The same disclaimer as for Parts I and II applies. The characters of Mark Sloan, Steve Sloan, Amanda Bentley, Jesse Travis, Cheryl Banks, Randy Wolfe, Captain Newman and Ron Wagner belong to CBS and Viacom. Any other individuals are fictional and not intended to resemble any actual living person, although Dave Harbrook is a conglomeration of some of the more human attorneys I have encountered over the course of my lengthy legal career (yes! there really are some!), while Samuel Edding embodies some of the less attractive ones.

"You're going home," Mark Sloan repeated, holding his injured son's hand and helping Jesse Travis with the rifle wounds in Steve's right arm and shoulder. Around them was a chaotic assemblage of medical and law enforcement personnel; Mark could hear the hoarse voice of Dr. Morgan complaining, presumably to Sheriff Silver or Captain Newman, interspersed with frequent coughs as he tried to push additional furious expletives through his bruised throat.

Jesse glanced in that direction briefly, then returned his attention to Steve's arm. "Guess Steve had him pretty good there," he commented bitterly. His mouth tightened as he looked at his friend's gaunt face. "Can't say he didn't deserve it."

Mark raised his eyebrows at the uncharacteristic viciousness in Jesse's voice, but was hard put to disagree. "That chain was pretty heavy." He had picked it up briefly once they had convinced the sheriff to have Steve's restraints removed, before the annoyed lawman confiscated it. "Steve could have done major damage if he had chosen to do so." He glanced at his son's face in his turn, noting the signs of stress and injury, physical and psychological, and sighed, wondering how long and hard the road to recovery was likely to be.

The paramedics had arrived, and were being briefed by Jesse. Mark watched as they slid Steve onto a stretcher, setting up an IV, then took his son's hand once more, forcing himself to sound reassuring. "Don't worry, son. You're going to be all right. We're taking you to Community General. Everything's going to be fine."

He was interrupted by the sheriff, Captain Newman, who looked like he was on the verge of apoplexy, hard on his heels. "I'm sorry, folks, but he's going to have to go to Fairview Hospital up here. They've got a lockdown unit."

Mark stared at him in shock. "What difference does that make?"

Sheriff Silver ran a finger around his collar. "Your son's under arrest for attempted murder, aggravated assault and battery --"

"You've got to be kidding!" yelped Jesse. "After everything that bastard did to him --"

"I wish I were, son," the sheriff responded gravely. "I might be less inclined to charge him if that was the extent of it."

The extent of it? Mark caught the odd nuance in the sheriff's voice. "Extent of what?" he demanded, rising, starting to glower, glad Steve was safely unconscious.

Captain Newman spoke up before the situation started to get ugly. "Mark, listen. Something's happened. Until we can get all the facts, and clear Steve, I have to go along with George; it's his investigation."

Mark's ire rose. "Clear Steve? Jim, you or your friend had better start explaining what's going on, right now. My son is sick and hurt, and I intend to take him home, so --"

Newman held up a hand. "You can't, Mark. Listen to me. They found a nurse in Steve's room. Badly beaten, barely alive --"

This was too much. Mark's temper, so like his son's once sufficiently aggravated, exploded. "You cannot seriously expect me to believe my son would --"

The sheriff interrupted, holding up a large plastic bag. "We found these." It contained what looked like long gloves, which had once been white, but were now soaked with blood. "I understand these were his." He nodded towards the man on the stretcher.

Fury ignited in Mark's eyes, and Newman hurriedly stepped in front of him. "Mark. Listen. You can't do anything to change this right now. I promise we'll make sure there's a thorough investigation. Right now, Steve needs a hospital. From the looks of him, the closest one."

Mark glared at his son's commanding officer for another minute, hating his powerlessness, slowly coming to grips with the fact that he could do nothing to change the situation at present. Yet. "All right, Jim. I want it on the record that it's over my professional protests as well. And I swear to you that I intend to get to the bottom of this."