Helpless (A "Blind Man's Bluff" missing scene)

By Terri D. Thomas

Rating: PG (for language)

Warnings: Spoilers for BMB (obviously <g>), The Switchman, The Debt and probably other eps I can't think of at the moment. Oh, and I'm feeling a bit. . .maudlin tonight. . .and rather introspective. Not normal for me. Had to get it "out" somehow. Not beta'ed. Please forgive errors.

**Anyone who needs dues can claim this, if they want it. Just let me know.

Helpless

Part 1 of 1

Your hand that I'm holding is limp; your skin is cool and clammy to the touch. Despite the lifeless sensation, the steady beep of the cardiac monitor confirms what my enhanced senses know, you're still alive, my friend.

I curse the blindness that was left behind by the golden. It keeps me from seeing you. I close my eyes. The golden blur that clouds my vision is replaced by darkness. The black allows me to picture what you must look like now. I can visualize a mass of dark brown curls, spread in disarray on the pillow supporting your head.

In my mind I can see your normally animated face, now stilled by the overdose. I can picture your closed eyes, your slack mouth, tape over your lips, holding the respirator tubing in place.

I have to fight the urge to match my breathing to the whoosh of the respirator as it pumps life-giving oxygen into your lungs. My heart sinks as it realizes that the little tube running from the machine to your body is the only thing keeping you anchored to this world.

I open my eyes again, praying that this time my sight will have returned. It hasn't. You're still a golden blur. My hand leaves yours and moves to cover your chest, being careful not to disturb the electrodes taped there. My sensitive fingers can easily feel the slow thumping of your heart. Your heartbeat matches the beeping of the cardiac monitor, the rhythm slow, but steady. It's a sharp contrast to the rapid, inconsistent beat I heard as you collapsed in my arms at the garage. I suppose I should find comfort in that, but I don't.

The doctor has told me that he thinks you'll be okay, Chief. You know that, right? I know I've told you that every time I hear you rousing, but you haven't responded. Can you hear me? Do you know what I'm saying? Do you realize that I'm here, not giving up hope, not giving up on you?

Why, Blair? Why did this happen? I thought I was the one taking the risk, not you. I was willing to put it all on the line to stop the flow of golden into Cascade. I was the one who was driven to put the dealers behind bars. If I had known that this would happen to you, believe me, I never would have pushed Simon into letting us stay involved.

I feel tears welling up. I press my fingers against my eyes, trying to push back the flow. Damn it, I hate this. I hate feeling helpless. You know that, and I know, if you could, you'd wake up just to take this feeling away from me. That's just the way you are. You have always thought of my needs first.

I know I underplay your importance to me, but you do realize, don't you, that it's my male bravado talking. It's not how I really feel.

At one time you said that I was your blessed protector, but you know what, Chief? You're mine. You saved me long before I could return the favor. You threw yourself in front of a garbage truck just to save my sorry ass, even after I went 'rambo' on you and pushed you up against the wall.

Boy, was that single event a precursor of things to come. You've stood beside me, even when I've done some really stupid things. Even when I've pushed you away, you've come back to stand by my side. I never really understood the meaning of friendship until I met you. Hell, Chief, if I looked up the word in the dictionary, there would probably be a picture of you. You *are* friendship.

A sigh escapes my throat and I lean back in the hard plastic chair, ignoring the creak as it shifts under my weight. Why? Why was I so stubborn about staying involved in this case? I wish it really were just about me wanting to erase the memory of watching Lisa Hughes slip from my grasp. I know, though, that a part of my insistence was pride. They took my sight from me with that drug and I wasn't going to let them get away with it.

Damn it! Why did I let my ego control my judgment? It's not the first time I've let that happen, and I suppose it will not be the last. But I swear, Chief, I've never before suffered such consequences.

I can still feel your body falling off of the car and collapsing into my arms once you surrendered the gun to me. I still have trouble reconciling how you went from alert to lifeless in mere seconds. You'll never know the fear that I felt as I held you, whispering your name, calling you back to me and knowing that you couldn't respond.

I felt the tremors build in your body until convulsions overtook you. Simon forced me to put you down on the cold concrete floor so that you couldn't injure yourself or me. I wanted to scream in frustration as I heard your body impact with the unforgiving surface. You were suffering and I could do nothing to help you.

I've experienced a lot of horrible things in my life. You know that. I've told you a little about the disaster in Peru, about watching my team die. In a rare drunken stupor, after my last birthday I think, I described how I was thrown clear from the helicopter before it plummeted to the ground. How, with a fractured collarbone and broken leg, I was forced to watch, completely powerless, as my men, my friends, burned in the resulting fire.

You know how I felt when Danny died in my arms. You heard my primal scream as I realized that the kid had breathed his last breath while I watched, helpless. I know you understood my pain.

Believe me, Chief, I felt the same anguish today in that garage. As the paramedics worked to stabilize you, I prayed every prayer that I could remember that you wouldn't be taken from me. And the feeling hasn't gone away. Sitting here, next to you, the panic and dread still overwhelms me. I could still lose you, and just like with Danny, just like in Peru, I'm helpless to stop it from happening. And if, God forbid, it does happen, it will hurt worse than the other losses. It will take more from me than all of the other tragedies.

Why? Because you're not just my partner and my friend, Chief, I think you've become a part of my soul. You know me better than anyone ever has, or probably ever will. I know it probably sounds corny, but I'm closer to you than I was to Carolyn, than I am to my own brother. Yes, Chief, I do have a brother. I'll tell you about him sometime. I promise. If you'll just wake up.

All I'm saying is that at some point during this partnership of mutual convenience, I've discovered something that I've never thought was possible. You aren't a convenience to me anymore. You're not just a tool that I'm using to gain control of my senses. You are an integral part of me. And if you. . .well, if you aren't here, I'm not sure how I would. . .cope.

I know, I know, you never thought you'd hear these words coming from me. The big, bad ex-Special Forces, detective needs you. Well, Chief, that's the way it is. You'll just have to accept it. You are an important part of me and I need you here, by my side again. That's an order. You got it, Darwin? Are you listening to me?

I reach out for your hand again. In my blindness, I fumble to find it, to intertwine my fingers in yours. I squeeze your hand, wishing fervently that you would squeeze back. Nothing happens. I pull your arm closer to me and move my chair closer to the bed, so that I can prop my elbows on the railing, while still keeping your hand in mine. I rest my forehead on our clasped hands and close my eyes.

I know that there must be one more prayer that I can say, one more plea to whatever god is listening that you be returned to me. . . so that my soul can be restored. . . so that this feeling of overwhelming helplessness can be replaced by newly found hope.

-fin-