Chapter fifteen
Simon looked up from his cholesterol-laden breakfast as Jim stumbled into the hotel dining room. Although he'd shaved and was wearing clean clothes he looked rather the worse for wear. He raised his eyebrows as the man sat in front of him with a mug of coffee and a sorry looking walnut muffin on a plate.
"Is that all you're having?" He shovelled another mouthful of bacon into his mouth and followed it with a gulp from his second coffee of the morning.
"Not hungry."
Oh oh, short answers. Not a good sign. "What's the matter? Didn't sleep well?"
"Yes, no… some of the time." He pushed his muffin around the plate. "I slept, but my dreams were… vivid."
"Well, I'm not surprised. This last week has been… eventful. But look at the bright side. We've got Sandburg back. He's going to be okay and then he'll be back with us in Cascade."
"And then what, Simon? What's he going to do? You heard the doctor. He shouldn't have been a cop in the first place with the state his lungs are in. I'm sure that this little episode hasn't helped. And do you think he'll want to be a cop again?" He looked at his boss disgustedly. "Look what happened to him. We created the opportunity and then failed to give him the support he needed and deserved. I then abandoned him. Me, his 'blessed protector'. And if he's not going to be a cop, what else can he do? His academic reputation's shot. God, what a mess."
"Whoa, Mr. Negative. Okay, enough of the guilt trip and negativity. Yes, we let him down. But we tried to make something good out of a difficult situation. Sandburg didn't help by not telling us how he really felt or how bad he was having it at the PD. So, now we've acknowledged that, we need to move on. How are we going to make it up to him?"
Jim nodded slowly. He did have a tendency to feel guilty for a lot of things; even for those he wasn't responsible. However, it was just wasting energy rueing what you couldn't change. The best thing was to learn from past mistakes and get on with the present. "First, we sue the fuck out of Berkshire Publishing. Get them to admit that they published the diss without his permission. Then that bitch, Edwards. At no point did Sandburg tell them that it was his dissertation. I want him to be able to finally get those three letters after his name."
Simon smiled to himself as Jim became more animated and watched him wolf down his muffin. "So, we need a good lawyer. Any idea of who we can use? Let's face it, we don't usually deal with the sort of lawyer that we need."
"Hold on a minute." Jim got up and came back with another coffee and a plate piled high with sausages and fried eggs. "I'll give my dad a call. He has a number of lawyers on speed dial."
"And Beverly Sanchez. She might know someone."
"Good idea. And Kelso. He could be a good source. I'm sure he'll be able to help with the Rainier side."
"Sandburg's agreed to this?" Although he felt like he was possibly raining on Jim's parade, he didn't want him taking over the other man's life. Lack of communication throughout their time together both before and after Blair had become a detective had ultimately led to the friendship falling apart.
"Well, when I brought it up the other evening he didn't say no. At least let's see what's possible and then he can decide. I think he needs to have options."
"Fair enough."
Silence reigned for a few minutes as the two men ate and mulled over possible solutions to the 'Sandburg Dilemma'. Both of them vowed to themselves that 'this time' they would not let the man down.
Simon wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it on his place before standing up. Jim stood up with him. "I've arranged for a rental car so that I can get to the hospital easily. Do you want to come with me?"
"Can't. I'm flying back to Cascade later this morning. I'd love to stay, but I've been ordered back. And I mean 'ordered'. Strongly ordered."
"I see. But I'm staying and if the 'powers that be' don't like it my resignation'll be on their desks before…"
"Jim, it's okay. You've got another week. Four days unpaid unfortunately, but it's the best I could do. You'll also have to pay for your room from tonight."
They entered the lift together and Banks pressed the button for their floor.
"Understand. Thanks. I appreciate it. And thanks for… well, everything you've done."
They exited the lift and walked along the corridor stopping in front of Simon's room. The Captain opened his door and turned to Jim before entering. "Keep me updated with Sandburg and tell him I expect him to… to get his skinny, know-all ass better and back to Cascade."
"I don't think his ass is the problem, Simon."
"Funny, Jim. Really funny," he replied dryly. "Don't give up your day job. And make sure you get back ASAP or you won't have a day job."
"Ha ha."
"Okay, I'll get the ball rolling in Cascade. I'll call as soon as I have anything."
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There was a woodpecker hammering in his head while punching in a number on a phone. It was obviously an international number because the beeping was going on and on and on and… "Will you just finish already?" He called out. God, what was that awful noise? It sounded like a lovesick cow moaning to an indifferent bull. No! That noise was coming from him. He couldn't breathe. His chest was on fire. He wanted to cough, but couldn't. There was something in his mouth! He was choking! God, help! What was going on?
"Hey, Blair. Shh, shh. Calm down. It's okay. It's okay."
He latched onto the voice and the hand that was rubbing up and down his arm. He turned his head slightly and felt something pulling at his mouth.
"Don't worry. Nurse! He's waking up."
He tried opening his eyes, but the bright light only increased the agony in his head. "Nghh."
"Mr. Sandburg. Glad to see you awake. Another voice intruded on his pain and he moaned. "Don't panic, you've got a tube in your mouth to help you breathe. Can you open your eyes?"
He heard more steps working their way up to where he was lying. A cool hand caught his wrist and he opened his eyes a slit. All he could see was a blurry expanse of white and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Panic was keeping away the black edges that wanted to intrude on his consciousness.
"Mr. Sandburg, I know you're frightened, but please calm down. You're safe and you're in Sheridan General Hospital. I'm Doctor Petersen." The voice turned away from him. "Nurse, take the visitor out and bring a cup of ice-chips, please."
"Yes, doctor."
The hand tightened on his wrist, but rather than hurting it seemed as if it was anchoring him to reality.
"Mr. Sandburg, you have a tube down your throat which has been helping you to breathe. We're going to take it out now, but I really need to you to calm down for that. Can you do that, Mr Sandburg?"
Concentrating on the hand holding his wrist he tried to bring his chaotic thoughts under control. Opening his eyes a few millimetres more he found himself looking into concerned, light blue eyes that crinkled into a smile.
"Hello, there. Glad to see you awake. As soon as the nurse… ah, here she is..."
Within minutes he was sucking on ice-chips letting the cool liquid soothe his aching throat. He couldn't help it when tears of relief ran down the sides of his face into his hair. The removal of the tube had been unpleasant and painful, but he felt so much better without the feeling that he was choking. However, his chest still felt tight and heavy and his head was pounding. A cool cloth was wiped across his hot face and he looked up gratefully at the nurse.
"Mr. Sandburg," the doctor softly called to him.
He turned towards the voice. "Blair. Please… call… me…" his voiced rasped and burnt his throat.
"Mr. Sa… Blair. Please, don't talk. You'll only aggravate your oesophagus. I need to ask you some questions and all I want you to do is nod or shake your head. Do you understand?"
"Yes…"
"Ah, ah. Nod or shake, all right?" He smiled when his patient gave a small, rueful grin and nodded. "Good. Do you know what happened to you?"
And so the torturous question and answer session went on. Blair learnt where he was and how he'd got there and the doctor learnt that fortunately, the convulsions hadn't had any adverse effects on his patient and that with the proper treatment and a reasonable length of time he should recover. However, he also knew even with all the treatments available to him the young man would be left with a permanent limp. The nasty wound on his left thigh had at some stage become infected and badly damaged the muscles. He held off from telling him for the moment as he deemed that it could wait until he was stronger.
He could see that the session had exhausted the patient. Quickly, he explained what course of therapy he was going to follow and urged him to drink lots once his throat allowed him to do so. "If all goes to plan we'll have you in a standard room tomorrow and home again by next weekend." If he hadn't been looking closely he would have missed the fleeting glimpse of panic that filled the tired looking eyes. "Well, we're finished here and I can see you're tired. I'll let your friend back in, but only for a few minutes. You need your rest. Okay? Do you need something for your headache?" The man nodded. "Right. Nurse, 25mg of Meperidine. Every four hours if needed."
Blair dragged his eyes open again as he felt a cool hand on his arm.
"Blair, I just wanted to see you before I left. The doctor said to let you rest. I'll try and get back this afternoon. Okay? I'm so glad… Thank God, you're all right."
He wanted to reply, but he felt his body giving in to the exhaustion and drugs that were pulling him under. His eyes closed again.
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The lift door opened and Jim stepped out avoiding the woman waiting to board. She looked vaguely familiar, but most of his consciousness was taken up with wondering how Sandburg was.
"Detective Ellison?"
He turned, impatient. All he wanted to do was get into Critical Care. The woman was standing in front of him and the lift doors had closed again. "Yes?"
"Do you remember me? I'm Felicia."
For a moment Jim's mind was blank. "Oh, yes, Felicia. Blair's friend from the fair."
A smile lit up her face. "I just wanted to say thank you for finding him and sorry for the way I acted at the hotel."
"Don't worry. You only had Blair's well being at heart. Um, have you been in to see… ?"
"Oh, yes. I wanted to come yesterday evening, but I was working and Agent Patton said that it probably wasn't a good time. He told the hospital that I should be allowed to visit. So, I came as early as possible this morning. He woke up."
"What?" Jim blinked trying to keep up with the rushed explanation.
"Only for a while. He's sleeping again, so I left."
Jim felt annoyed that he'd not been present. He'd stopped off at a shopping mall to get some toiletries and other stuff for Blair and hadn't got to the hospital as early as he'd wanted. He let out a long breath to calm himself down. The important thing was that Sandburg had not woken up alone. Someone had been there for him. "How is he?"
"They took the tube out, but he can't talk very well. They won't tell me much I'm afraid. It does look good though."
"Good," Jim repeated the word and glanced at the double doors leading to the Critical Care Unit.
Felicia noticed. "I'm sorry. I'm keeping you."
"No, no. It's all right." Jim brought his attention back to the woman.
"I've got to go anyway." She pressed the button for the lift. "Please tell him that I'll try and get to see him this afternoon."
"I will. And thanks for being there for him."
The lift doors opened and she stepped in. "Not a problem. He's special."
The doors closed and Jim was alone. 'You're right,' he thought to himself. 'He IS special.' Not wasting any more time he strode across the corridor and pressed the buzzer on the intercom.
After speaking with the nurses regarding Blair's progress he made his way over to his bed. Before seating himself he looked down at the face of his sleeping friend. Thankfully, and not even needing all the medial equipment to tell him as he used his senses, the man seemed a bit better. He'd not really paid attention before despite the fact that he'd been there for hours yesterday, but now he realised that someone had cleaned Blair up. His face was dirt free and he'd been shaved. Good thing too as the thought of all the tape that had been holding the breathing tube in place being pulled off made him wince. In fact he could still see a bit of white sticking to a corner of his mouth.
Gently, he pulled it off and found himself looking down into sleepy, blue eyes. "Hey," he said quietly, "how are you doing?"
"You're not naked."
The voice was rough and weak, but it was music to his ears. "Shh, the nurses said you shouldn't talk. I've got some ice chips here. Would you like some?" The man nodded and taking a spoon he carefully eased a few past his lips. "Better?" He chuckled as Blair opened his mouth again like a baby bird waiting to be fed. "Okay, just a few more. They said I shouldn't give you too much at first."
He put the cup and spoon on the bedside table and leaned over to look at him again. "I'm so pleased you're awake. You had us all worried there for a moment."
"Where's…"
"No talking. I know that's hard for you to do, but you're just going to have to suck it up, buddy." Blair rolled his eyes and he felt the cold curl of fear in his gut unwind. Although, the nurse had told him that it appeared that he'd not suffered any brain damage from the convulsions he'd needed to see it for himself.
The next few hours passed quickly enough even though Blair spent most of the time sleeping. Gradually, his periods of sleep lessened and his bouts of coughing were shorter and more infrequent. Jim read to him and helped the nurses care for him with minor tasks; feeding him ice chips, washing his body and hair, rubbing unscented cream into his skin… He spoke to him about what had happened in Cascade since he'd left and what he hoped the future would be. Mid-afternoon Felicia and Maria Parisi turned up for a short visit. Jim took the opportunity to leave telling Blair he'd be back that evening.
He was eating breakfast at the hotel the next morning when the hospital called him to tell him that Blair was being moved to a normal room later and wouldn't be available for visiting until lunch time. So, just before lunch Jim entered room 1143 in the general medicine unit. Blair was sleeping in one of the room's two beds dressed in the pyjamas that Jim had bought for him the previous day. He still had a number of drips and a nasal cannula giving him oxygen, but the heart monitor was gone. He'd also lost the flushed look that the high fever had given him. However, he was obviously still sick and underweight.
Jim sat in the chair next to the bed and looked around. The other bed was unoccupied, but it looked as if there was a patient using it as there were cards and a bunch of flowers on the bedside table. Sun was streaming through the large windows and Jim realised that it was hitting Blair directly in the face. He got up and lowered the blind so that the light was more diffused. The change in light made Blair wake up.
"Jim?"
"Morning sleepy head."
"What time is it?" Although still rough, Blair's voice was much better. The strong antibiotics had obviously been working hard.
"Almost twelve. How you feeling?" He saw him looking for something, feeling about with his hands. "What're you looking for?"
"The bed controls."
"Here." He handed Blair the lost box and arranged the pillows while the bed raised Blair's upper body up until he was sitting up slightly. The movement made him cough, so Jim poured out a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table and handed it to him when the coughs had subsided.
"Thanks." Blair drank the whole glass down grimacing when his abused throat made itself known. "I'm hungry," he said as he gave the glass back.
Jim beamed. The hunger was a great sign of returning good health. Lunch was a bland soup, boiled rice and stewed apple. Blair ate the whole lot and even asked for more apple when the nurse came back to take the tray away. The other patient ("Call me, Bob.") had come back from where ever he'd been. He was a man in his early 50s who was in for some tests due to stomach problems. His presence meant that they were limited with what they could talk about. Nevertheless, Jim felt that they were closer than they had been for a long time and that their friendship had a real future.
Early evening came and he could see Blair spending more time asleep than awake. So, promising to be back as soon as visiting hours allowed in the morning, he headed back to the hotel. He spent the evening on the phone to his father, Banks and Jack Kelso. Satisfied with the progress he was making he eventually staggered to bed and had the best night's sleep he'd had in ages.
Half past nine the following morning found him poking his head round Blair's door. "Okay if I come in?"
"Jim, good morning. Come on in," Bob spoke from his bed, which was closest to the door.
"Morning. How are you this morning?" Jim entered and made his into the room. He frowned as he saw the younger man lying with his back to the door.
"Much the same thanks. Uh, Jim?" Bob's voice lowered to a whisper making Jim turn towards him. "Don't know what happened, but Blair's been downright upset over something."
He nodded to the man and walked round to the other side of his friend's bed. He crouched down so he could see his face. He rubbed the thin shoulder urging him to open his eyes. "What's the matter, Chief? Had a bad night?"
His breath caught as Blair opened his eyes. Despair and shame stared back at him.