Usual disclaimers, characters aren't mine, story is for entertainment only and no profit being made.

Chapter Ten

Mickey walked quietly to the main area, curious as to what the commotion was all about and his heart sank when he saw a group of uniformed police officers amongst the group of people. Also present was Richards' brother and family doctor. Dammit, he grimaced. He just knew this problem patient was going to bring him trouble, but it would be nothing to what he would do to him if he had another chance. Trying to creep back quietly, he was appalled when Dr Harvey pointed her finger at him.

"I'm sure he's involved, he knows what's going on!"

"Where is he!" A tall elderly white-haired man burst forward and with surprising speed grabbed the shocked Mickey.

"I don't know what you mean…" Mickey stammered.

"My son, where is my son!" Mark rarely raised his voice but his anxiety about his son outweighed everything including remaining calm and composed.

Mickey was surrounded by police officers and unable to escape. Shrugging mentally, but promising revenge on Richards one day, he conceded defeat.

"He's in the basement," His wrists were quickly handcuffed and he was vaguely aware his rights were being read to him but he was more focused on his anger and planned revenge. As he watched the young doctor nodding her head indicating she knew where the basement area was, he decided to include her in his revenge.

Beattie had been observing his dispirited patient and was growing slightly concerned that he'd got it wrong yet again. After such a struggle, he was wondering at why Richards appeared to have given up. Despite this, the doctor was sure he detected some defiance left in his patient, so he was wondering what was going on and he was puzzled about his reactions. It was definitely worth noting. He was also aware that Mickey hadn't yet returned and it was worrying him. As much as he disliked the cruel Mickey, he knew the fact he hadn't come back to assist was possibly a sign of trouble.

Making a sudden and unexpected decision, he decided he would make a run for it. If things were okay, he could always come back. With a quick regretful glance towards Richards, he left the room. The sound of voices coming his way seemed to indicate he'd made the right decision and he carefully made his way to the emergency exit and walked out.

Mark was beside himself as they made their way downstairs and as Dr Harvey pointed to the small room, it was with difficulty he stopped himself from barging forward, knowing he needed to remain back as the police officers entered.

"It's clear!" when he heard the words he propelled himself forward and into the room.

"Oh my God, Steve…." Mark whispered, appalled and horrified at the sight of his clearly heavily drugged son. He touched his face very gently with shaking hands. Steve was catatonic with his lack of response. His face was white and strained, black circles under his eyes which were clearly unfocussed, his body still sweaty and his breathing still too rapid after his long agonized battle. Indentations where the straps had cut into him, even on his forehead. Mark had to fight back nausea as he catalogued the injuries he could see. He shuddered to think of what he couldn't see.

"Steve, son, talk to me," Mark whispered as he touched Steve's forehead.

Steve initially was calm and oblivious as the room around him had burst into chaos and he remained subdued as Mark tried to communicate with him.

Mark looked at Jesse who was equally appalled at the poor condition of his friend.

"We need an ambulance…" Mark barked.

"I'm getting the syringe taken back to Community General too, so we can see what the drugs are," Amanda spoke softly as Mark and Jesse were quickly examining Steve, who had remained apathetic. He showed no signs of recognition, although he was awake, and it was worrying all the doctors.

Whispered voices around him though were beginning to permeate Steve's consciousness and he turned his head away, longing for some peace. The noises were too loud, and despite being spent with exhaustion, Steve twisted restlessly and without restraints to hold him, he soon fell off the gurney hitting the ground hard.

"STEVE!" Mark immediately leaned down to help but Steve had started to panic.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO" he shouted as he stumbled away from the hands reaching out to him.

Mark recognized the genuine distress, and although not sure what was causing it, he cursed under his breath at the doctor who brought this about. His son had obviously been heavily drugged but there were no drugs that he could name that would cause this sort of reaction. What the hell had he been through? He had to fight down on a rapidly building inner rage.

"Steve, it's okay, it's me your dad", Mark gestured with his hands behind him, trying to indicate that no one else should approach them and shook his head at Jesse. His son was in a major panic and he thought it was best that only he dealt with it so he didn't get even more overwhelmed. Steve was breathing hard, sweating, but he clearly had no idea who they were, and he looked terrified. Mark's heart broke, his son's expression reminded him of the little boy he'd once been and it was unnerving seeing this scared expression in the adult Steve. Steve spun around unexpectedly, his eyes lighting on the tray of medical supplies. Before anyone could stop him, he found the strength from somewhere to reach for it and suddenly he had a pair of surgical scissors in his hands.

Mark was horrified when he saw what he had grabbed but continued to gesture wildly behind his back to stop people approaching.

"Steve, it's okay," Mark repeated calmly. "Please put them down, they're very sharp," He spoke gently but firmly.

Steve shook his head, confused by the sudden pandemonium surrounding him. He was encircled by people and this man was talking to him. Surely he didn't mean to hurt him. But everyone hurt him, didn't they? He blinked blearily, trying to clear his vision. Everything hurt… There seemed to be three tall white-haired men approaching him and he felt very threatened and cornered.

"Stay back." Steve barely whispered but he waved the scissors about strongly.

"Steve, please put the knife down. I'm not going to hurt you, son. I promise." Mark spoke calmly, trying not to panic himself as Steve drew the sharp edge of scissors against his own wrist. He pressed it in slowly, causing a rivulet of blood to trickle out. Mark fought his instincts to race at Steve; if Steve pressed in too hard, he could cause himself to bleed to death before help could be provided.

"Everyone hurts me." Steve sobbed as he watched the blood trickling down and cut in slightly deeper. He didn't seem to be watching Mark but as Mark got closer, he lunged forward, plunging the scissors into Mark's side. Steve watched stunned and appalled as Mark staggered back. His mind was suddenly clear again and he watched in horror his father collapse, and knowing he'd caused it. Crying out in pain, Steve allowed himself to collapse as people swarmed forward.