The snow had not stopped, but it was not falling nearly as hard as it had the day before, Jesse thought, peering through the window. He had a pleasant enough room, with a small fireplace even, but he had felt guilty at the thought that his best friend was stranded somewhere in the blizzard, so he had deliberately refrained from using it. He was starting to shiver, though, and the firewood was looking very appealing. He finished the excellent breakfast the proprietor, a large, kindly woman, had insisted he eat, and was starting to struggle into the borrowed coat when she called him to the phone.

It was Gillian; Jesse's world suddenly acquired a rosier hue before the guilt returned and gave him a mental wallop. "Dr. Travis? It's Gillian Tolliver. Could you possibly make another house call?"

I'd love to, he thought, until he remembered the transportation situation. "Of course. Except --" he trailed off, embarrassed.

Amazingly, she understood what he was trying to say. "I'll come get you. I can -- leave Paul for a little while."

Her voice sounded strange, especially the slight hesitation. "Is Paul --" he started to ask, but she interrupted him. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," she said hurriedly, and hung up.

Puzzling, Jesse retrieved the inherited medical bag, wondering what sudden occurrence had put that odd note of strain in Gillian's voice. When, true to her word, she arrived exactly twenty minutes later, he climbed into her ancient truck and finished his question. "Is Paul having problems?"

Gillian threw him a startled glance. "No, Paul's all right. It's -- we had a guest arrive unexpectedly, and he had an accident, while hiking. I think you'd better take a look at him."

Something was definitely off, but he couldn't pinpoint it. Her attention, however, was clearly focused on the still treacherous road, so any questions about her "guest" or the antiquated vehicle would obviously have to wait. He would find out soon enough.

The patient could hear the low murmur of voices in the next room, and wondered vaguely if they were talking about him. He considered calling out, but it seemed to be too much trouble. He was definitely uncomfortable, though; daylight was pouring in through the curtains and battering at his eyelids mercilessly. If he was to go back to sleep with any degree of success, he was going to have to force his sluggish body to roll over, regardless of its inclinations to the contrary. Taking a deep breath, he made an effort and rolled to his right, away from the unwelcome sun, and landed hard on his injured arm.

Steve jerked from his somnolent state abruptly as fire raced up his arm, a grunt of pain escaping him involuntarily. He lay frozen, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as he tried to ride out the agony in his arm as well as the other screaming, newly awakened nerve endings in his abused body, ribs naturally doing their best to outyell the rest. Outside his room, the voices halted, and he heard footsteps, presumably belonging to the owners of the voices, come into the room.

Then a voice he knew. "Oh, my God. Steve."

And a familiar touch on his wrist and forehead as his best friend once again became his doctor, prying his clenched eyelids open. "Where the hell have you been, Steve? I've been worried sick."

He focused one bleary eye on his partner. "Playing in the snow, Jess."

"I see that." Jesse's voice was grim. "Gillian, would you mind bringing some water? I'm going to take this bandage off." He returned his attention to his patient, and flushed at the raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Gillian?" Steve inquired, with considerable emphasis.

The red deepened. "We met yesterday. I came out to look at her son," Jesse said carefully, attempting to sound nonchalant despite the betraying color. He deliberately started to undo the bandages on Steve's arm on the premise that he could distract his friend from additional teasing.

His assumption was correct; Steve flinched in spite of himself as Jesse worked a particularly recalcitrant piece free. "Jess --" he started, breath hissing out as the bit of bandage gave.

Jesse slid him a stern look from under his lashes. "Let that be a lesson to you. No jumping about or fussing at your doctor." His eyebrows lowered as he frowned at the ugly wound. "How did you do this, Steve?"

Steve scowled at him. "I fell."

Some information was obviously missing, and Jesse was not amused. "Fell how? And where?"

"I told you," Steve replied grumpily. "I was out in the storm. Fell and stabbed myself with a branch. Not," he added with a certain understandable asperity, "that I went out in it on purpose."

Jesse stared at him. "What are you talking about? They said you'd escaped. They told me they'd searched for you until the weather got too severe."

His best friend laughed, a short, ugly sound. "I don't think so, Jess. I remember passing out after you left with Hill. Next thing I know, I'm waking up halfway up the canyon, lying in the snow, without even that so-called blanket. Bastard had them dump me there."

"Flynn and what's-his-name, Howard?" Jesse asked automatically.

"Yeah. Sorry excuses for deputies. I guess they figured I'd die of exposure or encounter the proverbial mountain lion or something."

There was a sudden thud, followed by a splash, as the bowl Gillian was carrying hit the floor, splattering water in all directions. She ignored it. "What did you say?" she asked urgently, advancing into the room.

Jesse stepped in before Steve could repeat the accusation. "Steve, Gillian and Sheriff Hill --"

"Are friends, old friends," she interrupted. "Is there a problem, Jesse?"

Oh, so that's how it was, Steve thought. Then the situation rapidly went downhill, as Gillian turned those sea eyes on him. "You were saying something about John Howard?"

Steve was still too foggy to think clearly. "Yeah. He and his pal Flynn left me out in the canyon in the storm. That's how I ended up on your doorstep."

She stared at him. "And I am to assume that you're accusing Roger Hill of having something to do with it?"

Steve saw Jesse's stricken expression too late. "Yes."

Her voice was even, quiet, and frosty. "You're saying the man who got me through the first months after my husband was killed in a hunting accident, the man who has tried to be a surrogate father to my son, deliberately ordered what amounts to your murder."

His eyes and tone were equally chilly. "Yes, I am."

Gillian glanced at Jesse, who was occupying himself wiping up the spilled water, then returned her focus to the man in the bed. "I don't believe you."

Steve started to shrug, and grimaced with pain at the injudicious movement. "That's your prerogative. But it's a cold, hard fact that Roger Hill tried to kill me almost twelve years ago because I was going to turn him in to Internal Affairs, and he lost his shield as a result -- and he's the one responsible for most of the black and blue marks you mentioned before." A wince as excessively helpful ribs twinged, as if to corroborate his statement. "And I truly doubt Howard and Flynn acted on their own initiative."

Tiny little flames were leaping in her eyes. "I suppose you think he had something to do with my husband's death, too."

Steve was sick, hurting and generally fed up with Destiny and its inhabitants. "Got him closer to you, didn't it?"

Jesse sucked in a breath at his partner's deliberate offensiveness; Gillian ignored him and stepped closer to the bed so her voice wouldn't carry out into the hall. "Roger was Andy's deputy, and his best friend. He was devastated when Andy died." The cold eyes flicked towards the window and back to Steve's face. "The weather's going to turn again soon. Dr. Travis, I'd appreciate it if you'd get your friend ready to leave. I'll drive you back to town. What you do then is up to you -- but I want you both out of my house." She turned on her heel and stalked out, leaving unrelieved tension in her stead.

Jesse finished his self-imposed chore and stood up with the bowl in his hands. "I'm going to get some more water," he said shortly, and exited in his turn, leaving his best friend glumly contemplating the prospect of the long, uncomfortable drive back to Los Angeles.