Fire in the Mind

By Adalanta

Disclaimer: I do not own anything whatsoever of Third Watch. I'm not profiting from this story, so please don't come after me. I'm only a poor college student.

Author's Note: I've only recently discovered this amazing show and have become engrossed by its characters. As for fitting into the timeline of Third Watch episodes, all I can say is that this story takes place sometime after Bobby was killed. I appreciate all feedback. Please feel free to leave a review, or you can send me an email at adalanta14@yahoo.com. Thanks!

Chapter One

"Jimmy? Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Jimmy. Come on. You can do it."

The voice seemed far away, muffled, like a bad long distance phone connection. At first, he didn't feel like obeying. He was perfectly fine where he was – warm, comfortable, and so, so tired. C'mon, Kim, he thought absently, mind still foggy. Just let me sleep for a few more minutes. But the voice was insistent, repeating the same phrases over and over in the same firm, commanding tone. Oh, all right, he grumbled.

As he came more awake, the far off voice began to draw nearer. The words became sharper, less muffled, the phone connection improving. But the strange thing was that the clearer Kim's voice became, the more worry he could hear in it. That can't be right. I must be imagining it.

When it came time for him to finally open his eyes, he wasn't sure if he physically could. He was exhausted, and his eyelids seemed weighted down with lead. Man, what kind of shift did I pull last night? He wondered. It must have been pretty tough to make me this tired. Ever so slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

In a split second, his fuzzy mind discovered two things. First, Kim was standing over his bed, face lined with exhaustion, tears streaming from eyes that were swollen and red.

Second, something was in his throat, making it impossible to breathe.

His eyes slammed shut as he gagged on the object out of reflex. Terror took over his mind. I'm choking! He screamed, or, at least, he tried to. Nothing came out – he just gagged again. I – I can't breathe! Help me! Somebody…! He frantically reached up with his arms to pull the thing out of his throat, but his arms were heavy, uncooperative. He couldn't move. I'm dying. I'm going to die.

He vaguely felt the pressure of hands on his shoulders, and, even though that hurt, the pain could not break the hold the terror had on him. Voices surrounded him, muffled again, although some seemed sharp and demanding. He couldn't understand what they were saying – he didn't really want to understand. They weren't helping him! He was going to die, choking to death right here in front of them, and they couldn't – wouldn't – even help!

Behind his closed eyelids, the usual black void sparkled with brilliant colors. Red and yellow spots danced before him, taunting him, laughing at his suffering.

Through his terror-filled, frantic mind, he heard a voice screaming his name hysterically, a voice that sounded a little like Kim's, although he had never heard her sound quite so upset before.

"Put him back under!" Another voice ordered, the authoritarian tone cutting through the gray fog that descended on his mind like a wet blanket.

Put who under? Under what? What is going on?

A few seconds later, the same warm, soothing feeling stole over his mind, spreading quickly through his entire body. He couldn't fight the strange sensation – he was too tired. And so his colored world descended into darkness, and he knew no more.

*******************

"Doctor? I think he's waking up."

The words floated around him, swirling about like leaves caught up in the cool burst of a fall breeze.

"Keep the Demerol ready. If he reacts like he did before, we'll have to use it. He can't take another episode like the last time – it almost killed him. It'll be too much for his lungs."

"I have it ready, Doctor."

He heard the words but they didn't make any sense. What are these people doing at the firehouse? He wondered. Don't they know that some of us need to get some sleep? Geez! He tried to fall back asleep, but there was a peculiar ache in his chest that kept him awake to hear the voices.

"Mary, go bring in Ms. Zambrano from the waiting room. She wanted to be here when he regained consciousness." The man muttered something under his breath that Jimmy couldn't quite make out because his mind had stopped, latching onto a familiar name – Zambrano.

Kim? Waiting room? What the heck is going on? Curious and slightly worried – what is Kim doing in a waiting room? Is someone hurt? – he began the difficult task to pull himself completely awake.

The man spoke again, closer this time, almost right by his side. "Mr. Doherty? Mr. Doherty, can you hear me? You've been injured. You're in the hospital. Can you hear me?"

What?! I'm where?! His mind froze, paralyzed by what the man had said to him. For a long moment, he felt completely cut off, in a whole separate world. He couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't hear, couldn't think. Nothing. Time stopped. All was darkness. Black.

Then something snapped back into place. The world exploded back into existence.

He could hear again. The beep…beep…beep of a nearby piece of equipment changed, increasing in speed until it had become an almost constant sound. Still foggy, his mind faintly heard the same voice, now raised in concern, call out, "Mr. Doherty, calm down! It's okay! You're safe now. Nothing's going to hurt you. Try to calm down!"

Safe? Safe from what? What's wrong with me? What happened?

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on – and gagged. Something was in his throat. He tried to breathe in again and choked. His mind clicked into overdrive. He started panicking. His chest throbbed with excruciating pain, his lungs burned like they were on fire. He felt his body thrashing crazily – a fish out of water trying desperately to live.

He could feel himself getting lost in the terror that flowed through him, could feel the waves of icy panic gushing through his veins. The pain in his chest flared suddenly, causing him to involuntarily cry out, which only made the gagging worse. He couldn't breathe – he was smothering!

His world went black, then red. Every single part of his body screamed out for the air it was being denied. The pain was intense and overwhelming. And just when he felt like he couldn't stand another second of agony, he heard another voice.

In the small part of his brain that still functioned, he recognized the voice of a person close to him, who had loved him, who he still loved. His ex-wife. The mother of his son, Joey.

Kim.

Small, shaking hands held his head still, halting its frantic thrashing movement. They felt shockingly cold on his face, caressing his cheeks softly as she continued to talk. Her words slowly began to penetrate the red haze that shrouded his mind.

"Jimmy? Jimmy, listen to me! Stop struggling! Please! It's okay! You're safe!"

He tried to take a gulp of air to fill his aching lungs, still struggling to breathe despite the thing in his throat. He gagged convulsively. He desperately attempted to clear his airway by ripping out the intrusion, but his hand barely twitched on the bed.

"Stop it, Jimmy! Listen to me! You've got a ventilator tube down your throat to help you breathe. Stop trying to breathe on your own! Let the machine do it." He felt a hand caress his forehead and slide through his dark hair – a gesture of reassurance and caring. "Relax. Let the machine breathe for you. Please! Come on, Jimmy. Relax."

NO! he screamed, trapped inside his mind. I – I can't! I'll die! He didn't want to relax. He couldn't. Every instinct in his body told him to fight – fight for survival, fight to breathe. How could he just give up and die? He'd never see his son again. I don't…want…to die! Kim, help! Don't let…me…die! He pleaded.

But now his body was quitting on him, even while his mind still kicked and screamed against it. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he was so weak. His body no longer had the strength to fight.

"Please, Jimmy!" He could tell that Kim was sobbing now – the warm tears dropping onto his face like raindrops from a spring shower. A small part of him felt guilty about that – that he was causing her pain. "Listen to me! You need to relax! Stop fighting!" A cool, soft hand touched his face once more. "Please, relax, Jimmy…for Joey…and for me," she cried quietly.

"For Joey…for me?" The phrases echoed through his mind, sinking into his soul and touching his heart. He couldn't go on – he just couldn't, not even for them. I'm…sorry, Joey. I…tried. Slowly, he stopped struggling and let himself go. If I die, he thought groggily, at least I'm not alone. He forced himself to stop fighting to breathe and relaxed, waiting to die.

Suddenly, his aching lungs filled with air. He was too tired to understand what had happened. His foggy mind barely suppressed the automatic urge to take another breath and concentrated on the reassuring feeling of air being pumped into his oxygen-deprived body. In…out…in…out…The rhythmic hiss of the ventilator began to lull him to sleep, but once again, he fought against the blackness that threatened. He lay motionless on the bed, attempting to regain some of his strength.

He felt terribly weak and disorientated. And to top that all, he was in incredible pain. Each surge of air hurt his throat and caused sharp, knifelike pains to stab his chest and lungs. After a while, he heard the man's voice again, speaking in a quieter tone, although it still maintained its iron determination.

"Mr. Doherty, I need you to open your eyes for me. I know you're tired and in pain, but I need you to wake up now."

I'm tired, he mumbled to himself. "Go 'way. I jus' wanna sleep. Rebelliously, he kept his eyelids shut, pretending to the world that he couldn't hear.

"Come on, Jimmy," Kim ordered softly, her breath hitching. "I know you can hear us. You never were very good at pretending to be asleep. Open your eyes, Jimmy."

He mentally sighed, lethargy nearly overwhelming him, drowning the desire to become completely awake. But something inside told him that he needed to listen. The fireman in him followed orders. Slowly, infinitesimally, his eyelids flickered open.

TBC….