Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. By the way, I'm working 10 straight days now, so there will be a delay in the next update. Apologies in advance.

As always, please heed the warnings (see chapter one). They are there for a reason.

Synopsis: A devastating accident destroys lives and tears friendships apart.

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

ONLY HUMAN.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jesse looked out of the car window and bit back a sigh. If he'd been thinking at all clearly, then he should have guessed what the Sheriff's 'stop' would entail. After all, there weren't too many options.

So he wasn't surprised – dismayed, but not surprised – to find himself outside of Blackbrook Hospital. And it took even a shorter leap of logic to figure out why they were there.

Hunching forwards in his seat, he covered his face with his hands.

"I don't want to do this," he moaned, softly. He knew the reasons – and they weren't so black and white that being here would only delay his returning home.

He didn't want to face Millie's family not because of what he had done for them – but because of what they had done for him.

Never mind the details and the intricacies that followed, the outcome was that he had somehow found a way to start questioning his guilt – and to ultimately forgive himself.

So the question was: how did he face the family who had, even inadvertently, made him start living again?

"They want to say thank you." Harvey's voice cut through his introspection and Jesse nodded. Of course they did – it was only natural. But he also felt that, somehow, he owed them a debt of thanks.

It was always going to be an awkward reunion. They were bound to have questions; bound to wonder why he had stumbled across them so fortuitously – and with his emotions still running so close to the surface, it was going to be almost impossible for him to answer those questions.

But Sheriff Harvey seemed determined for the reunion to happen – and he desperately needed the man's cooperation if he was ever going to get home.

As he got out of the car, he was almost overwhelmingly relieved to note that there didn't appear to be any reporters present. Even a hint of publicity might have made him lose his nerve completely.

In a movie – or possibly only in a fairytale – Mark would have stirred at the sound of Amanda's words.

But this was real life.

The heart monitor maintained its steady rhythm and there wasn't even a hint of movement from the gravely ill man on the bed; not even the slightest reduction of the unhealthy red patches high on his cheeks, set against his too-pale skin.

Steve, however, reacted animatedly. Casting an anguished glance towards his father, he shot to his feet and practically dragged Amanda back out into the corridor.

"What the hell?" he demanded. He remembered, too clearly, the last conversation he'd had with Jesse – if you could describe the contact between them as actual conversation.

It had been disjointed and confused; emotional and misunderstood. It had resulted in Steve's violent outburst – the aftermath of which still burned in his fist, because he was never going to accept a painkiller.

But, in truth, Jesse had ended their fractured communicate by uttering two damning words: "I can't."

Now he cursed his impatience and his temper – because, clearly, Amanda had made some progress where he had dismally failed.

And now Amanda's eyes shone as she excitedly answered his somewhat abrupt demand: "I'm not quite sure, but there's an airfield and a private plane – and Jesse's scheduled to leave any time now. He can be home..."

"Two hours." Steve cut her off before she could get too carried away. His own heart was pounding way too fast as it was – and he needed to calm himself down as well as curb her obvious excitement. "He'll be in the air for about two hours. Then there's him trying to get here across town..." He rubbed at his eyes with his good hand. "Amanda, honestly, how much time do we have?"

When he saw her take a deep breath and look at him with badly disguised sympathy, he knew he wasn't going to like her answer.

"Just because Jesse gets here doesn't mean everything's going to be alright," she answered, tears shining brightly in her eyes. "Mark might still need the op..."

"Dammit, Amanda, do you think I don't know that?!" He was angry – insulted – that she thought him capable of believing Jesse's mere presence would make everything alright again.

Then he saw the hurt in her eyes – and he knew that was exactly what he'd done. And he had wronged one of his dearest friends in the process. Again.

He saw what he'd missed: Amanda was excited merely at the prospect of Jesse coming home; of pulling their 'family' back together again; of them battling through Mark's injury together.

He should have looked at it the same way, instead of envisaging Jesse as being some kind of a miracle cure.

"I'm sorry," he murmured – looking at her and making sure the sincerity of the apology shone from his eyes. Then he couldn't prevent his visage becoming helpless.

Fear for his dad had driven his very action – his every emotion – from the moment he'd heard of the accident. And nothing had changed to take away that fear. Instead, things had deteriorated alarmingly.

He just wanted to hear something positive.

Amanda seemed to recognise that need and her responding smile held no recrimination for his outburst. Instead it held only sympathy and understanding:

"The only thing we can do right now is go back inside and talk to Mark. We keep him calm, keep him positive and keep him optimistic."

And Steve nodded his support, because it was what Amanda needed. It didn't matter that a sour voice inside his head sneered: 'as if he can even hear you.'

It was time he forgot about himself and started doing right by his friends again.

They were at the back entrance of Blackbrook Hospital; the entrance normally reserved for ambulances and emergencies. But nobody challenged them.

And when people began to pause in what they were doing; to slow down their footsteps and stare in his direction – he knew that it was part of Sheriff Harvey's plan.

Jesse's eyes scanned the surprisingly quiet ER – the ER he had burst into so dramatically, with Millie in his arms – and then he glanced back over his shoulder; impatience and frustration clearly evident on his face.

But Harvey merely ushered him onwards – and, with a sigh, Jesse complied and he soon found himself in a reception area.

He saw Sarah, but she hadn't yet turned to look at him. He saw Millie, but she was pale and half-asleep in her mother's arms. A man – who had to be Sarah's husband – held a gentle arm around her waist.

And then he saw a small boy barrelling towards him, as fast as his legs would carry him.

Joey.

Unable to help himself – his reaction purely instinctive – he crouched and caught the boy in a hug. Then he was caught in a barrage of chatter.

"Hey, I'm supposed to say thanks – so thanks! But I gotta tell you, it's been amazing. I got a Spiderman duvet – like the one I lost in the bridge – and a Spiderman lunchbox and a Spiderman toy that spins real webs and I got a whole proper costume..."

And Jesse listened with utter humility when he heard what the people of Blackbrook had given to Sarah Logan and her family.

A news crew had made it out to the washout; the destroyed possessions were headline local news – and, within mere hours, almost every lost item had been replaced. And then some.

Jesse couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm and he ruffled his hair with genuine affection.

"Hey, you deserve..." He trailed off – cut off from telling Joey just how much of a hero he himself had been; not only because of the material sacrifices he'd made, but also the way he'd guided them across the washout.

But the words were lost as Sarah turned towards Jesse – noticing him for the first time – and a suddenly animated Millie wriggled free from her arms.

"Millie!" Sarah tried to call her back, but to no avail. No-one tried to physically stop her – and, before he knew it, she had usurped Joey's place in his attention.

Still caught in a crouch, he couldn't pull away when the little girl threw her arms around him – and he hugged her back with an enthusiasm he could hardly explain.

He didn't want this; had, in fact, shied away from this – but, now it had been forced upon him, it was a truly wonderful feeling.

When he felt a warm hand drop onto his shoulder, he looked up. Instead of seeing Sarah, he looked up into Sarah's husband's face. He vaguely recalled being told that the man's name was Craig.

"Doctor Travis, thank you," the man said – tears brimming in his eyes.

Jesse slowly stood up. A part of him wanted to refute the title of 'Doctor'; but that part of him – the part that had blamed and hated and raged against his conscience – was gradually being silenced: buried by what the Sheriff had said; by his telephone call with Amanda; even by his ultimately disastrous conversation with Steve.

So, grasping Millie's hand when it quested against his, he smiled – and used his free hand to shake Craig's as it was proffered.

Wasn't this why he had become a doctor? Not for the gratitude or the accolades; but for the profound act of saving a person's life.

He was under no illusions. Millie Logan would have died had it not been for him – and it didn't matter what he chose to call himself. A doctor wasn't merely what he was; it was who he was – even if he had tried to forget it for a while.

'Doctor' was a mere title – but it was a title he had earned; and one he should always carry with pride.

"Mr Logan, I..." Jesse looked down, abashed. He had never been comfortable when it came to gratitude. "I'm just happy I could help."

"Seriously, thank you." The man was in danger of being overcome with emotion – and Jesse's own eyes filled with tears. He remembered Millie when he first saw her; remembered his own terror that she might die – and the child had been a stranger to him.

She was this man's daughter, so surely he was allowed this display of emotion.

Jesse's response was to gently remove Millie's hand from its now clammy grasp of his own and gently place it in her father's.

"I have to go," Jesse said. And, though this moment had been somehow worth the delay – if ever anything could make it worth it – the time was still ticking away. This family would be fine. His own 'family' might not.

"Doctor Travis, if you ever need anything – and I mean anything – please..." And Craig reached into his pocket to pull out a business card.

"Jesse!"

The young doctor turned at the shout – and then felt suddenly overwhelmed as Sarah caught him in an almost bone-crushing hug. He hugged her back, but it was somewhat perfunctory as the need to get away began to press heavily on him.

"I need to go..." he stammered. "I..."

"Doctor Travis has a plane to catch." Sheriff Harvey suddenly stepped into the fray; calm and matter-of-fact.

Jesse was immeasurably grateful. He couldn't even fathom how he might have extracted himself without his help.

There were more hugs and handshakes – but Jesse finally made his escape. But there was one more person waiting for him at the exit.

"Good luck, Doctor Travis," Doctor Grayson said.

Jesse smiled and nodded and followed the Sheriff out to his car. Hopefully, the airfield wasn't too far away.

Steve preceded Amanda back into Mark's room – but he hung back and let her take the only chair. It was hard and plastic and uncomfortable – but Amanda eased gracefully into it and smiled down at Mark.

Steve settled his uninjured hand onto her shoulder and let her take the lead. After all, it seemed she was a whole lot better at this than he was – whatever exactly 'this' was.

But, before she could even say a word, a gentle knock on the door preceded it opening just far enough for Cheryl to poke her head into the room.

"Sorry, but have you got a minute?" she asked – and, somewhat surprisingly, the request seemed to be directed at both of them.

Steve had fully expected her to be there to see him – to talk about some mundane work matter; or, worse, to tell him he was needed back on duty. In either case, he had no intention of listening to her. But when Amanda was also included, they both acquiesced – and they both wore puzzled frowns as they stepped back out into the corridor.

"Sorry." Cheryl said again and then added: "How's he doing?"

"No change." Steve's response was automatic, distracted. A bad feeling was beginning to crawl in the pit of his stomach and it wasn't helped by the expression on his partner's face. Cheryl looked nervous and uncomfortable – and she couldn't seem to meet the eyes of either one of them. So, as was his wont, Steve cut straight to the chase: "What's going on?"

"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but..." She held her cellphone in one hand and gestured with it – as though it was the cause of what ever misery she was about to impart. "But Jesse's credit card has just been used to charter a plane."

"Wait..." Steve began.

But he was interrupted as Amanda blurted out: "That's impossible!"

Cheryl clearly misunderstood and shot the pathologist an apologetic glance: "I've not followed it up yet, but it's going to be hard to get a destination without making it all somehow official and..."

"No! No, you don't understand. We know about the flight. It's bringing Jesse home." Amanda's eyes were bright as she said those words. Bright with hope and happiness – but there was also a hint of indignation to her tone. "And I've already paid for it!"

The three of them exchanged glances and there was a murmur of nervous, relieved laughter.

"It doesn't matter," Amanda added. "Let them get paid twice. It's money well spent."

"Call them," Steve admonished, mildly.

"I will... Later," Amanda grinned back at him, before disappearing back into Mark's room.

Steve watched her go – with a twinge of envy that he couldn't quite so easily return to his dad's side. But there was one more thing he had to do:

"Cheryl, how did you know about the credit card charge?" he asked – already knowing the answer, as he remembered a conversation he thought had been designed merely to cheer him up. Now, it seemed his partner had taken their theories one step further. Maybe a step too far.

Cheryl looked back at him with unmistakable guilt – her hand had definitely been caught in the cookie jar – but there was also a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"I called and told them that he was a missing person we were trying to trace," she finally explained. "Which, at the time, was true. There won't be any comeback."

Steve nodded and inwardly praised Cheryl for what she'd done. If Jesse's car hadn't already been traced, then this would have been one hell of a lead.

"Thanks," he smiled. And then went back in to join Amanda at his father's bedside.

TBC