Part Two
6:30 AM
The little black box on his nightstand squealed and squawked until he had no choice but to move his arm out from it's warm cocoon and slap it. The sound stopped abruptly and Jim rolled on to his back, throwing his arm over his face.
His room was still dark, but a faint light crept through the skylight and settled over his bed spread.
Closing his eyes, he settled back, sinking into the comfort of his soft pillow, his breath just evening out when the annoying buzzer went off again.
"Damn it."
Flipping over he slammed his fist onto the top of the clock silencing it once again. He must have forgotten to reseat it the night before...or this morning...whatever.
He had plenty of time until Simon came and he was still so tired, but he was also restless...he had to get up.
Tossing his blanket aside, he rolled upright, rubbing his palms across his fuzzy face and thinning hair, shivering as cool morning air swept up his bare legs.
He reached for his cell, planning on calling Simon to tell him he was going to head to the hospital early and then he remembered his truck was still at the scene. Simon had driven him home in the early hours after his brief visit with Blair and the endless questioning at the station.
He didn't like being on the other end of an interrogation.
Worst yet, he really didn't have any answers that would satisfy his actions, nothing that he could explain.
Jeffers from IA told him not to be concerned. Jim took out the threat, a clean shoot and under the circumstances, with the Intel they had, he couldn't have know there was another gunman.
But he should have known...somehow.
What good were his senses if they couldn't even help him keep his partner safe?
6:45 AM
The water was a little too cool as it sloshed down his chest and arms.
He turned away from the spray, searching the damp shelf with one hand. His fingers brushed his shampoo bottle, but the container slip farther away, knocking Blair's bar of oat meal soap to the floor of the shower stall.
"Great..."
Reaching forward, he grabbed for the soap, but it skittered across the shower floor, circling toward the drain.
"Damn."
Using his big toe, bracing himself with a hand against the towel bar, he nudged the soap, curled his toes around it and pushed it back to rest between his feet.
Reaching down he grabbed up the bar, setting it back on the shelf next to Blair's shampoo.
It was going to be a long day.
7:15 AM
The coffee maker dripped out the last drop of the dark brew into the carafe. Jim was still sopping up the flow that hit the counter because he couldn't wait and pulled out the pot to stick his cup under the flow.
He walked down three flights to grab the morning paper when he heard the paper boy flinging the bundle at the entrance to the building, but even the Business section couldn't hold his attention.
Giving up the daily news, he scrounged in the fridge; finding left over bagels from the day before and popped two pieces in the toaster oven, pouring his second cup of the day.
His coffee was bitter and too strong, but he drank it anyway, taking his time, watching the second hand on the clock in the kitchen tick off the minutes until he could go to the hospital. Twenty four hours ago he and Blair were having breakfast, planning their day, hoping to catch the whole football game even with a house filled with friends.
And the turkey...
He was psyched to use the new deep fryer, a birthday gift from his dad, eager to taste the succulent meat with just a hint of nut and oh so crispy and juicy. He was actually excited about cooking for his friends and having a relaxing day. Just remembering the homey smells from the day before brought about a feeling of peace, but he was plunged back into a crappy mood when he found Blair's crumpled list and confirmed his suspicions about forgotten gravy and what it had cost.
Picking up the phone he dialed Simon and left a message, figuring his boss was either asleep or in the shower. The next call was made to the local cab company and he tidied up as he waited, selecting a few things from Blair's room to make him more comfortable as he recovered, the beginnings of an idea tickling his brain.
A horn beeped below, the cab was waiting at the curb as he jogged down the steps with a purpose in mind, not knowing if it would work out, but he was going to try anyway.
8:30 AM
The car pulled up in front of the nearly deserted grocery store. Jim got out and paid the cabby through the partly open front window. Bright red carts lined the front of the store and Jim was glad that most people were off shopping the mall and department stores this black Friday instead of crowding the grocery store.
Patting his coat pocket, Jim double checked to be sure he had the list he made while waiting for the cab.
Hot air rushed toward him as he pushed the cart through the door. Taking out the neatly folder paper he made his way from one end of the store to the other, back tracking several times to retrieve the items needed, crossing them off his list in order that they were written.
He placed each item on the conveyer belt; scanning his list to be sure he had everything as the cashier rang up his purchase.
Once outside, he left his cart in the parcel pickup and walked briskly to the Speedy Mart on the corner. The front door and windows were boarded, but Jim could hear people inside, moving around and cleaning up so they could reopen.
His truck was parked caddy corner to the front doors; back far enough to be out of the line of fire. He got in and drove back to the grocery store, packing his bags behind the bench seat and headed to Simon's to explain what he wanted to do, hoping his friend would be willing to help.
9:30 AM
The halls in this wing of the hospital were empty; the ward nurse looked up and smiled as he passed her station.
The door to Blair's new room was opened a crack, the lights were dimmed and the blinds pulled, the TV droned in the background and Jim could hear Blair breathing heavily, but on his own.
Pushing the door open a bit more, he saw his friend propped up on pillows, both hands sweaty and holding onto the raised rails. His face was pinched with pain, his eyes closed tight and he puffed tiny breaths through slightly parted lips, his jaw was clenched so tight it made Jim's own teeth hurt.
"Chief?"
Blair opened red rimmed eyes, squinting in his general direction.
"You're in pain. Let me call the nurse." He reached across his friend, finding the remote laying by Blair's side on top of the crisp white sheets. Blair's hand caught his as he began to push the call button.
"No...I just needed..."
Jim patted the hand holding his. "You need something for the pain, let me..."
"No...I can...I got..." Blair gestured toward the wire he held in one hand, a little red button on top. "I had to make sure...you okay?"
Jim reached over and took the wand, pressing his thumb against the red button repeatedly until the box on the other side of Blair's bed beeped. "I'm fine and you're going to be fine...get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up."
2:45 PM
With ever twitch and hitch of breath, Jim looked up from the news paper he was still trying to read from this morning, studying his friend to see if he was finally going to wake.
The doctor had been by a while ago, reassuring Jim that Blair was going to make a full recovery. The bullet had torn a hole in Blair's right lung, collapsing it.
The chest tube was replaced in surgery with a thin drainage line that filled a collapsible bag pined to Blair's gown.
Jim pulled on the gown covering Blair's chest, gently running a hand over the bandages to feel the outline of the tiny piece of metal.
The surgeon decided that the bullet would work its way out since it settled in the fatty tissue of Blair's left chest, just under the skin.
The doctor seemed to think that Blair would only be in the hospital for a few more days and that as soon as he awoke, they would get him up and moving.
"Jim?" Simon stood just outside the door, holding a folder. "How's he doing?"
Jim motioned him in and Simon pulled the chair over from the other side of the room near the empty bed.
"He's going to be fine. The doctor said they'll shake him loose by the middle of next week."
"You think he's going to be up for some company later..." Simon shifted, studying the man lying silent and still in the bed. "I don't want him to over do it."
"I already cleared it with his doctor. What do you have there?" Jim motioned to the folder his boss held on his lap.
"This is the report from IA. They're clearing you for active duty. I thought I would bring the forms for you to sign and let you know you can report back to work on Monday morning." Simon pulled a pen from his suit pocket, handing both to Jim, but he was reluctant to take them. "We've been over this, Jim...it's not your fault."
"How can you say that?" He jumped up, dumping his paper on the floor, pacing to the window and back again. "I hesitated, Simon."
"Yes and Blair put himself in danger to push you out of harms way...so does that make it Blair's fault?" Simon remained seated, placing the folder back on his lap.
"Of course not...it's just..." Hands moving to punctuate his words, he sunk back into his chair, dropping his head. "It's not because it was a woman...I could have shot her if I had no choice...it was just something about her. And I don't mean that I had it in my head that she was supposed to be another hostage, either."
"Jenna Hardling." Simon told him, opening the report in his lap. "She was Meeker's girlfriend and he obviously wanted to keep her out of trouble if possible. She said her boyfriend lost his job and was having a hard time finding another."
"But why put her into trouble to begin with...it doesn't make sense that he would involve her in a robbery." Jim looked at his boss and then over to Blair, who murmured and whimpered, turning his head on the pillow and then fell back to sleep.
"She said in her statement that they were desperate for money...food. Meeker had been out of work for months and they were being evicted on Monday. They'd been waiting outside the Speedy Mart all day, but couldn't go through with it. Then they saw the clerk let Sandburg in and figured it was an opportune time." Simon closed the report and thrust it toward Jim again. "Now sign the damn report and get on with your life. There's no use in trying to figure out the motives of criminals."
"Is she in this hospital?" They both turned, startled by the soft weak voice coming from the bed.
"Good to see you back with us, Sandburg."
Blair pointed toward the folder sitting on Jim's chair. "Better sign that form, man. I don't need you loitering around my hospital room on Monday."
Jim smiled and picked up the folder, signing his name and handing the whole thing back to Simon.
"I'll see you a little later if you're up to it." Simon said, heading to the door and the hall beyond.
"So, you're looking a lot better." Jim told him, sinking back to his chair. "You've been sleeping most of the day."
"It's the drugs, man. I'm not feeling any pain." And to prove his point, he compressed the red button on the machine doling out his meds.
Jim watched him for a few minutes, not sure what to say. "Look...about what happened..."
"Don't Jim...I didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done for me." Already his eyes were closing, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on his face. "You should go see her, man. See what made you zone."
"I didn't zone...I think."
But Blair didn't answer him, he was already asleep.
3:10 PM
Jim slipped into the hospital room, watching the sleeping woman, not wanting to disturb her. Her arm was wrapped in heavy bandages but otherwise she was free of machinery and tubing, but a silver shackle held her other hand to the bed frame.
"Are you family?" A portly woman in her fifties stood in the doorway.
"Um...no. I'm Detective Ellison." He flashed his badge, tucking it back into his pants pocket. "How is she?"
"Lucky, I'd say. She's going to be released into police custody this afternoon, but I hope they go easy on her, for her baby's sake."
This surprised Jim. Simon hadn't mentioned she had a baby at home. "How old is her child?"
"Oh, she's not even showing yet. I think she was a bit surprised herself to find out she's pregnant." The nurse left him and he stepped a little closer to her bed, studying her face, his eyes moving down her covered body to her stomach and then he breathed in deep, not the best idea considering his surroundings.
Finally he closed his eyes and listened...
4:30 PM
Blair was shuffling from the bathroom when Jim came back. He was hunched over and felt like he was a hundred years old, but soooo much better than the day before. Whatever was in the little black box attached to the pole he was pushing must be the good stuff. "Did you get your answer?"
Jim rushed forward to help, but Blair shooed him away, heading for the chair that the nurse brought in during Jim's absence, glad that he's friend had missed the pulling of some tubes. As soon as he eased down he felt like he had to pee again.
"Yeah, I did. I found out she's pregnant." Jim perched on his bed, looking down at him. "I think I could hear the baby. Moving around and maybe the heartbeat too..."
"That's so cool, man."
"Not so fast, Chief. We'll talk about it more when you feel better. I might even let you run a test or two."
"Ah, man...you do feel guilty. It's not your fault Jim...if it's anyone's fault its mine." He shifted just a smidge, trying to get his gown pulled around where it belonged, feeling tightness in his chest and pulling near his back. "Owwww."
Jim jumped up, but didn't move closer, clearly conflicted about how best to help him. "I'm okay..." after a few deep breaths, he managed to get out, "I ah...I sorta have a confession to make."
Jim raised his brows, shifting back to the bed, but didn't say anything.
"I ah...I didn't forget the cranberry sauce. I forgot the gravy, man."
"I know."
"What?" Unbelievable. "How did you know?"
Jim crossed his arms, leaning forward. "After you left I figured you weren't being totally truthful and then back at the store, I saw you hitting Meeker's dead center in the chest with a can of Mueller's."
5:45 PM
Blair squirmed, trying desperately to find a comfortable spot, feeling like he was falling off the bottom of the raised bed.
"Do you need some help?" Jim lowered the volume on the TV and Blair missed the call the official made. "You want to lie back a little?"
"No, I want up." Jim raised the bed more and he was able to turn and dangle his legs over the edge. The low volume of the TV could not conceal the cheers of the crowd and they both stopped to see their favorite team make a touchdown.
Moving slowly without really picking up his feet he turned once he made it to the chair. "Ow...man." Blair sank into the cushioned seat, hand going up to gently touch the left side of his chest.
"Don't touch." Jim shooed his hand away, remembering the doctor said since the bullet was so close to the skin surface, it might get pushed out like a boil.
He pulled back Blair's top, lightly running his finger over the unseen bump, feeling the metal slug still deep in the fatty tissue. If the bullet was going to come out, it would be awhile yet.
Someone cleared their throat and Jim jumped back, pulling his hand away like he'd been bit as Blair hoisted the turned down piece of clothing back to its proper place.
"Am I interrupting something?" Simon stood in the doorway, caring a Tupperware container and plastic grocery bag.
"Hey, come on in, man."
"Jim thought you might want something a little better than hospital food for dinner, so I brought you something homemade." He opened the lid, revealing thinly sliced pieces of turkey and large chunks of carrots.
"Wow...thanks Simon."
They pulled the tray table over to his chair and Simon took out some paper plates and plastic flatware. The last item out of his bag was a can of Mueller's gravy. "Funny guys."
Another knock came and Blair looked around Jim to see Rafe and Brown standing in the doorway. "Hey, babe...I brought some garlic mashed potatoes to add to your belated feast."
"And I got the cornbread stuffing." Rafe added, placing the containers by the turkey on the empty bed. They both produced a can of Mueller's and sat them on his table.
"Niiice. Thanks guys. Hey, I'm sorry I messed up dinner last night."
"Don't be silly, Sandy." Megan arrived with Joel, both carrying a covered dish. His bed was spread with a mouth watering array of traditional and nontraditional foods, plus two more cans of gravy joined his stacked pile. He almost had enough to make a pyramid.
Jim went to the locker type closet where he had stowed some of Blair's things from home, pulling out a bag and a woolly pair of socks, adding Blair's pie and a thermos of gravy to the spread and topping the pyramid with his own can of Mueller's. "There, now we don't have to worry about the gravy for years to come." He bent, slipping Blair's cold feet out of the hospital booties and into the warmer socks.
"Thanks, man." And he didn't mean for the socks.
"No problem, Chief...you know what they say...it's all in the gravy."
Everyone talked and laughed, dishing out the food and watching the rest of the game. Blair picked at his vegetables, sighing when Jim cut his turkey with the plastic fork and knife.
He speared a small piece with his fork. Even without any gravy it was heavenly, taking him back to a time long ago. Closing his eyes he savored the tender piece on his tongue before chewing, remembering the sounds and smells of that day, the little kitchenette table he sat at while watching slender hands cut and chop the vegetables and the large pot going onto the stove top...his mother laughing and them both sitting on a broken down couch to watch the Macy's parade on a little black and white TV...it was the best Thanksgiving.
When he opened his eyes Jim was studying him.
"How did you..."
"It might not be exactly like your Aunt Freda's, but its close. I think I got everything you mentioned and Simon fixed it."
Simon looked up from his own plate. "I'm going to make this for Christmas dinner, thanks for the recipe Sandburg."
Jim piped up, wiping his mouth with a crumpled paper napkin. "Thanks Captain, we'll be there."
"Me too."
"Me three."
"Yeah, thanks Sir. I would love to."
"Count me in, mate."
Simon sputtered and they all laughed.
"Who wants pie?" Blair asked, pushing his plate away, he managed to eat a little. "I hear the guy who made it is one hell of a pie maker."
"Yeah well, get better fast, pie boy, 'cause you better be bringing a few to my Christmas bash and Sandburg, don't forget..."
"The gravy. I know, man. I'll get Jim to make me a list...got it covered."
6:15 PM
His friend's stayed a bit longer, eating and talking, commenting on the game. He let the sounds wash over him, his eyes growing heavier and the pain creeping back. Someone took the wire from his hand; he could hear the machine clicking as his pain medicine was delivered. Hushed talking faded and strong arms pulled him up and wrapped around him.
He tried to open his eyes.
"I'm just getting you back into bed." Jim half walked half carried him, sitting him on the edge and swinging his legs up. Someone else lowered the head and covered him with the warm blanket.
"Night, Chief."
"Night..." and as he drifted off he realized that even though he had a nice Thanksgiving with his Aunt Freda, it didn't compare to this evening spent with his family of choice...besides, Aunt Freda didn't have Mueller's gravy in the big can.
The End