Title: Victims.

Disclaimer: Only my originals belong to me!

Rating: General.

Summary: A robbery causes friction between friends.

Notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed 'Chloe's Legacy'. Those kind words genuinely inspired me to write some more. I don't really like having more than one WIP on the go at the same time, but Star Struck (rated NC-17) is proving to be slow going and this just wouldn't leave me alone!

Feedback: Always appreciated.

Email: helenlouiseg@aol.com

VICTIMS.

by

Guardian.

Jesse Travis glanced at his watch and groaned inwardly. It was almost one a.m. and he'd only just got around to closing Barbeque Bob's, the restaurant he co-owned with his friend Steve Sloan. He was back on shift at the hospital at eight, but he'd insisted on staying to close up because he knew that Steve had been working even harder than him of late.

He locked the restaurant's front door and trudged wearily to his car, his mind on his bed. He didn't realise that he was not alone until it was too late. Somebody grabbed his arm and he was thrust roughly back against a wall.

Before he knew what was happening, Jesse found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Then everything happened with frightening speed. Jesse saw that the gun was wavering wildly, as though the hands that held it were shaking. He glanced up and had time to notice wide and frightened almond-shaped eyes, set in an unmistakably Oriental face.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and Jesse felt white-hot pain in his chest. Jesse fell back and the last thing he saw was his own shock, mirrored in the face of the gunman.

*****

Jesse was lucky that somebody heard the shot and dialled 911, so the paramedics were able to get to him before he bled to death. He was equally lucky that Mark Sloan was there when he was rushed through the doors of Community General Hospital. Mark had just finished his shift and was headed home, but he saw his young friend through triage, was with him when he briefly regained consciousness and stayed with him until he went into surgery. Then all he could do was wait.

Steve arrived less than half an hour later, concern for his friend clearly showing on his handsome features.

"What happened, dad?" he asked, without preamble. "How is he?"

"He was shot once, high in the chest." Seeing the stricken look on his son's face, Mark hurried to reassure him: "He's going to be okay. He's in surgery now, having the bullet removed. It was deflected off his collar bone into his chest cavity, but luckily missed anything major. A couple of inches lower..."

Steve closed his eyes briefly, not needing his father to spell out just how close they'd come to losing Jesse. He was aware that Mark was still talking and forced his attention back to him.

"It looks like a robbery. There were no witnesses, but his wallet is missing."

"I'll call the station," Steve said, knowing that he couldn't just stand around waiting. "See if they've found anything."

Mark was left to wait alone. He hadn't disturbed Amanda with the news, not once he'd learnt that Jesse's injury wasn't life-threatening. She didn't see enough of her children as it was. Now that she had a couple of days off, he was determined to let her enjoy them.

She'd be mad about not being told, of that there was no doubt, but Mark genuinely believed that he was acting in her best interests. Even if she were to come to the hospital, she'd only be stuck waiting with him.

Steve returned a short time later, but with no news on Jesse's assailant. Until the young doctor woke up and could give them a description, they had little hope of finding him.

Father and son waited in silence, Steve occasionally shifting restlessly on his chair. Mark could see that something was bothering him, but never pressed him as to revealing what that something was. Steve, he knew, would tell him when he was good and ready.

The revelation wasn't long in coming. As the minutes dragged by, Steve jumped to his feet and began pacing, casting constant worried glances towards the doors of the OR.

"What the Hell's taking them so long?" he snapped, as his frustration mounted.

"While Doctor Reynolds is an excellent surgeon, he's hardly a miracle worker," Mark replied, with amusement in his tone.

"You said it wasn't serious."

"What I said was that it wasn't life-threatening, but it was a nasty wound. Not only have they got to remove the bullet, but also some bone fragments. Plus there'll be some nerve and tissue damage that needs repairing. It takes time."

Steve flopped back into his chair and ran his hands through his hair.

"I should have been there," he said quietly, his eyes closed.

The comment wasn't completely unexpected to Mark. He knew his son well and also knew that he took his responsibilities very seriously indeed and that included his responsibilities as a friend. From the moment that Jesse was hurt, it was inevitable that Steve would feel he had let him down.

"Maybe you should," Mark answered. "Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had been there, but we'll never know. Jesse did you a favour, as a friend, by volunteering to lock-up at Bob's, but there's no way he's going to see the shooting as being your fault. You shouldn't either."

"But dad..."

"But nothing. Jesse is going to need his friends around him while he recovers. He's going to need their love and support. Not some misplaced guilt trip."

Mark didn't mean for the words to come out sounding quite so harsh, but they had the desired effect. He didn't need Steve to be so consumed by guilt that he wouldn't be able to face his young friend. That would do them both more harm than good.

"I suppose you're right," Steve conceded slowly. "But I just wish..."

"Wishes won't change the past. All you can do is help Jesse in any way you can. And that includes finding whoever who did this to him."

*****

By the time Jesse's surgery was over and Mark and Steve had taken a quick look in on him in recovery, it was morning. Neither man had managed to get any sleep and were just about to go home, to try and catch a couple of hours before their respective shifts started, when Amanda came rushing down the corridor.

"I'll, um, just go and fetch the car." Steve mumbled, beating a hasty retreat when he saw the expression on her face.

"Why didn't you call me?" She demanded furiously. "I've just heard about Jesse. Is he going to be alright? I can't believe you didn't call me."

"I'm sorry Amanda." Mark's tired voice cut through her tirade. "It was really late when he was brought in and we didn't want to disturb you or the boys. Once we knew that Jesse was going to be alright, there really wasn't anything you could have done."

"I could have been here for him."

"I'm sorry," Mark said again.

Seeing the exhaustion on the older man's face, Amanda forced herself to calm down.

"Have you been here all night?" she asked him gently.

"I was just about to go home when it happened. I couldn't leave him. Even when I knew it wasn't as serious as it looked, I couldn't leave him."

He remembered his own horror at seeing Jesse's blood-soaked form and was still thankful, in spite of her wrath, that he had saved Amanda from such anguish. He suddenly realised that the pathologist was looking at him expectantly. She had said something, but he had no clue as to what it was. He sheepishly asked her to repeat herself.

"I said, why don't you go home? You're obviously exhausted. I'll wait with Jesse. He won't be alone when he wakes up."

Mark was too tired to argue. He felt a brief stab of guilt as he thought that, if it were Steve who was lying injured instead of Jesse, wild horses wouldn't have dragged him from the hospital. Then he remembered his own words, warning his son away from any guilt trip.

He'd seen for himself that Jesse was alright and already on the road to recovery. There was no reason for him to stay. He took Amanda's advice and headed home.

*****

The anaesthetic held Jesse in a deep and painless slumber until well into the afternoon. So Mark had returned to the hospital and was at his bedside when his eyelids first started to flutter and he fought his way back to consciousness.

Amanda was there too, as she had been all day, taking the time to catch up on some paperwork while she kept an eye on her friend. When he first began to stir, she laid her files to one side and took hold of his hand.

Mark went around to his other side and, smiling down at him, rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, anticipating his disorientation when he first awoke. As Mark had known he would, the moment Jesse's eyes opened, he began to try and sit up. Mark's gentle touch stopped him.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice still hoarse from the effects of the anaesthetic.

Amanda eased some ice chips into his mouth and he smiled at her with genuine gratitude.

"How do you feel?" she asked, as Mark began to do his standard post-op examination.

Jesse lay still and let his colleague get on with his job. He took a deep breath, then winced as something pulled in his chest.

"Sore," he admitted. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Mark countered.

"I was at Bob's," Jesse answered slowly, frowning as he sought the memory. "I remember locking the door. Then... there was somebody else. A gun... My God, he shot me!"

Mark nodded and was just about to explain when the door opened. Steve poked his head in, saw that Jesse was conscious, then came into the room.

"Jesse," he greeted, a broad smile portraying his relief at seeing his friend awake and alert.

"Getting shot sucks."

"Tell me about it."

"Steve." Mark's stern voice cut through their banter. "Jesse has only just come round. Any questions you have will have to wait until he's stronger."

"Mark, really, I'm fine." To prove his point, Jesse tried to sit up, but the anaesthetic was beginning to wear off and pain stabbed through his chest. He fell back, gasping.

"You are most certainly not fine," Mark admonished. "You have just come through surgery. What you need is rest and lots of it."

"But..."

"Don't make me fetch a sedative."

Those final words silenced Jesse, but Amanda had no such restrictions and allowed her own curiosity to come to the fore.

"So, have you caught him yet?"

Steve shot her a mock glare as he perched on the edge of Jesse's bed.

"There were no witnesses to the actual shooting," he told them. "We don't even know for sure if it's a he we're looking for."

"It was a guy," Jesse offered. "Oriental, maybe Chinese..."

He trailed off as he noticed Mark's warning look and muttered an apology. But Mark was as eager as anyone else to find the man who had shot his friend.

"You can carry on," he relented, "as long as you feel up to it. But if you get too tired, or start to get at all agitated..."

He didn't have to complete the threat. Jesse knew that it would involve sedatives.

"Okay." In his mind's eye, Jesse could clearly see the face of the gunman. "He wasn't very old. At least, I don't think so. He was Oriental. They always seem to look young to me."

"Did you notice what he was wearing?" Steve asked.

Jesse shook his head and closed his eyes, to see if that would aid his memory. But all he could see was those almond eyes, widened in shock.

"It was weird," he said eventually, knowing that it sounded lame, but not knowing how else to describe it.

"How do you mean?" Steve leaned forward eagerly.

"He didn't say anything." Jesse's frown returned. "He didn't demand money, didn't give me a chance. He threw me against the wall, then... I didn't try to fight him... He just... He..."

"Alright, that's enough." Mark stepped in swiftly as he noticed Jesse's increasing agitation. The young man was breathing heavily as his body reacted to his remembered terror. "Jesse, you need to calm down. I want you to take slow, even breaths."

Jesse swallowed heavily and nodded, feeling exhaustion creeping up on him. He closed his eyes, willing to let Mark and Amanda fuss over him. Within moments, sleep had claimed him.

PART TWO COMING SOON!!!