Disclaimers:
Summary:
Warnings:
Notes:
|
"
by
Jim rubbed his eyes wearily, he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him, but he couldn't sleep, not yet. It had been several hours since Blair had awakened briefly after being admitted to the hospital.
Dr. Simmons had looked Blair over and spoke quietly with a nurse who jotted down orders. When Jim cornered the doctor after Blair had passed out again, only seconds after the doctor's arrival, he was informed about Blair condition.
Dr. Simmons told Jim that Blair hadn't been eating, or sleeping regularly, it appeared. He didn't believe that it had been in a conscious effort, merely that he hadn't thought about it, or more likely he didn't have the energy required to move much less anything else.
The fact that the doctor didn't seem all that surprised by this only fueled Jim's guilt. How could a doctor who had only seen Blair twice since he had been released from the hospital, following the drowning, be unsurprised by Blair's literally wasting away, when his best friend, his *roommate* was completely and utterly shocked?
Where had he gone wrong? What could he have done? What should he have seen?
Simple questions, with unpleasant answers.
The truth was he had been there, physically, but he hadn't been paying attention. He had been more concerned with his own needs, his own fears to see that the one person he loved more than any other was just disappearing right in front of him.
How could this happen? And the more important question, would he be given the opportunity to fix it?
Hours had passed and he still wasn't certain of the answers. Blair remained asleep, do in large part to his sheer exhaustion, while IV's dripped necessary nutrients into his body. Every once in awhile he would move in his sleep, the slightest motion causing shifts in his breathing.
He hadn't yet opened his eyes, not since that first time, nearly six hours previous. Jim was barely keeping his own eyes opened, and he himself hadn't eaten in nearly a day, and then it had been a piece of toast with a cup of coffee.
The doctor kept telling him he should go home, get some sleep, something to eat, but he couldn't. What if Blair woke up? What if he didn't?
***
Blair awoke slowly, nearly twenty-four hours after the doctor had first arrived in his room. His first sensation was the pounding in his head, followed by the scratchy dryness of this throat. The third, but somehow far more telling thing he noticed was this weight that seemed to be wrapped around his arm, encasing it in warmth.
He tried to open his eyes but they felt heavy.
"Chief?" The voice sounded thick and scratchy, but very close.
"J.Jim?" Blair's mouth opened but no sound came out.
"Easy, buddy. Hold on."
Blair felt the weight around his arm leave and heard the sounds of a chair moving back. Soon, the room seemed to be filled with more people, but he still couldn't open his eyes to be sure.
His mouth opened and closed several times, still no sound came out. He wanted to open his eyes and see what was going on. He couldn't really remember how he got here, or even *what* he was doing here.
Blair had a vague memory of someone talking to him, but it seemed so distant that he couldn't quite place it. All of his memories seemed to be muddled.
He remembered something happening. Something awful, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. He had a vague notion of leaving Jim, but wasn't sure why.
But if Jim was here with him, then that must be wrong.
"Mr. Sandburg? Can you hear me?"
The voice sounded close, but not too close, and familiar. He tried to open his eyes once more, this time with more success. His vision was blurry, but he was definitely seeing something.
After a few seconds, the shapes cleared into something recognizable. "Dr.
Simmons?" He scratched out.
"Don't try to talk. You've been severely dehydrated, among other things.
We're trying to get fluids back into you, but it will take a few more hours, at least."
Blair blinked and tried to look around, to find the one face he hoped was there.
"Right here, Chief." Jim whispered from somewhere behind him and slightly to the right. He felt Jim's presence there, and a warm hand on the top of his head.
"What. happened?" Blair asked trying to find Jim with his eyes.
"We'll talk about that later. Right now the doc wants to check you over. I 'm going to be right outside, okay?" Jim waited for Blair to acknowledge him. When he seemed to nod, he let go of the hair underneath his fingertips and left the room.
Once outside, Jim took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. Blair was awake. That was good. Getting him better and home, to the loft, would be even better.
He heard the doctor take a seat in the chair he had been using and realized that it would be awhile. Taking advantage of the time, he decided to go down to the cafeteria to get some coffee, and maybe call Simon with a progress report.
****
"Blair?" Dr. Simmons asked quietly. "I have some. concerns."
Blair blinked, his head clearing a bit, but he was still having trouble remembering *how* he ended up in the hospital, which was obviously where he was.
"Concerns?" He asked, confused. His voice was still scratchy, but felt much better after being given some water to sip.
"Yes. Blair, Detective Ellison found you unconscious. You hadn't eaten or drunken anything in days, maybe longer, and I don't think you've been sleeping either. Am I correct?"
Blair blinked up at him, his mind still a little hazy on the details.
Dr. Simmons sighed and leaned back in the chair previously occupied by Detective Ellison. "Blair? Does this have anything to do with your press conference?"
Blair closed his eyes, wanting to block out the question as memories of the past few weeks came flooding back. The way things had been between he and Jim after Sierra Verde. Nothing was quite the same, almost as if things should have been put right, but weren't exactly.
They should have talked, should have cleared the air, but they didn't. It wasn't Jim's way, and Blair was too unsure with their relationship then to push. Then it was too late.
Between Ventriss, and Veronica, and Jim's dealing with seeing spirits, it never seemed like the right time to open old wounds. When Naomi came to town it was as if her arrival had signaled the end.
The end of what Blair wasn't entirely certain. But whatever it was, it seemed to be over.
Jim thought that Blair had betrayed him. And what did that say about the state of their relationship? What was left of it? Apparently not enough.
Not enough time had passed to heal those wounds. Or had *too* much time passed? Had they lost the chance to make things right? It didn't seem to matter anymore.
Once the dissertation had been released to the public, and Jim's faith had been tested and his trust broken, it was too late to fix things. Even after the press conference, which as difficult as it was to stand up there and say those words, it wasn't nearly as difficult as he thought it would be.
Even afterwards, when he had been given the option to *still* be Jim's partner, to become a cop, he knew that it was too late for that. He could no longer give Jim what he needed and Jim couldn't give him what he needed.
As the memories of those times flashed behind his eyes, Blair also remembered the weeks he spent in the lonely hotel room. Weeks he had hoped Jim might come to him, might prove him wrong. But he didn't. He didn't come to him, not since that first visit, and he didn't prove him wrong.
Nothing else seemed to matter.
As he lay on the hotel mattress, thinking, his own mind spinning circles over everything he had done, all the mistakes he had made, all the choices he would not have changed. It all became a jumble in his mind until he couldn't remember what had happened recently, and what was more distant, until he couldn't retain the energy required to eat, or move. He couldn't even sleep, his body was exhausted beyond anything he could remember experiencing in recent history, but his mind kept swirling, in circles until it finally just. shut down.
"Blair?" Dr. Simmons asked quietly, waiting for some response. He could tell that Blair had heard him, and was most likely remembering whatever it was that had sent him into this state to begin with.
"Blair? This isn't going to go away, and if you don't talk to me. at least talk to *someone* because this, what ever *this* is can't go on."
Blair heard the words, translated their meaning and opened his eyes, remembering for the first time since his brief trip down memory lane where he was and who was with him.
"That's better." Dr. Simmons smiled slightly as he made eye contact. "What happened, Blair? You weren't eating, weren't sleeping, you weren't doing much of anything. What happened?"
Blair tilted his head up until he could see the ceiling in his room. Oddly enough it didn't look that different from the one in the motel. "I was tired."
"I see." Dr. Simons nodded once, understanding more than Blair had verbally mentioned.
"When can I leave?" Blair asked, not in a terrible hurry to go anywhere, seeing as he had no where to go, but it seemed like the thing he was expected to ask.
"You can't." Dr. Simmons replied simply. "Not until I find out why this happened, and can be assured it won't happen again."
"It won't." The firm voice came from the doorway.
Blair turned his head and saw Jim standing there, looking more tired than he remembered seeing him in quite some time, and he looked like he had been sleeping in his clothes.
"Jim." Blair breathed, glad to see the older man, despite his sad feelings where Jim was concerned.
Dr. Simmons stood up and walked towards the door, speaking to both men. "I' m going to have them run some more tests, but assuming nothing is wrong, once fluid and nutritional intake is back up, Blair will be free to leave." He turned back to the man lying in the hospital bed. "Whether or not I will discharge you at that time is completely up to you."
Blair watched the doctor leave in silence and then returned his gaze to the ceiling. He seemed to be studying a lot of ceilings recently. He was glad to see Jim but he wasn't really sure what to say. The last time they had seen each other had not gone entirely well.
Jim strode over the bed and sat on the edge of it, forcing Blair's gaze away from the ceiling and onto him. "The doctor doesn't want to release you?"
"He thinks. I don't know what he thinks exactly."
"He thinks you were trying to kill yourself." Jim's words were softly spoken, and hushed with the fear Jim himself felt.
"I wasn't." Blair looked away and them back to his friend. "Really, I wasn 't. I was just so. tired."
"Because of me." Jim whispered, his hand trailing along the clammy cheek.
"No. Because." Blair trailed off not really sure what to attribute his exhaustion to.
"Because I made you tired." Jim whispered again. "I'm so sorry, Blair." He bent his head down and hugged the younger man, his face, buried in the curls, which seemed duller and less alive than usual.
"I am so sorry, Blair." He whispered, barely able to speak.
"About what?" Blair asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, while he wrapped an arm awkwardly around Jim, trying not to tangle up the IV lines.
"About everything. God, you could have died. I could have killed you.
Again." Jim inhaled the smell of his Guide, immediately taking comfort in the scent, even with the accompanying hospital smells. "Don't leave me.
Don't ever leave me!" He whispered, needy.
"What?" Blair asked, disbelieving.
"I. I love you, Blair. Don't leave me. Please?"
Blair blinked, searching those pale eyes, which were glistening with unshed tears. He wanted to believe. He really did. But he just *couldn't*.
"It's too late, Jim." He whispered, and allowed his own tears to fall.
The Sentinel is the property of Pet Fly Productions.
All series, movies and characters are the properties of their respective owners. No infringement of those rights is intended. All fics on this site are the copyrighted property of their respective authors.
Site and design copyright © the other g.m.
All Rights Reserved.
