"What about my work with you?" Blair asked, squirming in his chair. He really wanted to go on the dig, but he wouldn't leave his Sentinel alone.
"It's okay to take a break, Chief. I'll be good, and Simon will make sure I've got adult supervision. I already talked to him. I really think this is too good an opportunity for you to pass up." This time two sets of blue eyes found each other, and genuine warmth passed between them.
"You sure you're not just trying to get rid of me?" Blair was teasing, but wanted to take back his words when he saw the quick flash of hurt run across the other's face.
"Trust me, Sandburg, if I wanted to get rid of you, I would have done so by now. That black-ops stuff comes in handy on occasion." He made sure his voice was light. Hell, the last thing in the world he wanted was to let his guide out of his sight, but he knew, down to his core, that if he didn't encourage him to pursue his own interests, someday he would leave. At least this way – this time - he knew he'd come back.
Blair's smile lit the entire loft as he gleefully leapt for the telephone. He was talking more then his usual mile a minute when he got off the call, pausing briefly to hug Jim from behind before heading for his room and packing.
Two mornings later, Jim pulled the truck up to the curb at the airport. "You got everything?"
"Yeah. Jim…thanks."
"For what?"
"For understanding; for urging me to take this trip. I'm really looking forward to getting into the field and…"
"Digging in the dirt," Jim completed with a smile. "Have a great time, be careful, and I'll see you in two weeks."
Blair opened the truck door, but turned back to face his partner. "I'll be back, Jim. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He laughed as he finished, but his eyes were full of light and love.
"Way to set boundaries, Chief," he laughed back. "Take care of yourself."
"You, too, Jim," he whispered as the truck drove off. "You too."
Jim worked diligently through the first half of the week, a mixture of paperwork and field work, making sure he had someone with him if he was not at his desk. He missed his partner – his bounce, his smile, his nonstop speech – but he had made peace with his decision, and was counting the days until his return.
Friday morning, he and Brown had gone to interview a potential suspect in a string of robberies when the guy ran. They chased him into a small city park, Jim ahead of Henri by several yards. When he got close enough, he launched himself in a classic tackle, and brought the guy down. He cuffed him, and they were both on their feet before H caught up. The perp and H were breathing hard.
As they headed back toward the car, Jim slipped wordlessly to the ground, catching both the perp and the cop by surprise. "Jim? Ellison…? What the hell?" H muttered as he found a pulse, but Jim's breathing was harsh and labored. He called for an ambulance, and he and the perp kept watch until the EMTs arrived.
He could give no explanation to their boss when Simon showed up at the ER. "Captain, Ellison wasn't even breathing hard when he brought the perp down…he read the guy his rights - we were grumbling about the Jags game last night and in mid-sentence he went down."
The ER doc interrupted them, and explained that they could find no physical reason for the detective's condition. Clearly, he was having a severe reaction, but to what remained a mystery.
Simon stood by his senior detective's bedside in ICU, taking in the monitors and the ventilator. "Just my luck, you finally come to your sense and cut Sandburg some slack and then you go and end up doing something stupid…yeah, like doing your job. Sorry, Jim, I'm feeling damn helpless about now, and I could use your mystical Guide to figure out what the hell is wrong."
Henri and Joel were sent back to the park. Simon hadn't given them specific instructions, just to look around carefully. It didn't take them long. As soon as they entered the park they saw small red flags noting pesticide had been recently sprayed. They searched the area, found the men doing the spraying, and started hurling questions at them.
When the doctor was told about the pesticide – Simon knew that had to be the source of the problem – he announced there was nothing to be done but wait and see. This sent the police captain into a tail spin. "Wait and see!" He yelled, rounding his considerable 6'4" height on the smaller man, "Wait and see! That is my best detective lying in your ICU, and you want us to just leave him like that?"
"Sorry, Captain Banks, but unless you have a suggestion – we're researching, but there is no case history of anyone reacting this violently to this particular spray – that's the best we can do."
Blair tumbled out of the plane a week later, tired, dirty and happier then he had been in a long time. He couldn't wait to see Jim and share his adventures. He had missed the older man – more than he wanted to admit – and found himself turning to speak to him on the dig, always shocked to realize he wasn't beside him.
When he got to baggage claim he saw Simon. "Hey Simon, you didn't need to come…" He stopped as his mind caught up with his brain; his eyes frantically darted around, searching - Simon at the airport, alone. The large blue eyes went from happy to panic in an instant.
"Blair," Simon began only to be interrupted.
"Oh my god, he's dead," the younger man blurted out, stumbling against the wall in an effort to remain upright.
"No, Jesus…Sandburg."
"You called me Blair, you never call me Blair."
"Get your bags, Sandburg, and let's go. I need your help."
"Where's Jim, what happened?"
"I'll explain in the car."
"But he's okay?"
"No, but now that you're here, I'm hoping to change that."
On the drive to the loft, Simon explained what had happened and what the doctor had done to date. He insisted Blair shower and change before they went to the hospital. He wanted the Guide to have time to consider the situation before he was unleashed on his Sentinel. But Banks knew he was the one doing the stalling – he was afraid that Blair would not be able to help his friend, and this was his way of trying to delay the inevitable.
Blair was quiet all the way to the hospital, and still. An unnerving proposition as far as the captain was concerned. Before turning off the car, he turned to the younger man, "Do you think you can help him?"
The head came up, "I'll do everything I can, Simon."
That earned him a smile, "I know, Blair, and so does Jim."
In the small ICU room, Blair stood at the foot of the bed as his eyes carefully catalogued his Sentinel. "I leave town for a few days, and this is how you spend your free time, jeez Big Guy, I would have expected at least a kidnapping or maybe a serial killer…but playing with pesticides is a stretch - even for you." He ran his hands lovingly over the noble face, and down the muscular arms – carefully avoiding the IVs.
"Come on, Jim, I know you're in there. You've got Simon scared half out of his mind, and the doctors don't have a clue what's going on with you. I think the pesticide – and I know you had no idea the park had just been sprayed so I'm not assigning blame here, man – really messed you up, so let's see what we can do about that. I just need you to work with me, Big Guy."
He knew it wasn't a zone out, because he could feel Jim. When he was zoned, Blair always felt like Jim wasn't present in his body – he had explained to his partner once that it was like knowing that 'Elvis had left the building.' So that meant that the pesticide was still reacting with the body somehow, somewhere, and he had to find it and fix it.
He continued talking quietly, even when the hospital staff came to draw blood or change the IV, and he never relinquished his hold on the Sentinel – even if he had to be at the end of the bed with a hand on his foot – he never let go.
He'd been sitting in the small room for close to 48 hours, and panic was overtaking him. "Damn it, Jim! Why are you doing this? You're the one that told me to go…if I'd known…sorry, man, so not fair. This would have happened even if I'd been there. H said there was no way to know they'd sprayed because they hadn't put the flags up…" He fell asleep in the chair, his knees curled to his chest.
The wolf was racing through the jungle on a path that opened as he ran. He came suddenly to a dark place, and saw the panther lying curled in a ball. He called to him softly but received no answer. He keened gently, calling out to his soul mate. Blair startled awake, unsure why, but the dream had been so disturbing – what did it mean? The panther had not responded to sound or sight…did that mean that some of Jim's senses were off line even though he wasn't zoned? Could the intensity of the pesticide have done that -- after all, Jim had practically rolled in the stuff if he remembered H's story about what happened. What did it mean, though?
He shrugged out of the chair and lowered the bar on the bed, climbing up to sit astride his partner. "Easy, Big Guy. I'm not out to cop a feel, just wondering if there is some other way to get to you…another test, and I know how much you love tests." He murmured softly as he rubbed his head under the Sentinel's nose, and blew softly across his face. "Come on, Jim, I know you're with me." He kept it up for 20 minutes, before retreating to the chair again.
The panther could sense the presence of wolf, but couldn't find him. He tried to call out but was gagged, and he couldn't open his eyes. He knew his mate was close by, and he began to struggle to reach him.
"Okay you're officially starting to piss me off, here. Let's stop this lollygagging, and get back to work. Simon is not going to just let you hang here indefinitely. He'll just start dumping your paperwork on the bed." He started at the patient's feet with a soft, sure massage and continued up his torso and then started back down again. He distractedly noticed the increased beat from the heart monitor, but ignored it. He still had no clue what was wrong, but touch seemed to be the only option open to him so he continued his work up and down the muscular body, talking softly as he went.
He was on his third pass up the chest when he realized he was being watched. He laid a hand on each side of the handsome face, and pulled himself close. "Hey there, glad you could join me. You need to stay still, you're in the hospital and have a ventilator helping you breathe, but you're fine…and so am I, now that you're back."
A shaky hand moved up to Blair's cheek and stroked it once before the blue eyes closed again. "That's my Jim," Blair cooed, dropping his head onto the massive chest as relief coursed through his body.
When the doctor made his rounds two hours later, Jim opened his eyes, startling the man. Blair huffed to cover his laughter, and went to Jim's head. The eyes found his, and the two exchanged a complete conversation – at least that's what the doctor told Simon – before Jim went back to sleep.
When he woke the next morning, the ventilator was gone, but his Guide was still in the chair, his head resting beside Jim's hand on the bed. He tried to call out, but his voice came out as a chuff of air. That, however, proved to be enough as Blair's head shot off the bed.
"Hey, Big Guy, you with me?" Jim nodded hesitantly, still trying to speak. "Oh yeah, probably a little water would help, where are my manners, man?" Blair smiled as he reached for the water, and helped Jim with the straw. "Better?"
"Sorry." It came out barely audible.
"You big idiot! What the hell do you have to be sorry for?" Blair responded; exhaustion and worry having broken down the few barriers that normally kept his brain ahead of his mouth.
"You…back here." The blue eyes closed, and Jim turned his head away.
"No, no, Jim, you have it all wrong." Blair was up on the bed, and used both hands to gently pull the face back. "I got back three days ago - stayed the whole time – didn't know anything was wrong until Simon met me at the airport. You've been here more than a week."
"Why?"
"Seems the park your perp chose had just been sprayed with a heavy duty pesticide. Your method of take down ensured you were pretty much covered in the stuff. It apparently didn't agree with you…how do you feel anyway?"
"Tired…stiff."
"Everything working alright?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, and Blair could tell he was giving his senses a run through. "Close enough," he finally said softly.
"Man, you had me worried. I'm so glad you're okay. I had a dream…"
"Panther in a dark place."
"Yeah, you too?" At the hesitant nod, he smiled. "We'll figure it out later, okay? Why don't you take a little nap, and I'll go call Simon and the others, and let them know your okay."
"Be back?"
"Try and keep me away. Just rest, okay?"
The hospital couldn't figure out what had happened or what changed to bring the detective out of his coma, so they reluctantly let him go three days later. Blair helped him to the couch once they got to the loft.
"Good to be home, Chief," he said softly, as he leaned back, and took in his lair. Blair left him to his own devices for most of the afternoon, while making sure he had liquids and help if he needed to move.
They ate a simple stew for dinner, breaking the house rules by doing it in the living room, and then Blair settled himself on the coffee table, facing Jim. "So tell me how you feel, how you really feel."
"It's okay, just everything's a little muted right now."
Blair was taken aback for a moment by the straightforward answer, but he shook himself slightly and brought his attention back on his sentinel. After all if Jim was being that honest, it had to be bad. "Muted as in foggy, dark, far away?"
"Foggy, and… delayed."
"Did you feel anything in the park?"
"I remember thinking the guy was an idiot to run especially since once he was in the park he was trapped unless he went for a swim. I tackled him and all of a sudden I felt funny, like everything had switched to slow motion." He was looking at his Guide, hoping for an answer.
"I've done some checking. The research on the chemical compound found that constant overexposure slowed down the body's normal functions – to the point that the rats took four to five times longer to complete the maze after exposure then they did before. So given your sensitivities, I think your reaction was pretty much on the mark."
"So you're finally admitting I'm a lab rat?" Jim asked his effort to keep a straight face lost when his mouth slipped into a crooked grin.