A Fair Distance: Comes a Time. Chapter Nine.
We expect him to be weaned off the ventilator by early afternoon, Detective Ellison. His blood pressure is still fluctuating but he's in no danger. Once it's stabilized he'll be moved to a regular room. We'll probably keep him for observation after stopping his meds, see how he does. He'll be released when his vitals have remained stable for at least twelve hours.
I understood what I was hearing, the words having clarified from burbles to sounds that made sense. I forced my eyes to open, and blearily took in my surroundings. Jim. A doctor. I was still in ICU, and a machine was breathing for me. I started to panic, felt my heartbeat start to zoom up, then I forced myself to calm down. I'd been on ventilators before. I knew how they worked and how the dryness in my throat was to be expected. I had to keep control of myself and not fight the machine. I attempted to move my hand to get the doc's attention, but I was in restraints.
Jim noticed though. God, Jim. I'd put him through hell, and I couldn't talk to him. Shit, I couldn't even write a note that I was so sorry for my screw-up. Jim's dad was dead because of me. Me. This was all my fault.
Jim covered my hand with his, stopping my frantic tugging at the wrist restraint.
"Settle down, Chief. Doc, can these come off? He's awake and the restraints are making him squirrely."
Jim sounded way too together considering his father had just been killed by my stupid actions. God, it had seemed like a good idea to go talk to William, reassure him that Jim was fine and let him know I was open to being there for him. Hind-sight was so not helpful in dealing with the here and now. Poor Jim, he'd become close to his dad and this had to be killing him.
I cocked my head and gazed at him, doing my aura trick. Jim's aura had changed since I'd last examined him; the muddy red of anger and the deep blue signifying sadness were strong, dominating it.
I heard the monitor beeping an alarm; with a sickening lurch in my gut, I dropped back into the material world. I saw sparkles dancing and flickering and remembered I'd seen those tiny colorful lights right before I'd passed out at William's house. That was my last thought before my vision tunneled and turned black.
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"He's coming around. Blood pressure is better. It's odd that he fainted like that, when he was lying down and not exerting himself. Does he have a history of fainting or a seizure disorder?"
"No. Well, not that he's told me about, but I hadn't seen him for a year till recently, so I'm not sure if he's had problems before. He's been sick, maybe that had something to do with it."
That was Jim. Okay. Who was the other guy, and what were they talking about? My head was pounding and I wasn't sure what was going on, except I recognized I was on a ventilator. Oh, joy. I opened my eyes and stared at Jim's worried face leaning over mine.
"You back with us, Chief? Know where you are?"
I shrugged. I was in the hospital. Then I remembered why I was there and what I had been doing. I nodded and pulled at my wrists restraints. I wanted to touch Jim.
"I'm ordering an EEG. I don't like that after improving for hours he had a setback for no apparent reason."
I made a face.
"What about the restraints, Doc? Can they come off while he's awake? I'll be here to watch him and if he starts pulling at any tubes I'll put them back on. I was a medic in the Army, so I've had training."
I tried to look intelligent for the doc, nodding at Jim's words and attempting to convey that I'd be cooperative.
"Call the nurse to put the restraints back on if he tries to remove anything, but for the time being the restraints can come off. If he falls asleep, I want him restrained again. It's for his own protection."
Yeah, Jim was very familiar with the concept of restraining me for my own protection. He was kind of a pro by now. I formed the "okay" sign with my fingers, and the doctor unexpectedly laughed.
"I'll tell the nurse to take him out of the restraints after the EEG is set up. Most people find attaching the electrodes annoying and I'd rather he didn't try to interfere."
Jim captured my hand and I squeezed his fingers. God, he had to be hurting so badly. I had been aware of everything that had happened, thanks to my astral body taking notes, and it had been horrible. And Jim, I think he saved me. I remembered the wolf and the jaguar and Jim pulling me down into my body.
I didn't remember anything after that, though. Not until I woke up a little while ago. Before I apparently had fainted.
Jim leaned down, his breath tickling my ear.
"Don't do the aura thing anymore, Blair. You aren't up to it," he whispered, then straightened.
Oh. I guess I had used up too much energy and it had triggered me into fainting, kind of like when I'd removed the negative energy from Jim and had passed out. Man, doing spiritual stuff must relate a lot to how fit you were physically. I resolved to research this more sometime later. Now, I needed to focus on Jim.
The doc left the room and Jim looked at me sternly. "Really, don't do shaman stuff. Incacha wouldn't do a healing if he was sick or tired. You've got to regain your strength. Probably you should have held off on doing that extraction ritual a few days ago and, uh, balancing my aura and everything else that you've done so far, but I guess I'd forgotten about that aspect of it."
Hmm. Jim was remembering things relating to Incacha's shamanic practices – probably because he was more accepting of his spiritual self than he had ever been. That was good. Maybe it would help him weather this latest terrible assault on his well-being.
I worked at conveying with my expression – as much as one can express themselves with a ventilator covering half their face – that I wouldn't read his aura again, and that I didn't regret helping him earlier on our road trip one little bit. I squeezed his hand again and hoped he could tell how sorry I was for what had happened to his dad.
"Look, Blair. It wasn't your fault, what Dad did. I know you and I know you're beating yourself up. Cut it out. Now, about how well you follow directions? We'll discuss that when you're feeling better."
I shuddered, remembering William holding the gun to his head and firing, and how helpless I had been to stop him. Jim was being kind, saying that it wasn't my fault. This whole mess was like a line of dominoes, and I had pushed the first one over by going to William's house without clearing it with Jim, or at least telling Henri that William had asked to see me. I shouldn't have let him think it was Jim's idea.
I started breathing counter to the rhythm of the machine and feeling panicky again, but Jim gently cupped his hands on my face and made me look at him.
"C'mon, Chief. Nice and easy, you're okay. Stop fighting, all right? Just look at me, and let the machine do the work."
I did as he said, and the panic started to subside. I felt traitorous tears well up, and embarrassed, brooded that Jim had seen me cry more since I'd left Sweetwater with him than he had during all the years I'd lived with him.
"We're okay, Blair. Just concentrate on getting better and no more witch doctor stunts, at least for a while."
I couldn't stop the tears flowing and I felt a sob building up in my chest and I didn't want to be like this!
I guess my feelings showed because Jim tapped my forehead.
"What's the number of pi, Blair."
I guess I looked bewildered, because he repeated the question.
Involuntarily, I flashed on the answer. 3.141
"Okay, good. I see that you remembered it. Now take it to the next couple of decimal places. What's the answer?
It took me a while to do the math before I got the answer. 3.14159
"Okay, genius. Keep on going."
I got it suddenly. Jim was helping me to not lose it by having me do problems in my head. You can't panic or cry while you're doing logical thinking such as math. I closed my eyes so I could concentrate on my calculations.
3.1415926.
I kept working on pi until I felt myself slipping into sleep.
When I woke up, it was because of the strong smell of the glue that a technician was using to attach electrodes to my scalp.
I automatically looked around for Jim, to see if the smell was bothering him, but instead of Jim, Joel was there.
He patted my arm.
"Jim's gone down to find some coffee, get something to eat. He'll be back soon."
I attempted to look upwards, and the technician, a bald dude with tattoos on his arms, started talking to me, telling me what he was doing and for me to lie still.
I did. The doctor had said I could have my hands free after the EEG was set up so I didn't want to delay the guy.
Jim came into the room shortly after bald dude left, and I suspected he'd been waiting until the sharp, pungent smell of the glue had dissipated.
Jim didn't wait for a nurse to undo my wrists and ankles, he freed me himself.
I moved my arms, shifted my legs, glad to have range of motion again.
Joel patted me on the arm and said, apologetically, "Blair, I know you're not really up to answering questions, and I'll get a full statement from you later, but I wanted to ask you just one or two things. I'll stop if you become upset, okay? Is that all right?"
I nodded, and made scribbling motions with my hands.
Joel placed a notebook on my lap and a pen in my hand. The first thing I wrote was a request to have the bed raised up.
After I was more comfortable, Joel asked me if I had overheard, or if William had told me, who he had contacted to send those thugs out to the house.
"To take my dead body away?" I printed.
He nodded.
"No,"I wrote. Then I added, "Sorry. What happened to those guys?"
Jim answered, having read my writing upside down. "One died in the OR, the other asshole is recovering nicely so he can stand trial. We're trying to flip him on his boss but he isn't cooperating."
I printed, a little dismayed at how much effort this was taking, "I didn't hear William make a phone call, but one of them said his boss was going to charge William double because he jumped the gun." Tired, I laid the pen down.
Joel lifted the notebook and pen and handed it to Jim. "Thanks, Blair. I'll be back after you can talk, when you feel up to a statement." He patted me on the arm again and left after motioning to Jim to follow him out of the ICU.
I figured they stepped out to discuss the case, and I guessed that directive for me to not be involved in police work was why. That or Joel figured I might become upset over what he had to say to Jim. Maybe he was right. I'd been struggling to keep it together ever since I'd woken up, and anyway, Jim would tell me later what he'd said.
The hospital bed gadget had been left in my reach, and I used it to lower the bed back down. I was sleepy again and decided I'd rest my eyes for a little while. When Jim came back in I'd tell him to go home and try to sleep. Poor guy seemed exhausted, and he could use some time in a real bed. Our bed. I wished I was home and in our bed.
Jim and I would have to talk. I needed to take responsibility for my fuck-up. And I was worried about him. He'd lost his father, and in such a terrible way. Jim's default was to deny and repress his feelings, and that would just damage him again. I wanted to help Jim release the anger and sadness I'd seen in his aura.
But Jim had said that we were okay. I drifted off to sleep clinging to that hope.
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