Collision Course

PART THREE

Jim had been stable for two days, and now Blair was taking him home before he either escaped under his own creaky steam or the doctors threw him out. He knew Jim hated hospitals – there were too many noises, smells; and nurses were always doing something to you every other hour, so you never slept properly. Blair had experienced that himself, so he could sympathize, but it had to be too much for a Sentinel even dialed down.

Jim was to return in a few days to get the stitches checked and another CT scan and x- rays. They were told to return immediately if there were any problems. So far, it looked like Jim had been incredibly lucky, but would have spectacular bruising to show for most of it. His kidneys had also passed the BUN and cretanine tests- so no kidney failure had resulted from the impact, but they were still told to be vigilant.

For once the lift at the apartment was working, and Blair was able to wheel Jim in and home relatively smoothly. He just kept up his usual running commentary on things; Jim was in too much discomfort from sitting in the car and then dozing for the ride home to comment on Blair mother henning him like this. By the time he opened the door to the loft, it was lunchtime.

"Blair, is that you?" called Simon from the kitchen.

"Yes, look what I brought home."

"Dammit, Blair, let me outta this thing," said Jim slightly embarrassed that his captain was here.

Simon came over to help as Jim struggled to lever himself out of the wheel chair. "Couch?"

"No way is he going upstairs, Simon!"

Together, Blair and Simon steered Jim to the couch and got him settled; lying with pillows and blankets. They placed the walking cane the hospital had given them nearby.

"Thanks, Simon, for getting the food I appreciate it."

"That's ok; I wanted to see how Jim was. You just call if you need anything; if you have to get back to Rainer…"

"Hey, I'm over here, and I don't need baby sitting alright," said Jim tiredly from the couch.

"Jim, you're hurt and you're going to need a little help getting up and moving around for the next day or so. So shut up and tell me what you'd like for lunch. Simon went shopping" explained Blair firmly.

'How does he get away with that?' wondered Simon, as no explosion came from his detective.

"Not hungry, I'd like a beer though."

"Jim, you've got to eat, and you can't have a beer with the antibiotics. How about Chung's chicken noodle soup and some water?"

"Alright."

But by the time Simon and Blair had finished putting away food and nuking the soup, Jim was asleep.

"It's really knocked him for six, hasn't t?" commented Simon.

"Yes. Didn't sleep a lot in the hospital, you know they couldn't give him any pain meds until they were sure about his head." said Blair going back to the table so they could have their soup. "I know he's been shot at, blown up and all sorts, but this could have been much worse- dead or paralysed, lots of broken bones, kidney failure. It's a good thing he isn't too vain, because his face is really colourful, never mind the rest of him. Mind you, the ladies go for the wounded hero look…"

"I think they're safe for today at least," smiled Simon. "I'll pass on the latest news to the rest of the guys. You let us know when we can have a poker or movie night to keep him entertained and give you a bit of a rest and we'll be here."

Blair was distracted from marking the last of his papers around 0030 by Jim mumbling and tossing and turning. Before he knew it, he was by the couch- Jim was sweating; suddenly he rolled over and flung his arm out- knocking the glass of water that was on the table- all over his face and chest. Blair expected him to wake up, but if anything it made things worse.

Jim was scrubbing at his face and hyperventilating.

"It won't come off- Oh God," he repeated it over and over.

"Come on, Jim, wake up. What won't come off?" Blair asked as he grabbed the hands, trying to wake him up.

"There's blood everywhere,"

"What blood?"

"Everywhere,"

"It's ok. Jim, wake up- they cleaned you up at the hospital there's no blood here," Blair spoke firmly hoping it would get through.

Jim's eyes suddenly snapped open, looking straight into Blair's.

"Blood and oil, couldn't get it out," he said again.

"Jim! It's me Blair. There's no blood or oil."

Awareness crept into Jims face and eyes, "What?" he started to say.

"Jim, are you with me now? Come on, big guy. You're home now."

Jim's desperate breaths calmed down; suddenly he screwed his eyes in pain, "Hurts," he hissed

"I'm not surprised, that's serious bruises you got there. Just try and dial it down, ok?"

His partner nodded and closed his eyes again as he tried to relax after his sudden movements.

Blair came back with a towel to wipe his face and some tea. "Here try this," he said.

"What's in it?" asked Jim as he sniffed it carefully.

"Nothing that'll harm you -just helps you sleep."

"I was sleeping fine till you woke me up."

"Excuse me! You were the one shouting."

"Did not."

"Did too- creepy stuff about blood everywhere. What was that all about anyway?" asked Blair watching Jim apprehensively.

"Don't know, don't remember," said Jim.

"Right. I'll leave it for now. But we are going to talk about this later, man."

"Yeah," said Jim tiredly as he shifted awkwardly on the couch. He knew he was better off down here for the moment. Having been sideswiped and all, he'd never get up and down the stairs even with the cane. He always felt worse a day or so after this sort of thing. Exhausted, he fell asleep. Blair barely managed to rescue the cup as it fell from his limp fingers.