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 story was originally posted to the Sentinelangst List as a January Themefic. This one's for Carol.

Feedback is always welcome.

Finishing his second cup of coffee, Blair leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"That was a great breakfast, Jim, thanks.  You should cook your special hash more often, man."

"Thanks, Chief.  I like to save it for special days.  Like when we can sleep in, have three whole days off in a row, and the sun is shining in Cascade."

Blair stood and walked over toward the balcony, stretching lazily in the bright sunlight streaming through the doors.

"It does look great out.  You think my students can wait an extra day or two to get their papers back?  I hear the great outdoors calling my name."

"I think they'll survive.  What did you have in mind?" Jim queried.

"Well, I read that they just opened the next section of the Back Bay Bike Trail.  There's another five miles that they've cleared along that abandoned railway.  The new section is supposed to be real nice, almost entirely wooded, and it's right by the bird sanctuary.  I thought we might hit Charlie's to pick up sandwiches and stuff for lunch, then pack the bikes into the truck and go check it out."

"Great idea!  I could use some fresh air and exercise.  While you clean up the breakfast dishes, I'll get dressed and load up the bikes and our packs.  And, later, we can run by Video Master and pick out some videos for tonight."

"Excellent!  Let's get moving, then."

Forty-five minutes later, the truck pulled up in front of Charlie's Place and they piled out. 

"What sounds good for lunch?"

Blair pulled out his wallet and peered inside.  "Well, if you can spot me for now, the veggie pita on wheat, some fruit, and some Sobe.  Hey, while you're ordering, I can run over to the bank and get some cash.  It'll only take a minute, then I can pay for the videos later."

"Okay.  It looks like Charlie's is already busy, so it'll probably take me a few minutes, anyway."

Turning into the doorway of the store, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Blair headed off down the street, his bank a few blocks away.

Finally reaching the counter to place their order, Jim reeled off the list of items for their picnic lunch.  Annie, the girl behind the counter, offered a couple of suggestions to add to the list, having served the two of them many a time.  Agreeing on the final selections, Jim paid and walked over to the window to watch and wait for Blair to join him.

Moments later, he was startled to see a police cruiser come barreling down the street, light bar flashing but no siren on.  The cruiser turned a corner and flew out of sight, but Jim could hear the tires screeching to a halt close by.  Focusing his senses, he could hear the powerful roar of another police engine approaching several blocks away.

Reaching behind his back for his gun, he called out briefly as he exited the store.

"Hang on to that order, Annie, I gotta go check something out.  I'll be right back."

Jogging carefully down the street to the corner, he slowed and peered around the corner before proceeding.  Halfway down the block a police cruiser was stopped sideways in the street, blocking traffic, and two uniformed officers were crouched behind it.

Jim stayed low and ran up to join the officers, pulling out his badge as he approached.

"Detective Ellison, Major Crimes.   What's happening here?"

The officer on the left, a nervous young man sporting a military-style haircut, glanced briefly at Jim's shield before returning his focus down the block.

"We got a silent alarm from First Federal.  We were closest, so we were told to block the street off quietly and wait for Lieutenant Miles to arrive and take command."

Peering over the hood of the car, Jim focused his hearing on the bank building halfway down the block.  Tuning out the pounding of his own heart, afraid of what he might hear, he listened in to the voices inside.

"…let's go!  Time to get out of here…"

"…all right, all right!  You all stay on the floor, and no one has to get hurt…"

Seconds later, the front door cracked open, a figure in black clothing and a dark ski mask looking out.  Quickly spotting the police car, he ducked back inside with a curse.

"…someone must have hit the alarm, damn it!  There's a cop car up the street…"

"…grab a hostage and let's go!…"

Fearful screams shattered the quiet, setting Jim's nerves even further on edge, then the sound that Jim had been dreading to hear.

"…come on, man, leave the girl alone!  Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?…"

It was Blair's voice, high and tight with fear.

"…like you, short stuff?  Shut up and…"

"…just grab him and let's go before the whole neighborhood is crawling with cops…"

A thud, more cursing, and more shrieks rang out, then the door opened again.

This time two men came out, both dressed in dark clothing and wearing masks.  Each had a large duffel bag, a gun…and a hostage.

They backed down the sidewalk toward the alley, the sound of an engine revving to life behind them.  One was holding a older woman in front of him, practically having to prop her up as she cried and screamed, barely able to keep her feet as she stumbled frantically backwards.

The second man held an all-too-familiar figure in front of him, one arm across his throat, pulling him along.  Blair's eyes were wide with fear, one beginning to swell as a trace of blood trickled from a cut on his brow.  Gasping for breath as he was yanked back, he spotted Jim and riveted his gaze upon him.

Jim stood, aiming his weapon carefully, the two uniformed officers rising to join him.

"Cascade PD.  Let them go!  Don't make it any worse for yourselves.  Drop the weapons and let them go!"

The robber holding the woman laughed and jerked her roughly.

"Not a chance, cop.  Back off or you're gonna have two dead bodies on your hands."

The car pulled to the end of the alley, and the men backed up to it.  The driver jumped out and grabbed the duffels, tossing them into the back seat and quickly climbing back behind the wheel.

"You two get in the back, hurry up!" the man holding the terrified woman ordered.

Jim could see the driver turn and point a gun at Blair, as he was shoved through the open door into the back seat, the robber climbing in beside him.  The other robber shoved the door closed behind them, then backed into the front passenger seat, holding the crying and trembling woman in front of him.

"You follow us, and you're gonna be picking up this guy in pieces," the passenger shouted, then shoved the woman away from the car with a hard kick to her back. "Go!  Go!" he shouted and slammed his door closed as the car began to move.  The woman stumbled a couple of steps forward before losing her balance entirely and falling face-first to the pavement.

The car peeled out of the alley, tires smoking as it accelerated, and raced off down the block in the opposite direction from Jim and the officers.  Jim ran around the police car and pursued on foot, ducking and weaving as a hand extended out of the passenger side window and shots were fired.

He glared after the retreating vehicle, staring through the rear window.  Blair was staring back at him through the filthy glass, the crimson trickle of blood stark against his pale face.  His expression combined both fear and hope, and Jim could almost feel his trust, could almost hear the unspoken words:  "…find me, Jim..." 

Jim couldn't tear his eyes away, almost zoning on the sight of Blair rapidly disappearing down the street.  His focus was suddenly interrupted by a crash and shrieking of metal, as the getaway car plowed into the front bumper of an approaching squad car, slowed only momentarily before resuming its careening path down the street.

The last thing he saw, before the noise of the crash impaled his sensitive ears, was the sight of Blair being thrown against the door of the car by the impact of the collision.  The vision of Blair crashing into the door, then crumpling out of sight, was burned into his brain as he dropped to his knees.

"Blair…" he groaned as he slumped to the pavement, holding his head in pain. 

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

Barely holding onto consciousness, his head, neck and shoulder aching from the impact with the car window, Blair groaned as he tried to push himself up from the floor of the car.  His efforts were met by a kick to the side of his head that made the darkness beckon again, then a heavy foot was planted on his back, forcing him back down.

"Stay down, keep your fucking face down!"  An angry voice rang out above him.  "Can't this thing go any faster?"

"Shut up, Jakes!  I'm driving as fast as I can.  What the hell did you bring him along for?  We don't need any extra baggage."

"You saw the cops, we had to do something or they'd have cut us down in the street."

"Are we being followed?  See anyone behind us?"

The foot on his back shifted, grinding into his sore shoulder.

"No.  Looks like we're clear."

Blair rocked against the back of the front seat, then against the back seat as the car turned several times, tires squealing on the corners and the frame vibrating beneath him as the driver pushed the engine to it's limits.  At first he tried to pay attention to the directions of the turns and the time in between, trying to form a mental map of their route so that he could identify their location when they stopped and he got away, if he got away.  After a while he gave up, the effort making his head pound even worse and the smell of exhaust and the heavy vibration making him queasy.

"Now we're out of town, lets dump this guy before he can identify where we're going."

The foot on his back suddenly disappeared, and hands jerked him up onto the seat.  His head and stomach spun with the sudden movement as he was shoved toward the door.

"Open the door and jump out!  Now!"

Blair looked out the window, the scenery flashing by at a frightening speed.

"Come on, guys, just slow down and I'll get out, and you can be on your way."

He looked up to see a gun aimed directly at his face.

"You'll jump now, or I'll shoot you and throw you out, damn it.  Now jump!"

His heart in his throat, Blair released the door latch.  Spotting the grassy roadside they were currently passing, he guessed that his chances were as good as they were going to get.  Pushing the door open, he planted his feet on the doorframe and jumped as hard as he could.

Hitting the ground with far too much velocity, Blair thought he could hear and feel a sickening pop in one knee as his legs buckled and momentum threw him down the wooded slope.  Trying frantically at first to grab bushes and small trees to slow his headlong flight, all he accomplished was shredding the skin on his hands and maybe breaking or dislocating a finger or two.  He finally wrapped his arms around his head and tried to curl into a ball to minimize the damage.  A seeming eternity later, he bounced hard off the trunk of a tree, knocking the breath from his lungs and all conscious thought from his mind.

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

"Look, Simon, I said I'm fine.  I'm fine."

Jim grimaced at the paramedic as he finished bandaging the shallow wound on his left bicep.  He'd been so focused on following Blair that he hadn't even noticed that he'd been hit.  Simon had pointed out the minor but steadily bleeding injury after helping him to his feet.  His ears still rang slightly from the crash, his senses wide open to track Blair when the shriek of tearing metal and crack of shattering plastic had rung out.  A lingering headache painfully reminded him of the sensory overload that had dropped him momentarily.

"You didn't look so fine when you were face down in the street, Jim," Simon admonished.

"Yeah, well I'm fine now," Jim growled as he stood and put his jacket back on, easing it over the bandage on his arm.  "What's being done to find Sandburg?"

"We put out an APB with the description of the car and their direction when last seen.  We're interviewing everyone inside the bank, to see if the perps said anything that might give us a clue to who we're dealing with and where they might be going.  We'll have a chopper up in the air shortly to help with the search.  We're also spreading the APB to the County Sheriff's Department and the National Park police, in case they leave the city limits.  Right now, that's about all we can do."

Jim began striding toward the alley by the bank, leaving Simon to follow him in curiosity.  When he knelt in the alley, looking all around and sniffing the air, Simon knelt beside him.

"Anything, Jim?"

After a few moments, Jim stood, reaching up with one hand to massage a throbbing temple.

"Not really.  There's a faint smell of exhaust that I'm guessing is from the getaway car, it smells like their engine's burning oil.  It's too windy for me to track the car by smell, but it may help if we can get close."  After a quick glance around at the scene, he turned back toward his truck.  "I'm gonna take off in the direction they left in and see what happens.  Keep me posted, Simon."

"You got it, Jim," Simon assured with a slap to Jim's uninjured arm.

Jogging back to the truck, lunch long forgotten, Jim turned the engine over and pulled away from the curb with a squeal of rubber, off in search of his partner.  He hoped that Blair would be found alive, but knew that every passing moment lessened that possibility.  The odds were not good for hostages taken away from a scene by armed criminals.  If only Blair could beat the odds just one more time…

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

Slowly coming to the realization that he was alive and no longer plummeting down a hillside, Blair struggled slowly to full consciousness.  Opening his eyes cautiously, he found himself lying on his back under a tall tree, shading him from the sunlight.  Brushing the hair off his face with one hand, he wondered how long he had been unconscious, if it was already late afternoon or even the next day.

Moving his arms to press himself up to a sitting position, aches and pains made themselves suddenly known with a vengeance.  The scraped skin on his palms and forearms burned as he pushed down into the forest floor, easing himself slightly sideways to lean back against a fallen and rotting log.  Ribs were painful where they touched the wood, but he doubted that he could stay upright on his own.  Examining his hands, none of the scratches and scrapes seemed serious, although the swollen condition of one finger and thumb made him wince.  They looked broken or dislocated for sure.

Checking down the length of his body, he looked almost as bad as he felt.  His clothing was muddy and torn, revealing bloody scrapes through some of the tears.  One shoe was missing all together.  Reaching down, he carefully felt at the knee that had popped when he hit the ground, and could feel substantial swelling and the heat of bruising beneath his jeans.  Just great, he thought, now what?

He looked back up the hillside that he had tumbled down.  Although he could tell where he had crashed through the foliage, he was frustrated to see that it was unlikely that he would be seen from the roadside where he had jumped.  A searcher would have to be standing in just the right place, and know right where to look, to have any chance of spotting him.  And there was no way he could climb back up the hill with his knee in such bad shape.

Sighing, he looked in the other direction.  He appeared to be about three-quarters of the way down the hillside, and there was a road at the bottom of the hill.  Grinning, he pumped one fist briefly in victory.  All he had to do was get down there and wait for some kind soul to drive by and rescue him.  Hell, he could crawl if he had to, it couldn't be more than a hundred yards or so.  He began looking around for a sturdy stick that he could use for a cane or walking stick to help him make his way down the hill.

An hour or more later, he slumped down to sit on another fallen log, lightheaded and gasping painfully for breath.  The road was only about ten feet away, golden and inviting in the sunlight. 

The trip down the hill had been excruciatingly slow, the sharp angle of the slope and the pain and unsteadiness in his damaged knee threatening to topple him with each step.  He reached around to gingerly touch his ribs in the back, pulling his hand back wet with blood.  Only after he had started moving had he discovered that he was bleeding, feeling a warm and wet trickle running down his back, but he couldn't see the injury and just did the best he could to not aggravate it further.

Taking another deep breath, wincing at the ache in his chest from damaged ribs, he forced himself up to trudge the last few feet to the promised land.  Reaching the edge of the pavement, he stopped and leaned heavily on his stick, muscles trembling from exhaustion.

Slowly raising his weary head, Blair looked up and down the road, disappointed that he couldn't see any signs of habitation nearby.  Not a single house or barn was within sight.  Oh well, he thought, I don't have the strength to walk to one anyway.  He looked up and down the road again, watching and listening for any approaching vehicle.  Locating the nearest stump, he limped over and settled himself to wait for deliverance.

Blair suddenly startled from a daze to find that the sunlight was fading.  He must have drifted into sleep while waiting on the roadside.  Looking around, he guessed that at least an hour, possibly two, had elapsed without a single vehicle passing him on the road.  Worried, he looked up and down the road again.  He looked more closely at the road surface itself, this time noticing the weeds growing in the cracks on the pavement and the moss growing on some shady stretches.

Realization dawned that he could be sitting next to an abandoned roadway, waiting for traffic that might never arrive.  He shivered, the lingering warmth of the day fading with the sunlight, hoping that it was not also a sign that shock was setting in.  If there was ever a time that he wished that he always had his cell phone on him, this was it.  Just the thought of dialing and hearing Jim's terse "Ellison" on the other end made him suddenly desperate to get back to the loft and it's atmosphere of warmth and safety.

Mentally kicking himself, he sat up straighter and looked around more carefully.  He couldn't give in to his body's demands to just succumb to his pain and exhaustion, to just curl up and sleep.  If he was going to get out of here, he thought, it looked like he might have to find a way to do it himself.

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

Leaning forward, Jim slowly let his head down to rest on his forearms.  There had to something else that could be done to find Sandburg, there just had to.

He had driven around for hours, searching for any trace of the getaway car or his partner.  Despite the APB, despite the many cars, foot patrols, and the chopper making continuous sweeps, there had been no sign.  He had finally driven back to the station, his head pounding from the strain of pushing his senses to the maximum, seeking out the slightest hint of their whereabouts.  It was as if they had dropped off the face of the earth.

A warm hand dropped onto his shoulder, and he raised his head.  Henri stood in front of him, holding up a cup of coffee.

"You look like you could use this, man."  He handed Jim the cup of coffee, and extended his other hand as well.  Dropping a couple of aspirin into Jim's palm, he smiled and patted Jim again on the shoulder.  "Hang in there, Jim, we're gonna find him."

"Thanks, H."  Jim swallowed the tablets and washed them down with a large gulp of coffee.  Leaning back in his chair for a moment, he finally stood and walked over to Simon's office, knocking on the door and letting himself in before his boss could respond.

Looking up, Simon waved a hand to gesture him in even as he continued talking on the phone.  Jim walked over and stared out the windows, watching the last rays of the sun color the landscape with orange and pink hues.  On another day he might enjoy the display, but today it felt as if the sun was setting on any chances of Blair coming out of this alive.

His musings were interrupted by sudden excitement in Simon's voice.

"…where?  We're on our way."  Slamming down the phone, Simon surged to his feet.  "Jim, someone may have found Sandburg.  Let's go, I'll drive and I'll fill you in on the way."

They jogged down the stairs to the garage, not wanting to wait for the sluggish elevator, and ran to Simon's car and got in.  Not bothering to secure his seat belt, Simon started the car up and tore out of the garage, siren blaring.

"Come on, Simon.  Where are we going?  How is he?"

"A phone company repairman was checking out the lines near Brennan's Annex.  They'd gotten a number of complaints from customers that they were getting interruptions on their lines.  He was trying to find the problem line when they got a call from an old Navy man, saying that he could swear that the sound on the line was an SOS being tapped out.  They pretty much ignored him, until the lineman found someone up on one of their poles.  He called dispatch, to get a unit out there, and the dispatcher recognized the description.  It sounds like Sandburg."

Jim held on with both hands and ignored the way Simon was swerving in and out of traffic.  Brennan's Annex wasn't that far away, and they would be there in minutes.

"What would Sandburg be doing up a phone pole?"

Simon cursed under his breath as he just missed a little old lady in an ancient Rambler.

"So he could tap out an SOS on the phone lines?  The street that he was found on is a dead end now, since they finished that section of Route 17.  Don't get your hopes up too high, Jim.  We don't know for sure that it's Sandburg."

Both men remained silent for the rest of their ride, only the wail of the siren filling their ears.  Turning onto Wenatchee Street, Jim could just see a truck and a patrol car ahead of them, a spotlight aimed up toward the top of a telephone pole.

Barely visible in the beam of the light was a bedraggled figure, hanging motionless near the top of the pole.  It took only a second for Jim to identify it.

"It's Sandburg," he gasped.

Pulling up to the scene, Jim jumped out of the car even before it stopped moving and ran to the base of the pole.

"Has anyone called an ambulance?" he shouted.

"No, I just got here," answered the uniformed officer staring up the pole.

"Call it in now!  You," he turned and pointed toward the telephone lineman, "I need a safety belt for me and an extra for him.  And if you've got any rope that I can use to help steady us on the way down, I need that too.  I'm gonna go up and get him."

"Jim, why don't you wait for the rescue squad?  They'll be here in a few minutes."

"I don't want to wait.  He's unconscious.  If he regains consciousness and starts moving around, he could fall.  I've got climbing experience and medic experience, so it's gonna be me and it's gonna be now."

Simon stepped back, shaking his head.  Jim grabbed the safety belt from the lineman's outstretched hand and secured it firmly around his middle.  Clipping an extra belt to a ring at the side of his belt, he slung a coil of rope around his neck and one shoulder and walked back to the pole.  Taking a deep breath, he reached up and began climbing.

Not bothering to secure his safety belt to the pole on his way up, he was entirely focused on the limp figure above him.  Blair remained motionless, although Jim could see the shallow movement of his chest as he approached.

Coming up behind Blair, he called down to the men below.

"He's alive, just unconscious.  I'll have him down in a minute."

Pulling up right behind his partner, Jim secured his safety belt to the pole.  Reaching around Blair, he fastened the extra safety belt around him and secured it as well.  Once he'd done so, he unfastened Blair's jeans belt.  Blair had taken his own belt off and wrapped it around the pole, fastening it through his belt loops in front, fashioning an impromptu safety belt of his own.

"Way to go, Chief," Jim murmured.  "Just hang in there, and I'll have you down soon."

Reaching in front of both of them, he loosened Blair's hand where it was lying between his body and the pole.  Still gripped tightly in his right fist was his open Swiss Army knife, obviously what he had used on the telephone line to make a signal.  Jim closed it and dropped it into his pocket, then quickly ran his hands over Blair's body, arms and legs to see if there were any serious injuries that he could make worse by moving him.

The worst injuries that he could spot quickly were Blair's swollen knee and the bloody puncture on his back.  Deciding that getting him down and to medical attention as quickly as possible was more important than slow caution, he proceeded to grab the rope and tie the line onto the pole so he could let the two of them down to the ground.

Detaching Blair's safety belt from the pole and instead attaching their two belts together, he let Blair's body fall back against his own, legs hanging down between his and Blair's head falling back against his chest.  Unhooking his own belt from the pole, he looped the rope around his back and began to step down towards the ground, easing his way with the rope as he stretched each foot back to the next spike in the side of the pole.

Jim ignored the trembling of his leg and arm muscles, not used to the additional weight that he was fully supporting.  He focused on placing each foot carefully, glad that he had his hiking boots on with the heavy Vibram soles that seemed to grip the metal spikes firmly.  Simon's voice drifted up to him from below, offering words of encouragement, but the most encouraging sound was the approaching wail of an ambulance's siren.

"Okay, Jim, you're almost there.  We're gonna reach up and support you, and be sure that Sandburg doesn't hit the ground hard on the way down."

As good as his word, moments later Jim felt Simon's broad hands on his legs and then his back as he reached the ground, other hands supporting Blair's body as well.  Unhooking their safety belts, he helped the others lower Blair to a blanket that had been spread on the ground.  He carefully unfastened Blair's safety belt and pulled it off, tossing it off to the side, his own following a moment later.

"What the hell happened to him?" he heard Simon growl out, echoing his own thoughts as they looked over their unconscious friend.

Blair seemed to be half covered in dried mud and blood, his clothing torn in places and one shoe missing.  His left side was bloody, as was a cut over his left eyebrow.  Practically every visible surface was scraped, bruised, or both.  Jim brushed the tangled and matted hair off Blair's face then laid a hand gently on his chest, feeling the shallow breaths there and the fluttering pulse.

"He's really cold.  He may have hypothermia, and who knows how much blood he's lost."  He looked up as the ambulance rolled to a stop and the paramedics climbed out.  "Over here!  Move it, he needs help now!"

Simon grasped his arm and pulled him out of the way.

"Come on, Jim, let them work.  We want them to be able to transport him as quickly as possible, so let's stay out of their way."

The paramedics worked quickly and efficiently.  Also concerned about blood loss, shock and hypothermia, they took only enough time to secure Blair's damaged knee in an air splint, apply a pressure bandage to the wound on his back, and fasten a cervical collar around his neck before preparing him for transport on a backboard.  Simon grabbed Jim as he was about to follow the gurney into the back of the ambulance.

"Let them go, Jim.  Come on, let's get in my car and run interference for them.  We'll get him to the hospital in record time."

Reluctantly following Simon to his car, Jim was encouraged as they pulled around the ambulance and lead them, sirens blaring, back into the city and the trauma unit at Cascade General.

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

Jim looked up, the sound of someone clearing their throat in front of him rousing him from his stupor.

"Jennie, hi, I'm sorry I didn't hear you."

"That's okay.  I just brought you a cup of coffee.  The good stuff that they have in the doctors' lounge, not that crap that they keep out here for visitors."  She handed it over with a knowing smile.

"Thanks, I appreciate it.  You're not gonna get in trouble for this, are you?"

"No way.  Doctor Wallace suggested it.  He's working on Blair himself, you know, even though it should have been Doctor Fitzgerald's case."

"That's great.  Thanks.  Any word on Blair?"

"Doctor Wallace said to be patient, Blair's pretty banged up, but it's looking like he'll be okay.  He'll come out and talk to you as soon as he gets a chance."

"Thanks again."  Jim stood and gave Jennie's arm a little squeeze before she left to return to her job at the Emergency Room admissions desk.

Megan walked over to join him.

"Any news, mate?"

"Jennie told me that Dr. Wallace said Blair should be okay."

"Thank goodness!  So you wanna go and get something to eat?  It's been a long day, and we'll come right back."

"Thanks, Megan, but I'll wait until I talk with Dr. Wallace.  Listen, you don't need to hang around with me.  Why don't you go ahead and take off, it's getting late.  Thanks for coming, though."

"I think I'll just stick around until you talk with the doctor, then we'll get supper.  You gotta eat sometime."

"Okay, thanks."

Almost an hour later, Dr. Wallace came out to talk with him about Blair.

"Blair's going up to surgery any minute now.  He had a puncture wound to his back that we need to clean and stitch up.  I don't think it hit anything major, but we'll check it out carefully.  He had lots of scrapes and bruises, a broken finger and dislocated thumb, a couple of broken ribs, and a badly sprained knee.  Maybe a minor concussion.  We're gonna wait for a day or two to operate on his knee, we don't want to keep him in surgery too long tonight, at least until his fluids are back up and we've gotten some antibiotics in him. 

"Has he regained consciousness?  Do you know what happened to him?"

"He hasn't really been coherent so far.  I'm sure he'll be able to talk to you tomorrow, though, so why don't you go home and come back in the morning.  I doubt that he'll be awake before then.  He's been through the ringer, he's gonna be sleeping quite a bit for the next few days."

"Thanks, Doc, thanks for taking good care of him."

With a smile and a brief wave, the doctor headed back down the hallway into the treatment rooms.  Jim turned to find a smiling Megan right behind him.

"That's great news, Jim.  Come on, let's go eat and celebrate.  Simon's gonna come along too, as soon as he gets off the phone."

"Sounds good."

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

Setting the magazine down on his lap, Jim stretched and looked at his watch again. He'd been waiting for Blair to wake up for a couple of hours now, and was considering going out to scrape up a cup of coffee and a snack when he heard a small groan from the bed.

"Hey, Chief, are you back with us?"

Leaning over the bed, he smiled as Blair's eyes fluttered open, dazed for a moment before focusing on Jim's face.

"Hey, Jim," he whispered out with a faint grin.

"It's about time.  I thought you were going to sleep all day.  How are you feeling?"

"Um, kinda floaty."  He glanced around, spotting the IV line trailing down to the back of his hand.  "Must be on the good stuff.  So, how am I?  And how many nurses have you frightened to tears?"

"Whatever could you mean?" Jim replied, trying to put on his most innocent expression, failing miserably and lapsing into a chuckle at the knowing look on his partner's face.  "No new nurses this trip, I'm sorry to say.   All the nurses seem to know that my bark is worse than my bite.  And the doctor says that you'll be here a few more days, you got pretty banged up.  They're planning to operate on your knee tomorrow, but I'm told that they should be able to repair it with arthroscopy instead of major surgery. 

Blair tried to raise himself up to look at his knee, groaning as painful muscles and ribs made themselves known.

"Here, let me raise the head of the bed a little for you."  Jim grabbed the control and raised the head of the bed a few degrees, until Blair waved a hand at him to stop.  He sat on the edge of the bed.

"That's good, thanks.  Man, that sucks.  So much for our bike trip."

"There's plenty of time for that later.  I'm just glad that you weren't hurt worse.  So tell me, what happened to you?  We found you hanging from a telephone pole last night, unconscious and looking like something the cat dragged in.  What happened?"

Blair let his head fall back on the pillow and his eyes close for a moment before replying.

"Well, the robbers were driving like hell, and all of a sudden they decided that they didn't want a passenger any more.  They made me jump out of the car, didn't even slow down or anything.  Jakes was gonna shoot me if I didn't jump, so it wasn't like I had any good choices at the time." 

"Jakes?"

"Yeah, that's what one of the guys called the other one.  Anyway, after I jumped out of the car, I fell down the hillside and got a bit banged up on the way…"

"A bit…" Jim huffed.  "A bit."

"Whatever…when I came to, I saw that I was most of the way down the hill and managed to get the rest of the way down, to the road.  Unfortunately, it must have been an abandoned road or blocked off or something, because I never did see a car."

"You were on Wenatchee Street, down towards the dead end."

"No wonder!  Anyway, when I didn't see anybody or any cars, I figured that I'd have to find my own way to get help."

"How did you end up at the top of a telephone pole?  Especially with your fear of heights and all."

"Don't remind me," Blair answered, looking distinctly queasy at the thought.  "Well, I was thinking about how much I wished I had a cell phone with me, and I noticed the telephone pole across the street.  I remembered my old radio and telegraph experiments when I was a kid, and then it struck me!"

"What struck you, Chief?  I don't get it."

"Well, I *was* a science nerd, Jim, as hard as it is to imagine now.  I built a little radio set, and learned how to use Morse Code like they used in the old telegraph days.  When I spotted the telephone pole and telephone lines, I figured that I could scrape the coating off a line with my Swiss Army knife, then use it like a telegraph to tap out the Morse Code for help.  SOS."  He grinned in satisfaction.  "Someone must have figured it out, but I guess I passed out before the cavalry arrived."

"Unbelievable."  Jim shook his head slowly.

"It worked, didn't it?  So, has anyone gotten a lead on the bad guys yet?"

"No, we didn't even have a lead until now.  Are you sure that Jakes was the name you heard?"

"Yes.  Jakes, not Jake."

"We'll see what we can find."  Jim mused for a moment, trying to connect any memories to the name Jakes, but stopped when he saw that Blair was fading quickly.  "Hey, Chief, I think I'm gonna head back to the station and look up Jakes.  You gonna be okay?"

Blair grinned at him, as best he could in the middle of a yawn.  "Yeah, I'm good.  I think I'm gonna crash for a while, though.  I feel like I could sleep for a week.  Hey, bring me back something edible later, okay?" 

"You got it."  He patted Blair softly on the arm as he climbed off the bed and walked to the door, turning and looking back once in the doorway.  "I'm glad you're gonna be all right, Chief."

"Yeah, me too.  See you later, Jim," Blair answered as he settled back into his pillows, a small grin on his face as he closed his eyes.

Jim matched that grin with a larger one of his own as he headed out of the hospital, a spring in his step now that he knew that his partner would truly be all right.  Now to find Jakes and his cronies, and to make them pay.  He picked up his step as he headed to his truck.

THE END