He might as well have spent the night in the hospital for all the good that bed did him. He spent most of the time he should have been sleeping worrying about Blair and what his life would be like if Blair were actually brain damaged. But when he did sleep,the images were very different.

His brief dreams were filled with pictures of Blair - Blair sleeping on Jim's bed; Blair cooking in the kitchen; Blair dressed in professorial tweeds, his graying but still long hair tied back from his face; Blair beside him in the truck, his hands dancing in animated discussion; Blair naked and sweaty on the living room floor; Blair with white curls sitting on a rocking chair with a child that looked like Daryl Banks on his lap. They were visions of a future that might not come to pass, and when he would realize that, he would wake up again.

"No."

"Mr. Sandburg, you have to eat."

Jim walked into Blair's cubicle in ICU to find a nurse trying to feed him from a tray of what looked like mush.

"Jim!" That smile was pure Blair.

"Hi, Chief. What's the matter? Not hungry?"

"I don' wan' de nursse t'fee me." He banged his arms on the blanket. "Da' has don' wor."

Jim looked at the nurse in panic.

She smiled reassuringly. "Mr. Sandburg's speech problems are common to people who have suffered hypoxia. He's actually sounding quite well."

"And his hands?"

"We don't know. Mr. Sandburg.."

"B'air!"

"All right, Blair. Blair will be transfered to Neurology today, where his doctor will test to see just how much function he has. Meanwhile, he has to eat his breakfast."

"Wan' Jim to fee' me."

Jim shrugged. "I'd be happy to feed him."

"I'm afraid it's not quite so simple...Jim, is it?"

"Jim Ellison. I'm his partner." She nodded.

"Blair, your speech problems are caused by a deficit in motor control." Jim sighed in relief. That meant that it wasn't his mind. "It's possible that you would have trouble swallowing. I'd rather I fed you right now."

"She has a point, Chief."

"You ca' stay in d'roo' an' wa'ch. You ca' show Ji' wha' t'do." Jim and the nurse looked at each other.

"It could work. Anything to get your friend to eat."

"Okay, Chief, I'll help."

"No a'rp'ane jo's, kay?"

No airplane jokes? Oh, open the hanger, here comes the...He grinned. "No? Not even once?"

"No!"

"You're the boss, Blair."

Blair just nodded, smiling.

Jim and the nurse changed places.

"Now, then, Mr. Ellison, let's start with a very small bite - less than half a spoon of that applesauce, say."

He dipped the plastic spoon in to the sauce and brought it up to Blair, who had no trouble swallowing the tiny portion, though he did make a face.

"I' nee'z cinna'n'n. I ma' a goo' appasawse, righ' Ji'?"

Jim, who was concentrating on taking a small piece of egg, nodded.

"I ma' i' wi' Granny Smith's and lea' i' chunky. S'good wi' latkes."

"Open up." The egg went in easily.

"Try the toast, Mr. Ellison. Let's see how he can chew."

"Yuck! I hae' col' toas'." But he had no trouble chewing it.

"Excellent. Give him larger bites. Blair, you are doing very well indeed. I have had patients who had to be taught how to chew again."

"Ready for some coffee?"

"I's decaf. Want t' special blen' we ha' a' home."

Jim looked at the nurse as a priest would look at a heretic while Blair continued to talk about the blend he'd developed and then sequed into other things he'd invented.

The nurse just smiled. "Blair's attention span can be measured in seconds right now - unless he's calling for you. Caffeine would make him more hyper."

"Yes, Chief. Your salsa is the best. I couldn't keep up with him before the accident. Is this going to continue?"

"Probably not. On the other hand, if he's always somewhat mercurial, he probably already has coping mechanisms in place."

Jim thought about all the various projects Blair could handle at once. Could it be that he had them all so that when his attention waned for one project, he could work on another? It would be a Blair-like solution.

"I think he does."

"Guys? Fee' me!"

"Coming up. Have some coffee." He held Blair's head with one hand as he carefully let him sip from the cup.

"You are a natural, Mr. Ellison. Give him slightly larger portions. I'm going to leave you two alone. Just yell if you need help." And she was gone.

Blair kept up a stream of chatter, stopping only to open his mouth and to chew what little of the rather soft breakfast required chewing. Jim continued to listen as Blair shifted from one subject to another with no warning. He'd never *tell* Blair this, but he loved listening to Blair talk. Not only did the kid know everything, he said it in a rich, dark voice that sent shivers down Jim's spine when he concentrated on its sound. He didn't dare let it happen now, but he knew it could.

This level, though, was extreme even for Blair. The only good thing was that his speech actually improved the more he went on, until he was barely blurring by the time breakfast was over. Jim pulled out something he'd brought with him.

Blair's eye's lit up. "You're going to comb my hair?

"It needs it. Scoot down." Jim helped Blair move a little down the bed so Jim could sit behind him.

"Where do I begin?" It was a tangled mess.

"Top down and use your fingers first if you have to. OW!" The comb would not go through the knotted curls. Jim set it down and gently began to work the tangles out with his fingers. It felt like silk. Blair all but purred, the stream of chatter silenced as he seemed to enjoy the attention. Soon enough, Jim had Blair's hair free of tangles. He began to comb it - and Blair did purr then, and nuzzle at Jim's hand when he could.

"Oh, man, that feels so *good*. "

"You like getting your hair combed?"

"It's so sensual. You should see what happens when it's brushed."

"Next time I'll bring a brush, then."

"Oh, yes."

Once it was combed, Jim started to play with it. He'd just arranged Blair's curls to frame his face when a nurse's aide came in to remove the breakfast tray. She stopped short at the entrance.

"Oh, my God! He's as beautiful as an...."

"Angel?" Jim smiled. "I know. But he always is."

"Come on, man. I need a shower and this hospital gown thing is not exactly my style."

Jim and the aide exchanged smiles.

"You're being transfered to neurology now, Mr. Sandburg. Once you get settled in a room, someone will give you a shower and a shave."

"I'm being transfered now?" Blair sat up straight.

"You don't need to be here anymore. I'm supposed to take you down for tests as soon as I get the trays finished. Once they're over, you'll go straight to a room on that service."

"What sort of tests?"

"Hey, Chief, after all the tests you give me, you can't be worried about those."

"I can if they involve sticking pointy objects into my skin. I am so not into needles and blood tests."

"They're going to find out how much therapy you'll need."

"Oh. Okay."

"Mr. Ellison...maybe you should braid his hair. It'll be more comfortable for him and it won't get so tangled." The aide had a very long braid down her back, so Jim decided she was an expert. He'd brought a couple of elastic bands along with the comb. He plaited Blair's hair and fastened it.

"That looks good." The aide nodded.

Blair picked up his arms and tried to feel the hair with his hands, but they wouldn't do what he wanted. He pounded the bed in frustration. Jim stroked his shoulders.

"Don't worry, Chief. You'll be fine. Give yourself time."

Blair turned to him. "What if I'm not? What if you have to feed me and do my hair and ... whatever else... forever?"

"If that means you'll be with me forever, then I'll do anything." Jim heard himself say the words, but all he could focus on were the pictures of Blair before and Blair as he might be, helpless and dependent on him. And he became angry.

"Really?"

Jim forced a smile and kissed him on the forehead. "Really."

"Mr. Sandburg? You have already improved. We could barely understand you this morning."

"How much? Do you have recordings? Can you understand me now?"

"Whoa. Slow down, big guy. We understand you just fine." That change was fast enough to give him whiplash. Too fast for him. He watched Blair's hands sitting motionless on the covers. Blair's hands were never quiet. He used them to talk as much as he did his mouth. The dark thing inside of him grew.

"Blair, mind if I step out for a while?"

"It's probably a good idea, Mr. Ellison." She glanced at the bedpan.

Jim got off the bed and kissed Blair's head again.

"I'll see you before they move you."

"You have a gorgeous boyfriend, Mr. Sandburg," he heard as he left.

Boyfriend. Forever. Had he really said "forever?"

Would he take care of Blair if Blair needed him? He looked into his heart, and the answer was the same. He loved Blair and what ever Blair needed, he'd get.

He'd wasted so much time being afraid. He and Blair could have been together before. He could have loved Blair as Blair was. He lost that chance. Would he ever feel Blair's hands on his body again?

He could feel the rage building. All the time he wasted, all the time that could have been if it weren't for Alex Barnes. And now Blair was not Blair anymore.

"No, he isn't. But is that a bad thing?" The nurse from the night before was standing next to him, flanked by a wolf and a black jaguar. He didn't seem to notice the animals.

"Isn't what?"

"Mr. Ellison, you're not the first person who has wondered if a trauma changed a person."

"Isn't change like that bad?"

"Is he weak? Will this kill him?"

"Blair? Blair will fight. He'll be on his feet and using his hands."

"Will that hurt him?"

"No. He'll be better, stronger."

"And if he loses the fight?"

"He'll keep fighting. And I'll be there."

"Where he goes?" Where *he* goes? Where he goes, because without Blair there was nothing.

"Where he leads, I'll follow. What ever he needs is his."

"Can you watch him fall?"

"If I must." But if he could, he'd catch him,and he'd always pick him up.

"Let the Blair that was go. Embrace this one. Let him find his way." Jim stood there. He visualized "the Blair that was." He watched him pick up a backpack and smile as he left. But "this one" had the same smile and it was welcoming. The dark thing died.

"Are you all right, Mr. Ellison?" It was the long-haired nurse's aide.

"What? Where...yeah, I'm fine. How's Blair?"

"He's fine. I'm just going to get a wheelchair to take him down to neuro. Go see him."

Blair was in a fresh gown and his face had been shaved. Jim didn't notice.

"They're springing me, sort of."

"You look so beautiful."

"Jim, when we get home, I'm running tests on your vision."

"Run all the tests you want, it won't change things. Angel." Jim sat down on the bed, and gently and purposefully picked up each of Blair's hands and kissed them in turn.

"Oh, God, Jim. I love you." Blair leaned towards him, his arms open. Jim caught him in his own arms. Blair kissed him on the lips for the first time. Jim melted. Suddenly, his entire universe was Blair's mouth. It was warm and inviting and tasted of applesauce and toothpaste and, above all, of Blair. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to do more, to taste all of his partner. He wanted to drown in the sensations.

Blair broke contact. "Oh, Jim...When...when I get home, we'll do this right."

"When you go home. In *our* bed."

"Yeah. My stuff...you know where my stuff is?"

"Relax. We'll get it back. The loft will be just the same. Or better."

"Uh, gentlemen?" The aide was there with a wheelchair.

"Chief, I have a feeling I won't be welcome for those tests. I hate to leave you, but..."

"Give my love to the boys at the station, okay?"

"You got it, Angel."

Blair shook his head. "Angel."

"Get used to it, Chief.

He helped transfer Blair to the wheelchair, and got a kiss for his effort.

"Mr. Ellison, will you be back this afternoon?"

"I expect so." They couldn't keep him away.

"Blair's neurologist has requested that you meet with him after Blair's tests." Jim nodded. He watched the aide take Blair to the elevator and disappear behind the doors. He followed Blair's heartbeat for several minutes, and then realized he had no place in the ICU anymore. He waved good- bye to the nurses. The nurse from the night before wasn't there.

Now the question was, where did he go? He didn't want or need to wait around the hospital. He could sense that his guide was in good hands. The loft was probably still bare and he didn't want to do any furniture lifting right now. He needed to change his clothes, but he'd put that off.

So he went to his *other* home.

"Jim!"

"Ellison!"

"How's the kid?"

"We still got that bitch locked up. How's the kid doing?" "Slow down, people. I just got here. I'll tell you all I know when I get the chance."

"Ellison!" Simon's bellow silenced the office.

Jim grinned. "After I tell Simon."

Simon had a cup of coffee waiting for him. He gestured for Jim to sit down.

"How's the kid?"

"*Blair* is awake and alert and aware of his surroundings. I haven't asked him about yesterday yet. He started out kind of slurred, but that's pretty much gone."

"Any other problems?"

"They're testing now. I think his attention span has been affected, but with Blair, who can tell?"

Simon laughed out loud. "Yeah, you never could pin the kid down to any subject. No other problems?"

"There's something wrong with his hands, but no one is saying anything."

"Damn. And no one knows anything?"

"Simon, this is Blair. You know he'll fight his way back."

"Yeah. Nothin' but stubborn." If Jim had heard that much pride in his father's voice, he'd never have run away. Simon took some papers out of his desk. "We need to get this done, Jim. We don't want Blair to have to pay a dime more than he needs to. Between the university and the station, he shouldn't have to." He handed the papers to Jim. "We just need to reassure the companies that it was on campus, and in the line of duty. I'm glad we have him on salary now, and that it happened in his office. She went after *him*."

"Is he still on salary?"

"No. I couldn't do that much. Unpaid medical leave is the best I could do. The university is holding his position until the end of summer."

Jim nodded. It was about what he'd expected. He began to fill out the insurance form.

"And, Jim...I'm putting you down for vacation for the next two days, and then we'll see. If you need to, we'll get you an extended leave of absence or put you on half-time if you can manage it."

"Simon..."

"I know. It's too soon to tell."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. Have you had any progress contacting Naomi?"

"We've tracked her down as far back as last month, but so far we have no clues as to where she is now. Damn that woman. Her only child is in the hospital - again! - and she's nowhere to be found."

"You'll find her, Simon. Either that or she'll turn up here on her own." Jim rubbed his eyes.

"Jim, I know you didn't sleep well last night. Go out and tell *Blair's* fanclub all the news, and then go back to your place and rest."

"My place? My place is empty. Blair's not there."

"Jim, listen to me. Please. Jim, this is an order. After you talk yourself hoarse out there, go home."

"Yes, sir."

He made short work of the "fan club." They were all encouraging him to go home, too.

End Part 2

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