused on Blair, listening to his respiration and heart rate. When he realized that the doctor was still speaking to him, he pulled back and shook his head slightly to clear it. He realized that he had almost zoned from the intense concentration. "Thank you," he managed to say while he focused on the doctor, once again trying to adjust his vision. His eyesight was back to about eighty percent, he figured, and he was more than impatient for it to return to normal.

Jim turned his senses back to Blair and watched over his partner as best he could, scanning his vitals yet again. He was so relieved that Sandburg was regaining consciousness that he thought he would cry. At last, after two days and two nights of touch and go, Blair was coming out of the drug-induced coma. Jim had never been so scared in his life. He had left the hospital only long enough to help Simon Banks and his team catch the bastards who had done this to his Guide out of revenge, out of greed.

The doctor wrote up his notes and patted Jim's arm encouragingly before he left the room. Jim sank into the chair at the bedside and sighed tiredly. While there was a recliner in the corner, he was unable to move quite that far away from his friend.

Slumping against the hard plastic, the strain of the last two days, the energy he had expended to catch that stupid asshole after the car chase, and the tension of focusing on Blair, watching over him, willing him to get well, was catching up to him big time now, and he was exhausted. He had a major headache from concentrating, over-using his other senses to compensate for his temporarily impaired eyesight. For many minutes, Jim sat quietly, doing his breathing exercises, hearing his Guide's voice in his head, telling him to relax and breathe. He would much rather hear Blair directly, but for now, this would have to do and it did help a bit. He closed his eyes and dozed for a while, keeping one ear open to listen for Blair when he finally woke up.

A couple of weak coughs and a moan woke Jim instantly. He cursed under his breath at his semi-cooperating eyes and wished he could see more clearly, without those damned golden highlights that distracted him. While he could see Blair's form lying there, he couldn't see quite clearly enough to know if his eyes were open. Jim focused his hearing on him, knowing from his heartbeat and respiration that he was awake.

Jim reached out his hand and put it on Blair's arm. "Sandburg? Blair, can you hear me?" He was rewarded with an "uhmm." He had never been so happy to hear such a small sound. "I still can't see at hundred percent yet, buddy,” Jim explained. “It's at about eighty-two percent right now. That damned golden crap still has my vision wacky. If it hurts, don't try to talk. Just squeeze my hand so I know you understand me. Okay?"

He slid one hand under Blair's and was thrilled when he felt Blair's fingers wrap around his and squeeze. While Blair didn't have much strength, he had responded. Jim breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"You'll be okay now, Chief. Just rest. Everything's okay. I'm right here." Jim comforted his friend by patting his chest with his free hand. Blair squeezed Jim's hand again. Murmuring comforting words, Jim tuned in to Blair's respiration and he noticed that his heartbeat had slowed, indicating that he had fallen back to sleep. Jim smiled tiredly and closed his eyes. With his hand on Blair's chest, he laid his head down on his outstretched arm and fell asleep also.

When Simon arrived at the hospital a couple of hours later, that is how he found the two friends. Simon smiled and shook his head. Who would have ever guessed that those two would even like each other, let alone be friends? Two of the most unlikely people to link up. Well, that was the way of the universe, Simon mused. One of those destiny things of Sandburg's, Simon was sure. Sandburg seemed to be sleeping soundly to Simon, and he was relieved that Blair was out of danger. It had been a traumatic couple of days for all of Major Crime.

Simon quietly went to Jim's side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Jim,” Simon said softly with a gentle shake. When Jim woke and looked up at the captain with sleep-filled eyes, Simon asked, "How are you doing?"

Jim carefully moved his hands, stretched them over his head and smiled up at his boss. "Captain, hello. I'm doing okay. Vision is about eighty-five percent and getting better all the time. Actually, other than the eyesight, I feel pretty good. He's been awake,” Jim said with a nod toward Blair. “He can't talk right now; his throat is sore from the tube, but he was able to understand me when I spoke to him."

Simon clumsily patted Jim's shoulder. He wasn't used to this “new” Jim who was more open to friendly overtures and he knew that Blair was the reason for Ellison's lightening up of his strict personal rules and regulations. "That's great. I needed some good news about now. You want me to take you home?"

Jim shook his head. "Thanks, Simon, no, but I sure could use some coffee right now, though. If you'll stay with him, I think I’ll take a short walk to the men's room and to the coffee machine. I need to stretch for a minute."

"Sure, Jim. Are you okay on your own?"

Jim smiled. "I think I can handle it. You want coffee?"

"No, thanks."

Jim headed out of the room while Simon took Jim's place at Blair's bedside. He was relieved to see that Blair looked a whole lot better now than just a few hours ago, hooked up to that ventilator. He still looked pretty helpless, though, lying there sleeping. Darn that Jim Ellison for dragging him into their lives, anyhow. Now Simon couldn't imagine him not being around. He almost liked Sandburg most of the time, he thought with a chuckle.

The door opened and one of the nurses came into the room. She smiled at Simon and he smiled back. She's pretty, he thought while he watched her check Blair's pulse, temperature and blood pressure, and re-adjust the flow of his IV line. She made several notes on his chart, smiled at Simon again, and left the room. He noticed her name tag before she left, Annie Goodwin. He also noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. He made a mental note to speak to her on the way out of the hospital. Simon was feeling much better now that Jim was recovering his eyesight and Blair was recovering his life. Things were looking up.

Jim came back a few minutes later with a paper cup of coffee in one hand and two doughnuts in the other. "Want one?" He extended his doughnut-filled hand to Simon.

Simon smiled and shook his head. "Thanks, no, I just ate. I have to get back to the office. Will you be okay here?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine now. I forgot I hadn't eaten for two days. I'm starving." He grinned at his Captain.

Simon smiled at his friend. "Call me when you're ready to go home, and I'll come and get you. Okay?"

"Right, Captain. Thanks."

"Jim, I'm happy he's going to be all right. Really happy."

"Me, too, definitely.”

Simon just shook his head and chuckled on his way out the door. Jim Ellison put his life on the line every day protecting this city. He despised the criminal element, and he would sacrifice himself to save any innocent person out there, but Simon had never known him to care about anyone on a personal level as much as he cared about Blair.

Jim sat in the chair, ate his snack and drank the coffee, keeping an eye on his Guide the entire time. Hey, things were looking up; his vision was at eighty-eight percent now. At this rate, he should be free and clear in no time. He could see Blair fairly clearly by now, with just a golden halo around the periphery of his vision.

Blair sighed and started to move a bit. Jim slid his chair closer. If Blair could talk, he didn't want him to strain his voice. Although Jim could hear him whisper from down the hall, Blair would feel better if Jim were close to him, Jim knew. He was happy when Blair's eyes finally open.

"Hey, buddy. How you feeling?" Jim laid his hand on Blair's arm, comforted by his nearness.

"Sleepy," he whispered, making Jim grin from ear to ear.

"I'll bet. They have you zapped with something."

Blair swallowed and nodded. "Water, please. My throat..."

Jim poured water from the pitcher into the cup and put a straw in it. He held it for Blair, who managed to gather enough strength to drink.

Jim was rewarded with the faintest trace of a smile from his partner after he had finished.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Jim's grin never dimmed.

"How long?" Blair asked.

"Two days and then some. Why? You have a hot date or something?"

Another trace of a smile tugged at the corner of Blair's mouth, making Jim feel even better.

"Chief, how do you feel? Tell me if you can. I'm really worried about you. Does it hurt to talk?"

Blair shrugged. "Feels like laryngitis. Head is mushy. Achy all over.” He stopped to regroup before he added, “Tired. Golden shadows, too."

"Take it easy,” Jim said reassuringly. “You're going to be okay. Hey, if you're tired, just sleep." Jim laid his hand on Blair's chest. It was comforting to feel Blair's heart beating steadily beneath his fingers.

Blair's eyes closed, but when Jim perused him, he could tell that Blair wasn't asleep. He sat quietly, letting Blair rest. After many long minutes, Blair stirred and asked, "How are your…" Very exhausted, he stopped and sighed before he asked again, "How are your eyes?"

"They are mostly clear now, and in just a few hours, I should be back to one hundred percent.”

"Good.” Reaching out his hand, Blair said, “Jim?”

"Yeah?" Jim took his hand and held it lightly.

"I'm sorry."

It was a good thing Jim was the Sentinel. Blair's voice was so quiet, no one but a sentinel would have been able to hear him.

"It's all right, Chief,” Jim said. “Don't worry about it. I just want you to get better." He closely watched Blair as he drifted back to sleep, wondering if Blair had heard his reassurances. He sighed, realizing that in spite of his condition, Blair remembered at least some of the events that had happened in the parking garage. Jim also knew that Blair was going to be emotionally charged after he was fully awake. He tried to prepare himself for it.

While Blair slept, Jim dozed in the recliner, vaguely aware of the comings and goings of the hospital staff. He heard the shift change and the nurses came and went, checking Blair's vitals. If Jim roused himself enough, he could hear the skritching of their pens against the sheets of paper while they logged in their results. After a few hours of drifting in and out of sleep, Jim rose and stretched, working out the kinks in his back. The door opened and one of the staff entered. Jim could see the man's shape almost clearly and he could just make out the name etched on his tag clipped to his shirt pocket.

“Hello, Mike,” Jim said, seeing the man's face clearly for the first time, even though the scent of the nurse and the way he walked alerted Jim to the fact that he had been one of the regular nurses tending to his partner.

“Hello, Detective Ellison,” Mike responded while he attended to his duties. He changed the IV solution bag for a fresh one and gave Blair an injection into the IV line.

"I see Mr. Sandburg is doing much better,” Mike said. “I'm really glad for you. I know how worried you've been.” He tucked the sheets in around Blair's body and turned to Jim. “You might as well go home. The doctor wants him to get plenty of rest, so he's given him something to make sure he sleeps at least another eight hours. Besides, you look like you could use a break."

"Thanks, Mike. Do I look that bad?"

Mike laughed. "No, Detective, but you have been here for more than two days. Every one needs a break once in a while. Listen, I'm on all night so he'll be in good hands. I'll keep a close eye on him for you."

"Thanks, Mike. I think I'll take you up on that if you'll promise to call me if anything changes."

"Of course, I'll call you, but everything looks fine. He's doing okay. I don't think there will be any problems; he'll just sleep."

Jim knew he needed a shower, and he was pretty hungry, so he put in a call to Simon, who came by and picked him and dropped him at the loft. He made Simon promise to come back in seven hours so he could be back before Blair woke up. He didn't like the idea of Blair waking up alone. By being under the influence of the drugs, Blair was not himself, so Jim knew he was shaky emotionally as well as physically damaged. He needed to be there when Blair woke up, and he hoped he would be able to handle his partner's reactions.

Simon arrived back at the loft at the promised hour and was pleased to see a detective who looked a heck of a lot better than yesterday. Jim had showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve blue shirt. Six hours of sleep had revived him considerably and, above all, he told Simon in a pleased voice that his vision was about ninety-seven percent normal, with just a slight golden halo around some objects.

He dropped Jim off in front of the hospital, telling him he would return to check on both of them in a few hours after his meeting with the Mayor. Jim made his way to Blair's room where he was relieved to see that Blair was still asleep.

Jim stood at his partner's bedside, grateful to see some color returning to his face. Blair was sleeping curled on his side, looking at least five years younger and more vulnerable to Jim than he had ever looked. His hair was a mess. One of the nurses had tried to capture some of it in an elastic band, but the curly strands kept escaping. Jim smiled to himself, thinking it would take Blair at least two days to get all the tangles out of it.

The last two days had crawled by slowly and Jim had more than enough time to think about what had happened in the days before Blair collapsed. He was feeling very guilty this morning about the predicament he had gotten Blair into, and he knew good and well that if it weren't for him, none of this would have happened. Sometimes he wondered what he was thinking, getting this guy involved in his life. Trouble was, Blair refused to budge out of his life now. Jim considered his options. What was he going to do with him? For the past year and a half, the damned guy had managed to weasel his way into Jim's solitary existence, and now look what it had brought him. Blair's reward for being a good friend, a reliable partner, and for helping Jim learn to control his senses was this -- almost dying.

Carefully, Jim sat on the side of the bed and he was lost in deep thought when it finally registered that Blair had woken and those intelligent blue eyes were intently watching him.

Giving Jim a trace of a smile, Blair asked, “You zoned or what?"

Jim shrugged and grinned. "Or what. I was thinking about you."

Blair dejectedly looked at him and sighed. "You must have better things to do than think about me."

"Now, what's that supposed to mean? I would say you've been the center of my attention for the past few days," Jim said teasingly.

"You know, you were right about everything. I've been nothing but trouble for you. And now this.” Blair's eyes slid away and he said quietly, “I don't blame you if you never want to see me again."

Jim shook his head and smiled. "Come on, Sandburg, I thought we were partners. It's not that bad. You'll feel better in a few days." Jim wasn't pleased to see the sadness in Blair's face and his attempts at light-hearted consolation backfired immediately.

A look of pure guilt mixed with anger washed over Blair's face. He struggled to sit up and his voice, raspy from the tube that had recently been removed, was cold. "You should have shot me, Jim,” he said angrily. “What were you thinking? You had no right to put your life in danger! Damn it, I was out of control -- I couldn't stop myself! You had no -- right -- to walk into that gun barrel." Tears of anger and guilt pooled in Blair's eyes and he impatiently rubbed them away.

Unsure of exactly what to say or do to reassure his friend, Jim said, "Chief, please…"

Blair's eyes flashed angrily again, his anguished tone clearly reflecting his feelings, even though his voice was barely above a harsh whisper. Jim didn't know where he got the strength to launch into another attack.

"What about all those things you were always telling me?” Blair growled. “Keep your emotions under control! You didn't even listen to your own advice. I was a danger to anyone in the garage!” Blair clenched his fists and dropped his head. “I could have -- killed you." His voice gave out on those last painful words and he started coughing from the strain he put on his already sore throat. He crossed his arms over his chest and hugged himself tightly.

Jim rose and finally found his voice. "Listen here, Sandburg. I did what I wanted to do. You don't have the right to tell me what I did was wrong.” Jim turned, pacing a few steps before he turned back and said angrily, “Where do you get off telling me how to conduct myself as a police officer? I controlled the situation -- I controlled you!” he growled, pointing a finger at Blair to emphasize his words. “And in case you have forgotten, none of this was your fault. If anyone is at fault, it's me. You weren't some wired junkie who went wacko that I had to subdue.” Jim ran a hand through his short hair. “God, Chief! You're my partner, my Guide -- and my friend. If I'm willing to risk my life for a stranger on the street, where do you get off telling me that I don't have the right to do it for you?"

Jim hadn't meant to get quite so angry, but sometimes Blair just really pushed him too far. He hadn't meant to grab Blair's arm and give it a small shake. He looked down at his fingers, wrapped around Blair's upper arm and bit his lip. What the hell was he doing? The poor guy was in a coma twelve hours ago and here he was assaulting him? Jim froze and his eyes met Blair's red-rimmed angry ones. Jim felt his eyes prickle and he was instantly full of regret. Dropping his hand, he sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing a hand across his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose. He stood in defeated silence for a very long while before he finally opened his eyes to look at his partner.

Blair had lain back on the pillows and his fists were clenched. While the tears hadn't fallen, Jim saw a sparkling drop hanging from the edge of the dark lashes. Furious at himself, Jim sighed again. He knew he should have been in better control. After all, he wasn't the one who had almost died. Sometimes he wondered where his brain was. Hadn't he told himself that Blair would be walking the edge emotionally after what had happened, compounded by the after effects of the Golden? Hadn't he told himself many times the last few days that he was here to help Blair, not hurt him? Still, he had managed to screw up. Shaking his head, Jim knew he had to put it right immediately or their friendship might not survive. Tentatively, he put his hand on Blair's shoulder.

When Blair didn't shake off the light touch, Jim sat back on the bed. "Chief, please. I'm sorry. I've been worried about you for days now and with everything else, I'm a little bit -- frazzled. At the station, I did what I had to do -- what I wanted to do. I couldn't let anything happen to you.” Jim gave Blair's shoulder a gentle squeeze and waited patiently for Blair to open his eyes and look at him. With a crooked smile, he added, “Besides, I need you, you know that. Who else is going to help me with this Sentinel stuff?"

Blair looked into his partner's face and saw the many emotions etched there. He knew Jim avoided talking about his feelings and that it took a lot for him to make these admissions. He saw the affection Jim had for him, and the reliance Jim had on him was clearly visible on his face. Blair's heart warmed and his anger disappeared.

Putting his hand over Jim's, Blair said softly, "I'm really sorry, too, Jim. Instead of being grateful for what you did, I'm being a total jerk. Thank you." When Jim's face broke into a smile and he gave Blair a nod, Blair smiled. "Thank you, my friend, for saving me."

Jim was very pleased when he returned Blair's smile and said simply, "Anytime."

The End.

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