Collision Course

PART FOUR

Blair spent the next day keeping an eye on Jim while he slept on and off and trying to get him to eat and take his medication. He oversaw Jim's slow progress to and from the bathroom and a tour round the apartment. Jim insisted he needed to move around a bit before he seized up totally. Blair tried hard not to fuss, but he guessed that Jim was in more discomfort than he was willing to admit as he snapped and grumbled.

That night, Blair decided he'd stay in the lounge again to see if Jim would have any more nightmares. But apart from some unintelligible mumbling, all was well. He woke up once and automatically told Blair to go to bed.

The day after that, Jim more or less ordered Blair out of the apartment, saying it wouldn't do for him to get cabin fever, plus he knew Blair had classes to give. So Blair went off to the university, but he phoned Simon. He knew Simon or the guys would find an excuse to go over and visit Jim.

He was back by mid afternoon, anxious as to how Jim was, and what he'd been up to all day.

"Jim?" he called as he put his keys in the basket. "Where are you? Don't tell me you've wandered off somewhere…"

"Chief – hold your horses. I'm in the bathroom."

"Oh. Are you ok?" he asked hovering outside the door.

"Just checking the dressing on my hip and leg, having a wash," answered Jim, which was true, but he had also taken some more Tylenol for his recurring headache. He still felt like crap, and he had nobody to blame but himself. He splashed more cold water on his forehead and neck and patted it almost dry.

Blair put the kettle on-he wanted some tea after his busy morning.

Jim came out and walked stiffly to the living area and sat at the table. He hated to admit it but he was grateful for the cane after all.

"Everything ok? You want some tea?" asked Blair as he put mugs on the table and stood looking at Jim.

"Yes, bruising's coming out nicely, seen worse," Blair was surprised to see an odd expression come over Jim's face as he said that.

"Want to tell me?"

"Kettle's about to boil there, chief." countered Jim neatly avoiding the issue. He was always tired now and everything hurt. Even though he turned the dials down, everything was out of whack. He wanted to deal with it on his own. Surely he didn't need Blair for every little thing, he thought angrily?

"Earth to Jim? There's a game on TV tonight – you want to watch?"

"Yes, sure whatever."

They watched the game with varied enthusiasm; for once Jim didn't eat all the popcorn, which made Blair wonder how much his friend was eating, as he'd only picked at dinner as well. But then again, his whole system had had a shock. After the late game, Jim said he was going to his own bed upstairs not the couch, thank you very much, and Blair couldn't persuade him otherwise.

At some unmentionable time in the small hours, Blair registered the sound of a police chopper or something in the bay, making a very loud close sweep coming right over the apartments. Whap, whap, whap. A short while later he heard a loud thump from upstairs followed by silence. Jim! He rushed out of his room and up the steps to Jim's room. No sign of him. But the bedclothes were all pulled off on the far side. Carefully, he edged round the bed and knelt down. Jim lay on the floor. Damn, had he knocked himself out?

"Jim? You awake? Are you ok?" he asked frantically as he noted his head stitches bleeding again.

Jim's hand grabbed Blair's arm, scaring him half to death. "Soldier- we gotta go."

"You're not going anywhere." began Blair.

"Now, soldier! Somewhere safe. Away from the Huey."

"Jim, come on back. You're in Cascade not…wherever. Peru? Jim?"

Jim turned over and began to crawl across the floor. "Help me find the other tags, where's my tags?" he said.

"Jim, I've got the tags, it's alright."

Jim patted his own chest frantically, "I'm not dead yet! Where are my tags? Give me my tags, soldier!" Blair quickly pulled off the amulet on a chain from his neck and pushed it into Jim's hands. It worked.

"All safe?"

"Yes, Jim."

Jim retreated to the corner all huddled up, which had to be hurting him, clutching Blair's chain. He leant his head back and closed his eyes, slowly calming down at last. Minutes ticked by.

A dog barked in the back alley, followed by a crash of bins and the screech of a cat. Jim opened his eyes. "Sandburg? What are you doing up here?"

"I think a better question would be, why are you sitting over there instead of resting in bed?"

"What?"

"Jim. I think you need some help. Let me check your head, it's bleeding."

"Oh," he said bringing a hand up to check.

Blair helped Jim up and got him back to bed. He went down stairs for his medications and first aid kit.

"It's just as well you're due back at the hospital tomorrow," Blair chastised as he tended his friend

"Great, more tests!"

"Look, it's just a check up alright, not the end of the world."

"Been poked and prodded too much lately. Always asking me damn questions I can't answer!"

"Who has?"

"Everybody…people… on and on."

"Jim, did you talk to doctors when you got back from Peru?"

"Who didn't I talk to?" said Jim tiredly, already realising what Blair was trying to ask him. Despairing gloom wrapped around him in a cold embrace. He waited for the question.

"Did they talk to you about PTSD or flashbacks because I think you need some help."

"Dammit, Blair what are you suggesting- that I've gone nuts?"

"No! Far from it, but something's gotten knocked loose, and it isn't pretty. Not for you or me."

"Sandburg, I really don't feel so good- can we not do this now."

'Great' thought Blair 'classic Ellison avoidance tactic #34' "How bad?"

"Everything hurts; maybe the headache will go in a year or two. And yes, I've dialled things down a bit. I just want to sleep," explained Jim. 'Obfuscation? Who me?' thought Jim to himself.

Blair left it like that, wanting to help but knowing he couldn't push it. Jim always buried everything deep.