Title: Where the Heart Leads

Author: Brynn

Author's Notes: Special Thanks to my beta, Nicci. Told from Blair's point of view. NOT the promised sequel to "Lost"…still working on that one.

I had been sitting at the computer for what felt like an eternity, trying to finish up the notes I needed for a lecture on Monday. I'd been fighting a vicious flu all week and my notes just wouldn't flow like I wanted them to. So I was concentrating a little more single-mindedly than normal for me when Jim came in the door and threw the keys into the basket. "Hey man, I thought you had a late meeting with Simon tonight," I tossed over my shoulder, without looking up. "I did," Jim walked stiffly to the sofa, "but I asked him if we could reschedule. I think I must be coming down with the flu you've had all week."

"Aw, man. I'm sorry about that. It's a real rough one, too." I looked up to see Jim flop limply onto the sofa, looking positively drained of color. "You really do look awful."

"I got really over heated all of a sudden in the meeting, and a little nauseated. Simon told me to come home and keep my germs to myself." I noticed that Jim was sitting back up, flexing his arms in front of himself, and rotating his left shoulder. "I'm not sure I didn't overdo it on the weights today too, though. My back REALLY hurts. That just hit me in the truck on the way home."

"That's not a symptom of the flu I've got, man. How much did you do on the weights?" I got up and went over to the couch. Jim had been so supportive of me this week, bringing me things when I needed them, sometimes even when I didn't need them, generally just hovering and being my blessed protector. I figured the least I could do was return a little of the care now that he was sick.

I sat down beside him and told him to take his shirt off, figuring I'd massage his shoulders a little. No one needs the flu AND a pulled muscle. But, when I touched his shoulders, he didn't feel feverish, like I thought he would. His skin felt clammy. And, instead of relaxing into the massage, like he normally does, he tensed, grabbed his chest and leaned forward. I dropped down in front of him, trying to get him to look at me." Jim, does your chest hurt, too?" He nodded, but flung himself to his side on the couch and curled up into a tight ball, clutching his chest so hard, I thought he'd put his fists right through it, if he didn't stop. I was beginning to get concerned here. Jim doesn't act like this. He normally just turns down the pain dial, and keeps going, but this time, tears were streaming down his face.

"Man, this is NOT the flu!"

I couldn't believe it when the ER doctor told me Jim was having a heart attack, even after he showed me the irregular heart beat on the heart monitor. Not Jim! He's healthy as a horse, has a body Mr. Universe would kill for. There is NO way he could be having a heart attack.

At least the pain must have eased up a little. I asked him about that when the doctor stepped out briefly. "Yeah, I have it under control now, Chief. At home, the dials just weren't working. It scaled back a little on its own, and now that they've given me the nitro and clot buster stuff, I can control the rest with the dials. I'm fine, Chief."

But he wasn't fine. He was still pale, and so weak he had needed the nurses to roll him over to slip his pants off his hips. He was in better spirits now that he seemed to be in less pain, but between his sluggish behavior, and the irregular heartbeat on the monitor, I could tell he still wasn't fine.

The doctor had asked Jim a barrage of questions. How much exercise did he get, what did he eat, what was his family's medical history. That was the first time I realized that Jim's dad had had a heart attack in his early forties. His uncle, his dad's older brother, had DIED of a heart attack at 38. I had never thought of heart attacks taking someone that young. I always pick on Jim for eating his cholesterol burgers but I never really thought a heart attack was a real possibility for Jim...certainly not at THIS age.

The room was empty of staff for a moment as everyone was out on various errands. Someone said they were arranging Jim's admission to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit. Others were retrieving even MORE medication the doctor had ordered when he saw Jim's continued labored heartbeat. I'm not sure where the doctor was at the moment. I'm sure he has other patients. Jim seemed to be enjoying a moment of not being stuck with a needle, or asked even more questions, and closed his eyes to rest while he could. At least that's what I thought until the heart monitor alarm went off. I never realized that such a small room could hold so many full grown adults and so much machinery.

I didn't even realize what was happening at first. I stepped away from Jim's bed so the doctor could get to him, but still didn't realize what was going on until I looked at the heart monitor. His heart rate read 30 and was still dropping. I got one last look at Jim before he was completely surrounded by people and equipment. He looked dead! His eyes were closed, but his mouth was open, and his skin just looked lifeless...no luster, no color, nothing, just...dead.

I was stunned, in shock I guess. I had allowed myself to be maneuvered out of the room before I realized what was happening. They closed the curtain in front of me and I just stood there. Why wasn't I moving? Why couldn't I think? What was going on with Jim? I needed to be in there, but I couldn't move.

Sometime in the few moments I was in the hallway, Simon arrived. Jim had asked me to call him earlier, so I knew he was on his way. I could hear him talking to me, asking me what was going on, but all I could do was listen to what was going on in that room, and look at the feet under the drawn curtain. Voices were barking orders, feet were moving, and machinery was moved closer to the bed. Then I heard it, the sound that, in truth, I had been dreading all evening…the high pitched scream of the heart monitor, a steady tone that threaten to end my life.

I realized then, that that was what Jim was...my Sentinel, my roommate, by best friend...but more importantly, my life. In that instance, standing outside that room, with the monitor still screaming, and feet and voices scrambling to re-start Jim's heart, the last several years flashed before my eyes...the very best years of my life...the teasing and easy comradary that Jim and I had, the dinners, the ball games, all the times that we just killed time together...all the near misses, the cases gone bad, the kidnappers and terrorists, and murderers and madmen,...and the great relief we felt when we each saw the other was still alive, still unharmed...the fights and arguments...over the dissertation, over breaking the house rules, over nothing at all...and the moments we realized we each forgave the other, would always forgive...because somewhere along the line, we became not only friends and partners, but the other half of each other's lives...the other half of our souls. I know that saying is usually used for married couples, and usually had the connotation of being part of a physical relationship. Jim's and my relationship was, of course, totally platonic, but the saying was true none the less.

I don't know how long I stood there. I don't know how long that horrible sound when on. I finally came back to awareness when the feet started moving toward the curtain, and then past me. The equipment was moved out, and everyone was leaving, and Simon's hand was on my shoulder. I started into the room, but he held me back. Why? Why were they leaving? Was Jim dead? Were they giving up?

"The doctor said to give the nurse another minute to cover Jim up, Blair. Then we can go in."

I just stared at Simon. "Cover him up?"

"They got him back, Blair. He's okay for now. They're just tucking him back in, making sure he's decent, then we can go in. He'll be okay."

"They got him back?" I said numbly. Suddenly, I HAD to get in that room. I had to see him. I had to know.

He was still pale, still weak, but conscious. The heart monitor was steady again. He smiled, and squeezed my hand when I slipped mine into his, and I knew he was going to be okay. I was going to be okay.

"Jim, come on man, you can't be serious. You just spent 5 days in the hospital, had a stint put in your heart, and scared me half to death. So you ARE going to sit there, eat the heart healthy stuff I give you, and keep every one of your cardiac rehab appointments, and listen to every direction your doctor gave you. You hear me?"

Jim growled...literally growled. I could tell he was starting to go stir crazy here. He'd been home for a week now, and was feeling stronger, and was starting to chafe at all the restrictions placed on him. His life had suddenly changed and he didn't like it. I could understand where he was coming from. He was used to being independent, strong, able to do just about anything he pleased. Suddenly he was being told what to do, when to do it, a list of what NOT to do, and ... most importantly at the moment, what to and what not to eat.

But I kept thinking of how badly MY life could have changed if that night two weeks ago had gone differently. I could accept life the way it was now. I could deal with a disgruntled Jim...as long as I still had a Jim to deal with.

I pushed the rejected bowl of salad back in front of him and managed a pretty respectable glare of my own to meet his.

"Jim, I don't care HOW much you growl, I will NOT get you take out from Wonderburger!"