Comatose (In The Arms of Slumber)by Eagle Eye Cherry The doors are closed and the walls are whitesomeone calls but I don't want to talk tonightstay away you want to.....stay awayI'm going to be all right.....all right Within the arms of slumberGoing to leave it all behind comatose gone underLike all the other times With pride and disdain I'm going to ignore this painWhen someone falls you're supposed to get up againI try to oblige but I can't tonightI'm going to be all right.....all right Within the arms of slumberGoing to leave it all behind comatose gone underLike all the other times Comfort of my dreamsI resign myself to youDream as I mightI'm sleeping when I'm blueSuch a pleasure when I feel myself go underSo stay away.....stay awayWhile I'm in the arms of slumberAnd I'm leaving it all behind The magic of sweet Morpheus you're doing it once againYou saved me from my sadness you saved me from my painProtect me from depression protect me one more nightAnd I'll be all right.....all right Within the arms of slumberGoing to leave it all behind comatose gone underLike all the other times Comfort of my dreamsI resign myself to youDream as I mightI'm sleeping when I'm blueSuch a pleasure when I feel myself go underSo stay away.....stay awayWhile I'm in the arms of slumber Blair bid Simon Banks goodbye, shutting the door softly behind him. He then turned and looked around, eyes trying to make out the images of shadows in the dark loft made by a single lamp that Simon had used to read by as he sat on the couch waiting for Sandburg’s return. His gaze moved to the stairs and followed their moonlit surfaces up toward the aerie that was Jim Ellison’s room. He stood staring at the steps for the longest time, his ears catching the faint sound of light snores brought on by a slight cold. Great, just what Jim needs. A cold on top of everything else. Blair thought sourly. He slowly made his way to his own room trying to be quiet and unobtrusive.
He tried to sleep, lying on top of his own covers, though he usually buried himself beneath them. But he remained awake, eyes staring at the shadows on the ceiling, watching them flicker and morph as the candle’s flame moved with the stirring of the air. But Morpheus eluded him this night, and Blair knew why. “Dammit,” He whispered, and pulled himself out of bed. He walked out of the room, and looked up, attention drawn to the loft where his roommate slept. He knew Jim would not want any intrusion. Not tonight of all nights. Instead, Blair made his way into the bathroom, hoping to take a nice hot bath, knowing that he wouldn’t disturb Jim since the medicine the doctors had given him would keep the sentinel out for a while. He shuddered when he opened the hamper to put his dirty clothes inside and saw the bloody clothes that had adorned his sentinel not more that six hours before. He hated leaving Jim at the Loft with Simon, but he had had to finish up at the crime scene. He had to do his job, the job he had taken after losing everything in a brief, heart-wrenching moment in front of dozens of cameras and reporters. Reports had to be written, evidence had to be collected, and the final moments of a long and frustrating case had to be concluded, despite the fact that the lead investigator had been sedated at the scene. The ambulance took Jim to the hospital and his wounds were cared for, but Blair had begged Simon not to allow Jim to be admitted knowing the hospital would not be good place for the sentinel. Instead, Simon had taken Jim home to stay with him until Blair could get back to the loft to deal with the comatose sentinel. Filling the tub with water, Blair sat down on the toilet lid, and allowed his mind to wonder. To the case, to Jim’s strange behavior, to the final moments when they had walked in on the commission of a heinous crime, when Jim Ellison had lost all perceptive of reality and was thrown back into past. A past Blair knew nothing about, a past riddled with secrets, black operations in places that never made the news. And he wondered at that past, a past that had made Jim practically rip a man into pieces because that man had raped, tortured and eviscerated young men leaving the bodies for the police to find. He turned off the water before it overfilled the tub, and was about to remove his boxers to step in when he heard a groan from upstairs. Ignoring the inviting bath, Blair stepped out of bathroom, and listened. Another groan followed, and what to Blair’ ears sounded suspiciously like a whimper. To hell with this, Blair thought. And with determination, Blair walked up the stairs. He found Jim lying beneath the blue sheets, the stark whiteness of the bandages that covered Jim’s chest, and arms a strange contrast to the darkness of the loft. On the bed Jim was groaning, and moving restlessly despite the sedative he had received at the crime scene after Blair had managed to call the sentinel back to reality. He had held Jim in his arms, the sentinel’s own arms wrapped firmly around Blair’s waist, head resting on Blair’s lap as he cried softly. Blair had rocked the sentinel as a mother would rock her child all the while talking in the soothing guide voice that had called Jim back form the edge many times. “Stay away….” Jim had whispered as he cried. And Blair had heard, but had not understood. “Its alright…shhhh….you’re going to be alright tonight, Jim. Shhh.” Blair comforted but Jim continued shaking and crying while holding to Blair as if he were the last solid rock in a windstorm. Now Blair climbed onto the bed, trying to be careful of Jim’s injuries, which were perhaps the only reason that Jim was not going to be charged in the suspect’s death. The man had had a large carving knife, razor sharp that he had used on his victims. And both Blair and Jim had been forced to drop their weapons to save the hostages life only to have the victims’ throat cut right before their eyes by the insane madman. The sight was going to stay with Blair forever, but it did not grip him as tightly as it did his sentinel. Blair crawled onto the bed, and Jim seemed to sense his presence because the sentinel stopped is restlessness and gravitated toward Blair until finally Blair held Jim in his arms as he had done earlier. Only there was no blood, no paramedics moving around him, no cops whispering to each other about what had happened and there was no hint of fear in the room. Just an overwhelming sadness, the wash of tears, and the beating of two hearts. Blair held his friend, stroking the short brown hair beneath his fingers, and was finally able to close his eyes and allow himself to fall into the peace of sleep.