Many thanks to Sylvie T, who took the time to leave a review. Her comments helped me know that I am conveying what I wanted to in the last chapter. I know that there are many readers out there who are being shy and not leaving comments. That you continue to read the story makes me hope that you are finding some pleasure in it. At least, I think a lot of those hits are repeat readers. At the risk of repeating myself, I'll invite all you shy folks to leave a line or two and let me know what you liked (or didn't like) about this chapter.

And Sylvie, I promise that we're getting there, lol.

Nick stumbled into the lab just seven hours after leaving it to go home and try to sleep. After retrieving the evidence box from the evidence locker, he took the recovered cell phone to Archie to see what the a/v wizard could do with it.

Meanwhile Greg checked in with Sam Vega to see how the investigation into Joey Tan and John Lee was going. "Took their mug shots by the motel," Sam told him. "The clerk identified them as the ones who rented the room. I've got a BOLO out on them."

"You think they're still in Vegas?" Greg asked him.

"Don't know. But if they are, we'll find them."

At the hospital, Jim was being walked down the hall outside his room. It was scary, being evicted from his safe bed and guided through the doorway. His steps were small and unsteady after being off his feet for a few days. But even more was the feeling of insecurity about what he might encounter just a few feet in front of him, and he'd never see it coming.

"Use your ears," Phil instructed. "I'll watch for obstacles but today, I want you to listen for them. Today, we're focusing on bringing your sense of hearing into focus."

Jim nodded and took a tentative step, comforted by the feel of Phil's hand on his arm. Confidence grew with each step. Phil steered him around a cart of some description; Jim wasn't sure what it was exactly but he could feel the cold metal as his hand reached for it and his toe bumped a wheel. "A cart?" he asked Phil.

"It is…good," Phil answered. "Keep listening. But good use of your other senses."

Jim grunted and ventured another step. After a few more, he picked up speed until Phil's hand tightened on his bicep and he warned softly, "whoa, slow down. We've got a wheelchair crossing here," the other man chuckled.

"Oh…okay…" Jim began again and smirked when he heard the squeaking of a wheelchair cross behind him. Then focusing his listening skills to what might be ahead, he continued his trek. He concentrated on listening for his surroundings but his sense of smell was kicking in too. A couple of the rooms they passed had distinctive odors.

Somewhere ahead he heard the sound of an elevator door. Having spent time in these halls in the line of duty, he knew that they would be on the left. A little further up from them he would come to a tee with another hall crossing the end of the one he was in. Feeling over confident, Jim broke away from Phil, veered to the left after passing the elevators, miscalculated the distance to the other hallway, and ran smack into the wall.

With a grunt, his shoulders slumped, and he simply let his forehead bang into the wall again, albeit gingerly. He heard Phil chuckle from behind him and Jim smiled. "I was being a dumass, wwasn't I?

Amused, Phil agreed with him. "I've seen dumber ones," he replied. "This is probably a long enough trip for the first one anyway. Let's get you pointed in the right direction and see if you can find your way back. After allowing Phil to direct him and turning, Jim started back. He hadn't taken many steps when he brushed against the wall. "Aren't you supposed to help me?" Jim growled.

"I am helping you," Phil answered evenly. "I'll stop you if you're getting into too much trouble but you need to learn to do this on your own… unless you want someone tagging along with you everywhere you go."

Jim considered that thought and decided it would be worth a few brushes with the wall to get some of his independence back. Resolutely, he started down the hall again. Phil's footsteps sounded beside him giving him a small sense of security. Besides, he needed Phil to drive his IV pole. Jim knew that he couldn't manage the pole and navigating through the darkness.

Holding his hand away from his body slightly on the side where he knew the wall was closest, he listened for sounds of anyone that might be close. By the time he made it back to the room, he was exhausted.

Alone in his bed, he mulled over his little excursion. It had been frightening, not being able to see anything. If he hadn't had Phil with him, there was no doubt in Jim's mind that he would have returned to his room with a multitude of new bruises. On the other hand, with help he had made it. And Phil was teaching him how to minimize potential problems. In time, maybe he could survive this. And then a happier thought occurred. In time, his eyesight would come back.

A soft knock at his door snapped him out of his thoughts. "Yeah," he barked.

"Jimmy?"

Jim adjusted himself in the bed, recognizing An's voice. "An? Come in,… please."

He listened as she moved toward him and settled in a chair that sat near the head of his bed. "You look better today," she observed.

Jim considered her comment. He looked better. She could see him, see the changes that forty years had made. And his curiosity prompted a question. "Ccould…would it be okay iif …maybe I could ffeel your fface?"

"Feel my face?" She sounded a little surprised but not hesitant. And then he felt her hands on his as she lifted them to her face. Her skin was soft and warm, but not the firm tight skin the younger woman had possessed. Instead he felt the soft thinner textured skin of early aging. His fingers trailed along her jaw line then circled her chin. Tracing her lips brought memories of passionate kisses so many years ago and filled him with an urge to see if the passion would still be there. His fingertips eased up to her eyes, skimming over the now looser skin just beneath the sockets to glide over her closed eyelids. The feel of the feather flutters of her eyelashes against his fingers almost stopped his heart.

He heard his own breath catch as he sensed a shudder running through her body. This was having as intense effect on her as it was on him, he realized. Then without thinking, his fingers ran back into her hair and tightened his hold, pulling her face to his. He didn't have any expectations for the kiss; he hadn't had time to form any. But even if he had, they wouldn't have been close to the experience. Her lips melded with his, tentatively at first and then more forcefully. His heart contracted as every nerve in his body began to tingle. It had been a long time, a very long time since a simple kiss had evoked such a powerful response in him. He lost his equilibrium as his lungs fought for air. Her quick breaths as they parted told him that the kiss had meant something to her as well.

And then remorse set in. What was he doing? Even if they could recapture some of what they'd had before, he was blind and dependent. Last thing she needed was to get tied down to him. Even if he wasn't blind, there was so much baggage that travelled with him these days. He couldn't ask…expect her to…

"Jimmy," she whispered so softly, her breath brushing over his cheek. And then her fingers began to trace his face and it broke through his compunction. Feelings which he'd thought were long dead began to reawaken. "An," he replied just as softly, as if there was a promise in their quiet exchange of names. And in his heart there was.

They remained like that for a timeless moment; her hand on his face, his hand on hers, their faces just inches apart, so close they could feel one another without touching. Her breaths felt like tiny feathers flickering across his face, both tickling and soothing him. And he soaked it all in, content to live in this moment.

A shuffle of feet outside the door reminded them of their surroundings and he felt her withdrawal. He knew it was inevitable but he missed her immediately, missed that magic connection that had happened. "I need to go," she told him immediately, her turmoil ringing in her voice.

He nodded, unable to speak, his own disorientation making him mute. As he heard her footsteps that led her away from him, he gathered his wits enough to ask, "but yyou'll come back?"

She stopped and he could imagine her turning to face him. "Yes, I'll come back," she said in a shortened breath. She was struggling; it didn't take eyes to see it, he could hear it when she spoke.

"Okay," he said, trying to sound all right. But they both knew that wasn't the case.

Dr. Taylor showed up a few minutes later. "Heard you went on a little adventure," the doctor teased.

"Yeah," Jim grunted. "All the way ddown the hall…"

"It's a start," Taylor replied. "But I'm here to talk about something else."

"Okay…shoot."

"I've got some notations on your charts. You're forgetting things, Jim."

"I am?" Jim was surprised. "What ddid I forget?"

"Do you remember me talking to you about your speech difficulties?"

"Speech difficulties? Whwhy ddoes everybody keep talking about tthat? I'm ffine."

"Things are better but you are having difficulty, Jim. We talked about it, that first day. Your words were slurred and you were having trouble making yourself understood. Your speech is much better, the problem is almost gone."

Jim's brow furrowed. He tried to remember the conversation but couldn't. "There was a wwoman…she …she talked to mme…"

"Yes. She was your therapist. But she really only assessed your situation. Her report to me confirmed what I suspected…that the problem would fade as your swelling went away." Taylor paused and studied his patient monetarily. "But I am very concerned that you've forgotten. And your nurses say there are other things that seem to escape you."

If the man had dropped a brick on his head, it wouldn't have stunned Jim more. "I…I thought…" He tilted his head, trying desperately to remember, to wrap his brain around it all. "I don't remember…" he finally muttered. "Is tthat bad? I thought…memory loss goes with concussion…" he inquired hesitantly.

"It does. And I'm not overly concerned that there are facts from the time immediately preceding the blast that escape your memory. But that you don't remember conversations from the time period after you were awake and coherent does concern me. It could be just a residual effect of the swelling or it could signal something more serious."

Again, Jim found himself wishing he could see. There was something the man wasn't telling him. If he could see the doctor's face, he might have a better idea of what it was. But blind…he was fumbling in the dark.

"Let's not worry too much about it just yet," the doctor suggested. "I'm going to order another scan for this afternoon. "We'll go from there."

Jim nodded his acceptance. Like I have a choice…

At the lab, Archie had finally hit gold with the cell phone. He called Nick who appeared in the A/V lab a few minutes later. "What ya got?"

"Well," Archie began, "it's Carrie Murphy's cell phone. I pulled the records and there was a lot…and I mean a lot, of traffic between Carrie and Sally Trang up until Carrie gets popped. Then things are quiet for a day or so. Then there's a lot of activity between the phone and a number in LA."

"And?"

"And I looked up the number in LA. It belongs to…" Archie stopped and looked at Nick mischievously.

Nick sighed and grinned. "Okay, do we need a drum roll?"

"Nope, I'll give," Archie smiled. "The phone was being used to call one of Wong's numbers at the Dragon."

"You're kidding," Nick said as he looked at the screen, verifying what the lab tech had just told him.

"No. Carrie and Sally were talking several times a day and then the phone went quiet for a couple of days," Archie pointed out on the screen. "Then there are three outgoing calls on this day. One incoming at 9:38 that night and then several more exchanges the next day. Wasn't that when you and Brass were in L.A.?"

Nick looked at the dates. "Yeah, we were. So…maybe Joey and John picked up Carrie's phone after they popped her? And then used it to call Wong? So maybe Wong gave them instructions on the girl…and the bomb?"

"Yeah, but here's the kicker… Wong's number was already programmed into Carrie's phone. So I pulled the calls going back two months. Carrie was in touch with both Wong and Sally. Sometimes the calls were back to back."

"Whoa…that's…wow," Nick said as he gave out a low whistle. "Okay, um…I need to call Vega. Thanks Archie," Nick said as he took the report and headed out.

A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years.
Rupert Brooke