A/N: I am SO sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. It's been a wild and crazy couple of weeks and I'm SO far behind. I promise to get back on track and update again soon.

Corinne, I couldn't do this without your constant love and support. When I'm ready to give up and throw in the towel, you're always right there with the swift kick in the ass that I need to help me get back on track. You are an amazing friend and I'm not quite sure what I did in life to deserve you but I'll spend the rest of my life showing how much I love and appreciate you. You are amazing! Don't ever let anyone tell you that you aren't. If they do, I'm taking the earrings off! LOL

o~O~o

Chapter 10

o~O~o

Jesse sat under the shade of a large, rusty canopy in an abandoned gas station in Topanga Beach, picking up a couple of loose stones and rolling them around in his fingers before tossing them aside. He'd spent a few hours hitting a couple of discarded cans with the small rocks before boredom really began to set in and the metallic tang of the cans started to annoy him.

Unzipping the side pocket of his duffle bag, he pulled out the small bottle of water that he'd been carrying for a day or so. As he shook the bottle, the plastic crinkled and made a noise that he hated. There was only about a mouthful of water left and he grimaced as he tipped the liquid into his mouth; he hated drinking warm water. He had never experienced thirst like he did that hot day in early August.

The sun was high in the sky and the temperatures were beginning to melt the asphalt as Jesse sought some refuge in the little bit of shade he could find. He walked most of the way down the I-27 having failed in his initial quest to hitchhike to San Francisco to begin a new life as far away from Beca as possible. He got as far as Santa Monica before he had a run of bad luck. One night while he slept on the beach after drinking several shots of whiskey, he was hit over the head and robbed for what little cash he had left. He couldn't afford to go to the hospital, despite waking up the next morning to a congealed bloody mess of matted hair and a headache that rivaled any hangover.

He felt sick for about three days after the attack and hid around the back of an old mechanic's shop for several days, taking refuge under several tarps he found in the dumpster. He'd rinsed the cut on his head in between him retching what little contents he had left in his stomach and muttering to himself that this was all Beca's fault. He vowed that if he survived the head wound that really should have been stitched, he would find a way to get back at the girl he swore he loved. In between extreme fits of rage, he'd had moments of lucidity and it was then that he decided that it might be best to head back to Malibu to find Casey, regain some strength and focus on seeking his revenge.

Jesse was constantly hungry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent meal, but thought that it was probably when he was at Claim Jumper the day before Beca had flown out to Oahu. It almost seemed as if he'd been on a some type of parallel universe; a time when he'd had freshly laundered clothes, clean hair and food in his belly. The memory of the steak dinner had his mouth watering within seconds but he didn't allow himself to dwell too long on the thoughts of food. His stomach growled angrily and he was instantly transported back to Beca's kitchen with the fridge full of home cooked meals, tall jars of snacks, candy and ice cold drinks to enjoy. Jesse shook his head, he couldn't think about that anymore. It wasn't helping his situation at all.

Jesse watched as a small lizard ran out of the shade in front of him and into the light. He stared at the little greenish brown reptile as it bristled in the heat of the mid day sun before seemingly deciding it was too hot to bother walking across the blistering concrete and fled under an upturned bucket. Jesse checked his watch and noted that the worst part of the day was over and decided to continue his journey back to Malibu where hopefully Casey and his flavor of the month would be willing to let his sorry ass couch surf for a few nights before he decided what he was going to do.

His kidneys were aching as he stood up, picking up the large duffle bag and his worn guitar case by his feet at the same time. Swinging the bag onto his shoulder, he knew he had to find something cool to drink; his mouth watered at the thought of a whiskey on the rocks. He felt slightly giddy as he walked into the sunshine and towards the road that would take him back to where he knew.

Not one car had stopped to offer him a lift, despite him walking with his thumb out for most of the trek. Internally at the beginning, with every step he took, he'd become angrier and angrier at Beca and the way she treated him and wasted no time in blaming her for his predicament.

His thoughts ran from disbelief at her standing up for herself; "I can't believe it, Beca kicked me out. I didn't know she had it in her.", to anger; "That bitch is gonna pay for the way she treated me!", to reflection in the dead of night; "she kicked me out over a couple of stupid little parties... I guess that was kinda expected, I did fuck up her house.", to worry when he ran out of money and no where to go; "what the fuck am I supposed to do now?", and back to anger as the sun blistered his face and he'd fallen more than once; "she kicked me out without asking what my side of the story was. She. Kicked. Me. Out. The. Fucking. Bitch"

Most of the time, he didn't really think about anything other than the girl who had destroyed his cushy lifestyle. He envisioned turning up at Beca's house and burning it to the ground, just so she'd really have something to bitch and complain about. He thought about emailing her parents, Luke and Sawyer with some pretty racy pictures he had of her, taken without her knowledge during a particularly hardcore sex session. He even thought about loosening the brakes on her car; he knew how to make it look like an accident. With each passing mile, his list of murderous thoughts grew until he began to forget what he had done to warrant her kicking him out in the first place.

Whenever he could on his journey back to Malibu from San Diego, Jesse walked on the sandy beaches and took off his shoes. The soles of his shoes were cracked and peeling away but it was all he had to last him until he figured out his next move. He'd had spare shoes in his bag but that was something that went missing the day he was robbed. He needed to feel something other than his slimy, sweaty socks on his feet and took comfort in the cool sand between his toes as he walked along the water's edge. He had a few moments of reflection as he looked over his shoulder and saw his footprints laid out behind him, only to watch them disappear as the waves covered his tracks. He felt, for the first time in many years, very lost and alone as if he had no past or purpose.

He waded knee deep into the water, despite the red flags flying, just to cool down. He splashed the water up his arms before using it to clean his face. The saltwater seemed to calm his sunburn and ease the tension in his ankles even if only for a few short minutes. He had to force himself not to drink the water but he hoped by cooling his skin down, he'd feel better.

He didn't.

Drying off in the sweltering afternoon sun, on a day when his whole body ached with thirst and hunger, he spun around when he heard two boys playing in the sand not too far from where he was leaning on his duffle. For a fleeting moment, he thought they were Jonah and Colby and his heart leapt a little in his chest, but on closer inspection, he could see that they were far too young to have been his brothers. He watched them play for a while until their mother walked over to them and handed the eldest boy some money to go and get some ice cream from a nearby food truck. Judging by their reaction, this was definitely a real treat; Jesse smiled as they cheered excitedly.

Not wanting to witness anyone eating anything near him, he quickly dressed and gathered up his belongings, dusting the sand off of everything with vigor. Glancing over to where the young boys had been, Jesse saw that they had dropped some cash in their eagerness to pull on tee shirts and get to the ice cream truck. Striding over, he bent down to pick up the money and on closer inspection, he quickly counted twelve dollars. He looked up to see where the kids were and just opened his mouth to call to them when he spied a beach bar about two hundred yards ahead. Without so much as a second thought, he pocketed the money and hightailed it in the direction of the bar; he hadn't been able to afford to have a drink in weeks.

He reached the bar as quickly as his aching feet could get him there and, despite the fridges being full of icy cold, refreshing and thirst quenching water, he asked for two bottles of beer and a whiskey chaser. He dropped the thirty four cents change in the tip jar and threw the shot back quickly. He welcomed its familiar burn as it slid down.

He heard a child crying to his right but was too busy guzzling down the first bottle of beer to care that it was the child whose money he had just spent. Walking along the beach, sipping on the second beer, he felt a slight twinge of regret as he looked back and saw both boys and their mother frantically searching in and around the sand dunes for the money with the younger boy pawing at his mother while he pointed at the ice cream truck and she shook her head.

As he tossed the empty bottles into the trash, he realized that he should have used the money for something more practical like a couple of cheap gas station sandwiches and a few bottles of water, but the craving for liquor far outweighed the sensible need to eat. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was paying for his poor decision as the ache in his back suggested he should have sipped on water to give his body a chance to feel better.

Walking away from the beach, Jesse soon took up residence on the only empty bench he could find that wasn't being used by old people, covered in bird shit or taken by another bum. He kicked his shoes off again and stared out at the ocean as he stretched then rubbed his aching back. He wasn't sure how much longer he could continue living this way, he knew it wasn't healthy and the cough he developed at the beginning of the week was now starting to sit on his chest at night. His skin was sore and blistered from the sun and he'd started tying a bandana around his head to do what he could to protect it. The hotter it got and the thirstier and hungrier he became, the more he silently wondered if he should simply tuck his tail between his legs and apologize to Beca so they could go back to the way things were, but in order to do that, he needed to find a place to charge his dead phone. He didn't think just turning up at her house was a good idea, especially since Luke would probably be around so calling her seemed to be the safest option. The worst thing she could do would be to hang up on him and if she did, he could always leave a message.

He still had minutes, so that wasn't a problem, but power definitely had run out several days before. He vowed to look for someplace to charge his phone and attempt to contact Beca and apologize as soon as he could… maybe she'd let him go back home if he did. 'Oh who am I kidding?' he thought to himself, knowing that Beca was always very understanding and accommodating but apparently even she had a breaking point and he had managed to find it. He knew she'd be mad about the parties and the drugs, but he thought they'd talk about it and move on like every other time they'd argued in the past. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Jesse watched as happy families enjoyed the beach, the sunshine and the salty sea air. The sounds of everyone having fun was almost too much to deal with but he forced himself to watch. He was beginning to regret taking the call from Casey all those weeks ago and, while he thought he'd have a stronger resolve than he did when it came to parties and drinking, he really wished his brother had found somewhere else to have the shindig. Jesse was angry at all that he had lost; a comfortable place to sleep, hot food to enjoy and most of all, a beautiful girl to cuddle up with at night.

Almost immediately, he felt a pang of anger course through him. He couldn't understand how Beca had just let him go the way she did. It was, after all, just a party and he could have cleaned it up if she'd given him the chance. But no, she'd booted him out and that infuriated him. He'd waited down the road for a little while to see if she'd call him; he was after all, as Beca said 'the best thing to come into her life for a while' so he was expecting her to call him begging for him to come back.

He actually waited about twenty minutes and was thinking about walking back up the hill to her house when he'd seen Luke's car speed past, faster than he'd seen anyone drive up the road before. Jesse watched as Luke pulled up to the gates and jump out of the car with the engine running. He'd felt a burning rage that Beca had called Luke and not him and was so disgusted that he'd picked up the belongings he'd taken from the house and walked away. He should have fought, instead he left like an angry coward.

Looking back, as he sat on the bench in the sun, he knew he shouldn't have been angry at her for that. Beca had needed someone who she knew would have come immediately and that someone wasn't Jesse. He should have guessed that she'd called her oldest friend instead of her boyfriend, if that's still what he was. He was kinda glad she didn't call her parents as he was sure that if her dad had seen him hiding in the bushes, there would have been hell to pay.

Sitting for another hour or so on the bench by the ocean, Jesse watched everyone begin to pick up their belongings and leave the beach. He really needed a shower, some clean clothes and a decent meal but he simply couldn't be bothered to move. He began to think about where he'd be in life if he'd had a better start and as his thoughts drifted to Bambi and his grandmother, he felt hot tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He was brought back to the rickety old house he grew up in as he started singing of few lines of a song his Granny sang to him.

"I saw a boat go 'round the bend
loaded down with Chinamen
Goodbye my lover goodbye"

He desperately tried to remember the rest of the words but they wouldn't come back to him. He did, however, remember his Granny's voice and the sweet expression she had on her face when she sang to them.

He was angry and ashamed of his humble beginnings but he soon realized he was also insanely jealous of everything Beca had growing up and still had now. He hated her for her opulent lifestyle but loved her for being so willing to share it with him. He had so many conflicting thoughts about her. His mind began to wander over an idea for a new song. He unzipped the front of his bag and rooted around for some paper and a pen. Coming up empty, he reached for his phone before he remembered that it was dead and useless as a recording device.

Stretching out on the bench, he knocked over his guitar which landed with a loud clatter on the sand. As he bent down to pick it up, he felt inspired to pluck at the strings and add some chords to his lyric ideas. As the sun began to set, he closed his eyes and poured his heart and soul into a new song, holding onto the hope that one day his luck would change and he'd be able to get it recorded. He saw Beca's face as he slowly sung out the words that slipped easily from his lips.

"Livin' my life in a slow hell
Different girl every night at the hotel
I ain't seen the sun shine in 3 damn days
Been fuelin' up on cocaine and whisky
Wish I had a good girl to miss me
Lord I wonder if I'll ever change my ways
I put your picture away
Sat down and cried today
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to her
I put your picture away, sat down and cried today
I can't look at you, while I'm lyin next to her

I called you last night in the hotel
Everyone knows but they won't tell
But their half hearted smiles tell me
Somethin' just ain't right
I been waitin' on you for a long time
Fuelin' up on heartaches and cheap wine
I ain't heard from you in 3 damn nights
I put your picture away
I wonder where you been
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to him
I put your picture away
I wonder where you been
I can't look at you while I'm lyin' next to him

I saw ya yesterday with an old friend

It was the same ole same "how have you been"

Since you been gone my worlds been dark & grey

You reminded me of brighter days

I hoped you were comin' home to stay
I was headed to church

I was off to drink you away

I thought about you for a long time
Can't seem to get you off my mind
I can't understand why we're living life this way
I found your picture today
I swear I'll change my ways
I just called to say I want you to come back home
I found your picture today
I swear I'll change my ways
I just called to say I want you to come back home
I just called to say, I love you come back home"

He imagined Beca singing some of the lyrics to him and as he finished the last few notes and strummed the last chord on his guitar, he opened his eyes to see a small group of people sitting on the beach listening to him. He looked slightly embarrassed as he glanced down and saw money in the guitar case by his feet.

What made it worse was that he watched as the mother of the two small boys, who he'd taken the ice cream money from, had emptied her change purse into the case. Jesse gulped down a feeling of remorse. With a heavy heart he thanked the crowd with a small wave and hurried to put his guitar back in the case. He could hear a few people commenting that he was good enough to be a recording artist and had to force himself not to snarl at them. He was angry at Beca for not giving him a contract despite her not being allowed to, as she'd taken him into her bed and her heart, that fateful night.

The money was staring at him in the face and he realized it was enough for him to buy a simple and inexpensive hot meal, or some insoles for his shoes. Part of him was thinking that he should give the money back to the two boys to buy an ice cream. He looked up at their little faces but figured his need was greater than theirs. Pocketing the money, he calculated he had enough for at least a bottle of beer and a whiskey chaser and almost salivating at the thought, he made up his mind that that was what he was going to do.

Leaving his spot on the beach, he walked along the road for two miles before the stone in his shoe became too stubborn to ignore. Leaning his bag and guitar case up against the wall, he kicked off his shoe to find it was a short, stubby nail embedded in the sole. Checking the bottom of his foot, he saw that it had pierced the skin. Not knowing, and if he was honest, not even caring when his last tetanus shot was, Jesse sat for a moment or two, massaging his foot to ease the ache.

"Jesse, is that you?"

"Who said that?" Jesse said, his head snapping up to look around him at the mostly deserted highway, except for a few cars traveling up and down.

"Come home with me."

"What, wait?" He said, standing up and looking all around him.

"I'll even let you fuck me against the-"

"-Who is that?" Jesse snapped, rubbing at his eyes.

"It's me... Beca." The voice sounded so clear in Jesse's ear that he could have sworn she was standing right next to him.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm here to take you home. I heard you sing and realized I was wrong. Come home with me and I'll cook your favorite meal and we'll spend the night making up for lost time."

"Where are you?"

"Open you eyes Jess. I'm. Right. Here." Beca purred.

Jesse finished rubbing at his eyes and snapped them open, looking forward and stared, slightly blurrily, into Beca's face. He jumped a little in surprise. She looked stunning in a simple yellow sun dress that hugged her figure in all the right places, she had a light dusting of makeup on and her hair was loose and bouncy around her shoulders. Jesse thought she'd never looked better with her almost ethereal glow about her.

"What are you doing here?" He asked her as she smiled sweetly at him.

"Give me your money, or you take a knife to the gut." Beca said, winking seductively.

"Huh?" Jesse said. "I don't have any money."

"Fuck you loser! Gimme the guitar." The voice snarled, sounding deeper and less collected.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Beca? What's going on?" Jesse asked, extremely confused.

"My name's not Beca." A male voice said with a wicked laugh. "It's Reggie. I'm Reggie."

"Dumbass thinks we're some chick." Another male voice said.

"I don't understand." Jesse said, beginning to feel the sweat collect on his forehead.

"Who's Beca?"

Jesse began to question his sanity as he looked into the face of his ex-girlfriend, smiling sweetly in front of him. Her eyes were shining brightly, she looked shower fresh and very put together; the complete opposite of him.

He didn't feel the first blow to his head as it came from behind. He didn't feel the second blow or the third. By the time the fourth punch had caught his temple, he was on his knees on the ground and feeling quite sick. A short, sharp kick to the gut had him retching immediately and the knee in his back had him wondering just what exactly he's done to warrant such violence.

Jesse thought for sure that he'd heard Beca and that she was back for him. Was he seeing things? Was he hearing things? He swore he heard her voice. He struggled to open his eyes. Everything hurt as he tried to push himself up but fell back to the ground. He watched as the two guys rummaged through his duffel bag, taking the few things he had left. As he lowered his head back to the ground, his eyes closed and everything faded to black.

Coming to a couple of hours later, he found himself partially lying under a broken bench with his wrist tied to the concrete support with a cable tie. Using his free hand, he wiped the back of his mouth, tasting the metallic, copper flavor of blood in his mouth. Twisting his bone dry tongue, he immediately felt a loose tooth and a fiery ache in his jaw that suggested that his jaw was either dislocated or a broken.

Groaning loudly, he tried to sit up and felt queasy straight away. It was almost dark and there were a few people milling about, either heading home from the beach covered in smiles and sand, or dressed in evening wear that suggested they were out for dinner. There was a few joggers that dodged the couples walking hand in hand and a couple of young teenagers on bikes and skateboards. Not one of them seemed to notice Jesse, lying broken and bruised on the ground.

He felt numb.

He pulled at his wrist and realized he had no way to release himself. He looked around for his belongings and felt a rush of anger when the noticed his beloved guitar was missing. He'd treasured the instrument since he was a boy and it was his most prized possession. At one point, Beca offered to buy him a new one but he insisted that liked the one he had. So instead of replacing the well worn guitar, she got the bridge, bridge pins, frets and tuning pegs replaced, then had it restrung and tuned for him, so it was like brand new… and now, it was gone. He saw his duffle bag and, using his foot, dragged his bag towards him. The stench of urine immediately hit him but he was now passed caring that someone had taken a piss in his bag. Rooting through his bag, with his free hand, he couldn't find anything to use to free himself and with the pain in his jaw, he knew he wouldn't be able to bite through the thick plastic.

The familiar sound of a cop car went whizzing by and Jesse cast a swollen eye towards the Crown Vic as it rumbled past him. Thinking nothing of it, he was surprised when it stopped not far from him, and watched as it reversed backwards before the window rolled down and a flashlight was shone into his face.

"Come on buddy. Move along. This is no place for you." A firm but kind voice called out and Jesse waved him away, closing his eyes in pain. He heard the door open and the sound of boots approaching him but he simply couldn't be bothered to worry anymore. It had been five weeks since his last run in with the law and he felt a pang of regret run through him as he realized he'd missed his court appearance from the night he'd held the first party at Beca's.

"This is Officer Yates." The cop said calling in his location over the two-way radio. "Send EMS to PCH and Topanga Beach Road, near the Lifeguard station."

Jesse looked up at the sound of a voice he thought he recognized, thinking he was hearing things, or maybe he was just hallucinating again. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out other than a strangled gasp.

"It's all right buddy. Hang in there. Help is on the way." the officer said, crouching down on his knees but keeping his hand resting lightly on his holstered gun. He looked at, who he thought was just another vagrant sleeping off a drinking binge. "Can you tell me your name?"

Jesse shook his head and indicated towards his wrist.

"EMS is on the way." Officer Yates said, looking back towards the squad car as he heard his name being called. He heard the static from the radio in the car.

"We gotta go man!" The senior officer inside the car yelled. "Leave the bum and come on. We got a 10-57 on Palisades!"

"Not yet!" He called back.

The officer stood up and looked down at Jesse before bending again and unclipping the small knife he carried on his belt. He cut the tie around Jesse's wrist and watched as Jesse's face contorted in pain. He'd been on the streets for less than three months and had worked in a couple of rough areas but this was the worst beating he'd ever seen. Hearing the sirens in the distance, he spoke again.

"I think you've got a broken wrist. I truly hope you get fixed up."

Jesse nodded slowly, the pain registering effectively in his brain. He felt the blackness start to envelope him again as the sirens got louder. He laid his head against the wooden part of the bench and closed his eyes, not caring if he ever opened them again.

He woke up two days later in West Hills Hospital.

A kind nurse stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder as he tried to turn over in bed. He couldn't figure out where he was at first and ran his finger over the cool sheets that he'd missed so much. They weren't the high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets that Beca had but anything soft was a Godsend after sand, gravel and mud.

"Take it easy sir." She said, pressing the call button on the panel above his head. "Do you know where you are?"

Jesse shook his head and looked all around him before he fixed his gaze on the nurse, hoping she'd be able to shed some light on what was going on.

"I understand this must be confusing for you. I'll call the doctor to come and talk to you." The nurse said and Jesse nodded, regretting the movement immediately. He didn't have to wait long before a bearded and bespectacled man approached the end of his bed. He picked up the chart hanging on the end of the bed and quickly scanned the charts to familiarize himself with the patient in front of him.

"I'm Doctor McGee, one of the on call trauma doctors here. You were brought in two nights ago. How are you feeling?" The doctor asked and waited while Jesse croaked out a simple 'ok'. The doctor pulled a small flashlight from his breast pocket and turned it on. Stepping up to Jesse's side, he motioned that he wanted to check him over, shining the light in his eyes and checking his pupils. "You have experienced a severe concussion which I'm afraid to say will be a healthy reminder for the next six months. There's no swelling so you shouldn't have any memory issues. Are you able to recall the night of the attack?"

Jesse nodded.

"Good. Well, your wrist was broken in two places so we've had to put a pin to hold it in place while it heals. From the state of your fingers, it looks like you play a string instrument so I'm afraid that it could be a few months before you're able to pick up a guitar again. Your jaw was dislocated which we've popped back in place and despite a terrible ache, you'll feel better in a few days. You've got a few loose teeth and have severe bruising to your back, stomach and a couple of internal organs. You're severely dehydrated and showing early signs of malnutrition."

Again, Jesse nodded, indicating that he understood what the doctor was telling him.

"Tests show signs of elevated kidney function, which can come from an electrolyte imbalance or dehydration. There was blood in your urine but that's probably from the trauma of the attack. You also have some pretty significant liver damage, inflammation and enlargement, and your liver cells are showing signs of damage. If I had to take a guess, I'd say you haven't been looking after yourself lately. We've had you on high levels of IV fluids and the saline has done you a lot of good so far but I'd like to keep you in for a few days on the drip to keep an eye on you. With a few days rest, you should soon start to feel better. Now... I've got a young police officer outside who is here to talk to you about the incident and my hospital administrator will need your insurance details and it would be nice to know your name. When you're feeling more yourself, we'll discuss your general well being. Am I okay to send in the officer?"

Jesse, desperately trying to take in everything that was going on, shook his head. The last thing he needed was for the hospital to know he had no insurance and a criminal record.

"We couldn't find a wallet or a phone, which is often the case in a robbery. Is there anyone who can we call for you?"

Jesse thought for a moment and wondered if Casey would come and get him. The only trouble was he didn't know his brothers number by heart. And he couldn't for the life of him remember the name of the chick who he had shacked up with four weeks ago. Knowing Casey, it probably wasn't the same girl he was with now. He hadn't been in contact with any of the other band members since the night of the first party as they'd been pretty pissed off about being carted off in the back of a meat wagon to the police station.

There was only one other person Jesse knew would be able to help him.

"Beca. Beca Mitchell."

"Do you know her number?" The doctor asked and Jesse shook his head. "An address?"

Jesse wasn't sure if he wanted to give that out as he'd lived with her and didn't want the police catching up with him a few weeks down the line or for her to get in any sort of trouble on his behalf. He shook his head.

"She works at Warner Records." He said simply and the doctor patted his leg before hanging the chart back up on the end of his bed. He turned as a discreet knock on the door signaled he was needed elsewhere.

"We'll start there then." Doctor McGee said before leaving the room. "I'll give you a few hours to feel better so don't worry about the police officer just yet."

"Thanks." Jesse mumbled.

Leaning back onto the pillows, he could hear the doctor in the hallway speaking to the cop and Jesse knew it had to be the same cop that found him on the beach. Then he heard the doctor speak with someone he guessed to be the administrator judging by the way the conversation went. He knew he needed to get out of there before they caught onto him.

He had no idea where his clothes were as he was just wearing a thin cotton, hospital issued nightgown. Looking round the room, he spied a tall closet in the corner and slowly got out of bed to go and check it out, taking the drip attached to his arm with him. His luck was in as he found his duffle and a marginally clean pair of shorts and a freshly laundered tee shirt hanging up. He smiled at the Good Samaritan who'd washed his belongings and cleaned out his bag for him.

Realizing he was desperate to use the restroom, he crossed the small room to the en suite facilities and caught sight of himself in the mirror in there. Wincing slightly in anticipation, he was pleased to see that he didn't look as bad as he first feared. His face was beginning to turn an interesting shade of purple and the welt on his jaw was as dark as the night sky.

Finishing up, he rinsed his hands under the faucet, careful not to get the plaster cast on his arm wet. He was amazed at how easy water was to come by when you weren't living on the streets. Figuring out that he needed to leave before the cops and the administrator caught up to him, he took a minute to hatch a plan. Sitting on the edge of his bed for a moment to collect his thoughts, he heard a knock at the door.

"Excuse me sir, we got in touch with your contact at Warner but she hadn't heard of anyone matching your description. Is there anyone else we can contact?"

"No." Jesse sighed. "There is no one else."

Jesse waited for the nurse to leave and close the door behind her before he pulled the IV out of his arm. Wincing a little at the sharp pain, he walked as quickly as he could to the closet and pulled out his duffle. Slipping on his shorts and clean tee shirt, he rooted around finding a pair of gently used flip flops that the good samaritan who washed his clothes must have put in there. Knowing he had no other option but to leave, he scooped up the bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. Looking out into the corridor he saw the cop sitting on a chair a couple of doors down. Withdrawing his head back into the room, he quietly closed the door behind him and the locked turned in the door. He walked over to the window and was relieved to see his window had an emergency fire escape. Tossing his bag out first, he ignored the pain in his wrist, his back and his head as he stuck a foot over the windowsill and stepped out on the metal grate.

Holding on tightly, he began to scale the ladder to the ground. Hopping a little on the hot sidewalk, he began to walk away from the hospital towards the I-101, concluding he was about 8 miles from where he'd started. He'd gotten a mile before he realized he was never going to make the distance in flip flops.

He thought he'd felt low before but right now, with his wrist in a cast and an ache in his head that didn't remind him of a decent night out the evening before, he felt like he'd reached rock bottom. He looked around for a place to rest. He didn't feel like walking anymore and he knew he'd never get far in his current condition.

Jesse felt like giving up.

Walking for a while, he spied the familiar golden arches that signaled a McDonald's was there and knowing he could get some respite in the heat, he headed towards the building. Looking into one of the many trash cans that surrounded the area, he collected a discarded cup and wandered quietly and carefully into the restaurant. Looking around, he made sure no one had noticed him before quickly filling up the crumpled cardboard cup with more ice than was necessary and Dr. Pepper. He managed a small smile as he was reminded of the girl who had gotten him hooked on the fruity flavored carbonated drink.

Taking a seat, he laid his duffle bag on the seat next to him and sipped on the icy drink in his hand. He had no clue what he was going to do next. He had no where to go. And no one to call.

That's when he finally admitted that he fucked everything up.