Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of DM. I do own the ones that I created.

Author's notes: Doctor Gavin Reed appeared in the Season Four episode "Delusions of Murder" (spoilers). Also major references to "Alienated" and minor ones to other eps.

Continued thanks for the wonderful reviews.

TRANCE.

Part Twenty-Five.

"Jess." It wasn't easy, trying to find the words to explain exactly what his best friend had endured – but he had to try. "We've got reason to believe that you were drugged and that the alcohol…" He tamped down on his guilt at his original reaction to Jesse appearing to be drunk. "We think that the alcohol was forced on you. Somebody… We're not sure how exactly, but they were trying to control you."

Not as much as a flicker crossed the younger man's features and his eyes just continued to stare blankly at the wall.

"Jesse, have you heard anything of what I just said?" Steve tried hard to keep the exasperation out of his voice as his words were met with a complete lack of reaction. "I'm trying to tell you that it wasn't your fault. Somebody used you – they made you attack my father."

Still not even a blink.

"Jess, I need to know if any of it sounds familiar – if maybe it's rung any bells," the detective pressed on. He'd never known Jesse refuse to help if he were at all capable and the continuing silence was unnerving him. "We're certain that you were abducted and…"

Finally he got a response, but it was not the one that he'd been hoping for. A terrified – almost animalistic – whimper escaped from the young man's lips and he tried to curl in on himself, but the restraints cut his movements short. The whimper became a sob and the movement against his bonds became more frantic. He looked as though he was trying to escape – or to hide – and it had been triggered by the mere mention of his abduction.

Sensing that he was onto something, Steve reached out and grasped his friend's shoulder. Again, the reaction he got was the opposite of what he'd hoped for. Jesse cried out in sheer terror, his body twisting helplessly, his eyes closing as he lost himself somewhere in a nightmare world that he would never be able to fully escape from:

Cold and burning, cold and burning. The two sensations were at odds with one another and yet both existed in the hell in which he resided. The foul taste of strong liquor sent his body into rebellion. It burned like fire on the way down his throat and he fought to dispel its poison from his body.

And there was the ice cold beer frothing down his throat, forcing instinctive gagging and retching as he struggled to breathe past the intrusion. The splash of it on his face and body – the smell of it only worsening the churning in his gut.

The hands burned, too. Hands that held him down and hurt him and carried the threat that they could do worse – much worse.

In contrast – the contrast of the liquor and the beer – the eyes were cold. Cold and hard and promising that they would do worse – much, much worse…

"Jesse!" Steve was hard pressed not to panic as his friend suddenly convulsed.

A choking sound in the back of his throat had Farthing darting forwards. "Help me get him onto his side!" he commanded with such urgency that Steve's hands instantly moved to the binding on the patient's left wrist.

Jesse convulsed again, his back arching – and it was clear that he was struggling to breathe. Steve and the doctor could spare no time for gentleness. They roughly twisted the flailing body until it awkwardly rested on one side. Farthing forced his mouth open, quickly removing his fingers as Jesse retched against them. Thin streams of vomit and bile spilled out onto the pillow, but the heaving continued long after his stomach had given up its entire contents.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's feasible that a drug – when used in conjunction with aggressive hypnotism techniques – could provoke a reaction like the one that we saw in Jesse." Mark mused, almost to himself. "It's a terrifying thought that one's own free will could be taken away so completely, but…"

"But I thought that was impossible," Amanda argued, her distress evident in her eyes. "You can't hypnotise someone into becoming a killer – at least not unless some part of them, even subconsciously…"

"Don't say it, Amanda." Mark cut her off, abruptly. "We both know that Jesse wouldn't willingly hurt anybody, much less a friend. No… There's more to this." His brow furrowed with concentration. "If Reed just wanted me dead, then why go to such lengths? Why change his MO? Surely it would have been easier to just hypnotise Jesse the same way that he did Barbara; kill me himself – we know that he's not squeamish about committing murder – and then leave Jesse to take the blame. Why the drugs?"

"Plus there's the alcohol that was forced on him – and those marks…"

"It doesn't add up. This isn't just about him wanting to see me dead. He's a very clever man, but this whole plot seems overly complicated." He was in full investigative mode – a look that Amanda instantly recognised. And, though she was still concerned about his state of health, she actually welcomed that look.

"Mark…" A sudden thought struck Amanda and it filled her with dread. "What if… What if it wasn't just last night? Jesse's not been himself for a few days. What if he's been terrorised that whole time?"

"We would have noticed…" Mark's words – that had been intended to reassure – trailed off as he recognised them to be a lie. Neither he nor Steve had even seen Jesse recently and though Amanda had expressed concerns about their friend, they had done nothing to act on them. "But why?" he wondered aloud. "It doesn't make sense. If this was happening over a period of time, then it just increases the risk of being caught. If Jesse hadn't said what he did, I'd be having a hard time believing that this was Reed at all. It's too sloppy, too…"

"Complex?" Amanda had been drawing comparisons to the last time that Reed had entered their lives – and things weren't adding up. "Reed wanted you to know that he was behind the attack and he did that, so why go to all of this trouble? Why the drugs and the torture? Why not just stick to the same MO?"

"Because he failed the last time," Mark mused. "Maybe he saw his plan as flawed. He's had five years to come up with a new one."

"One that was even more risky than the last," the young woman pointed out. "And he can't possibly have known if it would work. I've never heard of a case where a combination of hypnotism and drugs has turned out to be the murder weapon."

"No… No, you're right…" His voice was distant as he pondered her words. "But then, how would we know? How much would the 'killer' remember?" His expression darkened into a scowl. "How much does Jesse remember? Amanda, we need to get this information to Steve." He pushed himself half upright as he said those words, looking as though he was about to leap out of bed in order to do exactly that.

"I'll call him." Her firm voice and a gentle hand on his arm soon stopped the movement. "Just as long as you promise to get some rest."

He could see the worry in her eyes, hear it in her voice and he relaxed back against his pillows – but his head was still buzzing with a thousand unanswered questions. "I'll try," he promised – and it was the best that he could offer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The infirmary was, again, still and silent. Jesse's terrifying convulsion had long passed, but the young man still lay on his side. His free hand clutched weakly at his stomach and his breath came in short, pain-filled gasps.

And Steve still leant over him, staring down at him with brooding eyes. "How much more, doc?" he murmured. "What else is he expected to go through?"

"I can't answer that, Steve," Farthing answered, regretfully. "I can't even tell you what caused that. It might have been an effect of the drugs; the aftermath of the alcohol; a reaction to just about anything. There are so many foreign substances in his blood – we don't have enough information…"

"Then we need to get more, dammit!" Steve's frustration momentarily got the better of him, but then he bit his lip and took a deep, steadying breath. Losing his temper with the doctor wasn't going to help. "Sorry," he murmured with sincerity. "I, ah… I have to go…"

He needed answers and he wasn't going to get them by leaning over an infirmary bed. He looked at the strap that had once encased Jesse's wrist and that now hung vacant. He knew that they were for his friend's own benefit, but he couldn't picture himself taking hold of that bandaged arm and tying him down like some animal. It was hard enough picturing someone else doing it.

"I'll take care of him." Farthing seemed to sense his dilemma and took it away from him.

"Thanks, I…"

Whatever else he'd been about to say was cut of by the sudden, strident ringing of his cell phone. The noise was inappropriately loud in the quiet of the infirmary and he shot Farthing an apologetic look as he fished it from his pocket.

"Sloan here." He answered the call in his usual style and then felt his heart miss a beat when it was Amanda's voice that greeted him.

"Your dad's fine." She intentionally opened with those reassuring words to take away the worry he was bound to be feeling on receiving a call from her at 3am. "Actually, he's acting a lot more like his old self. He thinks he might know who's behind all of this."

"What?" Steve didn't know why he reacted with such shock – this was Mark Sloan they were talking about, after all.

"Jesse did speak to him. He said 'Gavin sends his regards'. Mark thinks that it's Gavin Reed."

"Gavin Reed…" Steve whispered in response, easily remembering the man – not least because of his escape from jail. "Wait!" More details of that case slipped back into his mind. "Reed was a hypnotist. Do you think..?"

"There's a chance that – combined with the unknown drug that you found – Reed may have been able to hypnotise Jesse into doing what he did."

"But if this is all about mind control, then why the hell did they need to torture him?"

"Steve, does... Does Jesse remember anything? Has he said anything else?" She didn't respond to his question, because she had asked the same one herself.

As if in retaliation, the detective didn't answer her either – but it was nothing petty that held his tongue. Instead, it was his own dark thoughts. He had a gut feeling that Jesse did remember something and that was what had sparked his most recent torment. But as for talking to him – he didn't think that they'd make any progress on that any time soon.

"Steve?" Amanda's voice, heavy with trepidation overrode his musings. "What is it? What aren't you telling us?"

"Nothing, Amanda. There's nothing to tell." He glanced back through the still open infirmary door. Farthing had recruited some help and they were busy changing Jesse's vomit stained sheets. "Jesse…" He paused, not wanting to add to her burden too heavily. "Jesse's not talking to anyone right now," he eventually temporized. "Listen, how sure can you be about this? I don't want to go chasing what might turn out to be a wild goose. I thought it was impossible to…"

"If it was just hypnotism, then yes – it would be." Amanda cut him off from voicing the thought that they had all shared. "But we don't know what this drug has done to him."

"Amanda." Steve's brain was turning over as he processed everything that he was hearing. "Are there any tests that we can do? Anything that might show up in… I don't know, his blood work or his brainwaves? Can we prove this?"

"I don't know, Steve." Her answer doomed him to disappointment. "We can't identify what's…" Her tone suddenly changed, becoming more urgent. "Steve, I need that blood sample. I need to run my own tests."

"You think you're onto something?"

"Nothing solid." Regret was clearly evident in her answer. "But I know more than I did; more of what properties and interactions to look for."

"I'm on my way over." He spared one more glance back towards his best friend and then had to quickly look away. It didn't matter how gentle Farthing appeared to be. Restraints were still restraints.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He'd had more than one reason to return to the hospital and Amanda's plea for the blood had instilled a new sense of urgency in him. He was back at Community General in close to record time. The blood was safely delivered to the pathologist and she had wanted to start work on it right away, but Steve elicited a promise that she would go home – at least for a few hours. She had done nothing more than nap in the hospital during the last twenty-four hours and the strain was beginning to show. She tried to protest, but he won her over easily when he pointed out that she would be of little help if she was too tired to see what she was looking for.

But of course, she'd had to have the last word –and had elicited a promise that he would do the same – and had done it by throwing his very own argument back at him. Feeling more than a little chagrined, Steve took a quick moment to look in on his father and was thankful to find that he had finally slipped back into a healing sleep.

The sky was beginning to lighten as he drove back towards the beach house and he knew that he would do little more than doze before he was back out trying to find the evidence that would clear his best friend's name.

As he stripped off, showered – another luxury that he had denied for too long – Steve wondered if he'd be able to sleep at all. The revelations of that night were still buzzing around his head and he was horribly aware of the deadline that Newman had left for him. He had one day left – one day before Jesse's fate was passed into the hands of someone else.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In spite of his doubt that he'd be able to do so, Steve did sleep for a couple of hours. But he'd set his alarm for 8am and rose with it – feeling rested even after such a short time. He was also feeling slightly more upbeat now that things seemed to be moving in the right direction.

He made one stop on his way to the hospital, looked in on his sleeping father when he arrived there and then strode purposefully though the hospital corridors, his recently obtained warrant clutched in one hand and a dangerous glint in his eye. He was almost hoping that the guy he'd spoken to on the phone would be on duty and would again baulk at letting him see the surveillance cameras. It would be a good way to release some pent up frustration.

He marched up to the desk, slammed the offending piece of paper down in front of the startled employee and opened his mouth to make some witty comment. Then the person – who had been hunched over their desk – looked up with almost comical surprise. The smart comment died on Steve's lips and he imagined that his expression wasn't far away from matching the one that stared back at him. The female one.

It was irrational and it was petty, but Steve didn't care. He'd wanted one small victory – just one – and it had been taken away from him because the jerk that had been so anal about his procedures had the day off. He bit his lip – so as not to take out his frustration on the hapless woman who now stared up at him and, in a valiantly calm voice, told her what the warrant was for.

Unlike her predecessor, she couldn't have been more helpful and Steve's eyes flickered down to her name badge. Except that there was no name badge. And he hated that. When there was no name badge, he always felt as though he'd just been caught checking out a woman's chest.

Mumbling a thanks, Steve hurried off in the direction she had indicated and barely even heard her call after him that one of his colleagues was already there.

"Tanis, what the hell are you doing here?" Steve demanded as he opened the surveillance room door and was confronted by a very familiar profile.

"Getting square eyes and a headache trying to find out exactly what time Travis left the hospital," his partner retorted – without so much as a hello. "All I can say for certain is that he didn't approach his car – nobody did – and he hadn't left by the main entrance by 6.26."

"He was supposed to leave here at 4 o'clock. Don't you think it would be better to concentrate on a smaller window?"

"Newman told me to be thorough," the blonde answered with a shrug.

"Newman," Steve sighed. "Figures. I take it he's filled you in then?"

"On what? An open and shut case?" Tanis glanced up at Steve for the first time since he'd entered. "You know, he's got me seriously freaked out here. Is it a full moon or something?"

"Tanis, you know that Jesse couldn't do something like this…"

"No, Steve," she interrupted him, sharply. "I know that Travis did exactly this. What I can't figure out is why Newman is letting us investigate the 'why'."

"Probably following a hunch," Steve mumbled, mostly under his breath. In truth, he was starting to feel a little freaked out himself. "He can't possibly have known. He can't have."

"Alright, Sloan, spill it." Tanis hit the pause button on the VCR. "Known what?"

Her partner barely paused before dropping his bombshell: "We think that Gavin Reed might be back in town."

Tanis's eyebrow quirked upwards in surprise. Though she had not been a part of the original investigation into the murderous hypnotist, his subsequent escape and 'still at large' status meant that she was wholly familiar with him.

"Gavin Reed." She repeated the name thoughtfully. "If he has come back then he'd be pretty stupid." She looked at Steve frankly. "He'd beaten us."

Her partner didn't even try to refute that unpleasant fact. "I'd say that he was more vengeful than stupid. But that still doesn't explain how Newman could have known about it. I've only just found out myself."

"Or maybe Newman doesn't know about it and he's got lucky. Instead of being reamed for letting us chase what should be a closed investigation – he ends up smelling like roses when we catch an escaped felon."

Steve shook his head, but his mouth quirked into a wry smile. That scenario was just too typical. Then his eyes narrowed: "So you seem to be taking all of this in your stride," he observed. "It pretty much floored me when my dad came up with Reed's name."

"It answers a lot of questions," the blonde shrugged in response and released the pause that had held the tape in place. "Hypnotism – yeah, that would certainly explain a few things. So, how did Mark figure it out?"

Happy to have his partner on side – he'd felt uncomfortable working so closely with Newman – Steve pulled up a chair and joined Tanis in her boring task; taking the time to brief her on the little that he knew.

Once the talking was over, it took approximately half an hour for Steve's patience to decline from thin to non-existent. He quickly grew tedious of staring at the image of the main entrance of CGH, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of his friend's blonde head.

Though he knew that a large percentage of police work did indeed consist of such tedium, he also figured that just knowing what time Jesse had actually left the hospital would shed very little light on the current mystery. The only substantial clue they could possibly hope for would be if his young friend hadn't been alone when he left.

Feeling only mildly guilty he took his leave of Tanis – pretending to be blithely unaware of the dark look and muttered insult that was shot in his direction.

There were other things that he needed to be doing: he had to collate the scant information that he had so far gathered; had to chase up what seemed to be the most insignificant of leads. And he had to try to find some sort of evidence to support his father's theory about Gavin Reed.

TBC…