Collision Course
PART FIVE
Although he felt like he should sleep like the proverbial dead, Jim slept fitfully until the watery sunshine shone on his face. Things still ached; he felt out of sorts, angry and fed up.
He made it through washing and breakfasting-well he tried to eat something. He was glad his roommate hadn't tried to engage in meaningful conversation about last night; he just didn't think he could take it this morning- not without killing Blair and then hiding the body where no one would ever find it. Unhappy with his dark thoughts, he stood up abruptly.
"We ready to go?" he asked.
"I thought you didn't want to go?" said Blair surprised, still eating cereal.
"Well, now I do, I just want to get it over, ok? I can get checked out and go back to work- everything's normal," Jim snapped.
"Alright, alright let's go, but remember you can't drive."
Jim declined to answer that one, but limped over to the door, opened it and went out.
Blair worried about Jim as he grabbed his keys and followed his errant friend. He'd been hurt before and all that went with that- this was different. The flashbacks seemed to be from Peru, but why now? He'd never heard Jim say or do stuff like this before. At least it didn't seem to be affecting his senses too much…
Jim's feeling of impending doom was proved correct as they passed a bad traffic accident on the way to the hospital. As they were stuck in a slight jam, Blair could see Jim staring at the crash scene- it wasn't pretty. The rescue services were in attendance, tending to the victims and directing traffic around the site.
"There's nothing you can do, Jim," said Blair as one of the firemen covered the driver side of one of the cars with a blanket away from prying eyes.
Jim didn't tell Blair that he had heard and felt some of the distress at the traffic accident, and he was reminded of other lives slowly ebbing away as he watched…
"What a waste," he said.
Blair couldn't think of anything to say to that as they cleared the scene and made their way to the hospital.
Once at the hospital, Blair reported that they'd have to wait to go for the scans and x rays. Jim desperately tried to will the pounding headache and nausea away. Ah, the sweet smell and routine of the hospital. Closing his eyes and breathing slowly gradually helped. Blair seemed to realise and kept quiet.
He went for the scans and x-rays, patiently enduring the hum and whir of the machinery and the smell of the x-ray film he clutched in his hand, ready to pass on to his doctor. They waited some more outside his office.
Suddenly, his doctor was ushering him into his room, asking him questions, how's this and that, go here, take that off, put this on… he complied.
"Oh, these stitches are doing nicely, although it looks like you've had a slight knock here? Hmm. It's a bit tender."
"Yeah. Bet your stitches are neater than mine, goes all uneven when you have to stitch yourself up with no anaesthetic," replied Jim not really with it.
"Ah, have you done that?"
"Sure, and made do on my buddies for all the good it did," the light was blinding, his heart beginning to pound.
"Detective! Tell me what's wrong, what's going on?"
"Uhh," he swallowed frantically. The doctor recognising the signs gave him a basin just as the detective was violently ill. He called for a nurse and attached Jim to monitors that immediately picked up his racing heart rate and pressure. Jim lay back down on the bed, eyes closed again.
The doctor quickly opened the door and, spotting Blair, asked him to come in, as the nurse cleaned Jim up a bit.
"Can you calm him down for me? He might respond to you better," he took Jim's charts and films and looked at them intently.
"They knew we were coming!" Jim sat up on the bed.
"What?" said the doctor and Blair.
"I've got to guard the pass, finish the mission, fin..." said Jim frantically trying to peel off the monitor pads.
"Jim, don't!" Blair rushed over to the bed and grabbed Jim face with his hands. "Look at me! You finished the mission. It's over. You can stand down now. Listen to me."
Jim suddenly heard the comforting heartbeat of his Guide, smelled his shampoo, the dampness of his wool coat. He wasn't in a hot dark jungle any more; he wasn't being treated by the Army doctors. He felt exhausted. He blinked and nodded his head. It had happened again.
The doctor went over and examined Jim carefully peering in his eyes, and asking him to touch his nose among other perception tests. He asked him how he'd been eating and sleeping. When he was satisfied that Jim was alright, he took the monitor pads off and asked him to join them when he'd dressed. Jim sat next to Blair in front of the doctor's desk.
"In spite of what happened just now, your scans and films confirm that you have sustained no further brain injury. I think we can rule out the chance of a blood clot." He paused for a moment.
"However, it is apparent that you have other issues here. Detective you were in the Army, is that right?"
"Yes. A few years ago now"
"You witnessed traumatic events, were you injured at all?"
"Yes to both."
"How and when did you hurt your head again? It was tender."
"Last night."
"Did you lose consciousness?"
"No, I don't think so, well not exactly…"
"Explain."
"I fell out of bed," he mumbled.
The doctor looked hard at him, and glanced across at Blair.
"Detective Ellison, although you're physically healing very satisfactorily, according to your base line records here, you have lost significant weight. You appeared confused when you came in. And you experienced a flashback."
"Well, nobody likes the hospital food or being poked and prodded."
"I am well aware of that, but you look worn out, detective. Are you having trouble sleeping? Some of this is perfectly understandable given the trauma you've sustained. It isn't weakness to ask for help," chided the doctor.
"I've tried to tell him that," said Blair.
"Look, I just haven't felt hungry, it'll come back. The pills make me sleep when I least expect it, and then I'm awake when I don't want to be," Jim tried to explain.
"I think your latest 'episode' was due to the stress of coming back for the tests, especially after last night. That coupled with the medications and no food obviously triggered something."
"He's very sensitive to some medications," said Blair.
"I can see that from his records in front of me."
The doctor turned back to his patient before suggesting
"I could recommend a counsellor at the hospital here. Or perhaps you'd prefer to use the Police department's affiliated unit?"
"Thanks, doc, I'll think about it."
"Take my advice and do it sooner, rather than later. Finish the course of antibiotics, and try and get that weight back on. Come back and see me again next week, and I'll okay you for light duty, if you've made an appointment to talk to someone."
And with that he dismissed them. Blair drove them back to the apartment, wisely not chattering too much. Jim was quiet. Once in the apartment, Jim phoned Simon to update him on his duty status.
"I can put you in touch with the department's counsellor. It's standard practice after an accident. But other than that you're ok, Jim?" asked Simon.
"Yes, everything's fine, just need a couple of more days," replied Jim before ending the call.
"You can't just fob him off with that! He's going to find out Jim," said Blair angrily, stomping about in the kitchen.
"Stay out of it, Sandburg." warned Jim.