Jim was nearly home, when the call came for any unit in the vicinity, and since he was only three blocks from the location, he responded. The small pizza joint was dark when he pulled up, which was odd given it was dinner time. He radioed for the black and whites to take the alley and the west side of the building, and then moved in.
The door was locked when he tried the handle, and he pulled back immediately. He focused hearing and smell on the building. He could hear numerous heartbeats inside – four at least and all clearly scared. The smell of fresh pizza dough and tomato sauce was also evident. As he pulled his senses back, a noise from behind caught him just before a lead pipe did. Four young men with bats and pipes attacked him without mercy. He hadn't gone down with the first hit, although in hind sight it would have been better if he had. The pipe hit him a second time on his back, and he could hear his own ribs breaking, he wrenched around, but fell to his knees with the third and fourth hits. He thought fleeting of Blair, and then all was black.
The sound of sirens broke up the beating, and the young men fled, leaving the broken and bloody body as evidence. The first patrolman on the scene nearly lost his stomach when he caught sight of the damage, but it wasn't until the third car arrived that an officer realized who was lying in the alley.A call was placed to Major Crimes as the EMTs fought to stabilize Jim's breathing.
Joel Taggart hesitated at the loft's entrance before raising his fist to knock. "Geez Jim, where the hell you…Joel?" Blair was in mid-rant after opening the door when he realized it wasn't his partner.
"Blair, I need you to come with me, please." The young man stumbled back a step, eyes wide with fright. "Blair, Jim was responding to a silent alarm on his way home. It's bad. I'm going to bring you to the hospital." He grabbed the Guide's coat off the hook, the house keys out of the basket, and hurried him out the door.
Simon Banks had seen his senior detective, and was shaken. He'd seen Jim shot, blown up, beaten, drugged – he couldn't even let his brain finish the litany because he knew he had never looked this bad before. He was thrown back into the moment when Jim's partner skidded to a stop in front of him. The younger man took a step back, afraid of what he was reading in the Captain's eyes. Simon caught himself, and reached out a reassuring hand to clamp on the sturdy shoulder.
"He's alive Sandburg. I'm not going to tell you it isn't bad…it is. They're getting him ready for surgery right now."
"Need to see him," Blair blurted out, his blue eyes wide with worry.
"His doctor said you could – just for a moment – before they take him upstairs."
"What happened – how bad?"
"Captain Banks, Detective Ellison is ready to go up to OR," a young nurse said interrupting.
Simon grabbed Blair, and led him to one of the treatment rooms. He stopped at the entrance, and let the Guide proceed alone. "Oh god, oh god, oh god. Jim, what have you done now?" He stroked a gentle hand down his left arm before bending over to whisper. "I'm here Jim, right here, and I'm going to be waiting for you. I know this is bad, and it has to hurt like hell, but I need you to fight, Jim. I need you with me. Don't you dare leave me.I'll be waiting." He ran a hand gently over a bruised cheek before joining Simon in the hallway.
"How bad?" He asked after the gurney had been wheeled into the elevator.
"Broken right hand; broken ribs with possible lung damage; unsure about the left knee; and crushed windpipe."
"That's why…" Blair had noticed, but not focused on, the ventilator attached to small hole in his partner's throat.
"Doctor's concerned that a lack of oxygen between when it happened and when the paramedics got the tube in could be a problem."
"I'm not borrowing trouble yet, Simon," Blair responded heatedly.
"I know. I'm sorry."
It was six hours later when a doctor came out to the OR waiting room to talk to them. Most of Major Crimes was in the small room, and despite the crowd, the doctor's appearance brought all noise to a halt. "Fixed the ribcage and the tear in his lung; left knee's badly bruised but no long-term damage; the orthopedic surgeon did a tremendous job on the right hand. He'll be on the ventilator for at least a week – maybe more. But things look a lot better now then when he came in."
Blair sat in ICU, holding Jim's left hand in both of his. He kept up a steady stream of nonsense, telling stories from his expeditions and his students. He knew Jim was not zoned, just deeply under, but he kept the talking up to cover the noise of the ventilator.
The next evening the blue eyes opened while Blair was running a soft washcloth over the handsome face, startling the man. "Jim? Oh wow! Hey."
Jim moved his lips but nothing came out, and he started to raise his head. "No. Stay still please," Blair added as he gently held him on the bed. "You can't talk right now because they had to do a tracheotomy. The machine is breathing for you through the trach tube until your windpipe heals. You need to lie still. Okay?"
The blue eyes closed for a long moment, and then reopened and blinked twice. "Good. Let's see the rest of the story- broken right hand; more busted ribs then I've had, even combined, and a really swollen left knee. That's the down and dirty on it. No red-headed nurses – I think Simon warned the Administrator about that after last time," he smiled warmly at his partner. The left hand came slowly up to Blair's cheek, and caressed it once before dropping. "And I'm fine, thanks for worrying, but you're the one lying in the hospital bed."
He was moved into a private room two days later. He was trying hard, but everything hurt, and not being able to communicate was driving him nuts. He couldn't write since his right hand was broken, and the trach was going to be in for another week. Jim was antsy and moving too much for his own good, and he couldn't really control his breathing with the vent so his breathing exercises were out. Jim grabbed Blair's hand, and started spelling on it with his finger. "Whoa…slow down Jim, okay, I get it…no I haven't drive the truck, you idiot!" And that earned him a huge smile.
Daryl Banks came to visit the detective the next day. Jim had been helping him with a present for father's day – teaching him fly tying. Blair thought the visit would cheer his partner up, and the teenager, once he got over his initial shyness at the situation, went to work - with Jim helping through hand gestures. It was a good visit, and Jim was happily tired that night.
Daryl came back two nights later for help on a school report he was doing on the Army Rangers. He brought a list of books he thought he might read, and Jim pointed out which three he thought were best. And he asked Jim some simple questions that he could respond to through gestures. He popped in a promotional video the Army used for recruiting, and handed Jim the remote. They were going through it – Jim stopping and rewinding in places to point out important points – when Daryl realized that something was wrong. Jim had a hand on his chest, and was clearly in pain.
"Jim, Jim what can I do?" he asked, frightened.
Jim hit the call button over and over, but no one came. Blood started to flow from Jim's mouth and around the trach tube. Daryl laid a hand gently on Jim's, "I'll get help." He fled the room, running for the nurses' station. He could see Jim's light flashing while two nurses stood talking. "Help him! You need to help Jim, there's blood everywhere!"
He was standing outside the room when his father and Blair showed up 10 minutes later. "Daryl, son what's wrong?" Simon called out as he caught sight of his son. The young brown eyes looked up, and he burst into tears. Simon grabbed him and held him close, his eyes going to Blair. Blair knelt beside the young man, and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Daryl, can you tell me what happened? Is Jim okay?"
"We were, we were working on my Ranger project. Jim was great – even said he could set up interviews with a couple of his friends who are still in the Rangers. We were watching a video and then, then he grabbed his chest and blood – there was blood everywhere. I…they didn't answer the call button so I ran to get help."
"You did great Daryl, thanks for being there for Jim." Blair said with a gentle hand on the slender shoulder.
"Dr. Pearce – what's going on?" Banks asked as he held his son close.
"Seems Detective Ellison developed a small tear in his esophagus, right over a blood vessel – I just had a look, and we're going to have to pump his stomach to get the blood out, but some rest and he should be fine. I know it was a lot of blood, but it shouldn't set things back."
"Can I see him, please?" Blair asked, needing to be with his partner.
"Give me ten more minutes to get the tubes down him so we can keep the blood out of his stomach, and I'll let you back in. Why don't you grab some coffee? This will probably be a long night."
When Blair was let back in, Jim had tubes down his nose, running into a bottle on his chest. The tubes were red, and Dr. Pearce warned him that it was just the blood that had run into this stomach. "Big guy, you gave us a hell of a scare," he said softly, settling in the chair and reaching for a hand. "You with me, Jim?"
The blue eyes, fraught with confusion, opened slowly, darting frantically around the room. "Easy, Jim. It's okay. The bloods from a tear in your esophagus, apparently not unlikely given the damage it's been through, and they have some tubes in to help pump it out of your stomach." Blair watched him for a long minute. "Daryl's fine. A little scared, but fine."
The trach tube came out the next day, and the tubes running into his stomach were removed that evening after they had remained clear for four hours. The simple act of sitting up in bed made Jim happy, and Blair had to smile as his partner looked eagerly around the room.
"Hey, big guy, Dr. Pearce says you can come home tomorrow. That okay with you?"
While he still couldn't talk, Jim's entire being radiated his happiness at being home, as Blair helped him settle on the couch. Blair did not realize that he was crying, until he felt the warmth of Jim's finger tenderly wiping the tears off his cheeks. He opened his eyes to read the concern in his partner's. "Sorry…silly, just…God, Jim, when I found Joel at the door, I…I don't remember being that scared before."
Three days later, Blair hung up his jacket, left his keys in the basket and headed for the frig and a bottle of water. Once he had completed his mission, he went to join Jim on the couch, where he was watching the news.
"Hey Chief," Jim whispered, "how'd it go today?"
"Just a mess, man, you wouldn't believe…wait! Did you just…you did!" He beamed at the older man. "God, I missed your voice."
Jim returned the smile, "I'll remember that next time you don't like what I have to say."