Death Comes Stalking

Part 3

Danae

Disclaimer: Not mine… Not making money and I don’t mean just with this story! <g>

Notes and warnings: Thanks to my beta reader, Ihket. Blair as a cop just ain’t my thing so you won’t see it here. This may be a little sad too but just keep saying to yourself, “Danae doesn’t do death….Danae doesn’t do death…” Come on, say it with me…. J Oh, and there is some language….Not much, maybe a PG-13 thing.

And though I started it before we got the news, I’m dedicating this story to Fran as my way of saying welcome back to the land of the living.

Sounds invaded his troubled dreams of an injured wolf. Terrible sounds of pain that at first Jim had attributed to that wolf. Jim crawled his way to wakefulness to discover that Blair was struggling for breath. The wheezing of his labored breathing were the sounds that had woken Jim. He was awake and by Blair’s side instantly. “Blair?” Jim grabbed the inhaler and tried to put it to Blair’s mouth but he pushed Jim’s hand away. “Come on, Blair.”

“No--- good.”

“Oh Jesus. Not now. It’s too soon. Please, Blair, try to use this.”

Blair only shook his head slowly as he gasped for air.

“I’m calling Hamilton. Hold on.”

“Too---late. Don’t---- go.”

“I have to, Chief.”

“Jim—“

“I’m not ready, Blair. I’m not ready. God, help me. I wish I were stronger but I’m not. Please, don’t make me let go yet.”

Blair met his eyes. A shaking hand caressed Jim’s face. “Call.”

“Thank you.” Jim raced to the phone. He tried every number he had for Hamilton. There was no answer at his office. But the man’s home number was disconnected. Jim hung up the phone, confused. He tried again. Still the same message, the phone was disconnected. “Other doctor,” he muttered to himself. “Name? What was his name? Miller. Royce Miller.” He grabbed the phone book. Frantically, he searched the yellow pages until he found it. Miller’s voice was sleepy as he answered the phone. Jim was not sure what he managed to say to the man. He doubted that it even made sense. Miller tried to dissuade him, tried to tell him to let Blair go. Jim screamed at him. That much he would later remember. He screamed and screamed until the man agreed to meet them at the hospital. He threw the phone down and scooped his guide up in his arms and left, the door unlocked and open behind him.

“Mr. Ellison, the only thing I can do is put him on a respirator. It will only prolong the inevitable. He’s in pain, Detective. Let him go.” Miller pleaded as Jim stood holding Blair’s hand in the emergency room. Unconsciously, Jim tightened his grip. Blair raised his other hand a bit to get the doctor’s attention and Jim noticed that somehow he had managed to end up with the inhaler in that hand.

“Do it,” he gasped.

Miller took the inhaler out of his hand. “Blair, you and I talked about this. You didn’t want this.”

“Changed--- mind.”

Miller looked down at the inhaler. A puzzled look crossed his face. “What is this?”

“The inhaler Hamilton gave him. It’s supposed to help him breathe.” Jim explained.

“It’s not marked.”

“Hamilton was giving him samples because it’s so expensive.”

“But it should still have some sort of label. I can’t imagine why he might take the label off.”

“He called it Azmacort, I think.”

“Hmm, Janine, take this down to the lab and give it Libby. Tell her to analyze it. Tell her it might be Azmacort. I want to make sure. And tell her to rush it, please. And tell Frank to bring in some oxygen. Thank you.”

“You think something’s wrong?” Jim’s cop instincts kicked in.

“Probably not. Especially since the original decision was not to try to prolong Blair’s life, just make him comfortable. Azmacort isn’t very strong actually. It’s usually used in patients with Asthma or bronchitis. I just don’t want to give him anything else until I know what’s in his system. How long ago did he use the inhaler?”

“Um, four, no five hours.”

Miller nodded. “Blair, as soon as I know what’s in there, we’ll proceed. As for now, I’m going to put you on oxygen. When I get the test back, if you still want to go on the respirator, we’ll put that into motion.”

Blair nodded. An intern came into the room then pulling an oxygen tank behind him.

“Detective, could I see you outside?”

Jim knew the lecture was coming. He took a deep breath and promised himself that he would not lose his temper. He stepped into the hallway. “I know what you are going to say.”

“Too bad. I still want the satisfaction of saying it so you’re going to listen. He’s agreeing to this because of you. This is what you want and he’s going to give it to you, regardless of the pain it’s causing him. Stop being a selfish prick and let him die in peace.”

“Well, that was professional.” Jim mumbled.

Miller ran one hand through his salt and pepper hair. “You think I like this? He’s a kid. I hate to see kids die but I hate to see them in needless pain even more. Just think about this, okay? That’s all I’m asking. We haven’t done anything yet. It’s not too late to give him a peaceful, dignified death. I can give him something for the pain, something strong so that he’s comfortable. You can call his friends if you want and they can say goodbye and he’ll just go to sleep.”

Jim closed his eyes. He wanted to hit something. He had to hit something. Not the doctor. Blair needed the doctor. He spun and slammed his fist into the wall. Two orderlies and a security guard started toward him but Miller waved them off.

“Come on, Detective.”

Jim nodded.

“Okay, make your calls. We’ll wait.”

Royce Miller watched the devastated man move to the pay phones right outside the ER doors. Some days he hated his job. Some days, he could tell a mother that her child was cancer free. Some days, he could tell a woman that she would not have to lose her breast. Some days, he could tell a man that he could ask his girlfriend to marry him after all because he was not going to die. And then some days, he had to watch someone die. Some days, he had to break someone’s heart when there was no hope for a loved one. Today, he would watch Blair Sandburg die and he had broken Detective James Ellison’s heart.

“Dr. Miller?”

He turned to Sharon who was standing behind the nurses’ station. “Yeah?”

“It’s Libby.” She held up the phone to him.

He took the receiver from her. “Yeah, Libby. Is it Azmacort?”

“Dr. Miller, this is definitely not Azmacort. There are some steroids present but there’s also something that looks like an amino acid at first glance but if you look closer, and break it down into its component parts, there’s something hidden---“

“Whoa, hidden? Cut to the chase, Libby. What does it do?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly.”

“Best guess, Lib. A man’s life is at stake here.”

“It’s a toxin of some kind.”

“Toxin?”

“Yes, Royce. I’ve already called Poison Control and faxed them the information. They’re ---”

“Son of a bitch!” Miller slammed the phone down. “Sharon, call x-ray. Tell them I need some x-rays on the patient in Exam 2 like yesterday. And get me a respirator in there just in case I need it. Now!” He headed for the ER doors.

“Dr. Miller! Where are you going?”

“I think I have to report a crime.”

Ellison was on the phone. Without a thought, Royce hung it up. “What the hell?”

“You may want to put out an APB on Dr. Russell Hamilton.”

“What? You just hung up on my captain. Is something wrong with Blair?”

“Oh yeah. I think he’s been poisoned.”

“Wha—when? Here?”

“No, by Hamilton. Look, Detective, I don’t really understand this myself yet but Libby says that the inhaler I sent down to her has a toxin in it. She’s contacted Poison Control and we should hear back from them soon. In the meantime, I think I want to do a thorough exam of Blair, including new x-rays.”

“Hamilton did this?”

“I think so. I don’t want to think so but it’s more than possible. It’s likely. Blair’s symptoms are indicative of cancer but they could also be indicative of certain types of poisons. I don’t want to get your hopes up but I think we should make sure.”

“Go. Do it.”

Royce nodded and ran back through the doors. Maybe this day could be saved after all and Blair Sandburg right along with it.

Twenty minutes later, Royce Miller threw down the set of x-rays and beat his head against the wall nearest him. “How could I have been so stupid?” He picked up the x-rays again. Blair Sandburg’s liver was clean. There was no bone cancer. He looked at the chest x-rays. The young man had a bad case of pneumonia but no cancer. Not a single tumor. “That bastard. I hope Ellison rips his nuts off and stuffs them down his throat.” The nurse next to him gasped. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I trusted him. I should have taken my own x-rays.”

“You didn’t know, Dr. Miller.”

Royce tried to smile at her. “Well, I know now.” He strode out of the darkened room and went to find Jim Ellison. He tried to formulate some plan of how to tell Ellison what he had found out. He rehearsed opening phrases, all starting with the words, “I’m sorry.” But when he found Ellison surrounded by people who were obviously his friends, all he managed to do was hand the man the x-rays he still held and announce, “There is no cancer.”

Ellison drew a shuddering breath. “It was the inhaler, then? Just the inhaler?”

“Yeah.” Then the words came, “I’m so sorry. I should have been more thorough. I trusted a colleague. I believed that the x-rays he sent me where Blair’s. I examined him, confirmed the symptoms, but I didn’t do any x-rays of my own. I would have caught it if I had.”

“I made him use the inhaler. He said it hurt. That it burned. And I still made him use it.” Ellison put his hands to his head.

Six people, including Royce, rushed to assure the man that it was not his fault.

“I want Hamilton, Simon. I want him.”

“We’ll find him.” The big black man snapped and Royce believed him.

“Dr. Miller? Poison Control is on line four for you.” Sharon told him.

“Thank you. Hopefully, this will be the answers we need to proceed.” He touched Jim Ellison’s shoulder before going to answer the phone.

“He doesn’t have cancer.” Joel sounded incredulous.

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean he’s okay.” Rafe looked to his captain.

“But there’s hope where there wasn’t any before.” Simon put one hand on both Jim’s and Rafe’s shoulders.

“I’m going to go sit with Blair. I have to tell him.” Simon watched him go. Jim did not want to hope yet. Miller had convinced him to let go and now he was afraid to grab hold again.

“Chief? You with me?”

Pain-dulled blue eyes fluttered open. Blair nodded. “Jim, I can’t do it. I thought I could. Hurts.”

“Blair, I’m sorry. I have news though. Blair, you don’t have cancer. Do you hear me, Chief? Please hold on for me, Blair. They might be able to help you. You don’t have cancer.”

“What? No, Jim. I’m dying.”

“Blair, listen to me. Hamilton poisoned you. It was in the inhaler. I don’t know why yet, but I will find out. In the meantime, you have to hold on. Let them try to help you, please. Chief, I’m begging.”

He only nodded.

“Miller will have to use the respirator. Say yes, Buddy.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Jim placed his hand on Blair’s forehead.

Three hours later, Jim sat at Blair’s bedside. Blair had lost consciousness and Miller had hooked him up to the respirator an hour ago. Now, they were waiting for the experts. It seemed that the poison had been red tagged. Two doctors were flying in from Sacramento. Jim did not have the full story yet but supposedly, these doctors had an anti-toxin. The rest of Major Crimes had hit the streets looking for Russell Hamilton. Simon would join them after he swung by the loft to lock it up.  Jim knew he left the damn door open. Simon had promised to call him if they found the man, in spite of his captain’s concerns that Jim would kill him on sight. Jim wanted an explanation too badly to kill him. He would have his explanation first. Then the man might just have to be resisting arrest at the very least.

Jim closed his burning eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. When he opened his eyes again, the sun was coming up. He had not meant to fall asleep. He sat up straight and stretched his sore back. He yawned, then nearly jumped out of his skin as the curtain of Blair’s little ICU corner was flung open. Three men entered. Jim only recognized Miller. They swarmed over Blair and Jim stood to object. Miller intercepted him.

“It’s okay, Jim. This is Dr. Patterson and Dr. Miles. They’re the toxicologists from Sacramento.”

One man pulled a syringe from his lab coat pocket and quickly plunged it into Blair’s IV port.

“What’s he doing?”

“It’s the anti-toxin. We need to start treatment as soon as possible.” The doctor with the syringe announced as he turned to face Jim. “I’m Max Patterson. This is George Miles. Can we talk, Mr. ?”

“Ellison. Detective Jim Ellison. That’s my partner.”

Patterson nodded. “Let’s get some coffee.”

“I don’t want to leave for long.”

“I understand. But you need to know some things about Roger Hallman.”

“Who?”

“I think you might have known him as Russell Hamilton from what Dr. Miller has told us.”

“I see. Yeah, we need to talk.” Jim motioned for the man to proceed.

“We were supposed to be searching for a drug that would only attack cancer cells and leave the healthy cells intact. That was what the grant was for, you see. But Roger had his own agenda. He was diverting money from our research to create biological weapons, toxins with no antidotes, things that could be used over a period of time and mimic symptoms of other aliments and be hard to trace. This particular one actually paralyzes muscle tissue. It works particularly well on the lungs, like in your partner’s case. The lungs just stop working a little at a time. And it’s easily introduced to the lungs through inhalers as you know. When we discovered what he was doing, we called the FBI but somehow Roger escaped them. He took most of the toxin he had made with him but he missed a few vials. We immediately began to work on an antidote. We sent the chemical signature of the toxin to every Poison Control Center in the country and the FBI red flagged it. They have been trying to find him but with no luck until your friend’s case was reported.” Patterson explained.

“Why? Why Blair? I don’t understand.”

“Wish we could tell you. All we do know is that the FBI believes that Hallman had some connections to a militant group in this area and that he was probably planning to give the toxin to them to use as an assassination drug. I mean, it would be relatively simple to replace an inhaler of someone who uses one or get Hallman in a position to treat the person and prescribe the inhaler, like he did with Mr. Sandburg.” Miles told him.

“Militant group? No, it can’t be. The Sunrise Patriots, was that it? The group?”

“I’m not sure. They never told us. There should be agents contacting your department soon if they haven’t already though. They could tell you I’m sure.”

“Son of a bitch. Kincaid. It’s gotta be. Dr. Miller, do you still have that inhaler?”

“No, we gave it to one of the other detectives as evidence. Why?”

“Can you get me one of those samples of the stuff Azmacort or whatever it was called? Better yet, a couple of syringes.”

“Yes, but I ask again, why?”

“Because I’m going to see someone. And I’m going to have to motivate him.”

“Is that legal?”

Jim did not answer.

The guard ushered Kincaid into the room. Jim watched the man’s face. The smug smile told Jim that he was right. “Well, well, Detective Ellison, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this honor?” The guard handcuffed Kincaid to a ring on the table. Jim thanked the man and the guard smiled slyly before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. “What’s this? Where’d the guard go?”

“He had to go to the men’s room. What’s the matter, Kincaid? You don’t trust me?” Jim walked around to stand behind the man who tried to turn to keep him in sight.

“What do you want, Ellison?”

“Well, something happened to my partner.”

The heart rate jumped. “Mr. Natural? Gee, ain’t that sad.”

“I’m glad to hear that you feel that way. Because what happened to my partner is about to happen to you.” Jim plunged a syringe into Kincaid’s arm.

“What the hell! You can’t do that!”

“I just did.”

“I’ll take you down, Ellison! You’ll take my place in here!”

“How do you figure that? I’ll be long gone before you kick off and that guard is not likely to believe you over me.”

Kincaid started laughing. “What am I worried about? This stuff is slow acting and you have to be re-exposed over and over for it to work.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention? This is a new type. It’s concentrated. Patterson and Miles, you remember them, the guys that Hallman double-crossed, they worked on Hallman’s little concoction some. You’re dead in, oh I’d say, four hours tops. Unless—“

“Unless, what?”

Jim removed a second syringe from his pocket. “This is the antidote. You tell me where I might find Hallman and I’ll give you this.”

Kincaid stared at the syringe. “I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Do you have a choice?”

“You won’t let me die as long as you don’t have Hallman.”

“Wrong. I’d like a piece of Hallman, that’s true. But the truth is, you are ultimately responsible. Your death will be enough to satisfy me.”

“None of this will hold up in court.”

“In a little while, you won’t need a court.”

Silence. “Okay.” Jim got up and headed for the door.

“Wait. Some of my people are going to get him out of the country tonight, Cascade Harbor. The boat’s called the Rising Sun.”

“How quaint. What time?”

“Midnight.”

“Just one more question. Why Blair?”

Kincaid smiled again and made Jim wish that he really had poisoned the bastard. “He’s inferior stock. A bleeding liberal hippie. You, I understand. You were just doing your job. You’re the kind of man that I would like to convert to my side. But him? He’s trash. He had no business disrupting my operations. He had to pay.”

“You worthless bastard. You know, for inferior stock, he sure shut you down pretty effectively. But I’ll leave you to your delusions and your boyfriends. They must be missing you by now. I’ll go and let you get back to them.”

Kincaid was enraged. He tried in vain to get free of the table but it was no use.

“See you round, Kincaid.”

“Ellison! The antidote! You promised!” he screamed.

Jim laughed. “It was sugar water, Kincaid. Just like this one.” Jim emptied the syringe in front of the man and then knocked on the door. The guard opened the door and Jim left Kincaid sitting there threatening to kill him.

Jim arranged to make sure Kincaid was kept separate from the general population and not allowed any outside contact until it would be too late for him to warn his people. The warden, a former cop, was more than happy to help out. As Jim drove away from federal prison, he called Simon. He relayed the information and told his captain he was going back to the hospital but he would be joining the arrest team that now consisted of both Major Crimes and FBI personnel to take down Hallman. Then he called the hospital. They put him through to Patterson immediately. Blair was stable. They had started antibiotics to combat the pneumonia and were continuing the antidote. Blair’s lungs were responding well but they were keeping him on the respirator for the time being.

Satisfied that his guide was in good hands, he turned his focus to piecing together the puzzle he had been presented with. Hallman put himself in a position to treat Blair. Did he wait until Blair got sick or did he have something to do with Blair getting sick to start with? He would have to check Blair’s office and car for any signs of tampering. The toxin could have been piped in to make Blair sick. So, Hallman put himself there on campus under the guise of being a dedicated doctor volunteering time. Then he convinced Blair that something was seriously wrong and proceeded to fake or “borrow” some x-rays. Suddenly, Blair was dying. Miller was duped into confirming the diagnosis and Hallman started slowly killing his best friend. He thought of Blair’s suffering. The man deserved to die, but he had to live because he would point a finger at Kincaid. Even if Jim had to break the other nine to make sure he did.

Jim put down the book he had been reading aloud to Blair and looked at his watch. It was time to go. He stood and leaned over Blair’s bed. He touched Blair’s face gently. “I’m so sorry, Chief, but I have to go get the bastard that put you here. I’ll come back as soon as it’s over. You hang in there.” He kissed the fevered forehead, grabbed his jacket, and left quickly.

He met Simon and the others at the appointed time at the station and they went over their plan once more. The FBI would have boats in the harbor to make sure that escape route was cut off. Major Crimes and a few feds would wait until Kincaid’s men and Hallman got out on to the docks and then move in. Hopefully, they would see that they were trapped and give up without a fight.

The best laid plans often got screwed up by fanatics, however and that was exactly what happened. The ensuing firefight was short as Kincaid’s Sunrise Patriots were easily taken down. Jim moved out among the downed men looking for a familiar face. It was not there. “Hallman! Come on out! You can’t get out of here. You’re caught in a good tight net.”

“Detective! I can save your partner. I have a cure. You cut me a deal and it’s yours.”

Jim looked at Simon. “Fucker.”

Simon actually chuckled a little.

“How do I know you’re not lying, Hallman?” Jim played along while zooming in on Hallman’s position. The man had given him a general area with his offer and now Jim was able to pinpoint the man’s frantic heartbeat and heavy breathing. He pointed to a small boat to the left of Simon. “In the hold,” he whispered to his captain.

“I’m not lying. I can help him.”

“How do you want to do this? We go after him and he’s armed, he gets a shot at us. We let him think we’ll deal and he comes out---“

“Let him think we’re dealing.” Simon told Jim.

“Okay, Hallman. I’ve talked it over with my captain. We’ll deal. Come on out.”

Hallman was smiling when he emerged. The others did not need Jim’s sentinel sight to see that maniacal grin in the harbor lights “I knew you’d see reason.” He held up a gun.

“Toss the gun.” Jim instructed.

The gun hit the water. “Kneel down.”

He did. Jim and Simon approached him. Simon handcuffed him while Jim kept him covered. When Simon was done, Jim turned to the federal agent behind him. “He’s all yours.”

“What! We had a deal, Ellison! Are you going to let your partner die?”

“Thanks to Dr. Patterson and Dr. Miles, your former partners, my partner is going to live. You? Well, you, on the other hand, do not strike me as the type that lasts in prison.”

“I’ll give you my employer!”

“I know you will.” Jim smiled as the federal agent led the frantic man away.

Jim holstered his gun and sighed.

“You wanted to kill him.” Simon stated.

“Oh yeah. Badly. But I don’t have to. He’ll die, and he’ll suffer before he does. He rolls on Kincaid and he won’t last a month in prison. He’s too stupid to realize that. In the process, Kincaid gets a conspiracy to commit murder sentence tacked on to what he’s already got. When he gets out, he’ll be too damn old to lead his rebellion.”

“We may have trouble with that conviction, Jim, after your visit to the prison.”

“What visit to the prison, Simon? I wasn’t out at the prison. Just ask the guards on duty, or the warden. Better yet, look at the visitor’s log. No Jim Ellison there.”

Simon shook his head. “Do I want to know?”

“No. If it did come out, you’d then be an accessory. I wouldn’t want that, sir. My luck, they’d make us cellmates. At least Blair doesn’t smoke cigars.” Jim left his captain with his mouth hanging open in the attempt to come up with a proper retort.

He nearly swallowed a moth before he settled for his old stand-by. “You must want to work traffic for the next month, Ellison.”

Patterson met Jim outside of Blair’s cubicle. “What is it?”

“It’s good news, Detective. He is most definitely responding to the anti-toxin. Fortunately, since our drug goes straight into the bloodstream and works faster, he is getting better much faster than he got sick. We’re getting ready to remove the respirator. He is capable of breathing on his own and the faster we get him off that respirator, the faster his lungs will heal.”

“That’s great news.” Jim’s knees felt weak as relief swept over him.

“Then let’s get on with it, shall we?” Patterson slapped him on the shoulder.

“…im?”

It was sentinel soft. Ordinarily it would not have even been loud enough to wake even the sentinel but Jim had been waiting on this moment for a day and a half. Sleep was not going to rob him of being there when Blair rejoined the world. His senses were all tuned to the man in the hospital bed, and so the soft whimper that was only part of his name did wake him. He had Blair’s hand in his in an instant. “Hey there, Lazarus. Welcome back to living.”

“Is true then?”

“Oh yeah, Chief. It’s true. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, you still have a ways to go before you’re well. You just rest and feel better, okay?”

“Thought… dream.”

Jim shook his head. “You’re going to live, Blair. There is no cancer. You are going to be fine. Of course, I think you used another of your nine lives but you got a few left yet.”

Blair tried to smile. “Uh-uh, you’re the cat. ‘Member?”

Jim laughed. “I remember.” Blair’s eyes drifted closed. “Sleep, Chief. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Epilogue

It was so damn hard not to try to do everything for him. He was still weak after all, but Blair insisted on doing things for himself. And Jim felt useless. He did not have enough to do without the things that he had done for Blair. Blair went to the bathroom by himself. He got dressed by himself. He bathed himself. He fed himself. He walked out of his room and plopped down in his chair all by himself and took himself off to bed without Jim’s help. Jim should have been happy. He had his fiercely independent, self-sufficient roommate back. A little longer yet and he would have his partner back. He was already going back to the university next week. Blair had been in the hospital for a week and he had been out of the hospital for two weeks. He was gaining the lost weight back and he was stronger everyday. Still, Jim wanted to take care of him. He realized the fear-based response for what it was. Funny that he had actually accepted that little not-so-desirable truth about himself now. He was driven so often by fear. And the fear of losing Blair was still too fresh in his mind. The younger man was more than just his guide and partner. He was family. He was the one person that Jim would not want to be without. Simon had been right. If Blair were lost, the world would be a darker place.

“Jim, are you going to stand there staring at me or are you going to set the table? The guys will be here any minute. Get the lead out.” Blair scolded as he finished up the stir-fry he was making. He looked flushed.

“Are you getting winded, Chief. I could do that.”

Blair glared at him. “I’ve got it. Set the table.”

Jim sighed and got the plates out of the cabinet. “Sorry, Chief.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just want to do this. Last time---“ he paused. “Last time, I couldn’t really do anything. I want to make dinner for my friends. I’m tired, I admit, but I’m almost done.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jim put the plates on the table and moved back to his friend.

Blair smiled. “You kept saying that when I was sick.”

“Well, you kept apologizing for being sick.”

“I was a lot of trouble.”

“No. Never.”

“Thanks.

“You’re welcome. It’s what family does.”

The spoon in Blair’s hand hit the floor and the wok clattered on the stove as Blair released it. “God, Jim, do you know what that means to me?”

“I think so. I just figured it out myself over the last couple of months.” Jim grabbed him and hugged him tight. He smiled at the bewildered look on Blair’s face before grabbing a handful of silverware out of the drawer and dropping it unceremoniously on the table. He then made his way over to the overstuffed chaise lounge that he had bought for Blair and collapsed into it.

“Jim! You didn’t set the table! A stack of plates and a pile of forks is not a set table!”

“It’s just the guys. They can get their own plate and silverware. And they’ll be drinking bottled beer. No need for glasses. I’m done.” He closed his eyes. Maybe he was adjusting to normalcy faster than he thought. Damn, this chair was comfortable.

A shadow fell across him. He opened his eyes and focused them on a very irate guide with a huge fork in his hand. “Jim.” Funny, he sounded harmless. “I love you dearly but if you don’t get your ass up and set that table, I’m going to check and see if you’re done, clear.”

“Damn, you’re crabby.”

“Don’t think I don’t know how to use this, Jim.”

“Okay!” Jim got up and Blair followed him into the kitchen.

“And that’s my chair. Keep your ass out of it.”

“Hey!” A knock at the door cut off his protest.

The party ended with Blair asleep in his chair. The scene was familiar; the mood just happier as Major Crimes filed out of the loft. The smiles were bright, instead of sad. Simon was last once again.

“I was afraid to ask for a miracle. I was afraid I wouldn’t get it. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Well, I forgot something very important.”

“What’s that?”

“That kid is a miracle.”

Jim grinned. “Yeah, I guess he is.” His captain left then and Jim ambled over to the couch. He lay down and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over him. He settled down on his side so he could see his guide, his friend and brother. He listened to the precious heartbeat. It was strong. He listened to the rush of air through healing lungs. He sighed. Blair was alive. Jim was asleep in minutes, a smile on his face.