Chapter 3

''Steve...''

Jaime had been focused on eyes; they were her fascination - and her downfall. First Michael's eyes and then Kingsley's had played in ugly rapid-fire projection in her mind and now her own eyes were confused, soft,,,and filled with tears. When she was finally able to focus (if just for a few minutes) on her surroundings, the hand that held hers was not her husband's; it was Mark's.

''Where's...Steve?'' she asked (not at all 'grounded').

Mark couldn't bear to tell her that her husband had just returned to his (temporary) OSI-sponsored apartment; he hadn't been told she'd been admitted or that she was in trouble. ''He can't be here right now,'' the therapist reminded her gently, ''because of the Tribunal.'' Jaime herself had regrettably never even made it home; she'd gone straight from Mark's office up to the Third Floor...and now Mark could see that she was in serious trouble. Nothing he'd tried had made any difference - not her usual lemons, ice, peppermint oil...or even sedation. Jaime was still locked in the prison that Kingsley had fashioned for her - and that Michael had forced her back into...

''I...need...Steve...'' Jaime whispered before sinking back 'under' and into the horrors of her own mind once again.


Steve was unable to sleep. Something was wrong; he could just feel it! He wanted to pick up the phone and call the house, but if he did anything to jeopardize Michael's conviction, Jaime (and the others) would have his head on a platter. Besides, he reasoned, it's the middle of the night and Jaime's been sound asleep for hours. Mark would be with her, spending the night in the spare bedroom - just to be on the safe side - since it would be morning (at least) before he could begin testing Michael. Steve had just decided to finally lie down and try for a few hours of sleep...when the phone rang.

''It's Mark,'' the therapist said urgently (but very, very quietly, not wanting to risk being overheard). ''I'm still up at National...with Jaime. There's a problem.'' Quickly, he filled Steve in on what had happened. ''I've got her sedated again; it was all I could do. She's asleep for the moment but she needs you.''

''I'm on my way,'' Steve told him.

''Steve...wait. We'll have to find some way to sneak you in...''

For Steve, that no longer mattered. Jaime was in trouble; she needed him. He would walk straight past whatever Security might try to stop him, just to get to her! But he also knew Mark was right. He wouldn't be able to help his wife if he was dragged forcibly from her room...so together, they worked out a plan...


Doctor Corinth and Rudy examined Michael together. ''I need to get back to work!'' he insisted. ''But I feel rotten...''

You are rotten Corinth thought to himself. ''Tell me where the pain is - and scale it, 1 - 10.''

''My head is a nine,'' Michael answered, wincing as he tried to sit up. ''Feels like it's going to explode. Or like it already did. The rest of my body is about a five. What the hell happened...?''


Once they'd finally managed to get Michael settled and resting at least a little more comfortably, the two doctors headed up to the Third Floor and paused in the doorway, not sure if they were really witnessing what appeared to be happening. He may have somehow gotten past Security...but the male nurse beside Jaime's bed was someone they knew to be highly skilled in disguises (and stealth). Mark looked up guiltily when he heard them approach...but the 'nurse' was too wrapped up in trying to help his 'patient' to acknowledge the doctors' arrival.

Jaime was thrashing wildly in her bed, the sedative (which should've held her for at least six hours) having given her only an hour of rest. The demons she was struggling with were far more powerful than what Mark had thus far been able to do for her. Her monitors were going wild and Doctor Corinth ordered more coumadin, concerned she might be far enough 'gone' to throw her into Rejection and cause another clot to form. There were no lemons or ice now - they were useless at this point - but the 'medicine' she needed most had finally arrived.

Steve perched on the edge of the bed and tenderly cradled his wife's face in his hands, trying to make her 'see' him. ''I'm here, Sweetheart,'' he whispered. ''I gotcha; you're safe.''

Jaime felt his hands...and panicked, believing in her nightmare-world that Kingsley had finally reached her...and was pulling her straight down to Hell. Her arms flailed frantically, trying to push him away - but Steve kept up a firm but loving touch, smoothing her hair back, caressing her face and brushing away her tears. He knew from her eyes that Jaime was no longer 'with' them...and he couldn't bear to imagine the images her mind was inflicting on her.

Smoke and explosions surrounded her, so thick that she couldn't see. Jaime felt hands reaching for her through the darkness. Kingsley! He'd found her! She tried to run...but he 'had' her - and all she could do was try to slap his hands away. He refused to give up this time...kept pulling at her...grabbing her. The only touch she felt translated into an insistent effort to force her down to...wherever it was that he'd ended up. (Hell?) She had to get away! Jaime swung away from him and tried to run...but strong arms forced her back and she cried out in frustration - and terror.