Jim woke from another dream, startled. In the confusion that followed waking, he tried to find a sound or a smell that would anchor him. Not being able to see his surroundings left him feeling adrift in an ocean of unknowns. Using his hands he located the bed rails and was grateful for them. Arms are working better… coordination is coming back…That's something at least…

Feeling a little more grounded, he began to corral his thoughts. The dream had been about An, but then he seemed to be dreaming about her a lot these days, so that didn't really surprise him. But he couldn't pull what he was dreaming back into his mind. Frustrated, he sighed and tried to let it go.

Then his mind turned to Mai. He wished he could have seen her when she visited. She'd been so scared in the motel room. He wanted to see that she was okay now. Besides, now that he knew she was his granddaughter… He mind turned over with that one, a grandfather; he'd never thought of himself in that way. He wanted to look in her face, see if he could find anything of himself, his family, in her.

I'm a grandfather… who'd have thought that? And not one but two grandkids. Mai seems sweet, like An was… and Vinh is a cute kid. Wonder what they'll think of me as their grandfather? Then his heart plummeted. Will they ever know?

Maybe it'll be better that way. I wasn't much of a father when I had the chance. Besides, who am I kidding? Jimmy won't want me anywhere near his family. I'm the one that abandoned them…at least that what he thinks. And I suppose I did even if I didn't want to. But it won't matter because I'll never be able to see them.

Settling into a sullen stupor, Jim huffed. He was tired of the hospital, tired of people telling him what to do, when to sleep, what he could eat. Most of all he thought he was tired of all the people who came, all happy and cheerful and full of optimism. And as he tried to shift in his bed to get comfortable, he decided that he hated his bed. He wanted his bed at home. On top of all that, he couldn't see and couldn't tell that anything was improving with his eyes. Most of all, he just wanted to see.

Replaying all the doctor had said about his condition, Jim tried to take solace from the word 'temporary.' But he'd been in such a haze that he didn't even know how many days had passed since the explosion. Actually, he had no idea whether it was light or dark outside. From the sounds of activity in the hallway, he assumed it was daytime, but he had no way of knowing without asking. And by asking, he would be admitting how helpless he really was. And Jim Brass did not like being helpless.

His mood did not improve as he lay in his bed. A nurse came through to check on him and he grumbled at her. The speech therapist came by and he grouched at her. Then a new one came in. This guy was there to help him learn the skills he would need to get by while he was blind.

"Ddon't know wwhy you're wwasting ttime here," Jim groused. "This is jjust temporary. The dddoc told me tthat. Maybe yyou'd bbetter check with hhim."

"I'm here because your doctor ordered it. So unless you plan to stay in the hospital until you get your sight back I'd suggest we get busy."

"Ssttay hhere? No, I um…" Shit, what am I going to do when they cut me lose? The images his mind conjured of him stumbling around his house in the dark weren't happy ones.

"Well, first I need to ask a couple of questions," the trainer stated.

"Okay. Sshoot."

"Your house have one story or two?"

"One."

"Good, it'll be easier. And how is it arranged? I mean, is everything along the walls or do you have furniture in the floor, like coffee tables…"

"Um… mmostly on the walls," Jim answered as he tried to picture the rooms in his house. "Iisland in the kitchen."

"Okay, good. And is there someone who will be with you or are you on your own?"

"Ii llive alone," Jim replied.

"Alright then. That helps me know what you need to know before the doc can cut you loose."

"Yeah… ookay."

The trainer, Phil, began to talk to him about using his other senses to compensate for the loss of his sight and then had Jim do a few simple exercises to demonstrate what he was talking about. Jim was shaky at first, as Phil put things in his hands and asked him to describe them. As he began to catch on, he became a little more confident. Beyond that, he was glad to have something to concentrate on besides how messed up everything was. But by the time Phil left, Jim was exhausted.

He dozed for a few minutes but was awakened by a visit from the doctor. "I heard you had a visit from Phil," he said.

"Yeah," Jim grunted.

"Tomorrow we're going to start getting you up and moving around a little. I didn't want you moving around much while there was still so much swelling in your head, but it seems to be abating. Your speech is improving and your coordination is almost back to normal, so that's all good."

"Bbbut I sstill ccan't ssee."

"No you can't. And I warned you that it will take longer. We're going to give your head another day or two to heal and then run some more tests to see if we can get a better picture of how much of this is due to the swelling and bruising and how much, if any, is actual damage to your brain. After that, we can be more precise in planning for your recovery."

Jim nodded. "Okay." This discussion started out positively but more and more it was depressing. Now all Jim wanted was for the man to go away.

"Once we get you on your feet, I'm going to have to kick you out of here. I understand you live alone?"

"Yeah." More depressing thoughts…

"Is there someone who could stay with you for awhile… just until you get acclimated?"

Shaking his head negatively Jim answered slowly, "No."

"I could arrange for someone…"

Jim sighed and his shoulders slumped. Great, going to have some stranger poking around my house and I won't even be able to see it.

"Give it some thought," the doctor suggested. "You don't have to decide anything today."

Jim mumbled and nodded again. He heard the chair move and listened as the doctor walked out of the room. Then sinking back into his pillows, he tried to drop into the oblivion of sleep.

Back at the lab, Nick and Greg were still trying to make sense of the evidence collected at the motel. A lot had been destroyed in the blast but there were still some clues. Greg found prints on a chunk of wood that had been part of the dresser. It was a long shot but he was running it against their database. Nick found a glob of toothpaste in the bathroom sink… more precisely, the spit of toothpaste that one of them probably left. It was in the DNA lab being processed. There were a few other clues. A comb was in the rubble that had hair attached and there was another piece of wood that Greg was working on. Nick found a cell phone in the corner under the demolished TV set. With dogged determination, Nick was pursuing every possible lead to the men who'd held the girl captive and who'd nearly ended his friend's life.

Catherine poked her head around the corner and peeked into the room. "Any luck," she asked as she moved to lean on the door jamb.

Nick looked up. "Nothing yet, but several possibilities. I'm working on this cell phone. It's pretty useless but maybe we can get enough to find who they were calling…"

"Or taking calls from…"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You been by to see Jim today?"

"Not yet. Thought I'd go after shift." She sighed and sank into the door frame.

"You okay?" Nick asked as he stopped to look at her.

"Yeah…it's just… well, it's just not fair, you know. I mean, it's like Jim can't catch a break. And now he's blind."

"Well, yeah…it's rough. But, if you'd seen that room go up… well, he is alive; I guess that's a break."

"Yeah, I suppose. But somehow I don't think he's going to see it that way."

"Jim's … well, he's a strong guy. He'll be okay."

Catherine nodded as she thought about the things he'd survived over the years, survived and overcome; but not without paying a price. And Nick didn't know the half of it. "Yeah, I hope so. I just…well, this could be the last straw.

"Hey, the doc says it's temporary…"

"Right. But he probably will never work again; at least, not as a cop."

Nick let out a deep breath. "Yeah," he said sadly.

Catherine glanced back at the cell phone. "I hope that leads us to those bastards…"

"We're gonna get 'em, Cath. For Jim. We're gonna get 'em."

Jim's attempt to sleep was short circuited by the comings and goings of his caretakers. If they weren't checking his vitals, they were asking stupid questions. His favorite was the woman who came to ask him what he wanted to eat the next day. As far as he knew, he was still on a liquid diet via his IV. Then Phil came by again with some other jerk named Bob. Bob was going to be his physical therapist and would be the one to help him get out of bed in the morning. Knowing that all this help was necessary wasn't helping Jim's mood at all.

Finally they all left him alone for awhile but as his mind began to deal with everything, he wasn't so sure being alone was such a good idea. How the hell am I going to do this? I might be okay at home, but what if I need something? And what am I going to do? I can't work…what else is there. He remembered reading stories about cultures that would take the old or infirm out into the wilderness and leave them to die. And a part of him wished for that…that somebody would drive him out into the desert and leave him.

But those feelings were only momentary as thoughts of An and Jimmy filtered into his mind. He and An might never be more than friends now, but at least he would have that. And Jimmy… well, that was a little tougher. But somehow he would make it up to his son, make amends for not being there. And then he thought of Ellie; could he ever get through to her? No drives into the desert, he admonished himself.

Exhaling loudly, he mentally straightened himself up. Okay Brass, no more pity parties. Gotta get your act together. You're going to do this… you're going to make it work. Otherwise you got no chance… and you want that chance, don't ya? Do this right and you won't be alone any more.

Feeling a little calmer about his prospects, Jim decided to exercise those other senses that Phil had told him to use. Focusing his mind on the sounds in the hall, he listened for the sounds of people moving around and tried to distinguish the different footsteps, isolating each one and cataloging it for later. Maybe he would learn to recognize each person as they entered his room, he thought. That would be a start, wouldn't it? Make a game of it…

Footsteps sounded near his door and he briefly let the question of if they were coming into his room distract him from trying to identify who they might belong to. But furrowing his brow, he concentrated. Heavier steps… a man probably. Yeah, the gait… long steps… wearing leather soled shoes. Dress shoes? So probably not one of the therapists or nurses. They have softer soles… Maybe a doctor… Maybe just a visitor…

He listened as another set of steps sounded. Softer…shorter gait. A squeak? Shoes only squeak if they're gone through water… or if the floor has recently been polished. Plastic soles maybe? Some of the nurses wear those shoes with plastic soles…maybe a nurse?

He was rewarded by hearing the familiar voice of one of the nurses. "Just here to check your IV," she said as she hurried into the room.

Jim smirked. "You wwwearing those shoes with pplastic soles?"

"Well, listen to you," she said happily. "Your dysarthria is almost gone."

"Mmy what?" Jim asked, perplexed.

"Your speech problems… you are much more understandable."

Jim frowned. "Iii hhave speech problems?"

He couldn't see the look of concern that covered Nurse Pamela's face but he could feel her confusion. "Mr. Brass, don't you remember the doctor talking to you about that… that you would have some problems with speech for a little while but it would go away?"

"Hhe talked about my eyes…" Jim huffed. "Tthey're going tto get better. Mmy speech is ffine."

"Well, maybe I misunderstood," she said reassuringly. "Somebody gets their brain shook up like you did, it takes a day or two for things to settle out anyway. But you are looking much better today," she said as she walked out.

Jim lay in his bed, puzzled. Had he missed something? Trying to remember the conversations about his condition, he went over every minute since he woke up in the hospital. And then he remembered the woman who came in to help him…she talked about his speech. Who was she? His mind wouldn't recall her name. But then there had been so many new names the past few days…

Finally, frustrated, he pounded his fist into the mattress. "Damn!"

"Well, I don't know who you're mad at, but I'm glad it's not me," Catherine chuckled from the doorway.

His head shot up, his face pointing in the direction of her laughter. "It's jjust so damn frustrating…"

She walked closer and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I imagine it is, Jim. But you're going to get through this… you and that bull-head of yours."

Jim relaxed a little. "Right nnow, I'm nnot so sure abbout that. It…it's sso much to ddeal with."

"Yeah, but you're not one to back down from challenges…too obstinate."

Her comment raised a smile from Jim. "Only obstinate sometimes," he said lightly.

"There are no great men. Just great challenges which ordinary men, out of necessity, are forced by circumstance to meet."

Admiral William F. (Bull) Halsey, Jr.

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