Feedback: Always welcome
Notes: A big thank you to Tai for looking this over. Originally posted to SA a few years ago.
*~*~*
The sun sank lower in the early summer sky, casting a brilliant, golden haze of light off the smooth, glassy surface of the lake.
Blair drew in a deep cleansing breath, sinking deeper into the plush cushion of the lounge chair. A light breeze drifted across his bare, tan chest and up his neck, blowing a few curly strands of hair into his face. "This is so great, Mom. I'm glad you talked me into this."
"Me too, Sweetie." Naomi shifted over unto her side, her wrap around skirt falling off to expose one long, slender leg. She reached across the space between them and grasped his arm above his wrist. "I'm so glad you decided to take a break and come join me."
Blair's eyes sparkled, crinkling in the corners as he smiled. He raised his free hand and covered hers with his own. "It's so peaceful here. I'm just sorry this is our last night. This week went by so fast...and Jim really would have loved it here."
"Maybe he could get away the next time."
The sun was halfway above the horizon now and Blair stretched, bringing his hand up to stifle a mighty yawn.
His mother giggled, standing swiftly and offered him her hand.
"Must be all this mountain air," he laughed, grasping her with both hands and letting her haul him up to his feet. They both overbalanced and nearly ended up back on their rear ends.
"Come on. Dinner should be done and I made a special dessert." Laughter radiated from her and they continued to chatter as they started back toward the old farmhouse. Tall trees lined both sides of the road and a full, lush forest began a few hundred feet behind the old house.
The grounds were nicely kept and Blair wondered again how his mother had managed to be able to stay at the house for the month that she was here. She only had said that the owners where going away for that time and that they were old friends. They were more then willing to let her stay in exchange for watching the place, keeping up the grounds...and it was beautiful, the lake being their favorite mid-day activity. It was only a short walk from the house and it was pretty private. They could go swimming or fishing or take out the small boat. There was a private pier and usually after taking a dip, they would rest in the lounge chairs and watch the sun set.
Blair had flown in the week before, although he was reluctant to take his mother up on her invitation. She had called him no less then five times trying to convince him. Asking, pleading, begging, she even tried guilt...but Blair was still reluctant. Not that he didn't want to spend time with Naomi, he did. It had been a long time since they had taken a trip together.
Jim thought the whole thing was amusing and just didn't see the problem...
That's because the problem was Blair's. He had been working and living with Jim for a few years. His life was filled with his work at Rainier and the station and every spare moment went to working with Jim and his senses. It had been his steady routine for so long...they worked together, lived together, ate together, usually socialized together, went on vacation together...what was it he was so worried about?
Finally Jim called Naomi and told her Blair was coming, made some joke about separation anxiety and that was that.
Now his vacation was almost over. The week went so fast and he was so glad he came.
His mother met him at a small airport in upstate New York and they drove for a while. He filled her in on his life and when they got to the old farmhouse, he called Jim, just like he promised.
Over the course of the week, he pulled out his laptop to email his friend. Jim would update him on the case he was working on, telling him not to worry and to just have fun...and he was.
The wind was picking up as they crossed the graveled road that led to the house. The air was noticeable cooler as they reached the stone path that led to the back porch and Blair wished he had brought his shirt with him.
"Go get cleaned up and changed and I'll get things ready for dinner." His mom pulled open the screen door as Blair dropped their supply bag on one of the rocking chairs that lined the wooden porch.
"What kind of dessert?" he asked, his voice light and amused.
She reached for his arm and pushed him in ahead of her. "Oh no you don't." She shoed him up the back staircase, "and no peeking."
*~*~*
Blair could hear his mother humming down in the kitchen as he searched the dresser for a pair of sweats. The nights got very cold and even though he had the fireplace in his room, he was still freezing when he came out of the bathroom at nights.
He slipped out of his swimming trunks and into his favorite terrycloth robe. It was old and well worn, a present from an old girlfriend, but it was still ultra soft and comfy.
He sat on the edge of the porcelain claw foot tub and reached with both hands to turn on the hot and cold-water faucets. It was a bit odd and took a little getting used too. Normally he was a shower person, his time was limited, but this house didn't even have a shower.
Sinking into the soapy hot water, he took his time, not knowing when the next time would be when he could enjoy a relaxing bath. Running the sponge up his arm, he thought about his plans for the next day.
He was going to get up early and help his mom cleanup the house, not that it needed it. She kept it in good order. They would have to pack up the car. He had to pack his bag, but that would only take a few minutes and he had already helped his mom pack her few things the night before.
They needed to make sure that they fed the cat and that they locked everything up. The owners were going to be arriving late tomorrow, so Charlie, the fat cat, should be fine.
His mom was going to drop him back off at the airport that evening and then she was driving on to Canada.
Speaking of the fat cat...
"Hey Charlie..." Blair stood and briskly dried off and wrapped up in his robe. The cat watched the whole time from her perch on the closed toilet seat. "Peeping Charlie."
When Blair walked back to his room, the gray cat jumped down and followed, moving her large head back and forth, following Blair's every move. "You are a creepy cat, you know that."
The only response was a rub against his leg. "Come on Fat Cat, let's go see what mom made for dessert." He picked the cat up, using both hands to support her. "On second thought, I think you need to skip dessert."
His mom was pulling a hot pan from the oven when he came down. The cat jumped from his arms and took up her spot on her bed, walking in a circle, kneading the cushion with her clawless paws a few times before lying down.
Blair sat at the large island, hooking the stool with his foot and watched his mom at work. She wiped her hands on a bright, checkered apron before stirring something in a pot. The kettle started to whistle and within seconds she sat a cup of fruity smelling tea in front of him. "I see Charlie has a new friend," she teased.
Blair glanced at the gray fur ball. She had rolled over on to her back and was showing off her sizable belly, but her piercing green eyes were still firmly on him.
Blair shrugged, sipping the sweet brew. "This is good, mom. What is it?"
"Oh, it's a special blend. I got it from a friend." She pulled a head of lettuce from the fridge and washed it under the running water. "He blends it himself."
"Taste kinda like banana," Blair observed, rolling a small sip around the roof of his mouth and over his tongue.
Naomi went to work pulling the lettuce apart and chopping up other vegetables to finish the salad. "It's a tropical blend. It has citrus fruits...I haven't tried it yet, but all his blends are wonderful."
She moved the serving bowl to the table, setting out the dinnerware and wine glasses. "I'll pack you some to take with you home."
Blair nodded; opening a bottle of red wine they had bought the morning before. The deep red liquid spilled over the sides of the bottle after the cork popped out and Blair quickly filled their glasses. "Smells great."
His mother smiled as she scooped the eggplant unto the serving tray. "Hmm...let's eat, I'm famished."
Blair pulled out the chair for his mother before sliding into his seat, dropping his napkin onto his lap. Charlie stood and stretched, slinking over and curling up against Blair's feet.
"She's really going to miss you, sweetie."
Blair looked down at the napping cat. "No, she's going to miss me sneaking her my table scraps."
*~*~*
The dinner dishes were clean and put away and his mother insisted that he relax on the small sofa, nestled in the kitchen alcove, while she tidied up.
She brought him another cup of tea and put some in a canister for him to take home. His eyes were getting droopy when he felt a heavy weight on his chest. "Hey, Charlie."
The cat had made her way up onto his lap and was resting on his chest. She purred contently when he scratched behind her ears, moving her head to follow his hand when he started to move it away.
"Ok, the kitchen is done," his mother announced. She took his empty teacup and rinsed it out, drying it off and retuning it to the hook in the hutch. "Let's eat out in the morning," she suggested.
Blair gently dislodged his sleeping companion and returned her to her bed by the wood stove. "Sounds good to me."
"We only have to dust and vacuum," she shut off the lights in the kitchen and headed toward the living room. "I think I'll pack the car tonight. You want to help?"
Blair followed along behind. "Sure, mom."
Together they packed up most of her things and finished the cleaning. Blair fell into bed a few hours later. His mom followed him into his room.
She made a show of pulling the covers up and tucking them all around his chin.
"Moooommmm."
"Come on, Blair," Naomi pouted. "Play along." She ruffled his hair playfully and then her features became serious. "I'm soooo glad you came, sweetie. You've made me the happiest mom in the world this week."
"Mom..."
"No, I mean it. We have to do this more often." Her eyes searched his briefly. "Promise?"
"Promise." He said it without having to think about it and the smile that lit up his mother's face was well worth it.
She leaned down and kissed his forehead and than each eyebrow, the tip of his nose. "I love you, Blair. Good night."
"Night, mom."
She pulled the door closed, but not before the fat cat squeezed her way in. Normally Blair would get back up and put her out, but not tonight...tonight he rolled over and drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face and Charlie pressed firmly against his back.
*~*~*
Something woke him up. He looked around bleary eyed. It was still dark outside; so he squinted at the alarm clock by the bed...it was only 3:17 a.m.
Shifting over to his back, he listened to the sounds of the night. The wind thudded a branch against the side of the house and the cat was still purring from somewhere at the bottom of the bed. Nothing unusual. The light from the hall was coming in from around the cracks of the door, but his mother left it on to make it easier to get to the bathroom, which was on the other end of the hall and down on the next landing.
He rolled back over to go to sleep when he felt a slight twinge in his stomach. Rubbing the spot around his navel, he drifted back to sleep.
This time when he woke up, he knew what the problem was. His stomach was rocking and rolling and he really needed to pee, among other things.
The cat jumped down when he swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing for his robe. The night air was chilly against his moist skin, so he pulled his robe tight around him, not bothering with the sleeves. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only
3:52 a.m.
He made his way to the bathroom, trying to miss all the squeaky boards he had become familiar with over the past week, not wanting to wake up his mother.
Going to the bathroom did nothing to get rid of the growing knot in his stomach, so he splashed a little water on his face and hoped it would go away.
Creeping back down the hall, he dropped his robe and slipped back into bed, shivering a little as he tried to get comfortable.
"Man, I so do not need to get sick now."
The cramping and growling seemed to ease as he drew up his knees, so he curled up and tried to go back to sleep.
Twenty minutes later, he nearly bolted from his room, taking no care this time to be quiet. He barely made it to the toilet before his dinner made a re-appearance.
It seemed like forever before the heaving stopped. He was just running a damp towel across his face when he heard a rapping at the door.
"Blair, sweetie? Are you okay?"
He finished rinsing his mouth and did a quick check in the mirror. He looked okay and he felt a lot better....
"Yeah, mom." He opened the door to find his mother, pacing back and forth, her white lacy robe trailing behind her.
"Oh, Blair. I knocked a couple of times, I guess you didn't hear me." She immediately reached for his forehead. "You're not warm, does your stomach hurt?"
"No." He walked out and she walked with him, wrapping her arm around him and helping him back into his bed. "Maybe it's something I ate." And then he realized what he said. "I mean, I mean we ate out today and maybe the meatloaf was bad."
His mother seemed oblivious to it all; she had her hand on his forehead again, deep in thought.
"Mom?"
"It's okay, sweetie. I was just trying to think if I had everything to make something to help settle your stomach. It could be the meatloaf." She smiled and he relaxed a little, rolling onto his side. He really didn't feel sick...just a little twinge here and there...his back was a little achy. Maybe it was just bad meatloaf.
His mother was talking, but he didn't hear her, he was too tired to worry about anything.
*~*~*
Morning came and Blair crawled out of bed, feeling like he'd been run over by a truck. He was still nauseous and his back was bothering him, but it was bearable and he had managed to get some sleep.
He felt almost human be the time he bathed. He decided to skip shaving, he still had the weekend off, so it didn't really matter, and he just didn't feel like it. Looking into the mirror, he started the process of untangling his wet hair. Once the task was complete and it was mostly dry, he pulled it back into a ponytail. He wanted it out of his face and off of his neck because he was still feeling warm.
He turned when he heard footsteps in the hall.
"Blair, sweetie?"
"I'm in here, Mom." He opened the door, letting out the steam from his bath.
"How are you feeling this morning?" his mother asked. She was carrying the cat, so he reached out a scratched Charlie's head.
"Better, I think." Blair didn't miss the frown on his mother's face. "It might be the flu or something," he amended with a tiny smile.
"You still look a little pale." She ran her free hand across his cheek. "I'll finish up, sweetie. We can go whenever you're ready. I thought we could try to get a little food into you and see how it goes."
Food was the last thing he wanted and he was about to tell her so.
"Before you say no to eating, you have to at least try, besides, you have to make sure you get plenty of fluids." She put the cat down and moved into Blair's temporary room. "I made up a thermos with tea and some dry toast."
Blair sank into the overstuffed chair by the fireplace as she began to strip the bed and make it up with fresh sheets from the linen closet. Once the bed was remade, she put the used linens in the laundry chute. "I'll help you finish packing your things and then we can see if you can eat and keep it down. If we have to, we can rent a room in town for a few days until you're feel better."
"Mom, I'm fine." Mostly...anyway. "Besides, what about your trip? If you're not in Montreal by tonight, you'll miss your group."
She picked up his shaving kit and put it in his overnight bag. "Blair, don't be silly...you're more important. I can always see Alaska...I've seen Alaska. I can call Jacob and tell him I can't make it." She turned to him with a look on her face that he couldn't really remember seeing before, but he couldn't let her ruin her plans for a simple case of the flu...or food poisoning, or whatever...
"Mom, I'm fine, really...let's go get that toast."
*~*~*
Okay, so he wasn't fine. When his mother went to put his bag in the car, he made a beeline to the toilet...it had to be the flu. If he didn't eat, he should be fine.
Just then his stomach did another roll. "Please be fine," he repeated.
"Blair?"
"I'm up here," he called. The cat sat watching him. "I um, I'm saying good bye to Charlie."
He patted her head and then ran his hand down the length of her back, smiling as she arched upward so she wouldn't lose contact with his hand.
He picked her up and carried her down the steps, placing her on her bed as his mother checked all the locks one more time. "Don't forget your thermos, sweetie," she reminded when she came back into the kitchen. "Ready?"
"Yup." They made sure the back door was secure before going to the car. Blair offered to drive, but his mother declined.
"You just relax and take in the sites. The mountain range really is beautiful." They both buckled in and set out for the airport. It was an hour ride and although his flight was still hours away, they decided to drive there and have lunch in town, do some shopping, maybe check out the local art gallery.
About twenty minutes into the ride Blair started to fidget in his seat. "Oh, not now..."
"What was that?" Naomi asked, glancing at him from over the rim of her sunglasses.
"I said I think I drank too much tea. You think there is a rest area around here?" He shifted again...this just totally sucked.
"I'll find one for you," she promised.
Ten more minutes and he was running into the stall. Not sure how he managed to not redecorate the interior of his mother's car, he heaved the tea he drank into the dingy, stinky toilet bowl.
That was it, he was determined not to drink or eat anything else, at least not until he got home and he could be a little more comfortable about where he puked.
Maybe he could take an earlier flight. Lunch and sight seeing lost its appeal and he didn't want his mom to miss out on the opportunity to go on an Alaskan cruise.
He used the pay phone by the information stand. There was an earlier flight, but it had a thirty-minute lay over. He would still be home hours before schedule.
Now all he had to do was figure out a way to tell his mother.
*~*~*
"Mom, I really don't feel so hot, so I think I'm just going to cut the day short and head out early." There, he said it.
Naomi stood by the car door, poised to get in. Blair was already sitting in the passenger seat, too woozy to stand up for too long.
"What?" She sank into her seat, turning the ignition and the much needed air conditioning on.
Great, here we go... "I just don't feel so good, so I thought I just go home a little earlier, that's all.
"Well, if you're sure sweetie." She backed out of the spot and pulled onto the highway.
Okay, so that didn't go so well. "Mom, don't be mad. I just think I've got the flu and I'm not going to be any fun. And I really, really want you to make your trip."
"But I told you..."
"I know, and I love you for that...but please, mom, go and have fun and don't worry about me. I'll be fine and in a day or so I'll be good as new." Blair smiled at her, waiting to see what she was going to say.
"Well, if your sure..."
"I'm sure." He relaxed against the seat, sighing when she patted his thigh.
"Okay, sweetie."
The rest of the drive went smoothly and Blair just made his flight. He called the loft and got the machine, so he left a message asking Jim to pick him up earlier. He also tried the station; even though Jim told him he had the day off. He left a message there too, saying that if Jim were unable to pick him up, he would just take a cab.
Naomi hugged and kissed him despite his warnings about getting his germs. "I love you, baby, germs and all."
"I love you too, mom." Blair held her for a few minutes until he heard the final boarding call. "I gotta go."
She hugged him again, squeezing his hand as he pulled away to board. "Feel better soon."
He smiled and nodded his head. He really did hope so too. He didn't want to get sick on the airplane, but he only had a two and half hour flight before his lay over and hopefully he would start to feel better soon.
The plane wasn't too crowded and he had no problem stowing his bag in the overhead compartment. He reached up and pushed his bag to the back when a fierce burning pain hit and he nearly doubled over. The stewardess was just closing the heavy outer door, but she noticed him and came over.
"Sir, is there something wrong?"
He shook his head, even though the pain was coming in waves and he knew he was sweating, a fine trickle made it's way down his neck and into his shirt collar. "I just got a stomach cramp," he managed between clinched teeth.
He sank down into his seat, thankful that his whole row was empty. She was still standing beside him, apparently trying to decide what to do. Blair could hear the engines getting louder and the plane jerked as they moved to taxi onto the runway.
"I'm fine, really." He looked up into her worried eyes. "I think I have a case of the flu, been kinda sick the whole day..."
She hesitated for a seconds and then the fasten seatbelt signs came on and her co-workers were stepping into the aisle, holding up the safely instruction cards. "Okay, I'll bring you something for your stomach and some ginger ale as soon as the captain takes the fasten seatbelt warnings off. The bathroom is on the other side of the curtain..." she trailed off as she stood, patting his arm. She joined the others, a smile firmly in place and recited the safety protocols.
True to her word, she returned with a small bottle of liquid antacid and a cup of ginger ale. "Let me know if you need anything."
Blair nodded his thanks, snuggling down into the too small seat. He was grateful that he was close to the rear of the plane and that there weren't too many people around him. The plane climbed higher in the sky, bumping slightly.
Blair hung onto his armrest, bile churning and rolling in his stomach and moving upward. He hesitated for a few seconds and then sipped the cool soda. It felt nice on his dry lips and throat, so he sipped a little more. It seemed to stay down, so he settled back and closed his eyes, hoping to get a little sleep.
People talked quietly, a baby a few rows ahead cried on and off, but for the most part, he just let the noise drift over him, in a semi trance.
After a while, the air in the cabin seemed hot, so he reached up and turned the knob for the air conditioning. It blew out in spurts, but Blair was still sweating. He wiped his hand across his forehead and down his face, loosening the first few buttons on his shirt.
A slash of cold water would do a world of good. He pulled himself up, clutching onto the seat in front of him when his ears started to ring and the world started to dim.
He quickly sat back down, dropping his head into his hands. A stabbing pain started in his side and went straight to his spine.
The stewardess who had talked to him earlier came over to check on him. "Sir, what's wrong?"
"I'm not feeling so good, here." Blair looked up at her concerned face. "Can you just help me up...I need to get to the bathroom?"
Blair pulled himself up again and she helped support him as they made their way back to the small bathroom. They caught the attention of one of the other stewardess and she came to see what was the matter.
Blair slipped into the tiny stall, making it to the toilet and heaving up the meager contents of his stomach. After resting for a few minutes he slashed some water onto his face and wetted a paper towel, ignoring the hushed voices coming from the other side of the door. The dizziness passed, but the pain was persistent. Maybe it was his appendix...that would be his luck.
He sat on the closed toilet seat, feeling a little disoriented. The cool paper towel had already turned warm and as he lifted it back to the sink to wet it, he noticed that his hands where shaking.
What the hell was wrong with him?
The tiny space was getting smaller by the second; the need to get out of it became paramount. Standing carefully, he reached for the door, only to fall backward toward the sink. His last conscious thought was if the plane had hit a pocket of turbulence.
*~*~*
"Can you hear me, sir?" The voice faded in and out. "Can you open your eyes for me?" It was almost dream like.
A gentle tapping on his face made him want to open his eyes, but his eyelids were so heavy and the darkness seemed to pull at him.
The voices came and went, someone kept touching his shoulder and head. The floor was rumbling, but he didn't open his eyes until he felt like he was falling.
"It's okay." His eyes were blurry, so he squinted to see who was talking. The voice was deep; unfamiliar and he couldn't remember where he was. Panic started in the pit of his stomach, mixing with the bile and he tried to roll over.
"It's okay, we're just landing." The voice soothed, hands trying to hold him down.
"Sick," he managed, and the person must have understood, because his head was turned for him and a basin was pushed under his chin. He flopped back after an eternity of dry heaving. His stomach and throat were on fire and he had a horrible taste in his mouth.
Blair tried to stay calm, but the pain and confusion was too overwhelming. He knew he needed to slow down his breathing, he could hear his own breaths coming in short pants.
Whoever was helping him kept telling him to take deeper breaths, to calm down, that they would be on the ground in a few minutes.
Then he remembered. He was on his way home and he was sick, he thought it was the flu. "What's wrong?" His eyes were at half mass and they felt like they were swollen.
The tires touched down with a jerk and the plane seemed to speed up, the noise much louder from his position, before finally slowing down and stopping. Blair could hear the captain asking all the passengers to remain seated until the paramedics could get in and out.
"...take you to the hospital to find out, okay?"
He nodded his head, feeling strangely detached. Soon the small space was filled with more bodies. "Sir, what's your name? Are you traveling alone? Do you know what day it is?"
The voices overlapped, but he tried to sort them out. "Blair," he managed to slur.
Hands on him seemed to be turning him and lifting him. He cried out, trying to curl back into a ball.
"I'm sorry Blair, but he have to get you into the chair so he can take you to the hospital." He was seated in said chair by the time the sentence was finished and various straps were put into place.
It was much smaller then a stretcher and better able to fit into the tight aisle. He was tilted back and he stifled another sob, noticing the concerned faces of the other passengers for the first time.
They rolled him backwards down the aisle and out of the plane where a stretcher was waiting on the walkway that led to the main terminal. "Okay, Blair. We are going to move you over to the stretcher." The straps were removed just a quickly and he was effortlessly lifted and laid flat on his back.
The next few minutes were a bit fuzzy. They efficiently packed him up to be transported; an IV was started, although they did have trouble finding a vein. His temperature and blood pressure were taken and Blair's vitals were reported over the radio.
The paramedic left in the back of the truck with him sat close, making notes on a steno pad he pulled from a pocket on his pants leg. "I know you have been throwing up. When did it start?"
"Last night, late." Blair tried to hold onto his stomach as the ambulance took a sharp turn. "I thought it was just the flu, but now my stomach is killing me, man."
"Don't worry, the Doc's at Memorial are top notch. They'll fix you right up." The ambulance seemed to be slowing down and finally stopped. The back doors opened and the guy with Blair jumped out, helping his partner pull out the gurney.
They fired off Blair's information to the waiting team and before Blair knew what was happening he was looking at a whole new set of faces.
*~*~*
"Mr. Sandburg, I'm Dr. Allen. We're going to take good care of you." Blair looked at the man talking; he was young, about Blair's age. The whole time he talked, the other people were in motion. Someone took his blood pressure again and stuck something into his ear. His clothes were pulled and cut off and his shoes and socks followed. Finally a sheet was hastily placed on top of him.
"Can you tell me where it hurts?" He wasn't sure who was asking, his eyes had closed again.
"Stomach," he said. A few beats later he remember his back hurt too, but before he could tell them, someone put something tight around his arm and told him to make a fist.
Dr. Allen was ordering tests and blood work, a sharp stick at the bend of his elbow made him flinch. Someone shined a light into his eyes and pressed something cold to his chest. "Just listening to your heart."
The sheet was lifted and hands were pressed onto his abdomen. He bit his lip, raising his hand and weakly pushing at the arm of the man.
"Rebound pain and guarding. Blair, does it hurt anywhere else?" The doctor's hands moved over his lower stomach, pressing firmly, bringing tears to his eyes.
Blair nodded his head, his emotions right on the surface. "It sort of wraps around to my back."
He jumped when he felt his leg being moved and hands on some very private parts.
"Okay," the sheet was pulled back up and the crammed room seemed to thin out. "Let's get a CT done." The doctor seemed to be addressing a tall woman to Blair's left. She smiled down at him when he glanced her way. Her eyes seemed kind, her face was rounded, and her long dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail.
"Put in a folly, I want to monitor his out put and I'll write up something to take the edge off his pain and nausea. And can you get a finger stick for me?"
She was pulling things out of the drawers and cabinets, hanging a smaller bag next to the saline solution on his IV pole. The doctor left them alone, pulling the curtain to the cubical as he left. "I need to put in a catheter, have you ever had one before?"
He nodded his head, uncomfortable and sweaty, yet he waiting quietly until she finished. "What's going to happen now?"
"You're going to start to feel better soon." She told him.
He wished he felt as confident.
She was rooting around in a small bin. "The doctor is waiting for an open CT room, then he'll have a better idea what's wrong. But you're stable and the medicine will start to work soon."
Blair gingerly shifted on to his side, very conscious of the tubing snaking down between his legs. "I have to call my friend, he was suppose to pick me up in Cascade."
She had the needed items and was nodding her head. "I'll take care of that. Give me your index finger."
Blair held out his hand and she swiped the tip of his finger with an alcohol pad. "Just a little prick," she warned before poking his finger with a tiny needle and squeezing the tip to pool the blood to a drop.
He watched as she wiped the drop away on a gauze pad and squeezed his finger again until the drop was ready to fall off the tip. She guided his finger toward a small machine and pressed the drop onto a strip she placed inside the device. It made a strange noise as soon as his blood touched it and she pulled his finger away, pressing the gauze back into place to stop the flow of blood.
"What was that all about?" The room seemed cooler now that they were the only ones there. It was hard not to shiver, but he didn't want to move around to much, afraid that the movement would make the constant pain hurt more, or his still queasy stomach to decide to act up again.
"The doc wants to check your sugar levels." She tossed the gauze in the trash when she was satisfied the bleeding had stopped. "How's your pain? Feeling any better?"
He took a second to assess himself. His stomach was still in a knot, but he didn't have an overwhelming need to heave. The pain was still there too, just not as...intense. "It's a little better."
"I'm going to see if I can get your friend." She told him. "Dr. Allen should be back in a few minutes."
*~*~*
A few hours later Blair had finally made it to a semi-private room. His skin was still slick with sweat and he knew his hair was plastered to his head, but at the moment he didn't care.
A CT scan revealed a slightly enlarged pancreas and the need for a few more tests. The next few hours were a blur of activity, people coming and going, poking and prodding.
At some point along the way a nurse had started a separate IV. He traced the tiny tube along his arm and up to the pole standing beside his bed as best as he could. The medicine was giving him a funny disconnected feeling, but at least he wasn't feeling any pain.
He wanted to pull his knees up closer to his body, but he was afraid to move around too much. Reaching up he touched the tube in his nose and the thick piece of tape holding it into place. He knew that if there were anything left in his stomach, he would have lost it when he was trying to swallow the tube that was now tickling the back of his throat. They explained that it was to give his digestive system a rest and to stop him from vomiting, but the damn thing was irritating.
"Okay, Mr. Sandburg. You ready to get cleaned up?"
Blair rolled his head carefully toward the deep voice, squinting at the figure standing just inside the doorway. A man dressed in dark blue scrubs deposited a few towels on the foot of the bed. He too was about Blair's age, but more muscular, with bright green eyes and a very bold head. "You'll feel a lot better after a bath."
Jake. His name was Jake and Blair could remember him helping when the orderly wheeled him up from the ER. Jake disappeared into the bathroom and Blair could hear water running. A bath did sound kinda nice.
"I got a hold of your friend. I told him about your condition and that you were going to be our guest for awhile." Jake reemerged from the bathroom with an armload of supplies; setting everything out on the tray table within easy reach. "The tech will be around in a little while to hook up your phone and TV service, so your friend will call you in an hour or so."
Once he had everything where he wanted it, he dunked the washcloth into the basin and rang it out. "Just relax okay. I'll start with your face and neck. Are you feeling better, are the pain meds kicking in?"
"Yeah." His tongue seemed thick, sticking to the roof of his mouth.
The warm cloth smoothed over his clammy skin, followed by a warmed towel. Jake worked his way down, uncovering only what he was washing, moving over Blair's chest and then his arms, on to his stomach and legs. Blair closed his eyes and let him finish, happy that he was mindful of all his tubes and wires in delicate places.
"How about you just rinse your mouth out? We'll save brushing your teeth and shaving for the morning." He handed a small cup to Blair along with a basin to spit the mouthwash into. It was nice to get rid of the foul taste.
By the time they got to his hair, a pretty blonde came strolling in to announce that she could hook up his phone and TV. It was only $7.00 a day.
"I don't know where my wallet is." Blair suddenly realized his luggage was probably sitting at the Cascade Airport. He would have to ask Jim to pick it up for him. "Did they bring my carry-on stuff with me from the airplane?"
"I'll check your locker." Jake opened the large closet door by the bed and pulled out a backpack. "Is this it?"
"Yup." He rooted through, finding his wallet and handed the pretty girl a ten dollar bill, already feeling hot again as she searched for change.
She told him she would return tomorrow evening for another payment and left as fast as she came.
Jake cleaned up and smoothed down the sheets. "Try to rest until your friend calls."
Blair nodded, already feeling sleepy. He remembered his dry mouth and licked his lips. "Can I have a drink?"
The man walked briskly around the room, putting things away. "Sorry, you can't have anything by mouth. You were in a lot of pain when the doctor went over that part, but we can't give you anything until that tube comes out of your nose."
Blair nodded again, shifted to get more comfortable. He did remember the ward doctor telling him, but it was blurry.
Jake finished up and moved the call button onto Blair's pillow. "You want the TV on?"
"Sure." His eyes drifted close as the sound from the set filled the room before it was adjusted to a lower volume. "Thanks."
*~*~*
When the phone rang, he rolled over to answer it, fumbling the receiver a little before he got a good grip on it.
"Hello?" He crooked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Blair?"
Relief washed through him as he heard Jim's voice.
"Hey, man." Blair shifted slightly, pulling his sticky skin away from the sheets.
"How you feeling, Chief?"
Way better, man. "Okay, I guess. Better."
"I talked to your doctor and he said everything was going to be fine in a few days. Do you remember what the doctor said?"
Jim was talking slowly and Blair flashed on an image of his friend talking to the little boy from their last case.
"Um, yeah. He said I have pancreatitis."
"Yeah, they have to leave you on the medicine for a few days and see if the swelling is going to go down. I um..." Jim sounded unsure of himself and it worried Blair.
"What is it, Jim?"
"I have to be in court Monday morning and I don't know how long the trial might go."
"It's okay, man. I think I can manage to take care of myself for a few days without you." His words sounded convincing even though he wasn't looking forward to spending maybe up to the next week without a familiar face.
"I know you can. I'll call you in the evenings to make sure everything is okay. And if you need anything, you call me, day or night."
"Okay, but I'm going to be fine." Blair realized that his room was pretty dark, only the glow from the TV lit the room. "What time is it?"
"It's 8:30 here. So it's 9:30 where you are. Look, why don't you get some rest and I'll call you tomorrow."
"Okay, tomorrow," he agreed. "Good night, man."
"'Night, Chief."
Blair carefully laid the phone back on the side table and picked up the remote. He wasn't so tired anymore.
~*~
TBC