Disclaimer: The show and the characters belong to CBS and Viacom. They are merely being borrowed for this piece of fan fiction.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by a chapter title in Mirror Image. We all know Steve Sloan is a walking medical miracle, bouncing back from one dire injury after another, but sometimes, an accumulation of little things can really get him down. We owe a great deal of thanks to two wonderful beta readers. Ladies you are the best!

Frequent Patient Discount – Chapter One

Jesse stood observing the bedraggled figure slumped in the chair of the ER waiting room. His hair which normally was plastered in place with hairspray stood up in tufts all over his head and parts of it appeared to contain dried blood and remnants of what looked like newspaper. His hand appeared to be wrapped in a paper towel and his boot was off and sitting beside the foot it should have been on. He was only half sitting in the chair, his bottom placed at an odd angle as if it were painful to sit. In his lap, he was holding a medium sized, greenish, domed object that looked for all the world like a turtle. To complete the picture periodic sniffles could be heard coming from the down turned face. If he had been shorter, he could have passed for a little boy worried about a traumatized pet. Using every ounce of self-control and professionalism he possessed Jesse suppressed the smile that threatened to escape and addressed his next patient.

"Steve?"

Steve jerked and turned bleary eyes up to look at the young doctor. "What?"

Jesse's eyes twinkled as he attempted to control the chuckle that tickled the back of his throat. Steve's nose was so red it practically glowed and there were flecks of what looked like mud covering his face like freckles.

"What happened?"

"It's a really long story that I don't really want to share," Steve informed him testily.

"Ok, can you at least tell me what you're doing with a turtle in the ER?" Jesse asked, hoping he had managed to keep the threatening smile off his face.

"I, uh . . . I found him while I was out fishing. Look, Jess, can't you just fix me up?" Steve pleaded wearily.

"Sure, but it helps to know what happened when I am treating someone, you know it will be confidential." Jesse bit his lip to keep from laughing at his beleaguered friend.

The look Steve gave him indicated his opinion of the truthfulness of that statement. "Yeah, right, I'm sure you would never dream of telling Dad and Amanda."

"We can argue over that later, can you walk, or do I need to get a wheelchair?" Jesse asked.

"I can walk!" Steve barked and as he stood up Jesse lost all semblance of control. The inseam of his left pants leg was a tattered shred and a brief glimpse of white cotton had been visible when Steve had pushed himself upright. The turtle, surprised by the change in position, began flapping his fins and swaying his head back and forth as if looking for some means of escape. Jesse's chuckle turned to a giggle which then quickly evolved into body engulfing laughter, tears streamed down his face and he thought his knees would buckle. Using the palm of his hand he tried to clear his wet eyes and discreetly observe the countenance of his friend. The scowl that resided there was probably meant to instill fear; instead its appearance was so incongruous with the rest of his look that it only inspired Jesse into another fit of laughter.

Balancing on his one good foot, Steve rested the turtle on one hip and his closed fist on the other and waited for Jesse to regain his composure. "I would really like to see in what part of the Hippocratic Oath it says that doctors should laugh at their patients!"

As Jesse struggled to rein in his laughter, a mischievous smile played on his lips as he responded. "Well, haven't you ever heard the old saying 'laughter is the best medicine'?

"Ha, ha, I think that means if the patient laughs, not the doctor, now are you going to treat me, or do I need to go to another hospital where they actually practice medicine."

"Oh, no, there is no way you are getting out of here, for one thing Mark would kill me, and for the other I have to know what happened." Leaning forward to make eye contact with the turtle, Jesse added, "You know, your friend here is kind of cute. What's his name?"

The turtle's jaws snapped together just inches from the young doctor's nose, and Jesse jumped back. Straightening up, he was sure he caught Steve changing a smile into a scowl, and he said, "You might have warned me!"

"I suppose I might have, but I didn't," Steve said with a touch of evil in his voice. "You should know better than to get too close to unfamiliar wild animals anyway."

"So, what is he?"

"I think he's an alligator snapper, and if he is, he's a young one. They get to be pretty big."

"So, how'd you come by him?" Jesse asked.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Steve gave an angry grin, and shook the finger of his free hand in Jesse's face, "That's all part of the story I didn't want to tell you to begin with. So, for the last time, are you going treat me or not?"

"Oh, all right, exam two," Jesse groused, "but can you stop snapping at me?"

The pun was accidental, but Steve still grunted something that Jesse was pretty sure he didn't want to ask him to repeat and then hobbled in the direction of the treatment room.

As Jesse followed him into the room he stopped a passing nurse in the hallway and asked her to contact Doctor Sloan and inform him that his son was in for treatment of some minor injuries. He then moved across to the exam table which now held a thoroughly grumpy police lieutenant who once again appeared reluctant to sit completely down and a turtle that could only be sulking as he was again drawn up into his shell looking out at his strange surroundings with beady reptilian eyes.

"Ahhh, errr, Steve, is there some reason why won't you sit down?" Jesse inquired with one arched eyebrow. He could swear Steve's cheeks flushed a red that matched his glowing nose.

"I can't," was the muttered response.

"You can't, why?" Jesse asked perplexed.

"It hurts," was the disgruntled reply.

"You know, Steve you could make this go a lot faster if you would just tell me what is wrong."

"Do you promise not to laugh?" Steve questioned.

"No, but you are going to tell me anyway," Jesse responded with a smile.

"Alright, fine, I have some shotgun pellets there."

"There? Where's there? Your leg……oh, oh, oh, you mean THERE." Jesse couldn't stop the snort that escaped through his nose as once again his slender frame was overwhelmed with laughter. "So you're telling me, that I need to help you get the lead out?"

"Cute," Steve smirked. "Actually, hunters in the United States are now required to use steel shot because some environmentalists are worried that the ducks are coming down with lead poisoning. It didn't bleed much and it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as my head."

"So, let's take a look at you head first, we'll get to the other in the end," was Jesse's giggle laden response.

"Very funny, do I need to get on my knees so that you can reach?" Steve inquired.

"Well at least your sarcasm is intact, and you know it's probably not a good idea to irritate someone who is getting ready to probe your wounds."

"It probably equally as bad an idea to irritate someone who is bigger than you," Steve responded.

"This is true, but I also have access to drugs that I can use to incapacitate you, that cancels out the size thing, now please let me look at your head."

"Uhh, Jess?"

"Steve?"

"Could I get rid of the turtle first?"

"Oh! Uh, sure! What do you want to do with him?" Jesse asked with a sparkle in his eye. "I could send him to the kitchen and have the cook make soup for you. It couldn't be any worse than the meatloaf you love so much."

This time, Steve actually growled, and Jesse had to accept the fact that, not only was his friend not amused, but he had also had a very rough day. Feeling just a touch of sympathy, whether for the turtle or for Steve, he wasn't sure, he said, "Ok, ok, you found him at the lake, so he likes water, right? We'll just put him in the sink and turn the water on."

Trying not to think about how many health code violations he was committing, Jesse did just that and made a mental note to be certain he thoroughly disinfected the sink after his two patients had left. The sink wasn't large enough for the turtle to swim in, but as the cool water began to hit his shell, he began to look somewhat more comfortable. Jesse was certain that if turtles could sigh in relief, he would have.

Knowing that he couldn't wash his hands in the sink with the turtle in there, Jesse opened an alcohol wipe and did his best to sanitize them with it. Then he pulled on a pair of gloves and turned to his friend.

"Now, let me have a look at your head."

Steve lowered his head and grimaced as Jesse's fingers moved around the wound.

"How on earth did you get this? It starts out shallow then gets progressively deeper and there is a pretty good sized chunk of skin missing on one end."

"It was a mfishmmg mhommk," Steve mumbled.

"I'm sorry, did you say a fishing hook?" Jesse questioned with merriment sparkling in his eyes. "How on earth did you hook yourself in the head?"

Steve raised his head and glared. "I didn't hook my own head, she did it!"

"She did it? Who is she? Are you not even safe from weird women on a fishing trip? What is her name?"

"I don't know her name, I was on the lake minding my own business when I heard a woman scream, when I got back in the boat I went to find out….," Steve paused when he was interrupted.

"When you got back in the boat?" Jesse prompted. "You fell out of the boat?" The white shoulders of Jesse's coat rose and fell with laughter once again.

"Yes, Doctor, that's how I hurt my ankle, I got it caught under the seat when I fell."

Jesse muffled his laughter behind the hand he held over his mouth. "Let me look at your head again, I don't think I'll have to shave it….,"

The head in question was quickly jerked up and away. "You are not coming anywhere near my head with a razor," Steve barked.

"As I was saying I don't think I'll need to shave your head and I don't think stitches will be necessary, you may have to lay off the hairspray till it heals though."

"I don't use hairspray," Steve argued.

"Right, and you're a natural neon blonde as well," Jesse responded.

The epithet that flew from Steve's lips caused a red tinge to cover Jesse's cheeks.

"Steve!" rang a voice from the doorway. "You know your mother hated that kind of language."

Steve had the decency to look ashamed and when he responded his face wore a pout Mark could swear looked the same as it had when he was six. "Dad, you have no idea what I have been putting up with."

"No, I guess I don't, but that's still no excuse." Mark's frown changed from one of disapproval to confused curiosity. "Jesse, why is the water running, and what is that in the sink?"

Jesse didn't know if he was going to be able to restrain himself. Dealing with the injuries and their explanations was difficult enough, but to now have Mark chastising Steve like he was a child was pushing the boundaries of his control. He tittered nervously before he spoke. "It's a turtle," he said as if the animal were standard ER equipment. "I was trying to make him comfortable."

"I see . . . and how exactly did you end up with him?"

Grinning, knowing he wasn't helping the cause, Jesse answered, "It's Steve's. He found it at the lake. I don't know why he brought it here. It doesn't look hurt."

Mark looked at his son. "Steve?" The one word carried with it the whole question, 'What have you got to say for yourself?'

"Dad, please, I'm tired, can't you cut me some slack this once?" Steve truly did look tired, and Mark took pity on him.

"Ok, Son, it can wait, for a little while. Jesse, what have you got?"

"I was just getting ready to move to his next injury, care to help out?"

"His next injury, just how many are there, and how did you get them?" Mark asked his son.

"Dad, I really, really don't want to get into this, can't you just patch me up and let me go home? I have a late shift tonight and I would really like to clean up."

"He does need to go home first, Mark, otherwise you might be having to bail him out for indecent exposure, not to mention the cold he might catch from the draft," Jesse explained.

For the first time, Mark took in his son's appearance. The unnaturally spikey hair stained with blood and matted with something else, the mud splatters on the face, the wrapped hand, the swollen ankle, the odd angle at which his posterior rested on the exam table and lastly the flesh visible where a pant leg should have been. He frowned and wrinkled his nose. "Steve, what on earth have you been doing, I thought you were going fishing?"

"I was, I did…., but stuff happened."

"Stuff happened? Stuff happened?" Mark asked incredulously. "That's what you said when your mother and I returned home from a long holiday weekend to find the door broken, the couch missing a leg, a sandcastle in the family room, and a tie-dyed VW bus stranded on the beach in back of the house. It was woefully inadequate then and it's not much better now!"

Jesse was done for. Mark's recitation of the teenage Steve's adventures was more than he could take. His laughter erupted and he snorted through his nose loudly. Even the cold glare he received from his seriously peeved best friend couldn't stop his laughter. Once again he found himself wiping tears from eyes that were by now red and puffy. "Ok, you can't just leave it there, I gotta know what happened."

Steve dropped his head in an effort to bring his ever-rising temper under control, that seemingly simple act caused him more grief.

"Is that the sports section in your hair?" His father inquired as he peered in to look more closely. "It is, Steve, I never even got a chance to read it this morning!"

Broad shoulders rose and dropped with a mountainous sigh that threatened to drain all of the oxygen out of the room, then in a voice that was distorted by the fact that it was being pushed through gritted teeth, Steve said once more. "I . . . just … want … to … get … patched … up … so … that … I … can … go … to … work … tonight!"

Still chuckling Jesse took pity on him. "Ok, ok, now bottoms up so I can take a look."

Blue eyes pinned him to the wall, but the look did little to quell the mirth that was dancing across Jesse's face.

"This is not funny anymore, Jesse!" Steve barked.

"No, you're right." Jesse agreed. "It ceased being funny some time ago, right about the time it crossed in to hysterical!"

Mark had been observing the banter. He observed the one good hand that clenched the table with white knuckles. He knew that his son had nearly reached the breaking point. In his best soothing doctor tone, he addressed his son.

"Steve, while Jesse finishes checking everything out I want you to tell me what happened."

Once again an oxygen stealing sigh escaped and then Steve began his explanation of the day's events.