Chapter sixteen

Blair struggled to sit up and Jim helped him with a hand on his upper arm. The sick man kept his eyes down and brushed through his hair with the hand not pierced with a drip. "Hi," his voice, although better than yesterday, was still rough sounding.

"How you doing?"

"Better, thanks." He rubbed his chest absently. "Chest's not so tight." The nasal cannula was gone and only one plastic bag was dripping liquid antibiotics into his veins.

Jim put his hand on his forehead. "Your temp's down as well. Almost normal." He was concerned that Blair still hadn't looked at him directly. He knew that pushing him was not the way to get answers. "How was breakfast?"

"Okay."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Fine."

This was hard going! "Do you know when you're getting out of here?" He stiffened when Blair took in a quick breath and his heart started beating faster. "Blair, what's the matter?"

"I'm tired. I need to sleep." The younger man started sliding down the bed still not looking at the detective. He laid his head on the pillow, and half turning away, closed his eyes.

Jim wasn't fooled for a minute. It was time to bring out the big guns. "I know I haven't been a good friend up until now. Please let me make up for it and let me help you."

Blair turned his head slightly and stared up at him, eyebrows raised and a look of complete amazement on his face. If he hadn't obviously been distressed over something Jim would have found the image he presented highly amusing. "Whaa..?"

"Chief, something's upset you," Jim spoke quietly and without inflection. A sigh was his only answer and Blair's eyes shifted away from him again. "Please." He took a hand and rubbed a thumb over the knuckles. He had to dial up his hearing when Blair, after a moment's silence, began to speak.

"I can't pay."

"Can't pay for what?"

"For the hospital. Oh, God. Jim, what'm I going to do?" He looked up and the despair was back in his eyes. "I'm hardly making my student loan payments as it is and now that I'm sick I'm so behind. Do you know how much one day in Critical Care costs? Much more than I can afford. And the helicopter? I've got no work, no assets, no possibility of getting work in the near future. I've got nothing! The hospital suggested I declare Chapter 7 bankruptcy 'cos they c-can't see any way that I can pay them. I owe so much money. And Rainier's talking about suing me for some of my grants. Oh, God, oh, God…" His voice rose and his breathing became shallower and faster as his distress increased. He was now sitting up his mouth wide open and leaning forward trying to get oxygen into his lungs.

Jim leapt up onto the bed and started rubbing his back with slow circular movements. "Breathe, Sandburg, breathe. It's okay. Don't worry." He was answered with a bout of coughing. And the rubbing became strong pats as he continued his soothing litany trying to ground Blair as the other man had done the same so many times for him. Gradually the coughing subsided. He poured out a glass of water and waved it in front of Blair's face. A shaky hand took it and tried to bring it to a gasping mouth. Seeing a wet accident in the making he steadied the grip and helped his friend to drink.

The 'thank you' that followed was subdued and tremulous. Moving round so that he was facing the other man, Jim cupped his face with his two hands and looked straight into the anguished eyes. "We'll work something out."

"I've got to leave. Can you bring me some clothes from my tent? I'll have to leave. I can't stay…"

"Shhh. You're not leaving until the doctor says you're well enough."

"But…"

"No buts. I'm sure we can work something out. Once we've taken care of the publisher and Rainier money won't be a problem. Until then I'll be your guarantor."

"I can't."

"Chief, I know how independent you are, but this time please let me help. I'm not doing this out of guilt or payback, but because you're my friend. I'll speak to the administration and we'll work out a five-year plan or something. And I'm sure there's some sort of victims' support scheme here. That'll give us time to get you work while we're communing with your lawyer. Just get better first and we'll deal with the rest later."

"I don't know…" Blair shook his head slowly and Jim dropped his hands to his forearms.

"Look, you can't get better if you're worrying about money. Will you allow me to deal with this for you, for now? Once you're back on your feet you can decide how you want to handle it. As soon as you're up and running again you'll be able to deal with things thing more clearly." He gave the other man a sharp look as his heartbeat spiked again.

Blair lay back against the pillows. He was simply too exhausted to resist. He'd spent the night trying to not panic as he contemplated his future. He'd felt so alone for so long - long before he'd become a cop or even before the mess with Alex. And now, how tempting it was to be able to let someone else shoulder some of his burdens, just for a while. However, if Jim was going to be supporting him financially he had a right to know the whole situation.

Legal action took time and meanwhile, his reputation was still shot meaning that looking for work anywhere near Cascade was out of the question. He also knew that he couldn't be a cop again; knew in fact that he shouldn't have been a cop in the first place. However, his desire to be Jim's official partner had blinded him to all the reasons why it wouldn't work, and why it hadn't worked. Stubbornness and depression had kept him there even when he'd realised what a mistake he'd made.

"Blair?"

He'd been quiet too long and he assumed that Jim could hear his racing heart. "It's going to be difficult for me to get work in Cascade. My reputation… No," he held up a hand as Jim started to object. "Until we've sorted out Rainier and Sid we can't do anything to change that. But it's not only that. The doctor told me…" He blew out a breath and took a sip of water from the glass Jim held out to him again. "He told me that I'll always have problems with my lungs. They're heavily scarred from my dr - drowning and this episode hasn't helped them any. I'll have to be careful with infections and colds and things."

He turned to look out of the window. "And my leg. The muscles are damaged and the leg'll always be weak. I'm a mess, man." This was said almost as a whisper. "I won't be able to be your partner again."

Jim froze. Guilt and shame burned through him. He then mentally took himself by the scruff of his neck and shook hard. This wasn't about him; this was about getting Blair back to Cascade and giving him back the life and reputation that he'd lost. It then sunk in exactly what he'd said, 'I won't be able to be your partner again' – 'your partner'. His friend was thinking about their partnership, thinking about them working together again. He felt something melt in his heart – something that he hadn't realised had been sitting there hard and cold for a long time. He had to choose his words carefully and not let his expectations of betrayal colour his friendship with this man any more.

"Chief, Blair." He took one of Blair's hands in his and examined it closely. It was broad and square with long fingers and if he concentrated he could see the whorls on the tips. He traced the lines on the palm with his index finger and noticed that the lifeline was long, but that there was also a break in it. He didn't want to know if that signified anything in particular so turned the hand over and laced their fingers together. "You're my partner and you'll always be my partner. It doesn't matter how you fulfil that role. On two legs, on hands and knees, in a wheelchair or with a Zimmer frame. We'll deal with. Together."

Blair stared at the head bent over his hand and absently noticed Jim had started to lose hair from the crown. Awkwardly, he leant over and stroked the patch with the hand that had the drip. He felt the warmth from the skull bleed into his palm and the short hair tickled. Jim jerked his head up and twisted round to see what Blair was doing.

"You're losing your hair, man."

"What?"

"Soon you'll have to wear a hat on sunny days or you'll get burnt. And there're quite a few grey hairs." He touched the hairs at his temple.

Jim was completely lost until he saw the small smile on the other man's lips. "Hey, at the moment you're looking pretty thin on top yourself, you know? And you're no longer the right side of thirty." He pretended to inspect Blair's curls for grey hairs.

"Yeah, but mine will grow back. And I'm still younger than you. You're a lost cause."

For a moment the two men just grinned at each other, in sync again.

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"Simon, how's it going?" Jim took a sip of his coffee and looked out of his hotel window. However, concentrating on his phone conversation he ignored the magnificent view of green fields, magnificent mountains and blue sky.

"You should've seen your dad's lawyer's face when I told him what we wanted," Simon chortled down the phone. Jim could hear him puffing complacently on a cigar and the Jag's game playing on the television in the background. "Apparently, Edwards has a certain reputation for ignoring protocol when money's involved."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"He's contacting a colleague who had a run in with her a few years ago when she sacked a TA for 'not respecting university policy'."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, for example there's an incident when a student member of the university basketball didn't like the grade he was getting in one of his courses. He asked the TA to review his grading policy. The TA said he would be happy to do so if said student would actually complete the required course work. The student complained. The TA was let go and when he protested, three students came forward saying that they'd had problems with him missing courses and not being present for office hours.

"Unfortunately, the TA'd had a sick mother, who later died, and he'd taken time off to help her. He'd made sure that all his lectures and other commitments were covered. He claimed that these students had never appeared for any office hours or approached him for any help at all. Surprisingly, all three students were on sports scholarships. Edwards said he'd have to take the university to the industrial tribunal if he wanted to contest the dismissal. Meanwhile, all his research material for his dissertation would be confiscated."

"Damn, that sounds familiar. Does the lawyer think Sandburg's got a chance?" He moved to the bed and sat down with his back against the headboard. The remains of the Chinese take away he'd brought back with him after his evening trip to the hospital looked unappealing. He'd have to throw the cartons into a bin somewhere else in the hotel or he wouldn't get any sleep that night.

"Let's put it this way. He thinks Berkshire Publishing doesn't have a leg to stand on and the pay out would be enough to convince Rainier that Sandburg would have enough money to fight them in the courts and meanwhile drag their name into the limelight again. Sandburg's reputation's already ruined," Jim winced at that, "so he's got nothing more to lose. He'd be in a position of strength."

"I'll let you know tomorrow what he says."

"How's he doing? He still coming out the day after tomorrow?"

"As long as he's a good boy and eats all he's given and promises to take all his medication."

"Hah! Good luck."

"You just have to know which buttons to push." Truth to say, Blair was being a model patient. Since he'd been moved to the general room two days ago he'd followed all treatments and therapies the doctors had prescribed. He knew that he was compliant so that he'd get better quickly and could leave the hospital as soon as possible to keep costs down for Jim.

"Also had an interesting conversation with Captain Rogers from Vice."

"Yeah?" He stirred the congealed rice with a chopstick.

"One of his men said he saw a lock of long curly hair hanging from the rear-view mirror of Officer Gibson's patrol car. He commented on it wondering whether it was his daughter's. Gibson laughed and said, and I quote, 'No, that's hair from a genuine liar'. "

"Is Gibson around 50, balding and with a gut that must have cost a fortune?"

"That's the one." Simon was convinced that he could feel Ellison's anger pouring down the phone line. "Don't worry, Jim. We're on it."

There was silence for a moment. "Thanks. To everyone."

"I did a little administrative research. Actually, Rhonda did it. Anyway, if we can prove that Sandburg's aggression happened when and how he said it happened, the PD'll have to pick up any resulting medical bills. It won't cover all his present costs, but it should pay some of what Vics' Support won't touch. Especially for his leg."

"Umm, has anyone actually been doing any crime solving in Major Crimes lately?"

"You casting aspersions on the way I run my department, detective?"

"Sir, no, sir!"

"Wise ass." He could hear Simon drinking something and assumed it was a beer from the sound. "Last bit of news. Daniels is doing a refresher course at the academy after which he'll spent a statutory three years in uniform before he can apply for detective again."

"Simon…"

"He's a good cop that totally misread Sandburg's state of mind and let ambition blind him to a lot of things. He says he's sorry and has learnt his lesson and I believe him. Many others would have resigned in shame and left the force with their tale between their legs, but he's taking his punishment and is learning from it. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Jim heard the gentle rebuke and thanked God that he had a friend that had given him a second, third, sixth chance. "I hear you, Simon."

"Tell Sandburg we're looking forward to having him back and Connor's building up a collection of, um, 'unusual' hair ties."

"God."

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"Blair?"

Blair dragged himself up out of the after-lunch doze he'd been enjoying. He opened his eyes wide when he saw his visitor. He smiled. "Fel."

"Sorry to wake you…"

"No, no, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping. Just being slothful after having stuffed myself with a surprisingly tasty vegetarian lasagne." He raised the head of his bed and hitched himself up on his pillows. "I really should be walking a bit. Hey, fancy accompanying me in a romantic stroll down the corridor?" Fortunately, Jim had brought him some pyjamas so at least he wasn't going to be exposing private parts of his anatomy to all.

She nodded and handed him the dressing gown lying over the back of the chair next to his bed. She examined him as he slid his feet into his slippers and belted the gown round his waist. The bruise around the stitches on his head was turning from a dark purple to a mix of greens and blues. The drips were gone and his colour was improving. However, the greatest change was to his eyes. Instead of the shadowed pain they'd exhibited before, they now glowed with an inner peace.

He took her arm and they slowly headed down the corridor. After a moment's comfortable silence Felicia spoke, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks. My lungs are still a bit congested, but at least I'm down to oral antibiotics only now."

"That's good. When are you being let out?"

"Hopefully day after tomorrow."

"Are you going back to Cascade?"

For a few seconds Blair said nothing but the hand holding hers on his arm tightened slightly. "Yeah. I… I have a few things to sort out and a chance to get my life back on track."

"I'm pleased for you," she said quietly. "I'm…"

"I think…"

They chuckled as they spoke together.

"You first," Blair bowed and made a flowery 'continue' gesture with his free arm.

"Thank you, kind sir." She made a short curtsey. "We're leaving tomorrow."

"Oh." Blair stopped and led them to a bank of chairs standing against a row of windows. They sat down and he took her hand in his. "Where are you heading?"

"Glenwood Springs, Colorado." There was a painful silence. "Can I… can I call you? To see how you're doing?"

"Oh, yeah!" Blair's famous smile appeared lighting up his whole face. "I'll give you Jim's number. I don't know where I'll be or what I'll be doing, but you can always leave a message and I'll get back to you."

They stood up and started on the walk back to his room.

"Umm," he continued, "do you work with the fair all year?"

"No. I take a few months off in winter to build up my stock."

"Oh. And where do you live when you're not on the road?"

"Pendleton, Oregon."

"That's not far."

She didn't reply, but she ducked her head to hide the small smile that was breaking out on her face. They entered his room and she helped him back to his bed. He was obviously tired, but gamely trying to hide it. He let out a small sigh as he lay back against the pillows.

"Do you have any clients in Cascade?" He asked as he scrabbled in the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a notepad and pen. He wrote down Jim's home and mobile phone numbers on it, tore out the sheet and handed it to her.

"I'm always looking for new markets." She could see that he was losing the battle to stay awake. "I have to go now. And you need to rest." With that she kissed him long on the lips tangling her hands in his curls.

"Wow," he said once he'd got his breath back. Looking into her eyes he pulled her into his arms and returned the kiss.

After a while they broke off, panting slightly.

"Blair," she said regretfully tracing his lips with a finger. "I really do have to go. But don't worry, I WILL be in touch." With that, she slipped out of his arms and disappeared out the door.

The nurse bringing in Blair's dinner found him asleep on the bed with a smile on his face.

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Alejandro Escobar stared out of the plane window as the miles were eaten up. He was not a happy man. His power base in Cascade had been severely compromised and he'd lost status. Many of his men had been either killed by Berger's gang or arrested and some of his properties and bank accounts seized by the FBI. He'd had to make a strategic withdrawal with whatever assets he'd been able to rustle up at short notice and was now on his way to his cousin's estate in New Mexico. As he watched the sun sinking below the horizon he felt cold anger in his heart. He would be back.

The End