DISCLAIMER: The characters of The Sentinel are the property of Petfly and
Paramount. This fanfic was written for my own and others' enjoyment. No
money has been paid and no copyright infringement is intended.
For Lyn, a little Blair owie story, to say thanks for all the great stories
she's given me and for the encouragement to do this.
"Do you have to stir your coffee so loudly?" Blair grumped, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the daylight flooding the kitchen.
"What?" Jim turned, spoon in hand. "Hey, I'm the one with the sensitive senses, remember? What's up, Chief? You have a hangover or something? Want some breakfast?"
"No, I don't have a hangover, Jim. I didn't go out last night, remember? I just have a headache, that's all."
"Sure you don't want some bacon and eggs, Sandburg?" Jim asked, wafting the
pan in front of Blair's nose. He didn't expect the reaction he got. Hand to his mouth, Blair took off out of his chair and headed for the bathroom. Even without Sentinel hearing, Jim could him retching for at least two minutes.He waited. He knew Blair hated to be checked up on. Then, a minute or so after the sounds had stopped, he knocked on the bathroom door. "Blair? Hey Chief, you okay? Do you need any help?"
"mmfine," came the indistinct response from beyond the door. A few seconds
later, "Just give me a minute, Jim, okay? I'm fine."
Several minutes later Blair walked out of the bathroom. He was pale and sweating.
"You sure you're okay, Chief?" Jim asked worriedly, placing his hand on Blair's forehead. "It feels like you have a fever. You know, you don't have to come into the station today. We're just doing up reports from those two cases last week, there's nothing new on the books. Why don't you stay here, get some rest, fight off whatever this bug is you have?"
"I don't have a bug!" Blair snapped back. "I've already told you, it's just a headache. You know you get headaches and I don't bug you about them! I told
you I'm okay. Can you please just let it go, Jim? You ready? Let's get going."
The Major Crimes Unit was relatively quiet for once, when they arrived. Blair slumped down in his chair, hands over his eyes. Jim watched with concern. He didn't know what was wrong with his Guide, but Jim was sure that it was more than just a simple headache. Blair's face was pale, he was sweaty and dark circles around his eyes told the story of not enough sleep in the past couple of days.
"Hey, Blair, you want me to get some aspirin from the first aid kit?" Jim asked.
Blair simply shook his head, then winced at the pain the movement caused. He
looked up as Simon came out of his office and crossed over to him.
"Well, well, what do you know?" the Captain grinned." You two actually pulled yourselves in here to finish up those reports like I asked you, huh?"
"Yeah, well, we figured it'd be better to do them now, before the perps finish their vacation and get back to work," Jim said.
"Hey, Sandburg, you okay? You don't look too good?" Simon remarked, noticing Blair's uncustomary silence. He reached forward and felt Blair's forehead. "Man, you're burning up. You should have stayed home in bed. Got the flu or something?"
Blair pulled away from Simon's hand and they both noticed the look of pain that crossed his face as he did so. "Or something, yeah," Blair mumbled."I've just got this bad headache I can't shake and I feel sorta queasy, that's all. I'll be okay. I'll just do this stuff and go home and lie down, okay? Just both of you quit fussing over me, will ya.?"
"Okay," Simon replied placatingly. He looked questioningly at Jim, who just shrugged and raised his eyebrows.
"Why don't you try some coffee, Sandburg. Caffeine's supposed to be good for
headaches." He waved his cup under Blair's nose then almost wore the contents as Blair jumped up and took off at a dead run for the men's room across the hall. "Jim?" Simon asked," What's going on with him?"
"I'm not sure, Captain. He's had this headache for a couple of days now. He's moody. He threw up this morning for about two minutes when I offered him breakfast."
"With your cooking, that doesn't necessarily surprise me," Simon joked.
Before Jim had time to make a smart comment of his own, Joel poked his head
round the doorway. "Jim, you better get over here quick. Something's wrong
with Blair. He's passed out on the bathroom floor!"
Call an ambulance, Simon," Jim called back over his shoulder, as he ran with Joel through the door. He crashed through the bathroom door and almost tripped over Blair, lying on the floor at his feet. "Did he hit his head? What happened?" he asked quickly as he knelt beside Blair and turned him onto his back, supporting the unconscious man's head and shoulders against his knee.
"No. He just burst in here and then he went out to it. I grabbed him before he hit his head and laid him flat," Joel answered worriedly.
Blair's eyes were partly open but there were no signs of recognition in them. He moaned, twisting his head back and forth as Jim placed a gentle hand on his chest. Jim dialed up his hearing. He could hear Blair's heart racing, his breathing growing labored.
"Ambulance is on its way, Jim. How's he doing?" Simon rasped.
"Not good. His heart's going a mile a minute and he's only semi conscious... Oh oh, he's seizing. He's having some sort of fit."
Simon knelt on Blair's other side, attempting to keep his airway clear as Blair's body shook with the spasms.
"It's okay, Chief. It's okay. Just keep breathing, buddy. You're going to be alright, Chief." Jim repeated the words over and over, almost like a mantra, as he held Blair's jerking body in his arms and tried to soothe him.
The seizure stopped, Blair's body relaxed, but Jim could still feel his heart racing and now his eyes were completely closed. The seizure had obviously robbed him of what little consciousness he'd held onto before. Jim continued to hold him, stroking Blair's hair away from his face, which was now lathered in sweat. He kept his other hand on Blair's chest, repeating the reassuring phrases, willing his Guide to wake up.
"Ambulance is here, Jim. You have to let these guys in so they can get Blair to the hospital, man." Simon patted Jim's shoulder and helped him to place Blair down where the paramedics could work on him. He placed his hand on Blair's head as he stood up. "You hang in there, kid, okay?"
The paramedics checked Blair's vitals quickly, then, while Jim filled them in on Blair's symptoms, they inserted an intravenous line and an airway. As they placed him on the gurney and rolled it swiftly to the elevator, Simon patted Jim's back. "Come on, pal. I'll drive you to the hospital."
By the time they reached the parking garage, the ambulance was already screaming away.
"More coffee, Jim?" Simon asked, gesturing
towards Jim's empty cup.
"What? Oh, no, thanks, Simon. My stomach feels like it's floating in this stuff already. Man, what's taking so long? They've had him in there for hours now!"
He stood up, walking toward the treatment room. Just as he'd decided he was going in there this time, no matter what anyone said, the door opened and one of doctors came out. He strode towards Jim and Simon, hand outstretched.
"Captain, Detective, I'm Dr. Jackson. Your young friend gave us a pretty hairy time there for a while."
"And now?" Jim asked, impatiently.
"And now he's going to be okay. He'll need to be here for quite a few days yet. But we've got him on Dilantin to control any further seizures, and broad-spectrum antibiotics for the meningococcal disease. He was lucky you
were there when he collapsed. If he'd been alone, he could very easily have died."
"Thank God," Jim sighed. "Wait a minute, meningococcal disease? How the hell
did he get that? We thought he just had the flu or something."
"Oh no, the distinctive rash he'd developed by the time he was brought in definitely confirmed the diagnosis. Once he was able to talk to us, he told us that he's been helping a young friend of his at the University who's just come back from Egypt. He said his friend's been sick for the last week too. As a matter of fact, we just found out when we called the University to check on him that he was admitted to another hospital yesterday. The other hospital was trying to trace all his contacts."
"Can we see him?" Jim asked, needing to see for himself that Blair really was going to be okay.
"For a short while. He needs to rest and he's pretty groggy with the Dilantin and the Demerol we've given him for the headache." The doctor smiled reassuringly. "By the way, we're going to need the names and numbers of anyone Mr. Sandburg has been contact with over the past week or so, as well. They'll all need prophylactic antibiotic cover."
"You go ahead, Jim. I'd better get back and tell Joel and the others that the kid's gonna be okay. You give him our best now. Oh, and Jim, tell Sandburg those reports will be waiting for him when he comes back!" Simon laughed.
Jim entered the room quietly, trying not to wake Blair if he was asleep. But as Jim reached the bedside, Blair's eyes opened."Hey, Chief, how you doin'?" Jim asked, gently placing his hand over Blair's. He was relieved that Blair's skin felt cooler and not as clammy, although his eyes still looked as if he was having trouble focusing "How's the head?" Jim asked.
Blair swallowed around the dryness in his throat. "Not too bad. Just feel a little groggy, is all. My arms and legs are aching, too. Don't remember much."
"I'm not surprised," Jim said wryly. "That was quite a stunt you pulled back there, Chief. You had us really worried. You should have told me you felt so sick."
"I know, but I kept thinking if I ignored it it'd get better on it's own, you know?"
"Yeah, I know, Chief, I know."
Blair's eyes started to close again but fluttered open when Jim moved his hand away. "Jim?" he said, anxiously.
"I'm right here, Blair. Just relax. Go to sleep now."
"Stay for a while, Jim, please," Blair said huskily.
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere, Chief," Jim answered softly, pulling up a chair. He sat, putting his hand back over Blair's protectively, watching as Blair's eyes closed again and his breathing settled into a steady rhythm. "It's okay, Chief. It's okay. You're going to be alright," he whispered.
April 3rd 2003