DISCLAIMER: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Paramount Television and Pet Fly Productions. No money has been or will be made from this work of fiction. This story belongs to the author. Permission is given to archive.

RATING: G

THANKS TO: The many friends, fans and writers in the Sentinel universe for friendship and inspiration. Special thanks to Barb, as always, for beta reading and all the rest.

This is a missing scene to the episode "Survival" and contains spoilers for that episode. Viewing the episode before reading is highly recommended.

Feedback is always welcome.

Jim kept the pressure on Quinn's back, pressing his chest hard against the side of the well, harder than he really had to. Simon went to find and pick up one of the automatic weapons lying near them on the muddy ground. Even though he had already snapped the cuffs on, he didn't trust Quinn not to try something, not for a moment. His arms vibrated with tension, and his breath still came fast and hard from their struggle. He waited impatiently for Simon to return and hold the weapon on the fugitive.

"All right, Jim, I've got him. You can let him go. Quinn, turn around slowly and sit down, your back against the well."

As Quinn grudgingly complied, a sneer still on his face, Jim turned and trotted over to the opening of the mine. Blair was half sitting, half lying against the wall of the mine, his injured leg stretched out in front of him. He was holding grimly onto the gun as he watched to make sure that Lisa, Quinn's accomplice, didn't try to get away. The glazed expression on his face told Jim that he was barely holding on. He walked up and carefully took the automatic weapon from his partner, then turned it towards the woman lying on her stomach in the mud as Blair sagged back in relief.

"Get up, slowly, and walk over there. Sit down on your hands with your back against the well, on the far side, not next to Quinn. Move it." He watched intently until she was seated on her hands near Quinn, and Simon nodded to him that he had them both under control. He turned back to his partner, and set the safety on before putting the gun down beside him. Kneeling beside Blair, and placing one hand gently on his shoulder, he began to look him over. "Hey, Chief, how're you doing?"

He received a feeble grin in return.

"I've been better. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little muddy from that tussle with Quinn. How's your leg doing? Let's take a look."

He helped Blair sit a little more comfortably, leaning against the wall, then turned his attention to the gunshot wound through his leg. The belt that had been secured around his thigh to slow the bleeding had come loose, and the wound was bleeding steadily again. The makeshift bandage over the wounds had come loose as well, and Jim grimaced as he saw how muddy the bandages and Blair's jeans were. He must have been knocked over or thrown by the force of the explosion, Jim realized.

He regretted having had to blow up the dynamite shack, but he had been out of options. He'd had only one bullet left, and Quinn had been about to kill his friends. Looking at the blood seeping from Blair's leg and beginning to drip to the ground, his worry about shock and infection setting in on his partner returned with a vengeance.

"Uh, look, Chief, I'm gonna have to tighten this up again and rebandage your leg. Give me a minute here, I've gotta get something to use for more bandages, I'll be right back." Patting Blair on the shoulder with an encouraging smile, he stood and looked around for the large pack of supplies that Quinn had stolen from the cabin and forced Simon to carry. Finding it, he quickly found a first aid kit and returned with it and the pack to the mine shaft. "Okay, buddy. Let's prop your leg up on this pack while I clean it up, all right?"

"Sure, Jim, just be gentle, man."

Taking a deep breath, he carefully grasped the injured leg by the calf and raised it, quickly shifting the pack underneath and lowering the leg on top. He grimaced inwardly at the gasp of pain that escaped Blair's lips. Letting go, he reached over and grasped his shoulder, squeezing firmly. Blair attempted a smile.

"All right, Chief. This is gonna hurt, buddy, I'm sorry. I've gotta get this cleaned up and get the bleeding stopped."

"Just do it, man. Get it over with."

With a final reassuring pat on Blair's shoulder, he took hold of the belt around his thigh, slowly but firmly tightening it, then securing it in place. He forced himself to try to ignore the jerk in Blair's body and the grunt of pain as he proceeded, telling himself that the faster he worked the sooner he would be done.

He opened the first aid kit, gratefully finding what he had hoped would be there. Removing first a tiny pair of scissors, he cut off the blood-soaked and filthy bandages and cut larger openings in both the front and back of Blair's jeans. He was dismayed at the amount of fresh blood and mud around the wounds, especially in back.

Pulling off his jacket and sweater, he removed his t-shirt, then replaced his other clothing. Using the t-shirt, he gently but quickly wiped off the area around the entrance and exit wounds, holding the leg still with his other hand when Blair jerked again involuntarily as he worked.

"Hang in there, Chief, almost done."

Tossing the dirtied t-shirt off to the side, he found and opened a couple of packets of antiseptic wipes and did his best to cleanse the wounds. He again had to hold the leg still with his other hand as Blair trembled and jerked from the pain, although not as strongly this time. Checking out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Blair's eyes were closed, his head pressed back against the mine shaft wall, and his hands clenched into fists in the material of his coat. A sheen of dampness was growing on his pale face, and probably not entirely due to the steadily falling mist. The panting of his breath was rapid but regular. Jim tried to hurry.

Locating a couple of pressure bandages, he centered one on the entrance wound and one on the exit wound and proceeded to wrap the gauze ties tightly around and around the leg. Finally tying them off as firmly as he could, he sighed in relief. Hopefully that would hold until help arrived. He turned back to face his partner.

Blair appeared to have lost consciousness, for which he was grateful. Maybe it had saved him from some of the pain. His head had lolled limply to one side, his hair draped over part of his face, and his hands now rested limply in his lap. The rapid panting of his breathing was gradually slowing to a more normal rhythm, although there was still an unhealthy rasping sound, probably due to the smoke that he had inhaled.

Jim reached over and gently brushed the hair back from Blair's face in order to get a better look. He frowned at how pale his face was, and again regretted they way that he could read Blair's recent experiences from his injuries. The red and swollen bruise on his cheekbone from being knocked into unconsciousness by a rifle butt. The bump on the side of his head from striking a rock while being tossed and tumbled in the river, following their desperate jump from a cliff. And, of course, the gunshot wound through his leg.

Throughout it all he had never given up, never wavered in his determination to help Jim find and rescue Simon. The kid really had guts, he thought, and more strength and perseverance than he would have given him credit for. He really needed to stop underestimating Blair.

Grabbing another antiseptic wipe from the kit, he gently cleaned the bruised cheekbone, which was scraped but not really bleeding. He also carefully felt and then cleaned the bump on the side of Blair's head, just over his ear. Another gauze pad was pressed into service to wipe off the rest of his face, which seemed to be too cool to be normal.

He worried again about Blair going into shock from the blood loss and possible hypothermia. The light trickle of moisture down the back of his own neck reminded him of the light but steady rain that was falling, and he knew that Blair didn’t need to get any wetter or colder. As he started to reach into the pack to find anything to cover his partner and keep him warm, he heard a welcome sound.

"Mmmm…"

"Hey, Chief, you with me? Come on, wake up buddy." He reached over and gently shook his shoulder.

Blair's eyelids slowly fluttered open, and his eyes gradually came into focus on Jim's face.

"Hmmm…Jim."

"Welcome back, buddy. You must have taken a little nap while I was cleaning up your leg."

"Right…how is it?" He struggled to sit up a bit straighter, and Jim gave him a hand.

"Easy there, Chief. I think we got the bleeding stopped again."

"Good. You got Quinn and the woman, right? Simon's OK?"

"Yeah, everything's under control." Jim reassured his partner, realizing that Blair's vague memory demonstrated how he must have been barely hanging on to consciousness even before he had started working on his leg. "Hey, we've gotta get you out of this rain. Think you can stand, with my help? We need to move you a little further back into the mine shaft and out of this liquid sunshine."

"Sure, Jim. Just say when."

"Let's do it."

Firmly grasping Blair's wrists, and feeling his own wrists grasped in return, he leaned backwards and pulled Blair to his feet. He quickly moved to his side and put an arm firmly around his back as Blair wavered, struggling to stay upright on one leg, clearly too weak to stand on his own. Jim grabbed one arm and pulled it across his shoulders, holding firmly onto that wrist, and leaned slightly sideways, allowing most of Blair's weight to rest against him. Together they made a few slow and staggering steps into the mouth of the mine shaft, stopping about ten feet inside the opening. Jim gently and carefully lowered Blair to the ground, as Blair unsuccessfully tried to suppress a groan.

"You doing all right, Chief?"

Blair closed his eyes and tried to get control of his breathing again, even the small effort of taking a few steps draining him of his energy. His previous occasional trembling had become a steady shivering.

"Yeah. Fine."

Jim walked over and picked up the pack and rummaged around inside it. Removing a few items and setting them aside, he carefully replaced it under Blair's injured leg. Picking up a small package, he ripped it open, and shook open the emergency space blanket that he had found. He wrapped it snugly around his partner, hoping that he still had enough body heat left for it to help. Finally satisfied with his effort, he grabbed a bottle of water that he had found and set it down next to him.

"Here you go, Chief, drink some of this." He handed the bottle of water to Blair. "I'm gonna go over and check in with Simon, okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Jim, go on."

He headed over to where Simon was holding a gun on their two prisoners. Simon had found a seat on a rusty piece of old machinery, and didn't take his eyes or the gun off of them as Jim approached. He looked tired and miserable, raindrops forming and running gently down his face, but his focus never wavered.

"How's Blair?"

Jim ran his hand over his face, as if to rub away the exhaustion that was beginning to build within him.

"He's hanging in there. He's lost a lot of blood, but I've gotten the bleeding stopped again. Thank goodness these guys ripped off a first aid kit along with everything else. Right now I'm worried about hypothermia and shock. We've gotta get him out of here."

"I know, Jim, but I don't know how. He can't hike out of here, that’s for sure, and we can't carry him and keep watch on these two."

Both men gloomily pondered their meager options, then suddenly Jim looked up to the sky.

"Simon, I hear a chopper!"

"I don't hear anything."

"Wait for it."

They scanned the sky, Jim settling on staring towards the southwest in anticipation. A few moments later, even Simon could hear the muffled roar of helicopter blades.

"They must have sent it out to search for us, and spotted the smoke from the explosion!"

Simon grinned tiredly. The depth of his relief made Jim realize how exhausted he was, both physically and emotionally, and how eager they all were for rescue after their ordeal.

The helicopter finally swept over the clearing, then circled back to hover overhead. Jim waved both arms vigorously over his head, and received a wave from the pilot. He spotted the FBI agent, Mara, in the passenger seat, pointing to him and smiling. A moment later, he heard the pilot's amplified voice.

"Detective Ellison, is all of your party here?"

He nodded as emphatically as he could, knowing that the pilot couldn't possibly hear him even if he shouted.

"Roger, everyone's here. Do you have anyone in need of medical attention?"

Again, he nodded as broadly as possible, and held up one finger.

"Roger, you have one person in need of medical attention. We've radioed in your location, and I'll add a request for a medical rescue team right away. The old road that leads to this mine is barely passable, but they should be able to get four wheel drives up here with assistance for you soon. It's pretty rough, so you may still end up with a short hike, depending on how close they can get. Your injured party will be taken out by Medivac chopper. OK?"

Jim waved and received a thumbs up.

"OK, help is on its way. We're going on to scout the road and look for a clearing where we can set down. Hang in there, Detective."

With a final salute by the pilot, the chopper rose and flew off over the forest.

Simon and Jim looked at each other, weary smiles on their faces, then Simon turned his attention back onto their prisoners. Jim noticed for the first time the cut and bruising on Simon’s cheek, and could see the start of bruises on his throat that looked a great deal like finger marks, signs of Quinn’s abuse. He also could see how carefully Simon moved, and how he hunched over a bit as if to protect his side. Anger against Quinn rose in him anew, and he vowed to himself that this time he would get locked up and never see the light of day again. He also made a mental note to be sure that Simon received medical attention as soon as they all got back and the prisoners were handed off.

"Simon, why don’t you let me take over? You can go and get out of the rain with Blair, and keep him company until help arrives. I can keep an eye on these two."

"No thanks, Jim, I want to do this myself. You go and take care of Sandburg. Go on."

Shrugging, Jim turned and went to rejoin his partner. If Simon wanted the personal satisfaction of guarding Quinn and Lisa until they were handed off, or the chance to shoot them himself if they tried to escape, Jim could certainly understand. He wouldn’t have minded an opportunity to shoot them trying to escape himself. For now, though, they just needed to hold it together long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

---------------

He roused himself as the car pulled to a stop in the hospital parking lot. Once the helicopter had airlifted Blair from the mining site, the FBI had taken custody of the prisoners. He and Simon had gratefully accepted Mara's offer of a ride to the hospital to check on Blair. Simon had stretched out in the back seat and promptly fallen asleep.

Jim had spent several minutes fending off the questions that Mara had asked him about Blair, having made a date with him before he had been whisked off by chopper. Only Sandburg, he thought, could pull himself together enough, in his physical condition, to charm the agent and make a date.

Once the car's heater had kicked in, Jim had been unable to resist any longer and had joined Simon in a badly needed and dreamless sleep. Now that they had arrived at the hospital, he woke Simon up and they both gave her a brief thanks before heading in to check on their friend.

Checking in at the Emergency Department desk, they were directed to wait for Blair's doctor to come out to see them. Finding the coffee pot in the waiting room, they each got a cup and quickly downed it, grimacing at the bitter taste but grateful for the warmth that began spreading from within. They sat for only a few minutes before the doctor came out to talk with them.

"Doctor, how is he?"

The doctor consulted the chart. "Mr. Sandburg is right now being prepped for surgery on his leg. According to the x-rays the bullet went through clean, without hitting the bone, so the surgery should be pretty straightforward. He had lost some blood, so he is on an IV to replace his fluids. He'll be on IV antibiotics for a few days, there is some concern for infection, considering the amount of time that those were open wounds.

Other than that, he has a mild concussion and a mild case of hypothermia. He should recover from those with adequate rest. Oh, and he was suffering from smoke inhalation, and we've got him on some oxygen right now, but it wasn't severe. You can go and see him now, if you'd like, he's in Treatment Room 3. He's had a pre-op shot, so he's probably pretty groggy, but I'm sure he'd like to see you before he heads up into surgery. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen…" The doctor walked off to see his next patient.

Locating Treatment Room 3, they walked in and peered around the edge of the curtain that surrounded the bed. Finding Blair alone, they skirted the edge of the curtain and approached the bed.

Blair looked much better than the last time they had seen him, even with IVs in his arm and an oxygen cannula in his nose. His color was better and he was no longer shivering continuously, although as they watched he shifted slightly in his sleep. He was covered up to his chin with several blankets, with only his head and the arm holding the IVs showing. His face was peaceful, and Jim was glad to see that the lines of pain that had been etched there earlier were almost entirely erased.

He thought about just leaving him alone to sleep, he seemed so comfortable, and wasn't surprised to hear Simon echo his thoughts.

"Jim, he's asleep, let's leave him alone. We can see him after surgery."

Both men were surprised to hear a mumble come from the bed as they began to turn to leave the room.

"Simon? Jim?"

They moved over to the bed, and Jim sat carefully on the side opposite the IV pole. Blair's eyes opened slowly. He could see the effects of the medications in the slight dulling there, even as a sleepy grin spread across Blair's face.

"Hey, Chief. How're you doing?"

"Good…mmm, warm, dry…" His eyes drifted shut again, and he struggled to open them again and keep them open. "Gave me a shot, can't stay awake."

"Then don't try, Chief." He patted him on the shoulder through the layers of blankets. "They're gonna take you into surgery soon and get your leg fixed up. We'll be back to see you later. Just rest, OK?"

Blair gave up on the effort and let his eyes drift shut.

"OK, later…" They waited a few minutes, but he was dead asleep, his mouth open and a gentle snoring sound starting up. Jim looked at Simon, and saw a version of his own grin reflected there. A nurse entered the room and shooed them out, handing them two plastic bags full of wet clothing on their way out, and told them that the orderly was on his way to take Blair to the OR. She suggested that they go home, that Blair was likely to sleep straight through till morning after surgery, but that if they planned to stay they could go to the Surgery waiting area. They headed back down the hallway.

"So, Jim, do you want to stay? Blair's not gonna know you're here, you know. After everything that's happened, I wouldn't be surprised if he slept for two days straight, even without medication. It sounds pretty good to me right now." Simon surpressed a groan as he tried to stretch some of the kinks out as he walked.

"Yes, I'm gonna stay, at least until he's safely through surgery, Simon. But while he's in surgery, we're going to get you checked out." He firmly grasped Simon's arm with his free hand and steered him towards the ER check-in desk.

"What? I'm fine, Jim, nothing that a good night's sleep won't take care of."

"Yeah, right, Simon. Those bruises on your face and your neck, and your sore side from where Quinn kicked you, tell a different story, my friend. I'll feel a lot better once you've had a doctor look you over."

"Forget it, Jim. I don't…"

"And besides," Jim interrupted, "it will provide additional evidence for the assault charges that you're gonna file against Quinn." He looked at Simon with a raised eyebrow.

Simon had to agree that was a good point. "Oh, all right, Jim. If it's necessary for evidence…"

They checked Simon in to the Emergency Department and he was treated and released. The x-rays of his ribs were negative, and other than a mild case of exposure and a little smoke inhalation, he mainly had lots of scrapes and bruises. He was released with the recommendation for food, fluids, and rest. Jim went to see if there was any news about Blair, while he was waiting, and returned just in time to hear the doctor's discharge advice.

"…and plenty of rest should do it, Mr. Banks."

"Thank you, doctor." The doctor moved on to the next treatment room, and they got ready to leave, Simon putting his coat back on. "So, Jim, how's Blair?"

"They just finished up with him, they said it went fine. They expect his leg to heal without any problems. He should be in the hospital a few days. They're sure he won't wake up until the morning, and told me, in the nicest possible terms, to leave and come back after I'd had a chance to get cleaned up."

He tried for an innocent and bewildered expression, but the smile on Simon's face as they looked each other up and down made him lose it and break into a grin himself. If he looked half as bad as Simon, he could see why they were hinting for him to leave.

Clothing damp, muddy, and beginning to smell, he knew that they both badly needed a long hot shower, clean clothes, a good meal and a long sleep. He also knew that they needed to get moving if they weren't going to end up falling asleep for the night in a waiting room. As tired as he was, he knew that Simon had to be even more exhausted and sore than he was, and coming down from the adrenaline that had been sustaining him through his ordeal as Quinn's hostage.

"I can't imagine why they would say that, Jim."

"Me neither, Simon."

Heading past the waiting room towards the exit, they were surprised to find a uniformed officer waiting for them. Apparently it had been arranged for an officer to wait for them and give them a ride home when needed. Jim suddenly remembered that his truck had been trashed by gunfire, courtesy of Quinn's accomplices, and cringed at the thought of having to borrow Blair's car until he could make arrangements for his own. Mentally putting that aside, they headed out of the hospital and into the waiting patrol car.

Half an hour later, they pulled up at the loft. Jim got out, and turned back to the car.

"Hey, Simon, why don't you come in? You're so cold and tired you're shivering, and it's another 45 minutes to your place. Come on in, we'll get something hot delivered to eat, and you can get a hot shower and something dry to put on. Come on, man, there's no reason for you to keep feeling so lousy." He was gratified when Simon agreed and slowly unfolded out of the car, thanking the officer for his assistance.

They both walked slowly into the building and into the waiting elevator. Each leaned against a wall as the elevator slowly creaked its way upwards, and eventually deposited them on the third floor. As soon as they entered the loft and closed the door behind them, both uttered a long sigh of exhaustion as if on cue.

Jim tossed his keys into the basket by the door and turned the lights on.

"OK, Simon. Make yourself at home. I'm gonna run upstairs and get something for you to change into, you can take the first crack at the shower. And while you're in there, I'll start the fireplace to warm this place up and order dinner. Pizza okay?" The slightly glazed expression on Simon's face told him that he had better get him moving towards the shower or he was going to fall asleep just as he was. He walked over and carefully helped Simon off with his jacket and pushed him towards the bathroom. "Go on, Simon, go ahead and jump in the shower and I'll bring you the clothes."

Once he saw that he was in the bathroom and heard him undressing, he went up to his bedroom and gathered up some clothing that he was sure Simon could fit into. Some old, loose, comfortable sweats should do the trick, he thought. With an armful of clothing, he headed back downstairs, hearing the shower turn on. Walking back to the bathroom, he knocked and then opened the door and set the clothes on the closed lid of the toilet seat. He grabbed a couple of extra towels and set them there, just in case, as well. Hearing the murmured thanks from inside the shower, he left and closed the door behind him.

After ordering the pizza, he lit the fire in the fireplace and turned the gas flames on high. Taking off his own damp sweater, he replaced it with a sweatshirt that he had grabbed for himself, then headed for the kitchen. Searching through the freezer, he finally found the flavored coffee beans that he kept there for guests. He put them through the grinder and proceeded to make a pot of strong coffee. Knowing Simon as he did, he knew that nothing would help revive him like a couple of cups of good coffee. He kept moving, setting the table, checking the fire, feeling more tired with each minute and trying to keep himself going for just a while longer.

A contented groan reached his ears.

"Oh, man, I needed that. Thanks." He turned to see Simon slowly padding towards the kitchen in his sweats and stocking feet, a bundle of damp clothing in his arms that he proceeded to dump on the floor near the door. "You got a trash bag or something I can put these in? Otherwise I'm gonna put them out on the balcony until I get ready to go, or they'll stink up the loft." He walked over and set his shoes out on the balcony to air out.

Jim located a trash bag, and as Simon sealed his dirty clothing in it, poured him a cup of coffee. Simon turned and honed in immediately on the smell, gratefully accepting the mug from him.

"Oh, yeah." He held the mug up to his face and inhaled deeply, letting the steam swirl up to his face. Sipping appreciatively, he lowered himself into a chair at the table. "Jim, I thought you didn't drink flavored coffee."

"I usually don't, but I keep a little on hand just in case. And aren't you glad I do?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Jim pulled out his wallet and tossed a couple of bills on the table. "All right, my turn in the shower. Here's the money for the pizza, it should be here in a few minutes. If I'm still in the shower, go ahead and eat, I'll be out in a minute. There's beer and soda in the fridge, and there's more coffee in the freezer if you want another pot. The remote for the TV is on the coffee table. Make yourself comfortable."

"I will. Thanks, Jim."

Mentally kicking himself into action, he dragged himself upstairs and stripped, throwing his fragrant clothing quickly into the hamper and closing the lid. Tossing on his robe, he slowly made it back downstairs and headed into the bathroom, feeling every tired and sore muscle on the way. He noticed that Simon had moved to the sofa and was slumped comfortably in front of the TV, coffee cup in hand, feet up on the coffee table.

A shower had rarely felt so good, he decided, once he had climbed into the shower and gotten the water temperature and flow just right. The feeling of the hot water flowing over his skin, and the sensation of warmth gradually sinking in to his chilled body, was almost sensual. He caught himself wavering, almost falling asleep on his feet, and turned the water colder to wake himself up. Minutes later, clean and dry, he felt 100% better.

He returned to the living room just in time for the arrival of the pizza delivery man. Grabbing a couple of beers from the refrigerator, he joined Simon at the dining table. They devoured the pizza, both suddenly remembering the last time they had eaten a real meal.

While they ate they talked, filling in the details of the last 36 hours for each other. Both men needed the release of talking about their ordeals, although Jim tried to make sure that Simon got to do most of the talking. He could only imagine how terrifying it must have been for Simon, knowing that the man that held him captive had no conscience and nothing that would keep him from killing him for any reason, or no reason at all. As much as Simon downplayed his experience, and as strong a man as Jim knew him to be, he also knew that the trauma would haunt him for some time. Talking seemed to help, and he could hear a lessening of stress in his voice and see true relaxation begin to set in as he let go of his experience to an understanding friend.

"This should put Quinn away for good. Escape, kidnapping, assault…they should throw away the key."

"Yeah, and next time, Jim, maximum security all the way." Simon was silent for a moment, then finally said what he had been thinking for some time. "Jim, I'm sorry about Sandburg. You were right, I should never have insisted that you take him along. He should never have been involved with that psychopath. He was nearly killed."

"Simon, he probably would have insisted on going along anyway. And, anyway, I tried to get him to go back into town instead of coming with me to track you. He wouldn't budge. Neither of us could keep him from coming along, so don't beat yourself up about it." He laughed softly. "He can be pretty persistent, you know."

Simon snorted. "Don't I know it. But he did a hell of a job, he really kept it together, even when the going got rough. I meant what I said, I'll have to buy him dinner or something. A lot of cops wouldn't have handled it as well as he did."

"You're right about that, Simon. And as to dinner, I think he'd really appreciate that. But you'd better pick the restaurant, or you may be sorry." They both chuckled at the thought of some of Blair's more unusual culinary choices.

As they finished off the pizza and another couple of beers, and after a few more Blair stories, both men finally fell silent. It was a comfortable silence, both men finally warm, relaxed, and full. Jim suggested that they move into the living room, where it was warmer from the roaring fireplace, and Simon happily agreed. At Jim's urging, Simon stretched out on the sofa to watch a game on TV.

Minutes later, the sound of soft snoring told Jim that Simon had succumbed to his exhaustion, just as Jim had hoped that he would. He tossed a blanket over his friend, turned the TV off, and headed up the stairs to his own bed. It took just moments for him to drift into sleep himself, his last waking thought that of wishing that Blair was asleep in his bedroom below him, rather than in a distant hospital bed.

---------------

A rustling sound from the living room, accompanied by a groan, warned Jim that Simon was on his way to awakening. He stood and walked over to the kitchen counter and poured the last of the first pot of coffee into his cup, and then started a pot of Simon's favorite. Fresh pastries were on the table, as he had already been up for some time and had decided that a quick trip to the bakery down the street was in order. He had also thrown their clothes into the laundry, guessing that they would be done before Simon got up and they were ready to leave.

He glanced at his watch as Simon finally roused himself to sit up on the sofa. Simon had been asleep for almost 10 straight hours, sleep badly needed after his ordeal with Quinn.

"Good morning, Simon. How are you feeling this morning?"

He was answered with another groan and a rustling as Simon worked to untangle himself from the blanket.

"Mmmm. Like I could sleep forever. Why didn't you wake me up, Jim?"

"Why? You needed the rest, and you didn't really need to go out and get cold and wet just for the trip across town to go back to bed."

"Yeah, well, thanks, I guess. But this sofa's just a little short for me. I think I feel every stiff muscle in my body right now, man." He punctuated his words with a huge yawn and stretch, then slowly padded towards the bathroom.

Jim poured a cup of coffee from the fresh pot and set the pile of pastries by Simon’s plate as he returned and sat at the table.

"Here's breakfast. Would you like some eggs, too?"

Simon sipped gratefully at his coffee. "No, that's all right, Jim. Besides, I know that you'll want to go and see Blair first thing." He sorted through the pastries, grinning when he found a pineapple danish that he knew Jim wouldn't have bought for himself.

"No, no hurry there. I called the hospital already this morning, he's still asleep, they said he's fine and it's better if he's not disturbed right now. I'll call back in a little bit. I'm sure he'll be awake by noon, though, I can't imagine him sleeping through another meal." He got some eggs out of the refrigerator. "I'm gonna scramble some up for me. You sure you don't want some?"

"If you're gonna fix some anyway, sure, throw in a couple for me. Thanks."

"No problem. Oh, and Simon, your clothes are in the dryer downstairs, they should be done in a little while."

They ate breakfast in companionable silence, both soaking up the comfort of home and routine after what they had been through. By midmorning, though, both were eager to get moving. Borrowing Blair's car, Jim dropped Simon off at the station to pick up his car, then drove on to the hospital. Even if Blair was still asleep, he could sit with him a while and bring him a few things to make his few days in the hospital more comfortable.

---------------

After checking in with the Nursing Station for an update on Blair's condition, Jim quietly entered the hospital room. Blair had awakened briefly a few times this morning, just long enough to reply to the nurse that he was okay, that he was "warm and dry," and then had fallen back to sleep. The first bed was empty, and he found Blair sound asleep in the second, closest to the window. Setting down the gym bag that he had brought, he sat down in the bedside chair. He was reassured by what he saw when he checked out the sleeping figure in the bed.

Extending his senses almost without thinking, he was pleased that Blair's breathing and heartbeat had returned to their regular, strong rhythms. His color had returned to normal, and his face was peaceful and relaxed in sleep. The bruising on his cheek had become darker, but he could see that the swelling there had almost gone. If not for the IVs still in his left arm, and the way that his leg was bulky with bandages and propped up under the covers, he could almost pretend that his partner was just asleep after a long day. But he wasn't. A shiver overtook him as he again considered what might have happened, and he quickly sent a prayer of thanks heavenward.

He carefully reached over to the bed and grasped Blair's hand, telling himself that he wanted to check out his body temperature, even as he inwardly knew that he wanted to reassure himself with the contact. Blair's skin was again warm with life, and his pulse vibrated strongly against his hand. He let go, letting the hand fall gently back onto Blair's chest, and allowing himself a deep sigh of relief as he settled back into the chair. Reaching over to the control for the TV, he found a game on TV and turned the sound way down, loud enough for sentinel hearing but not loud enough to awaken his partner. He settled back into the chair to wait for Blair to awaken.

A sound startled him awake, and he realized that he must have fallen asleep to the drone of the announcer doing the play-by-play on the TV. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, and again heard what had interrupted his dreams.

"Jim? Jim, are you asleep?"

He glanced over to the bed, to see a pair of sleepy blue eyes and a crooked grin facing him. He couldn't help but smile in response.

"No, I'm not asleep. Okay, maybe I was asleep. How are you doing, Chief? You were sleeping when I came in."

"I feel much better. Warm and dry. Tired, though, like I could sleep for a week."

"Well, you're close. You've slept through the night and most of the morning, it's almost noon."

"Really? Man, I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Part of it is probably the medication, Chief. They told me that you're on some pretty heavy antibiotics and some pain-killers in your IV."

Blair looked down at his arm, just then realizing that he was hooked up to an IV.

"Oh, right. That must be why my brain feels so fuzzy."

"And this is a new thing?" Jim couldn't resist the gibe.

"Ha, ha, you are so funny, man." Blair couldn't resist smiling at his partner in return. He pushed himself up and a little straighter in bed. "So how are you doing? How's Simon? What happened after they hauled me away? And I NEVER want to do that again, man, I'd rather crawl back than be hanging at the end of a little rope a mile up in the air…"

Jim grinned and interrupted as he reached over and pushed the bed controls to bring the head of the bed up for his partner.

"Whoa, Chief, take a breath somewhere. I'm fine. Simon's got quite a few bumps and bruises, and some sore ribs, thanks to Quinn, but he'll be fine. He said to tell you that he'll be by later to see you. He wanted to get in and give his statement, and make sure that everything goes by the book in getting Quinn back behind bars for good. I've gotta go in later and give my statement, too, and we'll need to get your statement as well, but it can wait for a day or two."

"Quinn beat Simon up? Man, that lowlife…" Blair sobered quickly at the thought.

"Yeah, he did, but not too badly. I made sure that Simon got checked out by a doctor last night when we got in, and he stayed the night at the loft. He's pretty stiff and sore, though."

"Quinn would have killed him, wouldn't he, if we hadn't gotten there in time?"

"Yeah, he would have. Just like Brody. Just like he was going to kill both of you if I hadn't blown up the explosives shack…" He spent a moment in quiet contemplation of the ugly possibilities of what might have happened.

"That was a hell of a shot, Jim, but I knew that you would stop him somehow."

Jim looked at the smiling face of his partner, unnerved at the raw trust and confidence that shone there. He wasn't sure that he could live up to that kind of expectation.

"It was a lucky shot, Chief. I'm just glad it worked."

"I never had a doubt, man. So Quinn and his girlfriend are locked up, for good this time, right?" As hard as he tried to cover it, Blair couldn't totally hide the slight quaver in his voice.

"Yes, Quinn is in maximum security lockup, the FBI took custody of both of them as soon as they arrived at the mine. I heard this morning that they counted the money, it's almost all there, so the Federal Reserve is pretty happy about how it turned out. And I also heard that they recovered the body of the other survivalist from a stream. He died from a gunshot wound, it must have been the shot that you heard."

He could see the shadow that dropped over Blair's face, and cursed himself for bringing it up. Reaching up and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, he waited as he saw conflicting emotions battle on that expressive face.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I mean, I guess I should be happy, they tried to kill us, but…if it wasn't for him, Rooker would have killed me. He probably saved my life." He looked down at his hands with a frown. Jim gave his shoulder another squeeze, then let his own hand drop.

"I'm glad he did, Chief," he said softly.

"Yeah, me too." Blair looked up into his face, their eyes meeting and an emotion briefly shared. He cleared his throat. "Who would have guessed that while we were tracking Quinn, that we'd run into another psychopath just as bad?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it? But the important thing is it's all over. Quinn is never going to get out again, Simon's safe and well, and you should be out of here in a few days as long as you behave yourself."

"Behave myself? Whatever could you mean, Jim?" A wry smile returned to Blair's face, and he waggled his eyebrows and tried to look his most innocent.

Jim chuckled, despite himself. Blair was indeed on his way to recovery, even if a little shaky from his experiences.

"You know exactly what I mean. Take your medicine, eat the delicious and nutritious hospital food, and don't give the nurses or doctors a hard time. And rest. Oh, by the way, I brought you a few things, some books and journals."

"Great! I was just thinking that I might recover from my injuries but die from boredom. Did you bring my laptop?"

"No, and I'm not going to. I meant what I said about getting your rest." Jim had sobered quickly at Blair's comment, it was still too close and too painful that he hadn't been sure whether Blair would survive his injuries.

Blair noticed the change in his partner's expression, and quickly spoke.

"Hey, Jim, it's all right. I'm all right. I know what you're thinking, man, and don't go there. I'll be fine."

"Well, next time, Chief, when I tell you to take a car back into town, just listen to me for a change, will you, and go?"

"No, I probably won't." He sat up straighter and looked him straight in the eye. "Look, Jim, you needed me to be with you. If you would have zoned out because you were focusing so intently on tracking Quinn and Simon, and I wasn't there to pull you out, both you and Simon would probably be dead now. Yeah, I got shot, and yeah, it sucks big time, but we're all gonna be all right. I'm your partner, and Simon is my friend. End of discussion."

"End of discussion? End of discussion? This from Blair "we-really-need-to-talk-about-this-Jim" Sandburg? Don't I have any say in this?"

"Not really. Jim, I know the risks of being your partner, and I knew and accepted them when I signed on as an observer to work with you. I know you feel bad about my getting hurt, but you also gotta know it's not your fault. It was my choice, and it still is. Let it go, man."

Jim began to open his mouth to argue, but decided against it when he saw the determined set of Blair's jaw and the no-nonsense expression on his face. He knew when he was beaten. This was an argument that he wasn’t going to win, at least not right now, and he didn't want Blair tiring himself out arguing. He would work on it again when Blair was fully recovered.

They were interrupted by the entrance of a nurse.

"Well, Mr. Sandburg, I see we're awake. Just in time for lunch, too. I'll just let the orderly know to bring you a tray." She turned and left the room, and Jim moved to the edge of his seat and got ready to leave.

"Well, Chief, I think that's my signal to leave. I've gotta go in to the station and make my statement, and you've got a gourmet lunch to look forward to. I'll be back later this afternoon. OK?"

"OK. And, Jim, tell Simon when you see him that I'm glad he's all right, will you?"

"Sure, Chief, but you can tell him yourself when he stops by. You take it easy, okay, and I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you, Jim."

He stood and walked towards the door, turning to look back once he was in the doorway. Blair was fiddling with the remote for the TV, probably trying to find some educational program, intently concentrating on the TV screen. Jim took a long look, needing to see again that he was well on his way to recovery, trying to replace the images of his battered and bloody body from the previous day. Blair looked up suddenly, spotting him in the doorway, and a brilliant smile split his face as he nodded in reassurance, then turned back to his task. Jim walked out of the hospital, his heart lighter.

---------------

"Are you sure that you know how to use those things?"

Jim stood back as Blair careened by him on his crutches. After four days in the hospital, Blair had been going stir crazy and had been waiting for hours for the doctor to give him a final once-over and release him. Now that they had arrived home and Jim had parked the car, Blair had practically jumped out. As glad as he was to see his partner back to his normal exuberant and energetic self, Jim was worried that he would re-injure himself by falling.

"Sure, they had me practice in the hospital." The grin on his face as he swung his way into the building was contagious, and Jim found himself smiling in response.

"Yeah, well, slow down a little, will ya? You’re making me nervous. You fall down and open those stitches, and it’s right back in the hospital. And I’m sure that Nurse Williams would love to see you again."

Blair immediately slowed to a normal walking pace. "Aww, Jim, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?"

"In a minute, Chief, in a minute. Besides, I think she’d like to adopt you." He couldn’t help but smile as his partner shivered at the thought.

"Oh, man, what a thought." The elderly nurse had thought that Blair was "adorable" and had taken every opportunity to be in his room during his stay and to give him extra attention. As nice as she was, Blair was not one for being smothered and was all too thrilled to be getting out of there. "I’ll behave, Jim, I’ll behave."

Jim chuckled as they entered the elevator. "I’ll hold you to that, Chief. I’m pretty sure I have her phone number here somewhere." The scowl on Blair’s face was priceless, and he was reminded how much he had missed his presence in the loft for the last few days. When the elevator doors opened, he gave his friend a pat on the back and then stood back and gave him a wide berth as they approached the loft door.

Opening the loft door, he took a deep breath and smiled. Blair swung his way through the door, only hitting the door frame once on the way through, and talking a mile a minute about how glad he was to be out of the hospital.

"...and, man, I will never complain about your cooking again. I was sure that, if I had to eat hospital food one more day, they’d have to remove my stomach." He stopped for a moment just inside the door to catch his breath and get out of his jacket. Jim gave him a hand with getting the jacket off, helping him with the crutches. He stood back as Blair suddenly came to a rare standstill, sniffing the air. "Uh, speaking of cooking, did you leave something on the stove? Something smells great." He turned towards the kitchen, then came to a standstill at what he saw there.

"Chief, are you coming or going? I can't close the door with you standing right there."

"Wha…" Blair stood and stared.

Simon Banks was standing at the stove, slowly stirring a pot that was simmering there. Usually impeccably dressed, he had his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and was wearing Jim's flowered apron. Jim could swear that he even heard him humming a tune as he cooked. He turned to the two men at the door.

"Hey Jim, Sandburg. It's about time you got here, everything's almost ready."

"Wha…" Blair repeated. He looked slowly back at Simon, then at the dining table. The table was set for three, there were a couple of covered dishes waiting, and there were even flowers for a centerpiece. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide with surprise.

"I think you said that already, Chief," Jim grinned. "Come on, move out of the doorway so I can close the door." He gave Blair a gentle push on the back and closed the door after he finally moved inside.

Simon turned off the flames under the simmering pot, and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. "Come on in and sit down. You've got a real treat coming."

Blair swung over and sat down at the table, still stunned, and wordlessly handed his crutches to Jim, who set them over in a corner.

"Simon, you need any help?" Jim took a seat as well.

"No, I think I've got it covered. Sandburg, cat got your tongue?" He growled at a still silent Blair.

"Uh…no, Simon, I just…Simon, what are you doing here?"

"I'm cooking, Sandburg, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"I can see that, Simon, I meant…"

Simon waved off his effort at explaining.

"Look, Blair, I appreciate what you did, helping Jim with tracking Quinn and rescuing me. You did a good job. And I'm sorry that you got shot in the process. This is my way of saying thank you, with one of the famous Banks' family dinners. All right?"

"Simon, that's…that's terrific. I…thanks."

Jim couldn't help but smile at Blair's still stunned expression, and at Simon's barely surpressed grin as he brought the food to the table and joined them there. Yes, they were all recovering. They would all be all right.

"OK, dig in, men."

"Yes, sir," Jim and Blair responded automatically, and did.

THE END