Chapter 10

Mark was finding it very hard to hypnotize someone who had been through every level of the OSI's resistance training! Steve wanted so badly to cooperate - to do anything that would help - but it seemed his brain warded off any and all methods of hypnotism. Even Mark was getting discouraged, although he tried not to let it show.

''Geez, Doc,'' Steve grumbled, ''if my mind can resist all of this, why doesn't it resist those damn flashbacks?''

''Let's try another method,'' Mark suggested. He began teaching Steve the same relaxation/self-hypnosis exercises he'd taught to Russ. (This would help him control at least some of his pain level too, if he was able to use the techniques.) Steve was an avid pupil...and soon achieved the deepest level of relaxation he could reach on his own. Mark gave hypnosis one more try...and was successful! Gradually, he implanted the suggestion that when Steve were to hear thunder it would represent the drum section of a symphony orchestra...and that the music would relax and calm him because nothing about drums or music would ever try to harm him. He repeated the suggestion several times, growing softer and softer and having Steve repeat what he'd said. When Mark felt confident that enough had been achieved for one session, he slowly brought Steve back out of it...and smiled.

''Great job!'' he praised.

''Did it work?'' Steve wondered.

''We'll find out soon enough. I'll have a test for you at our next session,'' Mark promised.

''When can I see my wife?''

''Soon. Hopefully today. I'm heading back down there now to check on her.''

''How...badly was she hurt?'' Steve asked. ''And I'm gonna find out eventually so you might as well just tell me now,''

''Her left leg was broken and -''

''Broken? How do you break a bionic leg?'' Steve wondered.

''Apparently by slamming at full bionic force into the foot of a solid oak bed and landing with it twisted beneath her,'' Mark explained. ''But she's already been fitted with a new one and I understand from Rudy that she's adjusted to it perfectly. Why don't you rest now; try some of those relaxation techniques if you'd like...and I'll see how Jaime's doing.'' Mark smiled at his patient and headed down the hall.

Jaime was alone and lying on her side, staring pensively out the window. Her lunch tray was on the side table, picked at but barely touched. ''Food's not bad here,'' Mark said, strolling briskly into the room. ''You really should eat.''

When she turned around, Jaime's cheeks were tear-stained but her eyes were clear. ''Maybe later,'' she told him. ''I...um...I guess I'll have a helluva mess to clean up when I get home, huh?''

''Already been taken care of,'' Mark assured her.

''Was it bad?''

''It wasn't pretty,'' Mark admitted. ''The two of you were fighting the same monster - the same evil - but against each other.''

''I can't even imagine the damage...''

''Better that you don't focus on that right now. What can we put in the Win column for you today?'' Mark wondered. ''How about, for starters, 'Jaime ate a great lunch'.''

''Oh, give it here,'' she grumbled, chuckling at the same time. After a few mouthfuls (which she really had to admit weren't that bad since it was a private hospital), her face brightened. ''I know a huge check mark we could put in the Win column! 'Jaime visits her husband'! Yeah, I like the sound of that!''

Mark laughed. ''Finish your lunch and I'll see what I can do. Steve has to lie flat for another day or two but I don't see any reason I can't wheel you down there for a visit. A short one, anyway. I'll check with Rudy and Michael to make sure it's alright with them while you finish up.'' He watched for a few moments as the color returned to Jaime's cheeks and the sparkle to her eyes; she also seemed to have suddenly found her appetite. ''I'll be right back,'' he promised.

Graham had spent the last few hours practicing - playing the tape for Rudy and trying to duplicate the inflections and accents to perfection. He and Rudy huddled together now, with Graham holding the device. He switched it on and turned the dial to read '03'. ''I am in Rudy Wells laboratory at National Medical Center,'' he said into the transmitter, in what they both hoped was a perfect imitation of Grant's voice. ''I want you to meet me here immediately. Disregard ALL other orders and report here at once.''

Now...they would wait.

True to his word, Mark returned quickly - and with a wheelchair. ''Your chariot awaits!'' he said with a gallant flourish. ''Remember it's just for a short visit this time, to see what happens,'' he reminded Jaime as he helped her into the chair.

''You're afraid that, now that this has happened, seeing each other will trigger us...aren't you?''

''It's very, very unlikely, but it is possible. So we're moving slowly. A short visit...but hopefully a longer one either tonight or in the morning,'' Mark told her. ''You ready?'' He wheeled Jaime down the long hallway to Steve's room at the other end (right by the elevator), knocked on the door and smiled at Steve when he turned his head. ''You have a visitor,'' Mark told him. In spite of the pain and the strong medicines he was on to try and counter that pain, Steve's face - no, his entire being- suddenly lit up. Mark wheeled Jaime close to the bed and then stepped back by the door, not leaving them alone but giving them at least a little space. He had a portable call button in one pocket and two syringes in the other...but it was his hope that he wouldn't have to use them.

They didn't speak a word; they didn't have to. Steve reached his other arm across his chest so that he and Jaime could join all four of their hands together in a show of unity and support...drawing new strength and finding hope just by being together.