Title & Summary -
Impressions - A hit and run hits too close to home.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.

Note from the Author: Takes place after TSbyBS. Many thanks to TSL.

Impressions
By Jael Lyn
Spring 2002

"We should be doing something."

"Hmmm. Like what?"

"I don't know - something." Jim laid the paper aside and leaned his head back lazily. He was dressed in a ratty pair of Cascade PD sweats that were too worn even for working out in. His roommate was draped over the opposite couch, also clad in sweats, with his section of the newspaper drooping onto the floor. Blair had drifted into a half-sleep at least ten minutes earlier.

"This is pathetic, Sandburg. We didn't even make breakfast."

Blair rolled onto his side to get a better view. "Maybe because we didn't get up until noon?"

"That's what I mean. Only lovesick teenage boys sleep till noon. It's disgusting."

"Jimmm," Blair whined, stifling a yawn. He'd raised his head just barely enough to see his partner across the room. "We worked almost twenty-four hours straight. When you don't go to bed until 5AM, you get a special dispensation. It's in the policy manual."

"You are so full of it. We shouldn't waste what little time off that we have. That IS in the policy manual."

Blair let his head drop back onto the couch dramatically. "Don't be so military. Right now, all I want to get out of my first day off in weeks is complete sloth. No stakeouts. No calls. No laundry or worthwhile projects." He burrowed his shoulders into the couch cushions.

Jim studied his naked toes. He'd been barefoot when he stumbled down the stairs, and now his feet were cold. Socks, however, involved going up the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Blair mumbled, without opening his eyes.

"My feet are cold, and I don't want to go upstairs."

Blair cracked one eye open. "If it didn't take so much effort, I'd jump for joy at the chance YOU might turn the heat up. You never get cold."

Jim sighed, and after tossing an afghan onto his snoozing partner, crossed the room and flicked up the thermostat.

"You're up," came a muffled voice from under the afghan. "Obviously, you should go out and get us something to eat."

Jim couldn't help chuckling. "I've been duped. You planned this," he said accusingly.

"You've got the body, I've got the brains." The uneven lump, still prostrate on the couch, squirmed and yawned again.

"Go back to sleep, Sandburg," Jim said, patting the lump on the shoulder, or somewhere close to it. He headed for the stairs. "I'll wake you up when I get back."

********

Blair was hovering in the delicious zone between sleeping and waking. He was curled up under the afghan, the heat was on, and every inch of his tired body was warm. He'd completely lost track of time. Jim was still gone, but it could have been two minutes or two hours. He wasn't worried, and he had no intention of letting consciousness break through for something as meaningless as checking the clock.

It felt so good to drift. Cascade PD had been hit by the flu, and hit hard. In Major Crime, Sandburg/Ellison were the only team with both members still standing. Besides managing their own cases, they'd been pulling stakeout duty for their colleagues too ill to manage it. There weren't enough hours in the day, and certainly not enough sleep in the night. Both he and Jim were flirting with a serious bout of illness themselves if they didn't get some down time.

It was at least the third ring before Blair realized the sound penetrating his brain was the phone, and not some part of his waking dream. He flailed at the afghan and clambered across the couch. Snatching up the receiver, he hoped whoever was calling was still there.

********

Jim leaned his head against the driver's side window, too content to be irritable with the traffic. If Sandburg was going to insist on a lazy day, then he was going to enjoy it right along with him. Driving clear across town for your partner's favorite almond croissants was definitely out of the routine. Still waiting for traffic to move, he shook open the top of the white bag that rested on the seat beside him and breathed in deeply. Scenting freshly baked pastries was a pretty enjoyable way to be stuck in traffic.

He checked the light again, and realized it still wasn't his turn. He pulled his mocha out of the drink carrier. He had time for a few satisfying sips before he'd need both hands to drive again. It was easier when Sandburg was in the truck. He could always shove things his direction if things got busy.

Without warning, the world went gray. Sounds and smells faded as if they had been sucked out of the air. Jim shivered with a chill that ran the length of his backbone. Just as suddenly, everything returned to normal. He blinked in confusion, realizing that his lane of traffic was starting to move. The light had finally changed, and he hadn't even seen it.

Somehow, the loft was too far away. Jim recklessly pulled into another lane of traffic and speeded up. Every moment was precious. He didn't know what was happening, but he needed to be home. Why? Sandburg? For some unknown reason, that didn't seem right, but the sense of urgency was very clear.

It wasn't in Jim Ellison's nature to panic, but he wouldn't have denied the edge of fear in his gut. He couldn't explain these little flashes that kept happening. It was a recent development. Because he didn't understand them, Jim dreaded them. The mystical, weird part of being a sentinel was definitely Sandburg's area, not his. Despite his misgivings, he had learned over time that he needed to pay attention when they occurred, and act accordingly.

He switched from the leisurely side streets and headed for the freeway. The flasher in the truck was already on before he hit the entrance ramp at top speed.

********

"Sandburg!?" Jim was slightly out of breath from taking the stairs two at a time.

"Right here, Jim." Blair was fully dressed, and was lacing up his hiking boots. "We need to go." He stood up and took the bag from Jim's hand.

"I had one of those weird things again. What's wrong?"

"Give me your keys," Blair said in a low voice. His face was serious, and his eyes looked pained. When Jim didn't answer or move, he reached over and gently pried the keys from his unresisting fingers. "We need to go to Cascade General. Sally was in a traffic accident, and they can't locate her family."

"Sally? She...how bad..." Jim just couldn't articulate the words.

Blair turned him by the elbow and started him walking. "She has your dad's name and number in her wallet as her emergency contact. The officers who responded at the scene recognized the name and called here." Blair stabbed at the elevator button, and inwardly cursed as the temperamental thing groaned to life somewhere below him. Jim still hadn't managed a complete thought. "Jim? You with me here? Try to focus."

"I'm okay," Jim said hesitantly. They stepped into the elevator. "Did they say anything else?"

"It didn't sound good." Blair paused, as if debating whether he should add more. "I think they almost lost her before the EMT's got her to the hospital."

"Oh my God."

Jim left the elevator at a dead run, and they dashed out to the truck. Blair took the wheel and drove the all-too-familiar route to Cascade General as fast as he could. Jim never uttered another sound.

********

"I'm sorry, gentlemen. You're not family. I can't discuss Mrs. Wong's condition with you."

Blair flipped his badge out. "Look, we're not just casual drop-ins here. William Ellison is Sally's employer and her emergency contact. He's out of the city - Jim's just standing in for his dad."

The nurse shook her head firmly. "That still doesn't mean I can..."

"She raised me. She's the closest thing to a mother I've got."

Something in Jim's tone brought the argument to a sudden halt. He'd been silent up until then. Blair was seriously beginning to worry that his friend was in shock. The nurse didn't answer. She was staring at Jim.

Jim's voice was strained and intense, as if each word came at a fearful price. "Stop jerking us around. Her husband died last year, and her children live on the east coast. Unless you want her to be completely alone until I can track them down, quit blowing hospital policy at us." He faltered for a moment. "Sally doesn't deserve to be hurt and alone."

"Go up to ICU," the nurse said slowly. "I'll call up and let them know."

The doctors were not encouraging. Blair found it hard to concentrate through their explanations as he and Jim stood grim-faced in the family waiting area. In addition to other injuries, Sally had suffered serious trauma to the head. Surgery was out of the question until she was more stable. They were draining fluid. They were doing their best. It all sounded so pathetically futile.

"I want to stay with her," Jim said flatly.

The doctor didn't answer, apparently trying to gauge the stranger making the demands. "Five minutes every hour, family only," he said brusquely.

"In that case, I'm going in, because right now, I'm all she's got." You didn't have to be a sentinel to hear the challenge.

Blair was ready to make his pitch again when the doctor relented. Jim was gone before he could finish his sentence. Blair was left standing with the man, who seemed on the verge of putting Jim in his place. Someone was needed to defuse the situation, and Blair didn't see any other candidates willing to volunteer. They needed the good will of this man, at least for the moment.

"Sally has been with Jim's family for over thirty years. She raised Jim and his brother."

The doctor nodded reluctantly. "I understand, but it's still irregular."

"Look, as soon as Jim comes out, I'll check with the investigating officers, and help out with locating her children. I promise you that. Just don't shut us out until we can get someone else here." Blair looked through the windows into ICU. Jim was no longer at the nurses' station, so he must be with Sally. Count that as one small victory for the good guys. "Will you at least agree to that much access?"

"I'll make a note on her chart. We'll be making a decision on surgery during the next twelve hours. Try to get her kids here by then."

Blair watched him disappear down the hallway.

********

Jim ran a finger delicately over the back of her hand. Once, then again. Her hands felt cool, almost cold. He wanted to tuck her in, cover her with another blanket, but the tubes and monitors looked so - intimidating. He was afraid to touch anything.

Funny. He didn't remember her hands being either warm or cool as a child, just gentle. Calm. Not slow, but never hurried. His father, in contrast, had always been extremes. Hot with anger, or cold with disapproval. Too fast, too hard, too loud, or not there at all.

Did it seem that way because of the senses Jim had shoved away? Did he really know what he remembered?

He was certain about a few childhood memories.

Sally had been the only person to consistently love him. The one who had listened, comforted, and cared - she was here in front of him, her body crumpled and damaged.

The most nurturing influence of his life was struggling for each breath, fighting for each heartbeat.

"Breathe, Sally," he whispered. "Stay for me. Breathe."

********

The five minutes stretched to ten, and then they kicked him out. Blair met him as he stood unmoving by the door. He wasn't entirely sure the he had Jim's attention.

"Jim? Don't zone, man. Talk to me."

"She's so cold, and weak." Jim's voice seemed far away and disconnected. He was looking back toward ICU, even as Blair steered him toward the chairs in the waiting area. "They're not helping her enough."

"They're doing everything they can, Jim," Blair said reassuringly. "Come on, just sit down. Are you listening? To her?"

Jim nodded.

"Do you want to go talk with the officers who took the call?"

"Need to stay." Jim's voice was barely a whisper. He was staring in the direction of Sally's room, as if his vision could penetrate the walls.

"Okay. I'll bring you some coffee, and then I'll go find out what I can about the accident."

Jim fumbled for his wallet. He fished a key out of one of the folds. "My dad's. In the kitchen, there are numbers taped inside the cabinet."

"For Sally?" Blair asked.

"Yeah. My dad's at the cabin." Jim rubbed his hand through his hair. "I can't concentrate. There's a number for a general store - Foster's, I think - they can reach him. The cabin doesn't have a phone."

"Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can."

********

It felt odd to let himself into Jim's childhood home, even though he'd visited with Jim several times. There was something about the perfection of the place that gave Blair goose-bumps. Jim tended to be obsessively neat, but the senior Ellison's home bordered on oppressive. Blair seriously doubted it had ever been any different.

A quick search of the kitchen located a sheet of unlined paper, neatly covered in block letters. There were numbers for all kinds of things - doctor, dentist, gardener - along with individual names. At the bottom, copied in pencil in the same hand, was the number for the loft, and the notation 'Jimmy'.

It took a little deciphering, but Blair located the numbers he needed. He wasted no time in calling. He left a message for William Ellison, and had no luck with Sally's family. The best he could do was to leave a message on the answering machine with his cell phone number. He didn't have the heart to leave any details. That was something no one should hear from a recording.

********

Five more minutes.

This time she turned to the sound of his voice. He squeezed her hand and kept talking, telling her, begging her to open her eyes, or squeeze his hand back. It was hard to ignore all the sounds - the machines, the drip of the IV's - all distractions that wouldn't bother anyone else.

"Mr. Ellison? It's time."

"How's she doing?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low. Jim had a moment of guilt as he watched the nurse. He hadn't even taken the time to notice her name.

The nurse studied the readings. "She seems stable. Maybe a bit stronger." She patted Jim's hand. "I know it's hard, but that's a good sign."

"A few more minutes?" he pleaded. "She always stayed with me," he added softly.

"All right. Just a little longer."

********

"Simon, I need your help."

"Sandburg, WHAT are you doing here? I distinctly remember forbidding you to show your face in this office until next week."

"Whatever. Yell at me later. You remember Sally, the lady who keeps house for Jim's dad?"

"Yeah," said Simon. "Oriental lady, bakes a mean chocolate cake. Sure, I remember."

"Well, she was in a car accident. Jim's with her at Cascade General. She's in ICU."

"No," Simon protested. "How's Jim holding up?"

"Not real well, and it's going to get worse. I just talked to the responding officers. It was a hit and run, Simon. No witnesses. All they have are the skid marks. From what they can piece together, some bastard sideswiped her car, and she rolled down an embankment."

"Shit. Does Jim know?"

"About the hit and run? No. When he finds out, he'll go ballistic. You know how protective he is."

"I don't doubt it. Has forensics looked at the vehicle?"

"Looked, and pretty much given up. I need to get the car put into secure impound. Jim might be able to get something that everyone else has missed, if you get my drift, but I can't drag him down there now. Can you pull some strings?"

Simon was already picking up the phone. "Consider it done. Get back to the hospital, and keep me posted."

********

"Sally?" The lashes fluttered. Her hand shifted, ever so slightly, in his. "Sally? It's Jimmy - can you wake up for me?"

The nurse was there immediately, checking on the machines what he already knew. Sally was fighting her way back. The nurse nodded to him, encouraging him to keep talking.

"Hey, you moved your hand. Can you open your eyes for a second?"

Her head turned toward his voice. "Jii'y?"

"That's right. It's Jimmy." He stroked her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes opened and fastened on his. "Hey, you're doing great."

"C...car..."

"You were in a car accident. We're at the hospital." Sally nodded. He looked at the nurse, who indicated he should continue. "I'm gonna stay until we can talk to Chris or Sherry, okay?"

"V...cation." Her voice faltered. "Numbrrr...home."

"At your house?" Sally managed a tiny nod. "I'll have Blair get it. Do you hurt anywhere?"

She smiled weakly. "Tir'd." Her eyes drooped, but she grasped his hand tighter, fighting to stay awake.

"You can go back to sleep," he cooed. "I'll be here."

The nurse patted him on the arm. "Good job, Mr. Ellison. I'll call her doctor," she whispered. "You just earned some extra time."

********

"The fact that she's responsive is excellent news. Her outlook is much improved."

Jim looked helplessly at Blair, who had just returned from Sally's home. Why couldn't doctors use language that actually conveyed some meaning?

Blair didn't miss his cue. "Doctor, I think what Jim would like to know is if you're going to do surgery, or if there's a risk of brain damage - things like that."

"I'm afraid I can't be that specific. I can say she's out of immediate danger. If she continues to improve, we may try to run some more tests tomorrow."

"What about her insurance?" Jim asked. "I want her to have whatever she needs, not what some paper pusher in an insurance office decides they'll pay for. I'll cover it personally."

"That's not an issue at the moment. We're waiting because it's best for her." The doctor looked at Blair. "How are we coming with her children?"

"Apparently they're on vacation," Blair answered. "We have their itinerary from her home. The department is making the calls."

The doctor sighed. "I guess for now, that's all we can do. Both of you should go home and get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

Jim obviously wasn't planning on taking that advice. Blair handed him the bag he'd brought along from the loft. "There are fresh clothes, and your toothbrush."

"Thanks, Chief."

Blair took the time to run down to the cafeteria and buy some sandwiches, several bottles of juice and a plate of chocolate brownies. Jim had to be running on empty by now. When he returned to the waiting area outside ICU, Jim was already with Sally. After another ten minutes, Jim joined him on the lumpy couch.

"She kicked me out again," he said bluntly. "What is it with hospitals and rules?"

"Coming from you, that is a priceless statement." Blair unwrapped one of the sandwiches. "Here, eat something, and don't even try to tell me that you're not hungry. You can burn more calories than anyone I've ever known."

Jim took several bites in silence, and downed half of the juice. "I've lost track of time. How long have we been here?"

Blair looked at his watch. "About fifteen hours, and we weren't real rested before this started. Why don't you lean back and at least try to relax?" It was a good measure of just how frazzled Jim that he complied. They ate and drank for a few minutes, too exhausted for conversation.

"She always stayed with me, you know," Jim said quietly. "One of my earliest memories with Sally, I had the chicken pox. It was before Bud died, and I must have still had my senses. I was frantic."

Blair chuckled. "All kids hate the chicken pox. They itch, Jim - on everyone."

"I remember thinking my skin being on fire. Nothing helped."

"Yeah?"

"I was really scared, and I must have gotten panicky. Maybe it was the fever or something. I remember her reading to me for hours, talking to me. She never ...left." Jim's voice drifted off. He was asleep.

"I know," Blair said gently. Tears pricked at his eyes. "She was the one who never left. I won't leave you, either."

The Next Day

"Jim, we don't have to do this right now." Blair rolled his eyes as Jim continued to creep around Sally's wrecked car, totally ignoring his pleas. "Jim, you're asleep on your feet. Let's go home and crash for a couple of hours."

"I told Sherry we'd find the person who hurt her mother. No one else is looking."

"Jim, she didn't expect you to make an arrest an hour after she arrived. She knows how long you stayed at the hospital. She was beyond grateful that you had been there." He watched Jim inch along the ground, inspecting the crushed metal. "You are making me crazy."

"Here. Right here. Evidence bag?"

Blair kneeled beside him. "What did you find?"

"Traces of red paint." He scraped tiny shards off with a razor blade. "Let me see the diagrams from the skid marks." Jim studied the report, looking quickly from the page to the rear side panel. He closed his eyes and ran both hands over the metal. Each time he concentrated on a smaller and smaller area.

Jim rocked back on his heels and looked at Blair. The grille of the other vehicle hit right here. I think it must have been high, like a truck or an SUV." He ran his hand back over a specific section again, and a smile ghosted across his face. "I can feel the plate numbers."

Blair pulled out his cell phone. "I'll call Serena. Now that you've found it, maybe she can figure out a way to examine it so the rest of humanity can see the evidence."

Jim wasn't paying attention. He was writing letters and numbers as his sensitive fingers revealed them.

********

Blair stuck his head into Simon's office. "Are you going to yell at me again? If you are, I'll go downstairs and call you on the phone."

"Get your sorry butt in here," Simon growled. "I heard we made an arrest."

"It was amazing. Jim felt the impression of the license plate on the side panel. We looked it up, went to the guy's house, and found the truck. It still had streaks of paint from Sally's car on the bumper."

"Where's Jim?" Simon asked.

"He ditched me as soon as he slapped the cuffs on the guy and went back to the hospital. Sally's daughter is there, too. They're thinking about moving her out of ICU soon. Oh, and Jim's dad arrived." Blair shook his head. "Take it from me, don't ever complain about Jim being overbearing with hospital personnel until you watch his dad."

"I can imagine. If the two Ellison's are there together, they've probably whipped the place into submission."

"Either that, or they've thrown them in irons." Blair sat thoughtfully for a moment. "Simon, is Jim like that when I...?"

"When you're hurt?" Simon said, finishing the statement. "We damn near have to tie him down, Sandburg." He looked quizzically at the younger man's face. "Does that bother you? That Jim goes a little over the edge when it's someone he really cares about?"

"No. Not exactly. It's just a little overwhelming, to be the object of that intensity. I feel - responsible. As responsible for him as he feels for me." The concern melted off Blair's face, as if he'd figured out something very important. As he walked out the door, he looked back at his captain and said with a grin, "I think that's a really good thing."

The End

**The license plate thing actually happened. The driver was arrested & convicted. JL