Once again, I do thank those who take the time review. Sometimes the writing flows and sometimes it beats me up These chapters are beating me up. I think you'll understand why as you continue to read. Anyway, your comments are always welcome and much appreciated.

As for the 100th story idea... I'm amazed at how similiar the suggestions have been. They are not identical but close enough that I'm wondering if there's been a little colusion here, lol. If you haven't put your two cents worth in, feel free to jump in the water.

In the meantime, enjoy the read...

"It's our understanding that he has no family here," the nurse explained as she walked Catherine through the corridor to Jim's room. "And I think he's had a nightmare. He woke very agitated and calling out for someone but I don't know….He keeps calling for An and keeps asking about a son."

Catherine remembered Jim telling her about An. But why was he asking about a son? What was going through his mind, she wondered. They arrived at the door to his small room and the nurse caught Catherine's arm. "I don't know what you've been told, but he can't see you. You'll have to tell him who you are."

"He's…blind?" Catherine asked, stunned.

"The doctor believes it is temporary. He's waiting for some test results to come back. But for now, yes; he's blind."

Closing her eyes and swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat, Catherine collected herself. Jim was probably already upset enough. She didn't need to add to it. Then looking at the nurse, she nodded. "I'll see if I can understand what's got him so upset."

"Thank you. This isn't good for him…"

Catherine stepped away from t he woman and into Jim's room. A quick glance at the monitors told her that his vitals were reasonable so she turned her attention to the man in the bed. "Jim," she said softly, her hand reaching to stroke his arm.

His hand twitched and he moved his head to look at her. But she could tell that he wasn't seeing her. His eyes, his normally very expressive eyes, were blank. "Cath'rine," he croaked.

"Yeah, it's me." Taking a deep breath to collect herself, she jumped in. "The nurse said you were having a bad dream."

"Deam?' He asked broodingly. "I…I dunno." Changing his demeanor, he knitted his brow. "I can'tee, yaknow?"

She had to listen carefully to understand what he said. It was obvious he had more problems than his sight, although that was probably the worst one. "She told me. I'm sorry, Jim."

"Was dddremmin'.But….ssseemed rrreoll. Ssshe…as hhar."

Working to understand, Catherine got what he was saying. "You thought she was…here?" And then she remembered Ms. Trang in the waiting room and her eyes widened.

"Sshheee uched mme…onrm," he answered as he tried to lift his arm.

Not wanting to upset him further, Catherine decided not to share her short exchange with Ms. Trang; not yet anyway' she had some investigating to do. "I'm sure this is all very confusing, Jim. You must have been dreaming and it felt real to you. I know, I've had dreams like that…"

His shoulders slumped. "Proby." After a deep sigh, he continued. "Jus sout shee uz hhere."

Daring to do something she knew he wouldn't normally accept easily, she stroked the side of his head that had no cuts or bruises. "You saved that little girl, Jim. She'd be dead now if you hadn't been there. We'll figure out the rest but for now, just concentrate on getting better…and remember what you did. Because of you, that family has their daughter back."

"Mmmm hmmmm, sshe okay?" He thought he remembered someone telling him that she was but he didn't trust that right now. Things were a mess inside his head.

"She's fine. A few bumps and bruises but nothing that won't heal in a few days."

"..ood."

Glancing up, Catherine saw the nurse standing in the doorway eyeing her watch. "Hey the nurse is giving me the sign that my time's up for now. You rest. Things will seem clearer after your brain has a chance to heal."

"Ssure? I'll eal?"

"You kidding me? You're one of the hardest heads I know. Your brain might be a bit bruised but nothing it can't handle."

"Humph…" he grunted. "…ater?"

"As soon as they'll let me back in. But the rest of your fan club wants a chance to say hi too. So I might have to wait my turn."

Nodding, Jim seemed to drift way as if he were going back to sleep.

"Yeah, you rest," she whispered. Then she patted his shoulder before turning to leave.

He listened to her leave and then turned his thoughts back to An. It was a dream, he told himself, a dream about Vietnam…a forty year old dream. "But it felt real," he mumbled aloud.

Catherine made her way up to Mai's room. She'd expected to find the family gathered there but only Alicia remained. "Anna took Vinh home," she explained to the red headed CSI. "They will wait for Jimmy and Guy there."

"He's coming home already? That's wonderful," Catherine exclaimed. "Jim…Captain Brass, wanted to know how Mai is doing," she said as she tried to explain her presence.

"She is good," the younger woman smiled. "Is Captain Brass going to be alright? We are so grateful for what he did."

"They're," she hesitated while she decided how much Jim would want her to tell the woman, "still running tests. Right now, he's having some vision problems. And talking is difficult. It's all very confusing for him. But, he was very worried about your little girl. I promised I'd check in," she lied.

"Perhaps before we leave tomorrow, Mai could say hello…thank him?"

Catherine smiled. "I'm sure he would appreciate that very much. But you'll have to check with his doctor. Right now his visitors are limited."

The other woman frowned. "We will ask." Then glancing at her sleeping daughter, she continued. "Mai told me he stayed even after they knew about the explosives….that he wouldn't leave even though no one else would come in the room.. It made her feel safer, she said. Why would he do that? He must have known the risk… People just don't do that…."

Smiling at the woman and then looking over at the child, Catherine sighed. "It's not the first time Jim's put himself between danger and the innocent."

"Perhaps. But it seems he was doing more than just his job."

After Catherine left him, Jim felt restless. Unable to see, he felt like a prisoner in his bed. And his body still didn't want to do what he told it, making even the simplest motion like scratching an itch difficult. Sighing in frustration, he wondered why he was still alive. Why hadn't the blast killed him? And as he thought about it more, he realized that he remembered very little of the minutes just before the explosion. But in his mind's eye, he could see the girl and he remembered that she'd looked at him the same way An had all those years ago; she'd looked at him with complete trust.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. They weren't the quiet footsteps that he'd learned to recognize as belonging to the nurse. There were heavier… a man.

"Good morning, Jim," his doctor greeted him. "Hopefully you're feeling somewhat better this morning?"

Jim frowned. And you're still a dumbass this morning… "ittle…"

Jim felt the man close and envisioned him checking the numbers on the beeping machine near his head. The beep was soft and normally probably not very noticeable. But to Jim, who was depending heavily on his sense of hearing to know what was happening around him, the beeping was obnoxious. "Ooo, urnntit uff?"

Dr. Taylor looked at his patient, puzzled. And then he realized what Jim was asking. "Beeping getting on you r nerves?"

"Yuah…"

After a few seconds and a click, Jim was relieved to hear the machine go quiet. "Danks."

Pulling a chair close to the bed, Dr. Taylor settled in it. "I had a neurologist read your scans, Jim. There is some minor bruising to the your temporal and parietal lobes that is causing the problems with your speech and may be a part of your vision loss. A speech therapist is going to come do an assessment about what kind of therapies are indicated. In time, your speech should be back to normal. Your occipital lobes suffered heavier bruising and there is still some swelling inside your skull. If there is no change in the swelling in the next day or two, we'll need to relieve it through surgery. As the swelling reduces, so will your headaches and hopefully your vision loss. The bruising, however, will take longer and will continue to affect your vision."

"Ow long?"

"I can't tell you that, Jim. It could be a few weeks…or months. And I can't guarantee that you will ever get all of your vision back. But I am hopeful. Even if there was some permanent damage, the brain has an amazing ability to rewire itself and retrain cells. As your sight does begin to come back, you may experience some difficulties. Sometimes, the stimuli provided by your eyes will be misunderstood by your brain and you'll see things that aren't there or you'll see an image but part of it will be missing. In some cases, your brain will provide an image of what it thinks should be there. For instance, you might have always had a lamp in a particular spot on a table but someone has moved it. Your eyes will see the table and your brain, knowing that the lamp was always there will tell you it is still there."

After a short pause to let Jim absorb everything he was saying, Dr. Taylor continued. "As your vision does come back you may experience other problems, such as color blindness. Because of the bruising on your parietal lobes, you may see something and not be able to identify what it is. I expect that to be short lived as well."

Jim wished he could see the man's face, watch his body language. Then he'd better be able to gage how serious this really was. Not that Jim questioned the seriousness, just the permanence of his situation. The doc said weeks or months but later said something about maybe never getting everything back. While trying to maintain and outward calm, inside Jim was in panic mode. Never get it all back maybe? And I'll see things that aren't there? Short lived… what does that mean? How short?

Reading his patient's turmoil, Dr. Taylor sighed. "Got any questions?"

Jim's head moved, as if to look at the man. "Um…ffusing. Ooo ed sssort turm?"

"Yes. The speech should start clearing up soon. I don't expect those problems to last long. The vision will take longer…a few months, maybe a year." He watched as Jim lowered his head, a frown on his face. "The headache is worse?"

"esss. Bbbaca ed…pwessoo."

Dr. Taylor glanced at his chart. "It's almost time for more meds. I'll have the nurse go ahead and give you the painkillers for your head." After jotting something in the chart, he looked again at his patient. "Jim, your law enforcement friends have been haunting the halls here, all anxious to see you. I understand one was here earlier."

Jim nodded in agreement.

"Well, the best thing for you is rest. I know they are all anxious and you probably would like to see them too, but even though we're moving you to a private room later, I'm going to limit the number and the length of visits. And when you don't have company and we're not busy making you miserable, I want you resting."

Jim nodded. "Uuunasand." Jim's brow furrowed as he struggled with one more question that wouldn't quite come together in his mind. He knew what the doctor had said about recovery and he knew he would need to be patient. But then what? Finally, gathering his thoughts and the courage to ask, he struggled with getting it out. "Whafta?" He looked at the doctor expectantly.

Taylor tilted his headed, mentally translating the one word question. "After? Oh, you mean after you get out of here?"

Jim huffed. "Es bu…" and the focusing all of his mental energy he forced the last word out. "Job?"

It was Taylor's turn to sigh. "Honestly, I don't know. But it's doubtful you'll be able to return to duty. Certainly it will be some time before we can even consider it. If you were twenty something I'd be very encouraging about working back into the job. But at your age…and with the other knocks your head has taken in the past, I'm skeptical. Possibly, if there is a position that doesn't require you to be in the field… but like I said, it will be months before a detailed discussion is appropriate."

His body deflated as Jim absorbed the news. No job; now what? What's the point?

Watching the effect his news had on the injured man, Dr. Taylor grimaced. "Look, let's concentrate on you getting better for now. We'll save the rest for later, when we have a better picture of what your recovery will entail. Okay?"

Sighing deeply, Jim nodded. "Otay." Yeah, just put off the inevitable. I'm old and used up…and now blind too ... useless.

Once Taylor left the room, Jim settled back into the pillows and back into the darkness that now permeated him. Depression sank in as he considered the doctor's outlook and he fell into a restless sleep.

The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise."

F. Scott Fitzgerald