Mistake by
Kristine Williams Part
13 "God, Jim, was it this hard for you?" All that time,
sitting with Blair as he came and went, fighting the drugs and the pain. Jim had
stayed. He was there each time Blair opened his eyes. Now Blair was getting a
taste of the hell he had put Jim through. He wanted to reach out, to rest a hand
on Jim's arm, to reassure himself that his friend was right there, alive. But
he was afraid. He was suddenly and inexplicably afraid. Blair felt a chill up
his spine, and he glanced around the room, noting its emptiness. The beeping of
the monitors was anything but soothing as they mocked him from the wall behind
Jim's bed. He felt so small sitting there. Small and alone, as Jim lay unconscious
beside him. There was no one to tell him it was going to be fine. No one to explain
how this could have happened. No one to make it all go away. He knew the blood
was waiting for him back at the loft. There would be blood all over the couch,
and the floor. Jim would expect him to clean it up. But he couldn't go back there.
Not now. Not alone. Blair pulled part of the pillow around so he could hug
it against himself. He couldn't lean back without hurting, so he rested his head
as best as he could against the wall beside him, and closed his eyes.
It was dark, and the club was vacant. The purple flashing lights
were gone, but there was an eerie, blue glow to everything around him. Jim searched
the room for any sign of life. Blair had to be there somewhere. He'd heard his
partner's voice, but he couldn't see through the blue glow. Gone was the band,
the noise, the press of the crowd. "Blair." Jim felt compelled to
keep his voice down. There was no sound, no sense of any danger, but he felt something
was out of place. "Sandburg." He started to move forward, walking slowly
through the empty club. Shapes began to take form around him. Empty tables, with
glasses still sitting on top of them, most empty of whatever exotic drink they
had held. The silence was nearly deafening after the roar of the band that was
no longer there. Something wasn't right, something very important was happening,
but Jim could find nothing to tell him what it was. There was no sign of Blair.
He continued on, squinting through the blue light. He should be able to filter
this out somehow, but he wasn't sure how. "Sandburg, where are you?"
The club seemed larger than he remembered, but he continued on, walking around
empty tables, empty chairs, across an empty dance floor. He kept going until he'd
passed the last of the tables. Ahead of him was a familiar sight. Pillars of cement
surrounded by cables and wires hanging down like electric vines in a concrete
jungle. There was a sound behind him, a low growl. Jim spun around, trying to
see through the blue haze. Someone was there, sitting at one of the tables he
had already passed. "Blair?" He was there, writing something down
in a notebook. "Sandburg, what's going on?" Jim started toward him,
but Blair didn't even look up. Something moved in front of Jim and he stopped
in his tracks. It was back. The panther was there, walking up to Blair. Was it
going to attack again? "Blair! Sandburg, answer me!" Why was he just
sitting there? Jim stepped forward again and the panther stopped, turned, and
bared his teeth. Jim stopped, and the panther quieted down, looking at him. What
was going on? The panther was supposed to be there for him. He was supposed to
be Jim's Spirit Guide. But the last time...the last time, he had attacked. "What's
going on?" Jim directed his question to the big cat this time. "It's
bigger than both of us, Jim." Blair spoke, but never took his eyes off his
notebook as he continued to write. "What is?" Jim began to step forward
again, but the cat bared his teeth and he stopped. "Blair, what's going on
here?" "It's not your choice to make." Blair still continued
to write, never once looking up. Jim looked at the cat. "I don't understand."
Why didn't he change into the man he usually was? He needed answers. This didn't
make sense. Blair suddenly closed his notebook and stood up, facing Jim for
the first time. "It's not your decision to make." He turned then, and
walked away, toward the pillars and cables on the other side of the club. The
panther stood also, and walked with him. "Wait, where are you going?"
Jim moved to follow, but suddenly something fell in his way. Wires and cables
were hanging down all around him, some of them spitting blue fire and dancing
in the air. He lost sight of Blair and the panther amidst the tangle of cables.
"Sandburg!" Something wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong.
Jim pushed through the wires, careful of the live ones that spat and hissed. His
heart began to race as he searched for Blair. "Sandburg!" "He
has a destiny." Jim spun around. The tribesman was there, finally. "Where
is he?" "He is where he needs to be. He is where he was destined
to be. You cannot make the choice for him." "I was trying to protect
him." Jim could feel his determination slipping away even as he spoke the
words. He had lost the argument. Or had he merely let it go? He could feel an
emptiness in his chest. A feeling that had been spreading since Blair stood and
walked away. It was an emptiness that was growing with each breath, and he could
feel himself begin to fall into it. If left unchecked, it would swallow him up,
cause him to collapse in on himself. "And he, you." Jim swallowed
against the buzzing in his ears, the hollow sensation in his chest. "Your
paths are one. You cannot change this." He turned and began to walk away.
"No, wait!" Jim moved to follow, but instantly lost sight of him
in the tangle of wires and blue light. "They will not allow you to change
this." The voice echoed back to Jim, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
All around him, glowing back through the darkness, were eyes. Not just one pair,
but hundreds. Pair after pair of green cat's eyes, peering back through the blue,
staring at him from all around. Jim licked his lips. He was sweating, and his
heart beating faster. They were all around him, blinking, watching him. "It's
about friendship." Blair's voice came from the far side of the room, and
Jim turned his head to locate his partner. The blue haze had been
replaced by an orange glow streaming in through the windows. It looked like late
evening sunlight, and Jim slowly realized he was lying down, in a hospital room.
He turned his head away from the window and found Blair, sitting in a chair on
his right side, head resting against the wall beside him. There was a deep throbbing
in his left shoulder that ached when he breathed. Other than that, Jim knew he
was lucky to be alive. He remembered Agent Mills, and Blair reaching for the gun.
Then the pain shot through him, and for an instant, he thought the bullet had
struck Blair. There had been a second shot, he remembered that. And Mills was
dead. Then Simon was there. Jim swallowed, turning his head more towards Blair.
He was sitting in the chair, with a pillow wedged between his right side and the
arm of the chair. Simon never should have let him stay. He was still badly hurt
himself, and needed rest. Jim reached out a hand and placed it on Blair's shoulder.
His partner was instantly awake, raising his head and wincing at the same time.
"Jim!" "Hey, buddy." Jim's voice was stronger than he'd
expected. Blair looked tired, and pale. How long had he been sitting there? "What's
goin' on?" "You really scared me, man." Blair moved in the chair
to face Jim more, wincing as he did so. "You lost so much blood." He
stopped, and Jim could see moisture forming in his expressive eyes. "Hey,
it's okay now, partner. I'm fine." He gave Blair's shoulder a gentle squeeze,
then let his hand fall back to the bed. He was so tired! "Yeah,
you'll be fine now. The doctor said there was no permanent damage," Blair
agreed as he pushed his hair from his face. "Might even let you go home tomorrow
afternoon." Jim nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. The EKG was beeping
rhythmically behind him, but there was something else there...something under
the beeps. Jim opened his eyes and glanced up, seeing only the usual medical paraphernalia
there. "Simon said he'd be by soon. He was here earlier but you were still
pretty out of it." "What about Mills?" Jim couldn't recall much
after seeing Blair unharmed. Before Blair could answer, there was a quiet knock
on the door, followed by Simon walking in. "Jim, it's about time you woke
up." The Captain crossed the room and stood at the left side on the bed,
looking down at Jim. "Hey, Simon." Jim turned his head back to the
middle of the pillow, looking up at Simon. "What's happening with Mills?"
Simon glanced at Blair, who looked down, then around the room for a moment. Jim
noticed the look on Blair's face just as the Captain started to explain. "Mills
is dead. Sandburg shot him, with your gun. Just in time, from what little I saw,"
Simon replied. Jim turned back to face Blair, but his friend wouldn't look
at him. "I came up to see what you two had found out. Heard the shots
just as I was standing outside the door," Simon continued. "They found
the money, as well as a plane ticket, and a gun matching the one used to kill
Edwards and Patterson in Mills' car parked outside your loft. It's pretty obvious
he was the third man." Jim was still watching Blair. His partner had killed
a man. Saving Jim's life, and his own as well, but for the first time, he had
fired a gun at someone, with full intent. Still, Blair's eyes were everywhere
but meeting his. "How you doin', Jim? The doctor said you lost a lot of
blood. We had half the department here donating." Jim looked back at Simon.
"I'm okay, Simon. Just don't tell me Sandburg here donated too. I don't need
to get a sudden craving for emu." "Funny. That's funny, Jim,"
Blair replied over Simon's laughter. "Well you can relax. They wouldn't let
me donate anything." "Nope. In fact, they've been telling him to
go home since last night. So have I." Jim saw the look Blair shot Simon,
but his Captain didn't seem to. He understood why Blair was there, and why he
felt he had to stay. He understood, even if Simon didn't. "Listen, both of
you, I'm fine." He'd certainly been hurt worse than this before. "How
about you both go home, and let me get some sleep?" Before Blair could
protest, a doctor entered the room and insisted Blair and Simon both leave so
he could examine his patient. Jim watched as Blair stood with some effort, then
followed Simon out and into the hall, still holding one arm around his injured
side. His partner was still badly hurt himself, and should be home resting. Jim
endured the exam, and was grateful when the doctor removed the IV, and EKG leads,
turning off that incessant beeping behind him. He learned that the bullet came
out easily enough, having missed the shoulder itself. Blood loss had been a problem,
as was keeping him anesthetized, for some inexplicable reason. But with time,
and rest, a full recovery was expected. And, barring any complications, he could
go home the next afternoon. He didn't argue when the doctor gave him a few shots
for the pain. Jim knew they wouldn't last, but he was getting better at turning
down the dial, as Blair had taught, so the pain was manageable. The doctor finished
his exam, then gave Jim the usual talk about rest and not doing to much for at
least a week. He listened, only paying enough attention to satisfy the doctor.
He hadn't realized Blair had killed Agent Mills. Thinking back, he did recall
the larger man falling, right about the time Simon appeared, but Blair having
shot him wasn't something he remembered. This would make things even more complicated.
Now that he had to get Blair to understand that Jim did want him back--did
need him back--was he going to want to come? The last time Blair had
fired a gun was in the Precinct garage. He'd been hallucinating then, and had
no idea what he was doing. But, he hadn't shot anyone then, either. This time,
for the first time, Blair had aimed a gun, and pulled the trigger, with the full
intention of stopping someone. Killing a man wasn't an easy thing to deal with
even for a cop. Jim's first had been in the service, and he could still recall
the incident with full clarity. But it was part of the job. Being a cop, it was
part of the job as well. Blair couldn't be expected to react in the way a cop
would after his first time. He'd need help. The doctor finished his talk and
walked back to the door. Jim quickly reviewed what he had barely been listening
to, and realized it was the usual after-gunshot advice. Blair and Simon returned
as soon as the doctor cleared the door. "What did he say, Jim?" Blair
stopped at the side of the bed, but didn't sit down again. "I'm fine,
Chief. I can come home tomorrow." Just as he realized Blair would have listened
in to the doctor's exam if he'd been able to, Jim also realized that Blair, being
Blair, would still have ways of finding out, probably even word for word, what
the doctor had said. Next page
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