Summary: Will a tiny cry for help be heard in time? Takes place during the first season after The Debt and Cypher. Rated PG.
Notes: Many thanks to Kathleen for the beta and the L's for their support.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Written strictly for fun.
"Not bad, Jim, not bad." Blair sat hunched over a notebook, his pencil skittering back and forth as he jotted down the latest results. Jim shifted once more in his seat and surreptitiously checked the clock on the wall. Giving in to Blair's plea for additional tests had been a mistake. After a long, tiring day, he was antsy to go home, eat dinner and relax.
"Let's see if you can isolate this next sound." Blair reached over to the square machine sitting on the table next to him and turned the dial up a notch.
Jim grimaced at the sudden burst of loud buzzing in his headphones. "Christ, how am I supposed to pick out anything in all this static?" he complained, pulling one end away from his ear.
Blair gazed intently back. With his glasses on, he looked every bit the focused researcher and not the easygoing roommate he normally was.
"It's like we practiced," he said patiently. "Just relax and focus. You should be able to separate the sound from the static. It's no different than picking out a certain colored thread in a piece of tapestry."
"More like finding a needle in a haystack," Jim muttered, adjusting his headphones. Folding his arms, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
The static was annoying to say the least. He took a deep breath and tried to push past the low buzzing in his ears. After several seconds, he let out an annoyed sigh. The metal chair he was sitting on was just too damn uncomfortable. Uncrossing his arms, he tried leaning forward, putting his hands on his thighs.
The new position was only marginally better. He closed his eyes again. A few moments later, he opened them. There was a sharp, chemical odor in the air. He sniffed and wrinkled his nose in distaste. The smell was getting stronger.
Blair looked up from his notebook. "Did you get it?"
"No," Jim growled. He yanked the headphones off his head. "I smell something. It's coming from the hallway."
Twisting around, Blair stared at the closed lab door. "The hallway?" He hopped off his stool and went to peer out the small window in the door. "I wonder what's causing you to-- Oh, I see. It's the janitor."
Jim heard the cleaning cart squeak to a stop, a few yards from the door.
Blair pursed his lips. "You must be smelling the cleaning solution he uses. I'll just ask him to stop and come back later."
Tossing the headphones on the table, Jim shook his head and stood up. "Forget it. I'm out of here."
"What?" Blair stared at him. "We've only been here thirty minutes, and we're not even halfway done yet."
"I've had enough," Jim said, reaching for his jacket. "It's been one helluva week, and I'm not in the mood to play lab rat for you today."
Blair pulled his glasses off. "I'm not trying to make you feel like a lab rat, Jim," he said quietly. He gestured at the equipment around him. "I'm just trying to help you with your senses. I realize some of these exercises are a pain, but the more you practice, the more control you'll have, especially in the field."
"Whatever." Jim turned on his heel and left the room. He strode past the janitor in the hall, pushing a mop along the floor.
As he reached his truck, he felt a flicker of guilt. Resolutely pushing it away, he climbed inside, started up the engine and backed out of the parking space. By the time he was halfway home, the whisper had grown louder. You agreed to let Sandburg help, remember? The kid's trying to do his best. Besides, who else do you have to turn to?
Good question, he thought. Certainly not Steven and certainly not their dad. As for Carolyn, she'd sooner ship him off for psychiatric evaluation than listen to theories about tribal watchmen and hyperactive senses.
Of course he hadn't believed it either, at first.
It had taken an up-close and personal encounter with a garbage truck to convince him that a young grad student might actually have the answers he'd been desperately seeking. Now, said grad student had become his roommate and partner. Despite Blair's odd taste in foods, clothes and music, the adjustment had not been half as bad as he had originally feared.
As reluctant as he was to admit it, the kid had managed to grow on him. Blair was talkative but interesting, good-natured but not a pushover, and for all his casualness he took Jim and his senses very seriously.
More than that, Blair had faith in him. He just had to learn to have more faith in Blair.
Once inside the loft, Jim hung up his jacket and removed his holster and gun. He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was Blair's turn to cook. Unfortunately, he was probably still at the lab, fretting over the botched exercise.
Jim exhaled noisily. The day had not gone well for either of them.
An hour later, he heard Blair's Corvair pull up outside. It wasn't long before Blair clattered up the stairs and opened the door. "Hey, Jim," he said tentatively. "Sorry I'm late."
He walked into the living room, unbuttoning his coat as he went. Jim stood at the stove, stirring a large pot. He eyed Blair and nodded.
"Oh man, it was my turn to make dinner, wasn't it?" Blair stopped and grimaced.
Jim shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I figured I might as well start it."
"Smells good." Blair took a few steps closer. "Say, that's not the chili we had last night. What is it?"
"I decided to make some beef stew instead."
"Yeah? Cool." Blair looked over at the dining table. A bottle of wine sat next to two wine goblets.
"Special occasion? Or are you expecting company?"
"Neither. I've heard Simon say good things about that wine. Thought we'd give it a try."
As he walked by the table, Blair eyed the label on the bottle, then Jim, who was still studiously stirring the pot. Recognizing the peace offering, Blair smiled and put his backpack away.
"I'll set the table."
Twenty minutes later, both men sat down and began to eat.
"Simon's right. This is a good wine."
Jim nodded back.
Blair took another sip and set the goblet down. "Listen, I'm sorry about dragging you to the lab today."
"Forget it, Chief. I'm the one that was out of line."
"Well, you were tired, and I should've just let you go home." He looked up, his expression serious. "I realize I bug you sometimes, but you have a gift. It'd be a shame not to learn to use your senses to their fullest advantage."
"If you say so. But to be honest, some days I wish they'd go away. It would sure make my life a whole lot simpler."
Blair shook his head firmly. "No, no. Look how far you've come already. I don't think we've even begun to touch the limits of your abilities yet." At Jim's wary look, he paused for a moment. "I'll tell you what, the next time you've had a bad day, I'll remember to back off. Deal?"
Jim nodded slowly. "All right. Deal."
Blair picked up his wine glass and grinned. "Good. Now that we've settled that, more wine, please."
After dinner, they cleared off the table and washed the dishes. Leaving the plates and pots to air dry in the strainer, Jim settled back on the couch, flipping between two basketball games while Blair, seated on the floor, glanced up now and then to check the scores as he tapped away on his laptop.
By ten-thirty, Jim could barely keep his eyes open. "I'll see you in the morning," he said after his second yawn. He tossed the remote on the coffee table, rose from the couch and went about getting ready for bed.
"Good night." Blair waved absently as he thumbed through one of his journals.
After brushing his teeth, Jim climbed the stairs to his bedroom and got undressed. He tossed his shirt and socks in the hamper, folded his pants and left them hanging neatly over the back of a chair. Slipping between the sheets, he heard the wind blowing outside. A can rolled along the pavement, clanging as it went. It's going to rain before morning, he thought drowsily. He listened to Blair below him, turning pages and soon drifted into sleep.
~ooo~
Jim stirred and opened his eyes. He'd been in the middle of a dream when the sound of voices and a car door slamming shut woke him. The engine sputtered twice before taking off down the block. Turning his head, he squinted blearily at the little clock on his night stand. It read twelve-fifteen. The couch downstairs creaked slightly; Blair was still up, reading.
Sighing, he settled back and closed his eyes again.
This time he dreamt he was at the station. The bullpen was bustling. Phones rang, and people talked. Henri and Rafe were seated at their desks, arguing over the latest Jag's game. They were soon joined by Joel, then another detective and another. The volume quickly rose. Jim grimaced at the noise.
"Hey!" he barked finally. "Keep it down!"
The bullpen quieted. Still, Jim couldn't concentrate on the work before him. He kept hearing a strange, faint sound in the background.
He glared at his coworkers. "Doesn't anyone else hear that?"
The other detectives shrugged and shook their heads. Throwing his pen down, Jim stood up and walked into the hallway. The cry was wavery and getting fainter. He tried focusing more intently, but couldn't pinpoint the location. Dammit, where was Blair?
He jogged to one of the elevators, but the doors closed just before he reached it. He turned and headed for the stairwell. Opening the door, he cocked his head and listened again. The cries were getting more feeble. Jim went up a floor and opened the door. He stuck his head out and listened again. He went up another flight and another, until he was on the roof.
He walked over to the low wall at the edge of the building and looked around. The normally busy streets below were empty and silent.
"Where are you?" he yelled in frustration; only his voice echoed hollowly back at him.
Something fluttered over his head. A white pigeon, cooing loudly, landed behind him. Pivoting around, Jim spotted a slender figure, sitting on the opposite ledge. It was a young girl, holding something in her arms. As he approached slowly, the gravel under his feet crunched. The girl looked up, an expression of alarm and fear crossing her face. She quickly stood up, poised to flee.
"No, wait," he said. "Don't go."
She shook her head slightly before turning and running away. By the time he reached the spot where she'd been sitting, she had vanished. In her place was a little nest. He heard a faint tapping noise coming from it.
Just as he was about to lean over and take a closer look, a strong gust of wind blew past him, rocking the nest. Jim gasped and lunged, but it was too late. The nest toppled over the edge, and he watched helplessly as an egg fell out, tumbling in an arc toward the pavement below.
Jim opened his eyes with a start, his hands bunched at his side. Slowly relaxing his grip on the sheets, he peered at the alarm clock again. It was now a quarter to one. He rubbed his face. What a weird dream.
"I knew the lab was a bad idea," he grumbled while groping for his pillow.
He could still hear the rustle of papers below. Taking another deep breath, he reached for his sleep mask, slipped it on and tried to get comfortable.
Just as he was about to drift off again, he heard it -- a faint cry in the distance.
Ripping the mask off, Jim sat up and listened. This was no dream. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up. Donning his bathrobe he went downstairs.
Blair looked up, startled. "Hey, what are you doing up? Did my studying bother you?" He hastily put his book down and glanced at the clock he'd set by his laptop. "I didn't realize it was so late. Sorry, man."
Jim blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light in the living room. "It's not you, Chief," he rumbled. Turning, he padded to the balcony doors and peered through the glass at the darkness outside.
"Something got you out of bed. What was it?"
Jim continued to gaze out at the night. "I heard something. I'm not sure what it was. It sounded very faint."
"What exactly did you hear?" Blair rose from the couch and stood just behind Jim.
He felt the heat from Blair's body against his back, as soothing and reassuring as a blanket. "Like I said, I'm not sure. Could've been an animal, for all I know."
Blair put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "You can isolate that sound, Jim. You just need to relax and concentrate." He squeezed Jim's shoulder gently.
"This is silly. It's probably nothing."
"It won't hurt to try," Blair coaxed. "C'mon, this won't take long. If it turns out to be nothing, you can go straight back to bed."
"All right." Exhaling, Jim faced the balcony and closed his eyes. At first he heard only the wind blowing plastic cups and dried leaves across the pavement. A car drove slowly by, heading for Eighth Street.
Jim took another deep breath and let it out. Someone, below them, was humming along with the radio. Television sets were still on. He heard snatches of movies, late night talk shows and commercials. A dog trotted rapidly past the bakery, panting as it went.
He shook his head slightly. The sound he was looking for seemed to be further down the block.
"Anything?" Blair asked, still keeping a hand on Jim's shoulder.
"No," he answered, opening his eyes. He stared through glass doors. "I think I need to go outside, on the balcony."
Blair glanced down at Jim's bare feet. "It's pretty chilly out there."
"I know. I'll be right back." Jim padded upstairs and quickly donned a pair of jeans and his athletic shoes. He returned to the living room to find Blair by the balcony doors.
"Ready, Chief?"
Blair nodded back. "Let's do it."
Pushing the glass doors open, Jim stepped outside. Ignoring the cold air, he leaned against the low balcony wall; Blair shivered beside him. After scanning the buildings across the street, he turned his head and looked further up the block.
"Hey," Blair whispered, putting his hand on Jim's back, "remember, hearing's your strongest sense. Pretend you're a receiver and let the sounds come to you."
Heeding the instructions, Jim relaxed slightly. This time a multitude of sounds surrounded him: barking dogs, beeping car alarms and high-pitched sirens. A delivery truck rumbled past followed by the click of heels on the sidewalk. Voices across the street argued loudly over which bills to pay. Overlaid on top of that was the constant drone of traffic in the distance.
What was it Blair had said to him earlier at the lab? It had something to do with finding a thread in a tapestry. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated again.
Finally, he heard it: a short, faint cry.
What was it? A cat, maybe? The cry was small and feeble. It sounded more like a kitten. A kitten calling for its mother, perhaps?
After a few moments, he shook his head. There was something odd about the plaintive cry. He sensed distress. Was it a child? Jim closed his hands over the cold railing.
No, it was younger than a child. It was, oh god. Jim gasped and took a step back, bumping into Blair who stood behind him, holding onto his bathrobe with one fist.
"Chief!"
Blair's teeth chattered as he stared at the sentinel. "D-did you get it? What is it?"
"It's a baby," breathed Jim. He twisted around and stared across the street again. "Somebody left a baby out there."
Blair's eyes widened in horror. "On a night like this? Where is it?"
Still staring at the street below, Jim said, "I'm not sure. I think it's only a block or two over. We've got to find it, fast."
"Should we call for help?"
"No time." Jim stepped back into the loft. "Let's go."
"I'm coming," Blair muttered, shutting the balcony door behind him. He snatched up a coat and quickly ran to the bathroom.
Jim shucked his bathrobe and jammed a cap on his head. "What are you doing?"
"Towels," came the answer as Blair reappeared, holding a thick blue towel in his hands. "Gotta keep it warm and dry, when we find it."
Shrugging on his jacket, Jim prayed they wouldn't be too late. Opening the front door, he paused and cursed. "Damn."
"What?"
"I smelled rain on the way, earlier. It's going to start sprinkling any moment now."
"Should we take the truck?"
Jim shook his head. "We'll be better off searching on foot."
Blair ran to his backpack and grabbed one of the shoulder straps. "Let's go."
They clattered noisily down the stairwell, Blair trying his best to keep up with Jim. Once outside the building, Jim stood on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street while Blair hastily stuffed the towel into his backpack.
"Okay, which direction?"
Jim pivoted and began running. "This way."
Inhaling deeply, Blair slung his backpack over one shoulder and followed.
At the corner, Jim stopped abruptly. Blair barely managed not to collide with him.
"What? Did you lose it?"
"It's getting weaker, damn it." Jim swiveled his head, looking one direction then the other. "I don't hear it anymore." His hands clenched and unclenched in frustration as he tried to pinpoint the baby's location.
Blair grabbed a hold of his sleeve. "Hold on a minute. Did the baby sound like it was out in the open? Maybe it was left in a doorway something."
"No. It sounded muffled. As though it was--" he paused.
"What?" Blair coaxed. "Try to relax. What did you hear?"
Lifting his head up, Jim closed his eyes. "The cries were bit muffled and echoey. It sounded like the baby was inside of something."
"You mean a box?"
With his eyes still closed, Jim slowly turned to his right. "No. It was bigger than a box. It was more like a metal container, I think."
"A metal container?" Blair frowned. "Like a trash can?"
Jim's eyes snapped open. "That's it, Chief."
"You heard it?"
"No, but I know where the baby is."
"Where?"
"In a dumpster."
"Oh god."
~ooo~
The two men trotted across the street, looking for the entrance to an alley.
"Over here," Jim yelled, spotting the narrow opening easily. Splashing through a puddle, he jogged down the pathway.
It had begun to sprinkle. Blair squinted in the dark, wishing he'd remembered to bring a flashlight along. The ground under his boots was slippery.
Jim passed a line of cars parked under a carport. "I found one," he called out and raced up to the large bin. Blair joined him and helped lift the cover up.
"This isn't it," Jim said, after leaning over the side and cocking his head.
"You sure?"
"I don't hear a thing. Not even a heartbeat." Jim scrutinized the trash-filled container. "I don't think it's in a closed dumpster, otherwise, I'm not sure I would've heard the baby at all."
"Then we look for one that has its cover open." Blair put his hand out and touched Jim's jacket sleeve. "Are we getting close?"
"Hopefully. Come on." Jim took off down the alley.
Although they found two more dumpsters with their lids closed, Jim insisted on checking them out, while Blair held the covers open.
Reaching the end of the alley, Jim looked around, frustrated again. "The baby's gotta be around here, somewhere."
Blair wiped the wetness from his face. The sprinkles had changed to a steady drizzle and was getting heavier by the moment. "Which way now?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't heard it cry in a while." Jim stood, his jaw twitching. "What if we're too late?"
Blair grabbed his arm and shook it. "We're not. You can find this baby, Jim. I know you can." He tugged Jim back, underneath a carport.
"I want you to tune out the rain and concentrate. See if you can hear the baby again."
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jim closed his eyes. He'd been able to hear the cries before; he could do it again. He stood rock still, Blair's wet fingers clamped firmly on his arm.
The constant patter of the rain around them was distracting, just like the static in the lab had been. He let the sounds fade into the background. Another minute crawled by. Both men stood still--waiting, listening, hoping.
Please, make a noise. A cry, a cough. Anything.
Suddenly, Jim let out an explosive breath. "I've got it. The baby's on the next block over."
A few minutes later, the two men slipped and splashed their way through another alley, up to a large dumpster sitting in the corner of a small parking lot at the rear of a store. Its cover was partially propped open by the bulging bags of trash mounded inside.
Jim immediately leaned over. "I hear it!" he yelled. Grabbing the edge of the container, he hoisted himself up and perched on the corner. "The baby's right underneath."
"Okay, be careful," Blair said, unzipping his backpack.
Jim slowly slipped down into the dumpster, careful to stay on the perimeter. He picked up an empty carton and tossed it out. Shoving aside bags of garbage, he saw movement. Something swaddled inside a pillowcase was wriggling. "Easy, little one, I've got you," Jim said softly.
Carefully scooping up the small bundle, he stood up and lowered it into Blair's waiting arms.
Blair quickly wrapped the towel around the baby. "Let's get out of the rain." Looking around, he spotted something by the side of the store. A large window awning extended out a few feet, leaving a dry area underneath.
The two men leaned against the wall. Jim slapped his pocket. "The cell phone! I forgot to bring it!" he said in disgust.
"Not to worry," Blair answered calmly. He handed Jim the baby and grabbed his backpack. From a side pocket he produced his cell phone.
Relieved, Jim unzipped his jacket and put the baby inside, next to his chest. "You're going to be okay," he crooned as Blair called for help.
Lifting the edge of the towel, he saw the top of the baby's head, covered with a few wispy strands of dark hair. He gently touched the side of its face with his fingers. Its pulse seemed sluggish, and the skin felt disturbingly cool.
"Help is coming. Hang in there," he whispered.
In spite of the rain, the ambulance responded in near record time. A black and white unit was not far behind.
Absorbed in listening to the EMTs, Jim flinched when an unfamiliar hand touched his shoulder.
"Detective Ellison?"
Jim turned around reluctantly.
"Here, I thought you could use this." Patrol officer Pete Kuwata extended a blanket at him. "I gave one to your partner, too." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Blair stood wrapped in a gray blanket, talking to another officer.
"Thanks." Jim automatically draped it over his shoulders.
"How's the baby doing?"
"I'm not sure. Excuse me a minute." He walked to the rear of the ambulance.
One of the EMTs looked up at his approach. "Are you the cop that found the baby?" he asked.
"Yes. How is he? Or is it a she?"
"It's a he, all right. He's suffering from hypothermia and dehydration." The EMT shook his head. "He's only a few hours old, at most. His umbilical cord's still attached."
Jim swallowed. "Where are you taking him?"
"To Cascade Children's Hospital." After a quick glance at the wet alley, the EMT continued gathering his equipment together. "Considering the rain and the dropping temperature, the baby wouldn't have lasted more than another thirty minutes in that dumpster. In fact, I'd say it was a miracle you found him at all."
~ooo~
After the ambulance left, two more black and white units stopped in the alley. The dumpster and the small parking lot were cordoned off with tape and pylons. After conferring with the officers, Jim joined Blair who was sitting inside Pete Kuwata's patrol car.
Blair looked up at his approach. "Looks like they've got things under control here. Think we can stop by the hospital and see how the baby's doing?"
"I think that can be arranged." Jim walked over to Officer Kuwata and spoke to him. Kuwata nodded back.
"Sure, no problem." He pointed at one of the patrol cars parked in the alley. "Just ask Mendez. He'll give you two a ride."
Twenty minutes later, Jim and Blair found themselves at Cascade Children's Hospital. They waited impatiently for the administrator on duty to finish speaking on the phone.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"My name's Detective Ellison." Jim showed her his ID. "I'm here about the baby that was brought in about an hour ago. I was wondering if you could tell us how he's doing?"
The administrator glanced down at her chart. "He's in the neonatal ICU. I believe the doctors are still examining him."
Blair tugged on Jim's sleeve. "Tell you what, I'll go see if I can find us some coffee. Why don't you sit down? It may be a while before we hear anything."
Jim nodded, leaned an elbow on the counter and rubbed his chin.
Seeing the concern and fatigue on Jim's face, the administrator's expression softened.
"Detective?"
Jim looked up. "Yes?"
"You're the one who found him, aren't you?"
He nodded back, wearily.
Leaning down, the administrator pulled out a clipboard. "The baby needs a name. I think it'd be nice if you did the honors."
Jim stared blankly at her for a moment. A name? For a baby? He thought about the names of his fellow coworkers and some of the other people he'd known, even a few relatives, but none seemed quite right for a cast-off infant, struggling to live.
Unexpectedly, a face flashed into his mind, and he winced inwardly at the painful memory. If anyone deserved to live, it had been his young friend and fellow officer.
"Danny," he said softly. "I'd like to call him Danny."
"That's a nice name. I like it." She wrote the name on the form. "Why don't you have a seat in the waiting area. If I hear anything from the doctors, I'll let you know."
"Thanks." Jim walked past the nurses' station into the hallway. There was still no sign of Blair. He turned the corner and entered the small waiting area. At that late hour, it was empty. A television monitor attached to the wall showed a man, hawking some cleaning products. Jim reached up and switched it off. He paced restlessly for a few moments.
"Excuse me. Are you Detective Ellison?"
Jim turned, hoping to see a doctor. Instead, a blonde lady, wearing a beige trench coat, entered the room.
"My name's Tracey Dunn. I'm with KCDE News. I understand you're the one who found the abandoned baby in a dumpster early this morning. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."
Jim scowled. The last thing he wanted to face was a reporter.
Undeterred, Tracey reached into her pocket and pulled out a small notebook. "Were you patrolling the area when you found the baby?"
"Uh, no. I live in the neighborhood."
Tracey looked up sharply. "If you weren't patrolling, how did you know there was a baby out there?"
Jim grimaced; his brain was starting to go fuzzy from exhaustion. He struggled to find an explanation for how he'd heard the cries in the first place.
"I think it was simply a matter of Detective Ellison being at the right place at the right time." Blair walked up to them, holding a steaming cup of coffee in each hand.
The reporter quirked an eyebrow at his bedraggled appearance. "And you are?"
"Blair Sandburg. I'm Detective Ellison's associate."
"You work for the Cascade police department?"
"I'm a police observer."
"I see." Tracey turned to face Jim. "So, what did he mean about being at the right place at the right time?"
Blair stepped between the reporter and Jim, forcing her to move back. Calmly handing Jim one of the cups, Blair took a long sip of his coffee while Tracey frowned and fidgeted, waiting for an answer.
"It just so happened we were standing outside when Detective Ellison heard this cry off in the distance. As you may know, sound travels further at night..."
Jim hid a smile as he listened to his partner effortlessly hijack the conversation while concocting an explanation at the same time.
"...I think the important thing here is finding the mother. I can't believe someone would abandon their baby like that," Blair added.
"Unfortunately, it happens more than you think," said Tracey matter-of-factly. "One out of three abandoned infants aren't even found in time. This baby was one of the lucky ones." She turned her attention back to Jim. "What about the mother? If she's found, will she be charged?"
"That's for the department and the prosecutor to decide."
Tracey closed her notebook and motioned to her cameraman waiting patiently by the doorway.
"Let's go the alley. I want to get a shot of the dumpster where the baby was found."
"Thanks, Chief," said Jim softly, watching Tracey walk briskly away, her cameraman behind her.
"For what?"
"For jumping in and diverting her. I'm not thinking too clearly right now."
"Hey, no problem." Blair smiled then shivered a little. He sat in one of the chairs and wrapped his hands around his cup.
Jim lowered himself into the chair next to Blair. As far as vending machine coffee went, he'd had worse. At least it was hot. Together, they waited to hear from the doctors.
~ooo~
It was close to dawn by the time both men finally made it back to the loft, courtesy of another ride from Officer Mendez. Unlocking the front door, they stumbled in, grateful for the chance to get warm and dry.
Jim glanced at Blair. "Why don't you hit the showers first?"
"Thanks. I could definitely use some hot water right about now." Blair set his backpack down, toed off his wet boots and unbuttoned his coat. He went to his room, picked up some clean underwear, a pair of jeans and a shirt, and disappeared inside the bathroom.
Leaving his soggy shoes by the door, Jim quickly headed upstairs to find some dry clothes. The shower was still going by the time he made it back down to the kitchen.
He'd had enough coffee already. Yanking open the refrigerator door, he reached in and pulled out a carton of milk. Pouring some in a glass, he took a long swallow. Feeling slightly lightheaded from lack of sleep, Jim grabbed a chair and sat down. The rain had stopped and he saw a bright sliver of sunlight begin to break through the clouds.
Blair walked by, trailing steam from the bathroom. He made a beeline for the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice.
"Better?"
"Yeah." Blair poured some juice into a cup. "What about you? You're not thinking about going in, are you? You must be dead on your feet."
Jim grunted. "I'll survive. What about you?"
"Lucky for me, I don't have any morning classes today." Blair held up a bag of bagels. "Want one? I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
"Yeah, I'll take one."
"Plain, onion or blueberry?"
"Blueberry."
Blair sliced the bagels in half and placed them in the toaster oven. Just as he retrieved the cream cheese from the refrigerator, the phone rang.
"That's got to be Simon," he muttered. Putting the container down, he went over and grabbed the phone on the wall. "Hello? Oh hi, Simon. Good morning to you, too. Sure. Hold on, he's right here." He held out the receiver to Jim.
"Hello, Simon." Jim listened for a few minutes, adding an occasional "Yes, sir." He waved at Blair and pointed to the TV remote on the coffee table. "Actually, I'd say we were lucky. Right. Are they? I'll take a look."
Blair switched on the television. Jim turned his head in time to see Tracey Dunn standing in the same alley where they'd found the baby. Officer Kuwata's patrol car was still parked nearby.
"In the early hours of the morning, a baby, barely four hours old, was found abandoned inside this trash dumpster." Tracey gestured with her arm. The camera quickly zoomed in on the bin.
"Baby Danny, as he's been named, was taken to Cascade Children's Hospital where he's reported to be in serious but stable condition. The police are conducting a search for the mother..."
Blair flipped to another station. The same story was playing but with a different reporter.
"Yes, sir, I will. Thanks. Bye." Jim hung up and joined Blair.
"Do you have to go in?"
Jim shook his head. "No, not until this afternoon."
"Good. You can crash for a few hours. Hopefully, with all this media attention, the baby's mother will soon be found."
"Maybe, maybe not. If she is found, she'll probably be charged with attempted murder."
Blair froze. "Attempted murder?"
"Yeah. You saw the conditions out there. The baby would've died."
"Oh man." Blair clicked the television off. He sat down on the couch and sighed. Jim sat next to him. Leaning back against the cushion, Blair folded his arms and looked lost in thought.
"Jim?"
"Yes, Chief?"
"You did good out there."
Jim sat quietly for a moment. "Thanks, but I couldn't have done it without you."
"I know," Blair said with a big grin. "Ow!" He rubbed the side of his head and glared at Jim.
"Just don't let it go your head."
"Now see? This is what I was talking about earlier."
Jim eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
"The tests, man. I told you they'd be useful. We should get back to the lab and work some more on your senses. I've got a whole slew of exercises we can try. Remember that machine I made? The one with the flashing lights?" He smiled evilly.
Jim groaned.
~ooo~
Two weeks later:
Gina Campbell hummed to herself as she finished checking the last baby. There were currently almost a dozen infants in the nursery. Out of all the babies though, one in particular had endeared himself to her. Unlike the others, this baby received no special visitors, so Gina made sure he got extra attention whenever she was on duty.
As she approached the nursing station, she saw a tall man with short-cropped hair, leaning against the counter. He held a colorful-looking shopping bag in one hand.
"Hi, I'm Gina. Can I help you?"
"I'd like to leave this for one of the babies."
"How nice. Which one?" A relative visiting at this hour was a little unusual but not unheard of.
"This is for Baby Danny." He set the bag on the counter. A teddy bear, wearing a light blue knit cap, poked out amidst the tissue paper.
Gina blinked in surprise. "Baby Danny?" Aside from the doctors and an official from the Department of Social Services, no one else had asked about the infant. She peeked inside the bag. Along with the teddy bear were bibs, a pacifier and a little jumpsuit.
"Yes. I was wondering if you could tell me how he's doing?"
The man was obviously not Danny's father. Suddenly Gina remembered what one of the administrators had said about the night the infant had arrived at the hospital.
"You're the detective who found him, aren't you?"
He smiled at her. Ohhh, handsome, thought Gina, blushing slightly. "He's doing just fine," she said. "Would you like to see him?"
"Can I do that?"
"Sure. Follow me." Together, they entered the nursery. "There he is," she said, but the detective had already arrowed in on the infant drowsing in the corner.
His expression softened when she carefully handed Danny to him. Gina watched him sniff the baby's head. His eyes closed, the detective seemed to enjoy the warm, clean scent. Danny had come a long way since the first night, thanks to this man. The infant looked healthy and there was a rosy glow to his skin.
"As you can see, he's been gaining weight."
"I'm glad." Jim stroked the petal-soft cheek with his fingertip. "Hey, little guy. Remember me?"
Danny yawned and gurgled before closing his hand over Jim's finger.
Gina smiled as Jim's eyes widened in wonderment. It was cute, she thought, the way the big man held Danny with such tenderness. She turned and checked on another infant, while Jim made soft noises at Danny.
"Say, did you ever find his mother?" she asked.
"No, I'm afraid not."
"You know, it's too bad she didn't bring him here in the first place."
Jim nodded. "I understand this hospital accepts any newborn baby brought here, no questions asked."
"That's right. They started the program about a year ago for situations like this." Gina turned around and held her arms out.
Jim slowly released Danny back to her. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Gina carefully laid Danny back in his little bed. By the time she finished checking his diaper and arranging his blankets, the detective was gone.
~ooo~
"Hey, you're home." Blair peered over his shoulder as he slipped his hands into two large oven mitts.
Hanging up his coat, Jim caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. As he turned to face Blair, he saw a bottle of wine sitting on the dining table.
"A special occasion, Chief?"
"You could say that."
Jim smiled and sat at the table. He watched Blair open the oven door and pull out a steaming baking dish. A blend of mozzarella and ricotta cheeses bubbled on top of the lasagna. The smell of oregano and basil filled the air. Jim sniffed appreciatively.
"How'd it go at the hospital?"
"The nurse said he's doing well. He's even gained some weight." Jim leaned forward on his elbows. "According to her, he's got practically everyone on staff wrapped around his little finger."
"Including you, I'll bet," Blair chuckled. He yanked his oven mitts off and set them on the counter. "Did you get a chance to see him?"
"Yep. The nurse even let me hold him."
Blair pulled out a chair and sat down. "What was it like?"
Jim drew a deep breath. "Incredible. He's so tiny. It's hard to imagine something that fragile managing to survive the way he did. When I think about how close we came that night to--" suddenly his throat tightened and he stopped.
Blair reached out and squeezed Jim's wrist gently. "He's getting a second chance at life, thanks to you. There's no greater gift than that." He smiled crookedly at Jim. "I should know."
His eyes a little misty, Jim cleared his throat. "I, um, heard from Simon that Social Services has a foster family lined up to take him in already. They're also planning to adopt him."
"Hey, that's great news." Blair picked up the bottle and poured some wine into the goblets. He slid one toward Jim.
"I think this calls for a toast," he said, lifting his glass. "To Baby Danny. L'chaim."
The thought that Danny would soon be with a family that loved and wanted him, felt immensely satisfying to Jim. He clinked Blair's glass with his. "To Baby Danny. L'chaim."
*~ The End ~*
Special note: Texas was the first state to pass a law allowing people to relinquish infants to an EMT at a fire station, police station or hospital within 30 days of birth and avoid prosecution. Since then twelve other states (including Alabama, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Indiana, Louisiana and New York) have enacted similar laws.
Feedback welcomed. AutumnSkies1@aol.com