Summary/Warnings: It hasn't been beta'd. It's slash. And it's the first TS I've written in months. The muse has come home. woot!
All he knew was pain and chaos. The touch of those who tried to help only caused more pain, for they were not the one. The softest voices were too loud. The smoothest sheets were too rough. The dimmest lights were too bright. There was always someone there, trying to soothe him, but they couldn't help. In a sea of noise, he was alone. Jim Ellison was again alone in his pain and he alone knew he had no one to blame but himself for the absence of his guide. His friend. The one he would call lover.
"You hang in there, Ellison. We're all here for you. Brown wants you to know they caught the shooter." Simon Bank's rough voice told him. But Jim hadn't the energy to tell his boss that all the members of Major Crimes couldn't make up for the one person missing. The one person he had driven away.
"Jimmy, it's okay. The doctors say you'll be fine. They've repaired the damage from bullet and the infection is going down." William Ellison's voice cut tried to cut through the chaos, but was swept away in the tide of his son's guilt. Jim didn't see his father's shoulder's slump sadly as he left the hospital room.
With no one's voice to anchor, Jim grabbed the moment and sank into the peace of a zone. "I'm sorry Blair." His mind whispered. "So sorry. Never meant to hurt."
Later, Jim Ellison could never say how long he stayed in the dark of the self-imposed zone, only that he was drawn out by the softest of sensations. Soft lips on his, followed by warm salty water dripping on his skin . Warm breath in his ear and the one voice he never thought to hear. The one voice he needed to hear.
"Not your fault. I love you too, Jim. Now come back to me."
With those words, Jim Ellison opened his eyes.
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