I sometimes feel that I'm always apologising for delays with updates – but it was never my intention to leave it so long before posting this chapter. However, three weeks ago my car was hit by a drunk-driver. It was 5.30 in the afternoon.

I'm alright and thankfully (amazingly) the other driver was insured.

But it has been a hellish few weeks.

This is a short chapter – but it's all I have right now.

Thanks for your patience and special thanks for each and every review.

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 Thirty-Four.

Jesse shook his head in wry amusement. Trust Steve to know all about the gas station billboards; thus giving him ample ammunition for some gentle teasing. But, inadvertently, he'd also given Jesse some ammunition of his own:

"Amanda beat some sense into you?" He'd picked up on those words the moment Steve said them. As Steve's look turned rueful and his cheeks reddened, he added: "I wish I'd seen that."

"Man, you should've seen her," the detective retorted; but there was a smile on his face, in spite of how the associated memories burned. "She's a tigress, alright – and, by the way, you owe her dinner for the way she fought your corner!"

"So, when you said 'beat some sense' – you meant it literally?" Jesse asked; his eyes wide as he tried to imagine the normally placid pathologist resorting to physical violence.

Steve winced as he remembered how she'd slapped him – and how effective a tactic it had been: "I guess I didn't leave her with much choice," he murmured.

"And you guys are..?" Jesse didn't dare voice the question; wondering what strain all of this had put on their relationship.

"We're fine," Steve assured him. Then, as the mood was in danger of descending into melancholy, he added: "Once I'd forgiven her for drugging me, then the rest..."

"She drugged you?"

"Yeah." Steve chuckled at the utterly disbelieving expression on his friend's face. "I'd like to say she slipped me a 'Mickey Finn', but you know Amanda; she wasn't as subtle as that. Just jabbed a needle straight into my arm."

"Oh, man..." The young doctor could only shake his head. A small part of him was nagging that they shouldn't be treating any of this so lightly – but he was working hard to suppress it. Steve was laughing and joking and their friendship felt almost as though the last seventy-two hours had never happened. The least he could do was go along – and keep his lurking dark thoughts strictly to himself.

But, typically, Steve seemed to pick up on them – because he clapped Jesse lightly on the shoulder and said: "Hey, it's all ancient history. All of it. Right up to maybe..." He glanced at his watch and his eyes widened: "Maybe forty minutes ago. We should get back."

Jesse nodded – equally surprised by how much time had passed. Surely, Amanda would be starting to get worried. Even as the thought crossed his mind, Steve spoke it aloud:

"I'm surprised Amanda hasn't sent out a search party."

"Maybe she did. Maybe they couldn't find us," Jesse answered as he became aware of their surroundings. They must have been walking while they talked – because they'd travelled quite some distance.

"Where are we anyway?" The detective asked as he, too, looked around. The corridor they were on was almost deserted – with only one nurse visible in the distance. Every door was closed and there was absolute silence making the air feel heavy and oppressive.

"Almost at the elevator," was Jesse's relieved response – and he quickened his footsteps; wanting to get away from their current location as soon as possible. It must have been an instinctive action from them: seeking out the least populated corridors; but he still tried hard not to see it as a bad omen that their unconscious wandering had led them to the ward where the terminally ill waited to die.

Amanda was trying very hard not to think the worst. She'd fully expected her friends to be back within ten minutes – about as long as it took to dash to the canteen, grab a sandwich and bring it back with them. Twenty minutes was her very outside estimate – knowing how desperately Steve needed to be with his dad.

When half an hour came and went, she felt the first stirrings of trepidation in her stomach.

At thirty-five minutes, she felt almost physically sick.

'No need to worry,' she tried to tell herself – even as her eyes constantly flicked from Mark to the door and then back again. 'They have a lot to catch up on...'

The clock ticked over another minute and horrible memories were replayed in her mind.

A lot to catch up on like Steve grabbing Jesse by the lapels; Steve lifting him up and shaking the life out of him; Steve poised to hit him, whilst spouting words of anger and hatred; Jesse fleeing without a word to any one of them.

Amanda's gaze lingered on Mark. She didn't know what was happening with the two of them – and she had no way of finding out. But the not-knowing did nothing to quell her growingly impatient curiosity; or her sudden, unsettling feeling of dread.

Thirty-seven minutes had passed – and she could think of no rational reason why they had not yet returned. And so her imagination was allowed – and took – free reign.

'What if Steve hadn't truly accepted hers and Kirk's words; what if he'd never even heard Mark when he'd spoken; what if he had attacked Jesse – old feelings of hatred and anger triggered by actually seeing him again; what if Jesse had once more fled...

What if? What if? What if?'

Then she heard a rustle of movement and looked at Mark in utter shock. Previously comatose and unresponsive, Mark had shifted on the bed and heaved a sigh – the sigh of a person finding an infinitely more comfortable position to sleep in.

To sleep in.

Amanda's heart leapt.

Mark wasn't unconscious any more – he was just sleeping; as testified by his utterly contended sigh.

Her grin threatened to split her face in two – and then it only widened as the door opened and a sheepish Steve and Jesse crept into the room.

She wanted to be mad at them – for making her worry; for making her fear the worst; for making her wonder where she was needed the most, she almost wished she could split in two. Or in three, she amended – thinking longingly of her sons. It felt like forever since she'd spent any quality time with the boys – and she still hadn't found the way to talk to them about Mark.

But CJ and Dion were in Ron's more than capable hands – and she was allowed to fully focus on her other two 'boys'.

Inwardly, she rejoiced at what she saw: There was no awkwardness between them; no hesitancy, no discomfort and certainly no animosity. So it was easy for her to shrug off her annoyance and she offered them both a warm smile.

"How's he doing?" Steve asked – and his voice was tight, even as he avoided her appraising stare. It was clear he felt he had been gone too long and the guilt of it was weighing heavily on him; evident in his eyes.

"He's sleeping." There was a smile in her voice as she delivered the best, most positive news that she could – but Steve clearly didn't understand the importance of what she was saying. His shoulders slumped: "So no change," he mumbled.

Amanda opened her mouth to argue to the contrary – but Jesse, his own heart almost skipping a beat as he realised exactly what she was saying, beat her to it: "It's a change, Steve, it's a great change. It's the difference between a coma and... Well, a sleep... a deep sleep..."

"I don't get it! He looks the same!" Steve didn't try to keep the exasperation from his voice. He hated when he didn't understand what was happening – especially when it came to his dad.

"He's not the same, Steve – he's better." It was Jesse who stepped in to calm his tirade. "I know you don't like 'doctors speak' but you have to believe me. I'm not going to spout medicines and doses at you – but I will tell you that if you put an alarm clock next to your dad's bed, right now, then he'd wake up when it went off."

"Really?" Steve's voice still held a note of disbelief: "He's just sleeping?"

"Yes," Jesse answered. "I promise you."

"And it's the best thing for him," Amanda added.

"Sshh!" Steve instantly admonished. It had been hard for him to take in everything he was hearing – but it boiled down to one simple fact: his dad was sleeping. He felt obliged to ensure that he was not disturbed.

"If he's sleeping, then we let him sleep," he hissed. "If he needs medical care, that's fine – but otherwise, please, let him sleep. No alarm clocks."

"You know, the alarm clock was only ever a figure of speech," Jesse protested, half-heartedly. He knew that Steve already knew it.

He also knew that he was being dismissed.

Amanda preceded him to the door – and she paused as Jesse lingered for a moment longer.

Steve looked up at him and smiled. "Hey," he said: "I'll let you know when that alarm goes off."

Jesse let out a breath of polite laughter, but turned to leave the room with a heavy heart. He felt Amanda grasp his hand – and he tightened his fingers around hers.

Then his heart almost stilled in his chest as he heard a weary voice behind him:

"Why in the world would I need an alarm clock when I've got you two?" Mark asked.

To Steve, everyone else in the room ceased to exist as he whirled to face his dad – his grin threatening to split his face in two. He couldn't remember ever having felt so elated.

"Dad!" His grin was even evident in his voice.

"Steve," Mark replied with his own broad smile. More than one voice had invaded his slumber, but he had focussed mostly on only one: his son. And it wasn't so much the words that awoke him; more the need to see Steve again.

Much of his previous awareness had become fuzzy in his mind – and he needed to see for himself that his son was unharmed.

Then, at the very last second, he'd amended his words to include Jesse. Something, somehow, told him it was important that he did.

Tearing his gaze away from Steve – with a surprising amount of difficulty – he looked towards his former protégé. And found himself staring at the back of Jesse's head.

His opening words were intended to be light-hearted – and he replayed them in his head; looking for any hint of censure he might have displayed. Any suggestion of blame – even though his still-fuzzy thinking wasn't quite sure why he was actually looking for it.

His memories of Jesse since the accident were only memories of omission. He couldn't recall ever having seen the young man in any of his brief awakenings.

Still held in the thrall of pain-killing drugs, and not yet fully awake, he barely remembered his conversation with Steve as to why the young man was missing.

He returned his gaze to Steve, as he felt his hand being taken in a gentle grip.

Steve was still grinning uncontrollably – and there was a definite sheen of tears in his eyes. Then his eyes deviated from Mark's and he looked towards the door where Amanda and Jesse still stood.

Amanda, still holding his hand, was looking at Jesse. But Jesse was looking at the floor.

"Jess..." Steve had to try. He hadn't thought this far ahead; hadn't expected his dad to awaken so soon. But then he wondered how they could possibly have prepared for it anyway.

He was spared from the need to try by his dad's calm voice speaking into the silence:

"Jesse, thank you," Mark said, softly: "I believe I owe you my life."

TBC