New
Arrivals
Author-Vision
Titles
Amber
by Vision
Summary: After a tragic accident that leaves Jim without the use of his arm and his senses, Blair and a mysterious child work together to aid in Jim's recovery. Originally posted on the SentinelAngst List.
Disclaimer: Canon characters do not belong to me. They are the property of Pet Fly and Paramount. I don't make any money etc. etc. Vision sends Becky a big thank you for all of her work.
Crouching behind the police car, Jim did a last check of his equipment. Vest, check. Wire, check...
"I don't like it, Jim. I don't like this one bit. There's got to be another way."
Shaking his head, Jim fixed his attention on the front door of the building. "I wish there were, Chief. Believe me, I'm not exactly sold on the idea either, but at least he's agreed to let the kids go."
"Thank god for that. Be careful, Jim, I mean it. If this guy was crazy enough to take over a Day Care Centre, then he's crazy enough to take out a cop."
Nodding, Jim gave Blair a slight smile. "I'll be fine. It's your turn to cook, remember?"
"Right. You just make sure you're home to eat it."
"You just make sure it's something identifiable this time."
"You got a deal."
"Sandburg, you there?" Simon's voice sounded over the radio in Blair hand.
Pressing the radio to his lips, Blair kept a close eye on his partner. "We're here, Simon."
Jim listened carefully as Simon went over the details of the trade. Ten pre-school children in exchange for one unarmed detective. Jim rose to his full height at Simon's signal, moving slowly, keeping his hands above his head as instructed by the perp.
Blair swallowed back the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. Silently sending a prayer to the wind...
Concentrating on keeping his movements as slow and steady as possible, Jim made his way towards the door. When he was about half way there, he stopped and waited. The door to the building inched open and a young boy was shoved out onto the porch. Jim smiled, gesturing with his head towards the police cars behind him. "It's okay, son. I'm a police officer. What's your name?"
The boy shuffled his feet nervously, his eyes sweeping the scene before him. Police cars, SWAT vehicles, and ambulances crowded the small area. Officers squatted behind the vehicles, guns fixed on the small building that had once been the boy's safe haven of innocence.
A tiny voice mumbled in reply. "Billy."
"I'm Jim. Listen, Billy, do you know how to play follow the leader?"
Nodding the boy smiled. "Sure."
"Great." Taking another step forward, Jim shouted, "Carlos! You send the rest of them out here. I want to see every one of them, you hear me?"
"Shut up, Ellison! I'm making the rules here. You just keep coming!" The perp yelled as he roughly pushed another child through the doorway.
The pounding in his ears had risen to almost a deafening level. His thundering heart rate escalating with every step. Jim continued forward, watching as one by one children were pushed out onto the tiny porch. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...
Jim reached the steps, trying to keep the fear in his heart from tarnishing his voice. "Hey Billy. You ready to play our game? I'm gonna count to three, and I want you to run, you got that? The rest of you follow him, okay? I don't want you to stop until you're way over by those police cars, ready? One, two, three."
The ground erupted with the sound of sneaker clad footsteps, squeals of nervous laughter and heavy sighs of relief. When the last set of footsteps had cleared the vehicles, Jim turned his attention back to the door. "Where's the last one, Carlos?"
The door swung open revealing a short man with black hair holding a young girl firmly under his arm. The child squirmed in his grasp, trying desperately to free herself from his clutches.
"Let her go, Carlos."
Spitting in Jim's direction, Carlos pressed the barrel of the gun close to the girl's head. "Get on you knees."
Slowly Jim knelt before the man, keeping his hands high in the air. The wooden stairs creaked under his weight, making him feel even more unstable. Carlos smiled at the detective. "Well, well, isn't this just a Kodak moment. Wish I had a camera. I'll tell you what. Since you like games so much, I've got one for you."
Jim's eyes shifted to the hostage. He studied her, watching with keen interest as she stilled under the weight of his gaze. Her long brown hair hung loosely around her face, porcelain skin framing her ocean blue eyes. She couldn't have been more then five years old, and yet there was this wisdom about her, an audible sense of something more...
"So what do you say, Ellison? You drop the vest, and I let her go."
Blair's voice boomed in Jim's ear. "No way, Jim. Don't listen to him. Jim?"
Jim smiled at the child. "It's okay, honey. I'm a police officer. Everything's going to be just fine." Jim lowered his hands and began to undo his vest. "That a girl."
The barrel of the gun turned away from the child towards Jim's chest. Jim could feel the muscles in his stomach tighten. The vest slid from his hand and dropped to the ground.
"I've waited years for this, Ellison. You killed my brother, and now you're gonna pay."
"Let her go."
"Two for one, must be my lucky day."
Blair's strained voice filtered through his thoughts. "They can't get a clear shot. You got to get her on the ground."
Weighing his options, Jim carefully moved to a standing position and took a step forward. "Go ahead, Carlos, do it. Come on."
The thundering voice of his Captain punctured the air. Quickly dialing down his hearing, Jim took another cautious step towards the perp.
"Get back! I'll do her right here!" Carlos yelled retreating a few steps back into the confines of the house.
Jim grabbed the edge of the screen door, as Carlos stumbled backwards into the tiny entrance way of the house. Measuring the distance between himself and the child, Jim flashed a quick look at the young girl. "Do you like apples, sweetheart? How about you pretend that arm there is one big juicy apple."
The girl smiled in understanding and leaned her head in closer to the perp. Her teeth sank into the man's arm and a moment later she was on the ground.
In a lightning fast movement, Jim snatched at her shirt and dragged her through the door. Slamming the screen door, Jim flung himself atop the tiny bundle, shielding her from the onslaught of bullets. His chest heaved against her back, his hands tightly wound under her body. The child trembled under him, her small hands finding his own and holding on. His mind latched on to those tiny fingers, feeling the delicate dance of their closeness on his skin. Her tiny heart pounded in time with his own, her lungs sending slight huffs of air against his face. Closing his eyes to the splinters of debris that fell around him, Jim tried to reassure the fragile life beneath him. "It's okay, honey. Just one more minute. It's all over now."
Even as the words left his mouth, his hearing picked up the twang of snapping metal. Rolling away from the child, Jim turned on his back, preparing to take the full force of the load that was about to land on them. The perp's body swayed for a moment, looming above him like some hideous gargoyle perched atop a building. The man crashed through the door, a mass of tangled limbs and blood. Throwing his hands in the air Jim turned his face away from the scene and locked eyes with the child beside him. Even as the air was forced from his lungs, and the sting of tearing skin and pooling blood exploded through his senses, Jim managed to whisper a single word of encouragement. "Okay."
Blair darted out from behind the vehicle, blatantly ignoring Simon's curses. Rafe and Brown close at his heels. As Blair approached the steps, the little girl reached for Jim's protruding hand, seemingly lost in the horrific images played out before her. Gently rubbing the child's back, Blair encouraged her to sit up. "It's okay, baby. It's all over. I'm a friend of Jim's. I need to see if he's okay. You go with this nice officer. He'll take good care of you."
Gingerly lifting the child in his arms, Blair passed her to Brown. Rafe checked the perp for a pulse and shook his head. "He's gone."
The two men removed the body and stared through the remains of the screen door that lay atop their friend. One of Jim's arms had punctured through the glass, the other protruded at an odd angle at his side. His head tilted to the side, firmly pressed against the glass. Web like patterns dotting the glass, red streaks beginning to form along the lines of the cracks. One leg had kicked in the bottom screen of the door, the other lay covered in shining shards of shattered glass.
"Oh god, Rafe, this is bad. Jim can you hear me? What do we do Rafe? What the hell do we do? Do we move it?" Not waiting for a reply, Blair knelt beside his partner. Ignoring the glass that broke under the weight of his knees, Blair reached under the door, gently brushing away the tiny shards of glass near Jim's eyes. "Come on, Jim. Wake up for me dammit."
Jim's eyes slit open, snapping shut again as the pain slammed into him. "Ch-Chief?"
"I'm here. You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get this thing off of you."
Unfocused eyes blinked open, squinting at the blinding rays of the noonday sun. "Too bright. Hurts. The kid? She's..."
"She's fine, man. Just relax. Breathe. Find the dial, Jim. You just concentrate on my voice."
Endless minutes passed as a team of firemen, policemen and ambulance attendants worked at freeing Jim from the mass of glass and metal. Blair continued to support his friend with soft spoken words of encouragement. "And I was gonna make a steak too. You blew it man." Blair tightened his grip on Jim's shoulders as the men lifted the heavy door off of the fallen detective. His own heart leapt as he felt every muscle in Jim's body quiver in response. "It's okay, I'm right here."
Blair watched as Jim swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing from the exertion. Tilting his head slightly backwards, Jim searched out his partner's eyes. Leaning in closer, a few stray locks of Blair's hair bushed against his face. Focusing on the small strands of hair, Jim tried to block out the other agonizing sensations that wracked his body. The smell of his own blood, and that of the perp's clung in the air. Fighting the urge to vomit, Jim latched on to Blair's words like a lifeline.
"Well done." Jim croaked in between gasps.
"What?" Blair looked at his partner in confusion, silently hoping that the head injury that Jim had sustained was not any worse than he had anticipated.
Nodding slightly, Jim continued. "Steak, well done, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Lots of gravy."
Blair couldn't help but smile. "Not tonight partner. You'll be lucky if you get jello out of this one."
An unfamiliar face swam into Jim's field of vision. The young woman smiled at him as she gently placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. "Let's make this a little easier. That's better now, isn't it? Save your strength. We're about ready to move you." Smiling in Blair's direction, the woman patted his arm. "You can ride with us if you want."
"Thanks. Is he gonna be okay?"
"Let's just get going, shall we?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Simon's head swiveled from side to side as he followed Blair's movements. "Sandburg, wearing a hole in the rug is not going to make the time go any faster. You heard the doc. He's stable; his vitals are good."
"And he's still unconscious." Blair retorted as he turned on his heels and continued pacing the small waiting room. "It's been two hours, Simon. Maybe he zoned..."
"Or maybe he got hit on the head with a medal door." Simon remarked sarcastically. "Will you just calm down? Besides, the doc said he was fading in and out. He did not say he's been unconscious for two hours."
"Right. You're right -- that is what he said. When do you think they'll let us see him?"
Shaking his head, Simon levered himself off of the hard plastic chair. "It shouldn't be long now. Look, Blair, I know how it looked at the scene. I know you're worried."
"Worried? He looked like the goddamn poster boy for blood donation, Simon. Of course I'm worried." Turning his face away from Simon's, Blair heaved a heavy sigh. "He was awake in the ambulance for a few minutes. The ambulance attendant asked him to squeeze her hand He couldn't do it, Simon. He couldn't feel anything."
Simon hesitated, trying to find the right words that would reassure both himself and Sandburg. "Let's not jump to conclusions, okay? Jim's as tough as they come. Let's just give it some time."
Nodding, Blair tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans and nervously began jingling his loose change. "Time. I guess that's all we've got right now, right, Simon?"
"He's going to be okay, Blair."
"Sure."
Blair turned at the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Are you Blair Sandburg?"
"Yes."
"I'm Angela Tress, Detective Ellison's doctor. And you would be?" The doctor nodded at Simon, extending her hand.
"Captain Banks. I'm Jim's Captain." Simon said, gripping her hand
The woman smiled, gesturing for the two men to take a seat. Dropping into one of the nearby chairs, Blair waited anxiously for a report on his partner.
"Your friend is still somewhat disoriented. He has a fairly serious concussion, but seems to be fairly coherent. His vitals are strong and he's breathing on his own. There are a few other concerns that we need to address."
"What concerns?" Blair whispered almost inaudibly.
The doctor paused, shifting her eyes between Blair and Simon. "Although he did receive some trauma to his legs, the wounds are actually quite minor. A few days of rest, and he should be on his feet again. Luckily his right arm wasn't broken. A sprained wrist, but that will heal nicely on its own. It's his left arm that seems to have incurred the brunt of his injuries. The combined weight of the man and the door, as well as the glass panel have done considerable damage. It was a clean break, but a large piece of glass fragment has caused some nerve damage. As of this moment he has no feeling in either his arm or his hand."
Blair felt the touch of Simon's hand on his back.
"Is it permanent?" Simon asked, trying to keep his tone professional.
"We don't know that yet. There are some options that we can look at once he's regained some of his strength. Any surgery would have to be planned for a later date. He's very weak. There was a significant amount of blood loss. Right now I'd like to concentrate on the positive aspects of his recovery, do you understand?"
Blair gave the woman a half-hearted smile. "We understand. When can we see him?"
"You can see him in a few minutes. They're just getting him settled in his room. He's still a bit disoriented. He keeps mentioning a kitten."
"A kitten? He must be thinking about Megan's cat. I've been taking care of her while she's away visiting her family. I've been so busy at the university that Jim's been doing most of the work."
"Try not to get him too agitated. Let's try keeping him calm, shall we?" The doctor stood, quickly followed by the two men. Handing Blair a piece of paper with a room number on it, she excused herself and made her way back along the hallway.
Shoving the paper in his pocket, Blair reached for the cup of coffee on the table beside him. Holding the glass in his hand, he watched how his own fingers curled effortlessly around the container, securely holding it in his grasp. The doctor had given he and Simon a complete report of Jim's physical injuries, but the psychological report had yet to be filed.
"You okay, Sandburg?" Simon asked with concern.
"I don't know, Simon. I just don't know."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Something felt wrong...
Dragging his eyes open, Jim scanned the room slowly. Curtain? Voices? IV? Pain....oh god! He tried to move his head, but even the slightest movement sent searing waves of agony through his skull. His hand shook as he reached blindly for the call button. His thumb wavered over the top of the button as he tried to summon the strength to press it. He bit down hard on his lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over onto the stark white sheets. His fingernail flicked against the side of the button just as the door carefully inched open. A grunt of anguish escaped his lips as Blair's face appeared in the doorway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair's heart leapt, each beat trip-hammering over the next. The pain in his friend's eyes was beyond belief. Hurrying to his bedside, Blair hesitated as he tried to locate an area of Jim's body that was not too badly damaged. "It's okay. I'm right here."
Gripping Jim's right forearm with one hand, Blair stroked tiny lines of reassurance up and down Jim's arm. His eyes lingered on the thick white bandage covering his partner's left arm, sighing internally as he noticed the fingers laying limp against the sheets. The muscles under his hand flexed and shook as Jim fought to gain control of the pain. Using his free hand, Blair brushed his fingertips along Jim's forehead, causing the older man to close his eyes. The lines of tension seemed to ease slightly at the contact, and Blair continued to move his fingers gingerly along Jim's cool skin.
"Picture the dial, Jim. I want you to turn it down, nice and slow. That's it. Feel my hand on your forehead."
Moments later a soft sigh passed from Jim's lips, and he opened his eyes.
Removing his hand from Jim's forehead, Blair smiled down at his partner. "Better?" Blair allowed his own body to relax, echoing the sigh of his partner.
A look of confusion crossed Jim's face as he turned his head slightly away from Blair's.
"What's wrong Jim?"
"Can't feel." Jim rasped as he looked at the bandage that encased his arm. "What? I can't feel my arm."
Blair tightened his hold on Jim's good arm, feeling the tension quickly returning to Jim's body. Jim's chest heaved as he struggled to lift his head up off the pillow. "Jim, you have to calm down. Just relax. You're going to be just fine. Your arm just needs some time to heal."
Turning accusing eyes on his friend, Jim whispered, "You're lying. You're lying to me."
Taken aback by Jim's words, Blair released his hold on his friend. "It's too early to tell. There're options, Jim. There's surgery..."
"I should be able to feel something. I'm right, aren't I?"
Blair caught Jim's hand as he reached for the bandages that bound his arm. "Stop it, Jim! I said, stop it!"
"It's over. This is it. I deserve this. It was my fault" The words caught in Jim's throat as he struggled to free himself from Blair's grasp.
"What are you talking about? You saved ten children, Jim. You're a hero."
Squeezing his eyes closed, Jim let his head fall back against the pillows. "I couldn't save you. I killed you."
For long moments, Blair stared silently at his friend. It had been months since the drowning incident at the fountain, and Blair had thought that they had put any feelings of blame behind them. It was obvious to him now, as he tried to comfort his partner, that many things had yet to be resolved.
"Don't ever say anything like that to me again, do you hear me? I'm alive, and I'm safe, and it's all because of you. Those children are alive too Jim. I can't believe you think you deserve this. This is not some kind of penance, Jim. Whatever happens here, we'll deal with it -- together."
Opening his eyes, Jim nodded slightly. "Don't leave."
"I'm not going anywhere."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been three days since the accident, and Blair had watched helplessly as Jim had retreated further and further into his shell. There had been moments of fury unlike any Blair had ever witnessed before. Worse were the times of silence, the long drawn out periods of self-deprecation that had become second nature to the distraught detective. Through it all, Blair stood by his partner, side-stepping around hurled insults, tiptoeing around sideways glances.
Taking a deep breath, Blair forced himself to smile as he opened the door. "Hey Jim, you ready to break out of here?"
"Where've you been? I was ready an hour ago," Jim remarked, carefully maneuvering himself off of the bed into the waiting wheelchair. "I don't know why they make people use these stupid things. I'm perfectly capable of walking out of here."
"They use them for stubborn patients who leave the hospital AMA." Blair countered, hoping his words might help to change his partner's mind. "Are you sure about this? It's not too late to change your mind."
"I want to go home. Just get me out of here." Jim replied, gesturing with his good hand towards the door. "I don't need you hovering over me either."
Mentally biting his tongue, Blair grabbed Jim's duffel bag and pushed him towards the door. "Fine. No problem."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ride home had been made in almost complete silence, except for the occasional snide comment about Blair's driving skills. Blair was relieved to finally reach the loft, and even more relieved to find out that the elevator was in working order. Jim didn't need any more reminders of just how weak he really was. The short trip from the truck had taken almost twenty minutes, with numerous stops to allow Jim to catch his breath.
Jim's doctor had warned Blair about the stages of denial and anger that were to be expected after such a serious injury. She herself had expressed concern over Jim's lack of response to Blair's ministrations and had cautioned him about leaving Jim alone. Blair had left her office dazed and confused, undeniably shocked at her even mentioning the term "suicidal tendencies." Jim was a strong man, both physically and mentally, surely she was mistaken...
Blair had personally seen to it that Jim had booked follow-up appointments for both his physical and mental well being. Jim had expressed no interest in being involved in the scheduling, and had literally tuned Blair out during the appointment booking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair watched as Jim made his way slowly to the couch, carefully easing himself into the confines of the cushions. Blair tried to ignore the slight hitch in Jim's breathing as he rested his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Busying himself with other tasks, Blair hung up Jim's jacket and headed towards the kitchen. Jim had refused to wear the jacket on the way home, firmly insisting that it was too hot out for the bulky garment. Blair knew that the real reason that Jim didn't want to wear the jacket was because it meant that he would have to ask for help putting it on and taking it off.
The guy would rather freeze to death than ask for help, Blair mused as he began taking items from the fridge.
Keeping a watchful eye on his partner, Blair began putting together the ingredients he needed to make a light dinner. Jim's head had rolled to the side, the pull of slumber finally claiming him. Blair winced in sympathy as the added the meat to the hot oil in the wok. To Blair's surprise, Jim hadn't even flinched. Taking a wooden spoon from the drawer, Blair tapped it against the side of the wok -- still no response. Panic rose in Blair's heart as he allowed the lid of the wok to tumble off the counter onto the floor.
Jim shifted restlessly, but did not wake.
Abandoning the meal, Blair moved to the living room and checked on his partner. Jim lay motionless on the couch, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.
Blair knelt beside the slumbering man and gently touched his limp hand. "What are you doing to yourself, Jim? Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe you are trying to kill who you are."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Just when were you planning on telling me?" Blair remarked angrily.
Trying to find the right words to hopefully subdue his partner, Jim shrugged. "I guess it's just some kind of side effect from the accident."
"This is no side effect, Jim." Blair countered, his voice rising with indignation. "This is about me, isn't it? You're still beating yourself up over the whole Alex thing, aren't you?"
A sharp knock at the door interrupted Jim's rebuttal.
"Don't think for one minute that you're off the hook, Ellison. I'm not done yet."
Taking the few strides to the door, Blair gave his partner an icy glare as he twisted the knob.
"I can hear you two from the elevator." Simon remarked, pushing past Blair and making his way into the living room. "Sit -- both of you."
The two men complied, Jim dropping into the armchair and Blair stiffly seating himself on the couch. Simon, quickly assessing the obvious uncomfortable nature of the situation, decided to remain standing.
"I won't even ask how things are going around here. It's quite obvious that the two of you are at each other's throats. Well, I think I have a solution to this little problem. I had a visitor today, Jim, one that I think you'll find quite interesting."
"And who might that be, sir?" Jim asked, idly picking at a loose thread in the fabric of the chair.
"Amber Mills -- the little girl that you saved the other day. She stopped by with her aunt to check on you and offer her thanks for what you did. She's a very unique little girl."
"How so?" Blair asked, fixing his eyes on Simon's smiling face.
"Her aunt called the station just before they arrived so I decided to meet them in the lobby. Amber walked straight to the elevator, pushed the right button, got off and made a bee line right for your desk. It was incredible. It's like she knew exactly where she was going. By the time her aunt and I caught up with her, she was curled up on your chair. The weird thing was that her aunt wasn't the least bit surprised."
Jim's mind filtered back to the scene at the day care center, replaying the first encounter that he had had with the little girl. Even then, he had felt a connection to the child, a desire to protect her no matter the personal cost.
"Jim? Earth to Ellison? Have you heard a word I said?" Simon quipped, giving Jim's good arm a gentle shake.
"Sorry, sir. I was just thinking." Jim smiled, trying to hide the slight blush in his cheeks. "Did her aunt tell you anything else?"
"Apparently Amber's mother committed suicide when she was three. The child was so traumatized that she hasn't spoken a word in almost two years."
Blair felt an anxious rush of emotions dart through his body as he watched Jim turn away from his gaze. "What about finding Jim's desk? How did her aunt explain that one?"
"This is where things get interesting. Susan, Amber's aunt, told me that Amber was a very sensitive child, that she seemed more in tune with her surroundings than most children. Here, take a look at this." Producing a folded piece of paper from his pocket, Simon passed it to Jim. "Remember that old tree in the park down the street from the precinct? Amber drew this while her aunt and I were talking. That tree was at least 200 yards away."
Jim stared at the piece of paper, absently tracing a finger along the crayon markings. He squeezed his eyes shut as a blinding flash of a memory punctured its way into his head. He was a young boy, no more than six, coloring a picture at the kitchen table. William Ellison sat across from him reading the morning paper. His mother stared down at his picture, smiling brightly at the image on the page.
"Jimmy, that's beautiful, honey. How about we hang it up on the fridge?"
William looked up from his paper and snatched the drawing away from his son's grasp. "Why can't you draw like other kids? Look at this. Put it away with the others."
Grace nodded, taking the picture from her husband and tucking it away in a kitchen drawer.
"The sooner you learn to draw stick people, the better off you'll be," William shouted, tossing the newspaper aside.
Jim's eyes flew open, his body shaking with such force that he felt like he might fall off of the chair.
Blair's concerned eyes met his. "Man, are you okay? Simon, call an ambulance. Jim?"
Swallowing hard, Jim shook his head. "No hospital."
"Are you sure?" Blair brushed a hand across Jim's forehead checking for fever. "No fever. You look like hell, Jim."
"I need to see her. She thinks she did it. She thinks she killed her mother. She thinks she drove her mother away, just like I did." Jim closed his eyes to the tears that had begun to blur his vision.
Strong arms gently pulled him towards the edge of the chair, wrapping themselves around him and easing him to a standing position. The same arms carefully guided him to the couch and positioned him on his side. His eyes remained closed the entire time, his mind drifting somewhere between reality and unreality. His head rested against something warm and reassuring, and he allowed his body to be supported by that warmth, cradled in the comfort of its security.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair felt like he had been talking for hours, and in all actuality he had. Jim was still asleep, the impact of the sensory spike and the news about Amber draining his energy reserves. The older man lay curled on his side, his right arm wedged under a cushion, his head resting heavily in Blair's lap. Simon had left over an hour ago, leaving strict instructions that he be kept informed of Jim's recovery. For the first time, Blair saw in Simon's eyes the depth of feeling that he had for James Ellison. The gruff captain had allowed the mask of authority to slip, revealing the intimate concern that he had for his friend.
After Simon had left, Blair had settled into a one-sided discussion with the man resting in his lap. He knew that part of Jim could hear him, and that no matter what psychological pain Jim was inflicting on himself, Blair would find a way through it.
"Jim. I'm really sorry for the way I spoke to you. I should have known better. I guess I just expected that you'd find a way to bounce back from this. You're not the only one that's in shock here. Just because you can't feel with one arm doesn't mean that you have to cut the rest of your body off. You're a Sentinel, Jim and that's not gonna change. It can be a burden, I know that, but it can be a blessing too. What did you see in that picture, Jim? I wish you would trust me enough to tell me.
"I've been thinking about something. I've never seen you draw. I mean, you must be incredible, the stuff you can see, the colors, the textures. Hell, I've never even seen you doodle for that matter. What is it, Jim? Is this another one of those things that you had to hide? Maybe that's why you hate paperwork so much.
"I think I have a pretty good idea what caused that spike. It's you mom, isn't is? You've got to stop blaming yourself for everything that's goes wrong in your life and in everyone else's. Things happen, Jim, mothers leave, fathers don't take responsibility for their sons, that's the way it is.
"For your information, not everything that happens in your life is because you're a Sentinel. You're a man first, and a Sentinel second. I know. I know, I'm the one that always says they're one and the same. Well, maybe that's because I keep looking for the Sentinel reactions to everything. Maybe I'm the one who can't feel anything right now.
"Maybe I'm the one that's lost his touch."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jim listened to his Guide's voice allowing the words to seep into the furthest edges of his mind. He had been awake for more than half an hour, but was not yet ready to face his partner. How was is that Blair Sandburg had bullied his way into his life? At what point did this young man become more than just a ride along observer? He had never felt this type of bond before, and quite frankly, it terrified him. The relationship that he had with his brother had made a steady improvement over the past little while, as had the relationship with his own father, mostly because of one curly haired anthropologist.
And yet, the closeness that Jim felt to his family was nothing compared to his feelings for Blair. Blair could read him like he did one of his own books. Most people had only glanced at the front cover of Jim's life, or read the tiny synopsis on the back cover, but Blair had managed to read the text, adding chapters and imagery to the words.
Jim opened his eyes, and stared across the room. "I used to draw picture for my mom. Dad used to make her keep them in a drawer."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair jerked at the sound of Jim's voice, but quickly recovered. "Why? Why did he do that, Jim?"
"He said they weren't like the other kids. Told her to keep them hidden. I don't want Amber to go through this, Blair. I don't want her to blame herself the way I do. It's not her fault."
"No, it's not, are you listening to yourself? It's not your fault either. You did not make your mother leave, nor did you hold my head under that water. Am I getting through to you?"
The weight resting against him shifted slightly "But--"
"No 'buts.' Now, I happen to be starving here, and I know a certain detective who could use some pain meds and a good meal. You can bet we'll be continuing this discussion in further detail in the next few days, but for now, I think both of us need a break. Now that I've finally got you talking I don't want to slip back into old habits, you got that?
"Okay."
"Good."
Smiling warmly at his partner, Blair eased himself out from under Jim.
Resting his upper body on one elbow, Jim returned the smile. "Chief?"
"Yeah, Jim?"
"I think I could use some help."
Gripping Jim's good arm, Blair helped him to stand. "That, my friend, is exactly what I needed to hear. Does this mean I get to do the 'Blessed Protector' bit for a little while?"
"Not on your life, Sandburg," Jim joked as he headed for the kitchen. Lifting the lid of the wok, Jim scrunched up his nose. "What is that?"
"It's dinner," Blair stated flatly as he dug through the cutlery drawer. "It's good for you, plenty of vitamins and protein. It'll help you get your strength back."
"I think I'd rather be weak. Maybe there are some advantages to having normal taste buds." Jim muttered.
"I heard that." Blair teased, gently giving Jim a shove towards the table. "Jim? Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, the Amber thing?"
"Yes. I think I can help her, Chief."
"Me too, Jim, me too."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The evening passed by quickly, both men enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the pleasant conversation. Jim had finally begun to unwind a bit, becoming less and less guarded with his words and emotions. By the time dinner was over and the two men had retired to the balcony, Jim had even begun to smile. Blair stared at him for a moment, noticing the lines of tension had eased and the muscles in his jaw had slackened.
"What are you staring at, Chief?" Jim joked good-naturedly.
"Nothing. I'm just glad you're feeling better. You had me worried there for a minute."
Gazing up into the night sky, Jim nodded. "Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Well, you did. I want you to look at me, and I want you to listen."
Raising an eyebrow in Blair's direction, Jim laughed. "Is this gonna be one of those famous Sandburg lectures?"
"That's right. Only this time you're going to take notes. Class is in session, Detective Ellison, so sit back and listen to the teacher."
The playfulness had left Blair's voice, and Jim found it difficult to keep his eyes focused on Blair. Part of him wanted to run, to escape the words that threatened to expose more of his inner feelings. The other part of him, the tiny part that had remained dormant for most of his life, begged for Blair to press on.
"Jim, I need you to think about something, and I want you to know that no matter what you decide, I'm going to back you up one hundred percent. I've been doing a lot of soul searching the last couple of days, and I've come to a few conclusions.
"First of all, I want you to think about how you feel right now, how you feel without your abilities. Are you happier? We've never really talked about that. Your happiness, I mean. I guess what I'm saying is if being Jim Ellison, just Jim Ellison, is what you want, then that's good enough for me. This Sentinel thing is what initially brought us together, but it's not what keeps me here. What keeps me here is you, senses or no senses, do you understand?"
Jim was glad the balcony was now mostly bathed in shadow. Maybe Blair wouldn't see the tears that glistened in his eyes or the nervous twitch of his hand. "Are you saying you don't care if my abilities come back?"
"I'm saying that a Sentinel will always be a Sentinel as long as he chooses to be, and a Guide has no right to make that choice for him."
Jim nodded in the semi-darkness, not trusting the sound of his own voice.
Blair smiled as he stood and made his way towards the balcony doors. "Do you need anything before I hit the sack?"
"No," came the whispered reply.
"Okay then. I'll see you in the morning."
"Night, Blair."
"Good night, Jim."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jim sat on the balcony in the dark, his mind suddenly blank. It seemed funny to him after such an intense moment that his mind could be so at ease. Maybe this was what it felt like to be truly loved, to be accepted without any strings attached. There were a long line of strings that had entwined themselves around Jim's heart, and for the first time, the taut twine that bound his soul snapped and allowed him to breathe more freely.
What exactly did he want? Maybe he was happier just being a normal man, without any obligations to the tribe or the world at-large. It was so much easier...
Leaning his head on the back of the chair, Jim inhaled deeply. The cool night air filled his lungs and sent a slight shiver through his body. The truth came to him at that moment, the moment in time when a soul is perfectly at peace.
He had chosen the road less traveled, the steep incline of his life making him lose his footing sometimes. The path ahead was filled with potholes and rough terrain, and yet he knew he would not be traveling it alone. In his mind's eye, he could see Blair walking beside him, one hand holding his backpack, the other resting lightly on Jim's shoulder.
Jim thought about the image, trying to gasp the entire magnitude of the whole picture laid out before him. The backpack that Blair held in his hand was more than just a carry-all. It was a symbol of their journey, a sign that they had a long way to go in their quest for understanding. It wasn't a suitcase that Blair held, for suitcases carry with them a sense of permanence, possibly even finality. The backpack was much less threatening.
It meant that at some point they would be coming home.
Blair had never intended on leaving him, Jim was now sure of that. Even though the road might dip and swerve in many directions, with forks and ruts blocking their path, Jim and Blair would travel it....together...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dropping onto his bed still fully clothed, Blair listened to the soft night sounds coming from the street below. He knew Jim would need some time to process their conversation, but he wanted to be available in case he needed him. Jim had come along way emotionally in the last twenty-four hours, but his physical needs were still very much a real concern.
After fifteen minutes of staring at the same speck in the ceiling, Blair gave in to the temptation to check on his partner. Padding quietly into the living room, Blair caught sight of Jim still sitting in the same position on the balcony. Not wanting to overstep his boundaries, Blair headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jim smiled to himself as he listened to Blair's obviously exaggerated movements. There was no doubt in Jim's mind that Blair had had no intention of going to sleep without his friend safely tucked into bed.
Slowly rising from the chair, Jim made his way back inside and closed the doors. Holding up the glass of water, Blair smiled. "I was thirsty."
"You always sleep with your clothes on, Sandburg? Or is this one of those Guide things I don't know about."
Blushing slightly, Blair took a long sip of water before answering. "Guilty as charged, Detective. Are you heading to bed?"
Leaning heavily on the counter, Jim scrubbed a hand across his face. "Yeah. I think I've done enough thinking for one day."
"You sure you don't need any help?"
There was almost a plea in Blair's tone, an invitation to solidify the shaky ground that they had been standing on in the last few months. Alex had taken something from them, and only time and the magic of healing words could make things right again.
Jim smiled. "You already have helped me. I think I'd still be on that couch if it weren't for you."
"That was before. I mean, do you need any help now?"
"Like I said, Chief, you've already helped me more than you know."
Blair's smile broadened as he placed the glass in the sink. "I'm glad. Now let's get you settled so I can really pretend to go to bed."
"You gonna tell me a bedtime story too? There's always that lecture on ‘Anthropology and the Modern Man.' That one always puts me to sleep."
"Funny, Jim, very funny."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair spent the next half-hour comfortably settling Jim into bed. Confident that his partner was finally drifting off into a peaceful slumber, Blair returned to his room and proceeded to get ready for bed. Leaving his door slightly ajar, Blair curled on his side facing the door. It was nice to be needed, and even nicer to be needed by someone who thought nothing of taking care of the needs of the entire city.
Blair's thoughts drifted to Amber, his last waking thought a prayer to whatever ancient deity kept watch over Sentinels. He and Jim would try to set her on the right path, but ultimately the choice would be her own...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jim woke to the soft murmuring of Blair's voice on the telephone. Turning on his side, he looked towards the stairs. For the first time in a long time, he felt rested, almost invigorated by the dawning of a new day. Warm shafts of sunlight filled the room, lightly dancing their heat along his face. The distant chirping of a bird made him sigh with deep contentment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hanging up the phone, Blair closed the phone book and tucked it safely into a nearby kitchen drawer. He knew he was meddling in something that he probably shouldn't be, but it would be worth it if it helped to relieve some of the tension between Jim and his father William Ellison deserved the chance to further make amends with his son, and Blair was just the one to help him achieve that goal.
Jim slowly descended the stairs, navigating each step carefully. Quickly striding towards the stairs, Blair fell in step beside his partner.
"Hey Jim. How's it going? Sleep well?
"Yeah, fine, actually better than usual. Who were you talking to?"
Leaving Jim's side, Blair began busying himself by pulling breakfast items out of the fridge and cupboards. "Just a friend. So, you ready to go meet Amber this morning? I've got to stop by Megan's and take care of her cat this morning. Rafe's been looking after her the last couple of days and I guess she's a bit skittish."
Accepting the glass of orange juice that Blair held out to him, Jim shrugged. "She was fine when I was there."
"Yeah, well, I guess she just needs a bit of that Ellison charm." Blair smiled playfully. "By the way, now that we're on the topic of felines, the doc said you were mentioning a kitten when they first brought you in. What was that about?"
Taking a quick swallow of juice, Jim hesitated before answering. "I don't know. It's all kind of jumbled up in my head right now."
"You think maybe it was a vision of some sort? Maybe something to do with Amber?"
Taking another quick sip, Jim placed the glass on the counter and snagged a piece of toast. "Could be. It was strange."
"In what way?"
"I didn't hear it purring. I always hear them."
"Really?"
Nodding, Jim moved towards the table. "Yeah, mostly even before I see them. I was pretty out of it though."
"No argument there, but you were pretty out of it when you saw Alex's spirit animal, weren't you? You had just been shot in the arm."
"But I saw Alex's spirit animal before I got shot."
Trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, Blair joined Jim at the table. "You did?"
"Yeah."
"But you didn't see the kitten until after you got hurt this time, is that right?"
"Right."
"I think we're on to something here. Humor me for a minute. Let's say for argument's sake that when you meet a Sentinel that could in some way threaten your territory, you have visions before you actually meet them. And when you meet a Sentinel that is in no way going to harm you, you get the visions after you meet them. Maybe that's the distinction. Maybe that's the key to determining whether or not you're in any real danger."
"What about the arm bit?"
Taking a moment to arrange his thoughts, Blair continued. "I don't know. It's certainly worth looking into though." Glancing at his watch, Blair downed his glass of juice quickly. "We gotta go. You need any help getting ready?"
"Just tying my shoes" Jim said as he made his way towards the bathroom. "You better not have used all the hot water. I still have one good arm, you know."
"Be nice, or I'll tie them together." Blair yelled in the direction of the bathroom. It was nice to have the old Jim back. Nice indeed...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair pulled the truck up beside the curb and turned off the ignition.
"You ready?"
Nodding slowly, Jim stared our the window at the house. "I guess."
"Are you okay? Look, if you're not feeling up to this..."
Smiling slightly, Jim grabbed at the door handle. "I'm fine. Let's go."
The two men exited the vehicle and walked up to the front door. Susan Mills greeted them warmly and ushered them into the living room.
"I don't know how to thank you, Detective. I'm so sorry about your arm." Susan Mills offered as she gestured for them to take a seat. "Please sit down. Captain Banks said that you wanted to see me. Is there something about the case that I need to know?"
"Actually, no, we're here on other business. I came to talk to you about Amber."
"Really? What seems to be the problem?"
Jim shifted uneasily on the couch, trying to form the right words in his head before continuing. "I have a feeling I know what's wrong with her."
"Actually the doctors think she has some form of autism. The way she focuses in on something, almost as if the entire world doesn't exist. I've always thought she was just a very sensitive child, but now I'm not so sure. Her mother died when she was very young. This really didn't show up until after her mother's suicide. I don't know that much about autism, but I'm sure that it doesn't just shows up like that. I think this is more of an emotional thing. The poor child had been left alone in the house for an entire day with my sister before anyone caught on that anything was wrong. She must have been devastated. There's so much I don't understand about Amber. One minute she's as happy as a lark, the next minute she has her hands squeezed against her ears and her eyes slammed shut. I just don't understand it."
Blair could barely contain his enthusiasm. "I think we do."
"Can I see her?" Jim asked softly.
"She's right out..."
The slam of a screen door announced Amber's arrival.
Sneaker-clad feet traipsed through the kitchen, and into the living room. Jim grinned as the young child launched herself into his arms. "Hey, there's my girl."
Amber wrapped her arms tightly around Jim's neck and held on.
"I missed you too, Amber." Jim whispered Sentinel-soft, gently returning the hug.
Amber pulled away from Jim's grasp and tugged relentlessly on his good hand.
"I think I'm being paged."
Jim stood, following the child towards the stairs. Blair turned in his seat to watch as Jim disappeared up the staircase. Once certain that Jim was okay, Blair tuned back to Susan Mills.
"Ms. Mills, what I'm about to tell you is going to sound rather unbelievable. I need you to keep an open mind."
"Of course, and it's Susan."
"Great. Then I'll start at the beginning..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amber lead Jim to a room at the top of the stairs. A strange feeling washed over him as his eyes swept the large open area. There was something about this room, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. There was a sparseness to it, a lack of warmth that felt all too familiar. A set of bunk beds lined one wall, a simple desk sat wedged in a corner, a few book cases and a single dresser completed the room. The furniture, books and small amount of toys were perfectly arranged with the utmost attention to detail. Jim looked at the neatly arranged grouping of stuffed toys that lay on the bottom bunk and the meticulously made bed on the top.
Amber pulled gently at his arm and guided him towards the desk. Retrieving two pieces of blank paper and a box of crayons, she guided him to a small rug beside a large picture window.
"You want me to draw with you?"
Amber nodded and sat down on the cool floor, craning her neck to look up at the larger man. Her eyes begged him, almost pulled him towards her. Sitting cross legged on the floor, Jim accepted the outstretched paper and crayons.
"What do you think we should draw, Amber?"
Amber shrugged and held the box out to him. Jim stared at his own piece of paper, losing himself in his memories. His hand shook as he slid a blue crayon from the box and touched the waxy tip to the blank paper. He dragged it slowly across the paper at first, amazed at how different if felt in his hand. Rolling the tip of the crayon on its side, Jim shifted the tip of his index finger towards the end of the crayon. Waves of sea blue, melded into the stark white pores of the paper. He could feel Amber's eyes on him, watching him, cataloguing his every move. Her own crayon danced smoothly across her page without hesitation. The companionable silence lasted for what seemed like hours, until Amber slid her hand over top of Jim's. Looking up from his page, Jim stared at the picture that Amber held up for him to see. Two lone figures, a man dressed in jeans and a sweater, and a young girl with brown hair adorned the page.
"That's us, isn't it? That's beautiful, Amber."
Amber nodded and reached for the black crayon in the box. A moment later, she held the picture up again, only this time a few changes had been made. The eyes, hands, noses, ears, and mouths of both figures had been gently shaded in black.
The single word that left the child's mouth seemed to be suspended in time. "Same."
Nodding, Jim repeated the word . "Same."
A muffled sob could be heard from the doorway as Susan Mills listened to the melodic sound of her niece's voice
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been weeks since the accident, and Jim had spent every free moment helping Amber and Susan adjust to their new found lifestyle. With each passing day, Jim had grown stronger both emotionally and physically. Blair had watched with great surprise as his partner coached and guided Amber through relaxation exercises and sensory tests. A simple game of hide and seek became a strategic event that covered a multitude of city blocks. Dials and sensory overloads were put in place by using a set of numbered blocks as models. Amber's aunt was warned of the danger of zone-outs and how to combat and treat such delicate situations. White noise generators, blindfolds and unscented soaps were delivered to their home, courtesy of one James Ellison.
Despite all of his efforts, Jim remained in a state of limbo when it came to his own senses. Although the decision to return to being a Sentinel had already been made, his abilities had yet to be restored.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Do you mind telling me what the heck we're doing here?" Jim asked for the third time since they had left the loft.
Blair smiled as he pulled up to the Ellison home and got out of the car. "I told you before. Your dad called the house and I happen to mention that I still owed you a steak dinner from the day you got hurt. It's as simple as that."
"Nothing is ever that simple with you, Chief." Jim mumbled as he climbed out of the passenger's side of the vehicle.
The front door of the house swung open and William Ellison waited for the men to join him on the porch. "I hope you boys brought your appetite. Sally's been in the kitchen all day."
Blair extended his hand and grasped William's. "Good to see you, sir."
"I wish you'd quit calling me that, Blair. It's William, remember?"
"Yes sir, I mean, William."
Giving his father a quick hug, Jim smiled. "Hey Dad."
"Good to see you up and around, Jimmy. How's the arm?"
Gesturing to the sling, Jim shrugged. "Same. No feeling yet, but I'm still hopeful."
"Good for you, son. You never were one to throw in the towel."
Leading the men inside, William caught Blair's eye and winked.
Pretending to cough, Blair cleared his throat noisily. "Could I trouble you for a drink?"
Shooting a quick look at his son, William nodded. "Jimmy, how about you get Blair a beer from the fridge."
"Sure, Dad."
Leaving the two men alone, Jim walked along the hallway to the kitchen. Once inside, his eyes immediately fell on the multitude of pictures that covered the outside of the fridge. Slowly he approached the fridge, recognizing the pictures as the ones that his mother had been told to dispose of in a kitchen drawer so many years ago. Jim blinked back the tears in his eyes and traced a finger along one of the lightly sketched lines.
"I'm sorry, Jimmy. I'm so sorry."
A hand settled on his shoulder and gently turned him around. William stood face-to-face with his son, a look of hopeful desperation swimming in his eyes. William leaned forward slightly, his body reaching out to his son. Jim stood perfectly still, unsure of what to do next. His mind and body drifted forward into the waiting arms of his father.
Pulling away suddenly, Jim gasped as a pain shot through his left arm.
"Jimmy, what's wrong?"
"My arm, it hurts. I can feel it. It hurts. Blair!"
Within moments, anxious voices were replaced by sounds of joyous celebration.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blair woke the next morning, and shuffled his way into the kitchen. A hand-drawn picture on the fridge caught his eye. Stopping to take a better look, Blair noticed a note neatly tucked in beside it.
~*~*~*~*~
Dear Chief,Amber asked me to draw a picture with her
and this was the first thing that came to mind.Jim
~*~*~*~*~
Blair stared at the intricate detail of the crayon etched picture of he and Jim sitting in a fishing boat surrounded by clear blue water. He smiled as he glanced up to Jim's bedroom, and whispered, "I'm glad you're back Jim."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jim extended his hearing to the soft spoken words of his Guide. "It's good to be back, Chief. It's good to be back."
The End