Blair awoke slowly, and winced as light pierced his eyes, driving little bolts of pain through his frontal lobe. He tried to bring a hand up to block the light, and found his arm to seemingly be made of cement. He gave up trying to move and just lay still, eyes looking around, studying the ceiling.

He was in a hospital, he could tell that much by the beeping machines, the smells, and the fact that Jim was sound asleep in a chair at his bedside,
snoring. Blair smiled at the sight. Everything was back to normal.

"Jim," he whispered. "Psst! Hey Jim!"

"Hunh? Wha..., The sharp eyes flew open and settled on Blair's. Jim gave a smile of relief and sat up, scooting his chair close so he could clasp Blair's small hand in his own. He rubbed his thumb absently across the back of the hand as he studied his Guide's face.

"How do you feel?" they asked each other simultaneously, then laughed. Jim motioned for Blair to go first, blue eyes shining.

"My head hurts like hell," Blair said, reaching his free hand to rub his temple. He smiled as Jim let go of his hand to massage his scalp with gentle
fingers. "And I feel a little sick, but other than that, I'm fine." He snuggled down into the stiff hospital pillow as he eyed Jim's face. "How about
you?"

Jim waved a hand. "Fine, fine," he said, a little too quickly. There was an uncomfortable silence then.

Blair just looked at his partner, as if trying to read his mind. After a long time he said, very softly, "Jim..., what happened to you?"

Jim's head shot up. "What? What do you mean?" Although he had a feeling he knew exactly where Blair was heading with this.

Blair sighed, and turned his gaze from Jim's to look out the window beside the bed. "It's just," he began quietly, then faltered. "Never mind," he added quickly, closing his eyes.

Jim leaned close and laid his hand on Blair's brow. The young man opened his eyes again, turning his head to gaze up at him.

"What's on your mind, kid?" Jim asked gently, brushing Blair's hair back with his thumb.

"Well," Blair said, obviously uncomfortable with what he had to say. "You just... you were... so.... out of control... with Freeman." He cringed a little, as if expecting retribution from Jim.

The big man just sighed, continuing to weave his fingers through the dark curls, mindful of the bandages covering Blair's stitches. "I don't know Chief," he confessed, nearly inaudibly. "I can't tell you what was going on, because I don't understand it myself. It was just, like, I was so filled with hate for Freeman, that I let it get the best of me." He paused to look deeply into the young blue eyes of his Guide before adding in a
remorseful whisper, "I'm so sorry you had to be dragged into it, buddy."

Blair just grinned a little, rolling his eyes. "Hey, now don't start apologizing every time I get in trouble, man," he said kindly, reaching up to gently punch Jim's shoulder. "If I really blamed you for all the stuff I've been through in the last three years, do you really think I'd still be following you into the fray every time?"

"Yes Chief," Jim replied quietly, "I do."

"Well, OK, you got me," the anthropologist giggled a little. "I would. But I wouldn't be happy about it!" he added petulantly, grinning.

The two friends shared a much-needed laugh together. Then Jim stood and told Blair he needed to run to the men's room. Blair smiled as he left, and closed his weary eyes, settling back on the pillows.

Intern Therese McNaillis was making her rounds. She went to her desk, and typed in one of her patient's names. Blair Sandburg.

Therese was very new, and still a little uncertain of herself. She knew it was time for Mr. Sandburg to be given his pain meds, but she couldn't remember the dosage. She brought up his screen, and found the information she was looking for, then turned to collect the pills from the pharmacy closet.

Behind her, silently, the screen changed almost imperceptibly. The dosage beside Blair's name changed from ten milligrams to one hundred milligrams, then entire screen doing a brief reshuffling as the new data appeared.

Therese re-emerged, pills in hand. She glanced at her screen as she passed, and did a double take. One hundred! She looked down at the pills in her hand. One hundred. Not ten, one hundred. How could she have missed that? With a sigh, she turned and went back into the closet for more of the little red pills.

"Hi sweetheart!"

Blair perked up at the cheery voice, and smiled at Therese. The young intern was extremely pretty and friendly, and Blair had taken an instant liking to her. He was always on the lookout for a new face when he came to the hospital, since he was on a first-name basis with most of the employees here.

"Hello, Therese," he said happily, stretching. "Got my goodies?"

"What do you think, curly?" the intern replied with a smile, jiggling the cup of pills.

"I think those are gonna be just what the doctor ordered," Blair replied. "My head has been playing a Sousa march all morning."

Therese laughed as she drew a cup of water for Blair, then dumped the pills into his hand. "Well," she said, "Once you take these, you won't give a damn about anything for a while."

"Great," Blair said. He dumped the pills into his mouth and tossed his head back, swallowing them down with a gulp of water.

Therese watched the sweet faced young man snuggle down into the bed. She pulled the sheets up to his chin, and tenderly brushed a hand across his brow as the big blue eyes fluttered closed.

{Cute,} she thought, turning to tend to the room. {Definitely cute.}

Out in the corridor, Blair's doctor, Dr. Mendal, was just retrieving a pencil from Therese's desk. He glanced absently at the intern's computer screen as he snagged what he needed. He was turning away when the dosage next to Sandburg name jumped out at him. Eyes widening in horror, he stared at the number for a moment before charging down the corridor toward Sandburg's room.

Jim had just returned, and was settling into the chair beside his sleeping Guide. He smiled at the young intern, who was busily tidying the room. The woman had a crush on his partner, no doubt about it.

Pounding footsteps outside the hall got both Jim and Therese's attentions. They looked up as Blair's doctor came skidding into the room, eyes wild, pale faced.

"Doctor!" Therese said, coming to his side. "Dr. Mendal, what is it?" She jumped a little as the doctor grabbed her arms.

"How much Xantholin did you give him?" he demanded.

"Wha... one hundred milligrams, sir. Just like your instructions said." She yelped as the doctor surged away from her to Blair's bedside.

Jim jumped to his feet as the doctor began to fuss over Blair, checking his vitals.

"Mr. Sandburg," the doctor said sharply, slapping at the young man's face. "Mr. Sandburg, I need you to wake up, please." There was no response from the limp figure in he bed.

"Doc, what's the matter?" Jim asked, heart beginning to pound as the doctor grew more determined his attempts to rouse Blair.

"He's been overdosed!" Mendal gasped. He grabbed Blair's arm and pulled him into a sitting position. "Help me!"

Jim rushed to grab Blair's other arm, alarmed to hear his heart growing sluggish, slowing down. Together, he and the doctor got Blair to his feet.
Mendal grabbed the cup off the table and dashed what was left of the cold water in Blair's face, causing the young man to wake with a spluttering gasp. His eyes opened, then began to roll back as his legs started to collapse.

"Keep him awake!" Mendal shouted as he and Jim dragged the young man into the tiny bathroom.

Ellison did what he was told. He pinched the soft skin on the underside of Blair's arm, using the pain to keep his Guide conscious. Then he watched with mild nausea as the doctor stuck two fingers down Blair's throat.

Blair gagged against the fingers, stomach heaving. He was only barely conscious as he was held over the toilet bowl and made to empty his stomach.

Mendal forced Blair to vomit, then let him rest a moment before ramming his fingers again down the young man's throat. Another surge of bile erupted from the young man's mouth, and the doctor leaned down to inspect the contents of the toilet bowl.

Jim watched breathlessly, still not sure of what had happened. He followed the doctor's instructions to hold Blair up, and watched Mendal studying the contents of Blair's stomach. He must have seen what he was looking for, because he gave a relieved sigh and sagged against the wall.

"It's all right," he said, as Jim asked him what was wrong. "Here, get him back to bed." He helped Jim gather Blair's limp form up his arms, and followed him out of the bathroom.

Jim gently eased Blair down onto the hospital bed, watching as the doctor crossed and began to harshly question Therese, who was now white faced and crying. Jim heard her insist over and over that the computer had said 100 milligrams when she called it up. The doctor countered that he had set the dosage himself, and that he knew he'd prescribed ten milligrams.

"I don't understand it," Mendal said, laying a comforting hand on the intern's arm. "I'm sorry I shouted at you, it's not your fault, dear," he said
soothingly as Therese continued to sob. He turned to Jim.

"Doc, what's going on?" Jim asked from Blair's bedside.

"Well, " the doctor said, running a hand through his silvering hair. "Somehow that computer file for Mr. Sandburg seems to have developed a small, but potentially deadly glitch. Instead of indicating ten milligrams of pain killer, which is what I prescribed, it was showing one hundred." He paused before adding quietly, "Which is more than enough to kill someone of Blair's size."

Jim felt his legs go weak, and quickly sat down. He turned and laid a hand on Blair's forehead, relieved to feel the young man's pulse rising to normal speed again. He assured himself that Blair was safe before following the doctor out of the room and down the hall.

"Here," Dr. Mendal said, pointing as he and Jim approached the desk. He touched a fingertip to the computer screen, indicating the dosage beside Blair's name. "One hundred milligrams." The doctor frowned.

"I don't understand it, detective. It should have been impossible for that dosage to read one hundred; the program only allows two-digit numbers to be entered in the dosage column."

Jim just nodded, studying the little green number. He was about to reply to Mendal, when something caught his eye. He stared, and his mouth slowly dropped open.

At the very bottom of the screen, in tiny letters was a message.

"Oh my God. He's alive," Jim breathed.

THE END