Waiting: Chapter 7

The doctors decreased the sedation over the night and by the next morning Jim was fully awake. Simon wasn't immediately sure whether this was a good or bad thing. Jim was still weak from the loss of blood, and he kept falling asleep, taking catnaps, throughout the day, but when he was awake, he wasn't exactly congenial.

"Jim, they're not going to let you see the kid yet, so just quit your bitching," Simon was already nearing the end of his patience with the sentinel.

"Just for ten minutes…" Jim all but whined, "…just a peak! I need to know he's okay!"

"I told you he was holding his own," Simon repeated. "He's still on the respirator, but his internal organs were reparable - not nearly as much damage in there as the doctors had feared. They've got his ribs repaired and his head stitched. The only thing they're worried about now is possible brain damage." Jim's eyes got worried - almost panicked. "They said there's none showing up on the MRI, so they don't think there will be any, but they won't know for sure until he wakes up."

Jim calmed down a little but restated, "I still want to see him."

"And I still want you to give it a rest, but it doesn't look like either of us is going to get our wish anytime soon."

Jim 'harrumphed' but otherwise remained silent. Simon decided a sulk was better than a pout, and changed the subject.

"Sara got the judge to postpone the Thompson trial until you get out of here." Simon hoped a little good news would brighten Jim's disposition a little. So far it didn't seem to be working, so Simon upped the ante. "We think we'll be able to get him for more than the child murders now." Simon moved to the window to have something to look at other than Jim's surly face. "Captain Courageous – as Brown calls the guy – was quick to roll over on Thompson and the other kidnappers, in exchange for a plea bargain. Turns out the coward was the gunman's little brother. He says he didn't want to be there in the first place and all he ever did was run the camera. Gunman and mechanical voice were one in the same and pretty much the brains of the operation. The fourth kidnapper was the driver. We tracked him down and he's singing like a bird, saying pretty much the same thing as Mr. Courage. The guy you shot is trying for a plea bargain for giving up Thompson, but, considering he was one of the men that actually beat the shit out of Blair, hell will freeze over first, if I have anything to do with it. We don't need him, anyway. Thompson's going down for this. They're all going to pay for what they did to Sandburg, Jim." Simon finally realized that that was much longer than he was usually allowed to talk without interruptions from Jim, so he repeated, "Jim?" as he turned toward the bed.

The doctors had said this might happen all day long – maybe even tomorrow too – but it was getting damned irritating. Jim was sound asleep.

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Ellison alternated between 'awake and grouchy' or 'out cold' for the rest of the day. The doctors had been keeping an eye on the stitches in Jim's upper leg and came in late in the evening to check one more time before capitulating and allowing the detective to see his partner. Jim was asleep, having finally given in and accepting pain medication. They all decided to let sleeping grumps lie.

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The first thing the next morning, Jim insisted on being taken to Blair's ICU room. The doctor decided the entire nursing staff may walk out, en mass, if they had to listen to one more second of Jim's complaining, so he gave Jim his ten minutes. The detective pulled his robe around his shoulders and tolerated being lifted into the wheelchair by two orderlies. One of stipulations of the visit…can't bear any weight on the injured leg. The reconstructive work would be done on the lower leg tomorrow, and they didn't want him messing it up any more than it already was.

So, there Jim sat, finally, at the bedside of his closest friend - the friend that was here because of him – and waited for him to wake up.

Finally the silence got to be too much for Jim. "Come on Chief," Jim pleaded. "Show me those baby blues…just for a second."

Blair didn't respond, so Jim waited for a minute or two, in silence again, holding Blair's hand to let him know someone was there. Then, "Oh come on, Blair," Jim tried again. "Wake up and yell at me for not getting there sooner!" Nothing. "Wake up and complain that they had to cut your hair on one side." Still nothing. "Wake up and tell me about all the mileage you're going to get from the bruises and scars with all the pretty nurses." Blair slept peacefully on. "Chief, come on…just wake up."

Jim's time was almost up when he finally felt just the tiniest movement of Blair's hand in his. He looked up and said, "Blair?" Jim could see, under the kid's heavy lashes, a nearly imperceptible sliver of blue. "That's it Darwin; let me see those eyes." If Jim hadn't been a sentinel, he would have missed the tiny additional opening of eyelids before they finally went slack, as did the hand that Jim was holding. "I'll take it, buddy." Jim was irrationally pleased with just this tiny progress. "You did good. I'll be here as often as they let me, Chief, and when you wake up again, I'll be right here…waiting."

End