Part 18 Overture to Operations.
Baker looked at his boss with an expression of shock on his face. "You want me to do what sir?"
If he had thought about it he might have tried to word his question with a little more respect for his superior's position but the rapid change in circumstances over the last twelve hours had taken away his ability to respond with anything other than incredulity. He was a lowly clerk, at best his position could be described as personal assistant. A role that he was good at yes, but it did not yet qualify him for anything more and yet his boss had not only brought him on a field assignment but was now effectively asking him to work under cover.
"I want you to go in to the field office here in Malibu assigned as extra support on the Fielding case and keep your eyes and ears open about what is happening. I want you to report everything directly back to me." Collins explained again patiently. He watched the young man, whose expression showed that he was about to protest again so he held up his hand to stay the protest and continued, "Look I've been through all of the reports and I'm sure that we're not being told everything. That's why we're down here."
"Then why don't you just..." Baker began
Collins interrupted him. "Just walk in there and demand to know what is going on?"
Baker nodded.
"Because reading the reports has convinced me that Carlson can't have been working alone. He had to have an accomplice and I suspect that could be one of the agents working on the case. If I just walk in there and use my position to demand answers, whoever it is could just stop their activities and we'll be left with nothing." He watched as the young agent absorbed this information. "I'm willing to bet that whoever it is is still trying to get their hands on the disc and when they do we'll be waiting."
"But why me?" Baker asked.
"Three reasons," Collins answered. "First you're my assistant, since this is an important case, it won't strike anyone as too unusual that I've sent you down here as a field liaison for me.. Second, forgive me for this, but a simple background check will confirm to anyone that you are too green to be up to anything devious, so they won't feel threatened by you and thirdly," he paused to ensure that he had eye contact. "I trust you, and given the nature of this case that's not a quality to be underestimated." He stared his subordinate directly in the eye. "So will you do it?"
Baker thought very briefly about what he was being asked to do before he replied. "Yes sir."
Mark drove the car out of the car park and on to the road. His pulse was still racing and the adrenaline coursing through his system allowed him to think with a clarity that belied his tiredness. He risked a glance across at the woman sitting next to him. She still held the gun pointed at him. She gripped it so tightly that her knuckles were white and her hand shook slightly from the tension or perhaps from the shock of the events of the last few minutes. He risked a second look up at her face. It was undoubtedly the same woman that Steve had introduced him to the day before at the hospital. She looked now as she had then, pale and anxious, her lips drawn in a thin tight line.
Steve had introduced her as a friend so Mark decided, despite the gun, to risk some conversation. "If you are taking me to help my son. You don't need that," he said nodding his head slightly in the direction of the weapon. ' Emma looked over at him. She was still stunned by the events in the mall, trying to come to terms with having shot someone. She knew that Dr. Sloan had spoken to her but had not heard what he had said. "Pardon?" She asked.
Mark was unsure whether she had genuinely not heard him or was not reacting badly to his comment. He had no choice however but to try again. "I said that if you are taking me to see my son there is no need for the gun. I won't do anything to risk Steve's life." He replied keeping his voice as calm as he could manage.
Emma looked down at the gun in her hand and realised that she was still pointing it at Steve's father. She was gripping it so tightly that it took a conscious effort of will to relax her hand. "I'm sorry Dr. Sloan," she said apologetically. "I know that I don't need it. Steve told me that you would come if I just asked for your help."
Mark was completely taken aback by her reaction and her comment. "Then why.." he began but did not know how to phrase the rest of his question.
Emma did not need any more. "Steve said that if you came and helped him then you would get into trouble, that you could lose your medical license," she explained "He wouldn't let me call you for help. So I thought that if it looked like you were forced to come then the only person in trouble would be me and considering what I'm facing," She paused as a melancholy look briefly crossed her face. She shook it off, repressing the thoughts that accompanied it. "Well, I don't think it could get much worse for me."
Mark considered her comment. He was still trying to come to terms with Emma's sudden change from hostage taker to apologetic passenger. "You're saying Steve wouldn't call me for help because he didn't want me to lose my medical license?" Mark asked incredulously. Surely Steve couldn't possibly think that a bit of paper was more important to him than his well being.
Emma heard the disbelief in Mark's tone. "Not just that," she replied quickly. "You saw what just happened at the mall. He didn't want to get you involved. He was worried that you might get hurt." She paused before adding quietly. "Like his friend Dr. Travis." She hesitated again afraid of the answer to the next question but she had to ask. "How is he, Dr. Travis?"
"He's recovering at the hospital." Mark replied, noting the tinge of genuine concern from the woman who was asking. His mind was certainly having to work quickly to keep up with his changing perceptions.
Emma sighed with relief. "Good I'm glad. He was good to me and all I brought him was trouble."
Despite the many other questions Mark had for the woman seated next to him there was one concern that overrode all others. "How is my son?" he asked.
Emma was quiet for a few moments before she replied, this only served to heighten Mark's concern. Her answer when it came did little to make him feel better . "Not good," she said and proceeded to describe Steve's condition when she had left him.
Mark had by now reached the freeway. "How long will it take us to get there?" He asked, the words almost catching in his throat as he fought to control the emotions that threatened to take away his ability to function. From what Emma had told him there was the possibility that they would be too late.
Emma told the doctor where they were going. He recognised the location instantly from her description and moved out into the traffic hitting the gas peddle to accelerate up to the speed limit.
"I'm sorry Dr. Sloan," Emma said remorsefully. "I shouldn't have listened to Steve, I should have come for you earlier."
Mark kept his eyes on the traffic. "It will take us around twenty minutes to get to the cabin." He said keeping his tone neutral. "I think you'd better use that time to explain to me just exactly what Steve has got himself involved in and why he's put his life at risk to help you?" It was information that he needed to know and besides, he needed to keep his mind occupied until he reached Steve. There was no use in worrying about what might be happening. He could do nothing about it until he got there.
Emma took a deep breath and began to repeat the story that she had told Steve and relate what had happened since she called him.
"Don't," Jesse said as Amanda entered the room and moved to his bedside. He could not bring himself to look at her. "Don't say it," he continued, staring over at the window on the opposite side of the room. "I don't want to discuss it." His tone was sullen, resigned.
Amanda sat down next to him and said nothing.
Jesse was disconcerted by her silence. He had expected a speech from her, perhaps an argument. He had not expected her to do what he asked and remain quiet. Still refusing to look at her, he could not stop himself from filling the silence with a comment that required an answer. "It won't do any good you know?"
"What won't?" Amanda obliged with a reply.
"Trying to talk me into it." Jesse continued.
"I wasn't." Amanda stated simply.
"Why not?" Jesse asked, of all the positions he had expected Amanda to adopt this was not one of them.
"Because you told me you didn't want to talk about it." Amanda replied. "I just came down to let you know that I'm here for you. Whatever happens."
Jesse finally turned to look at her. "So you don't think I need to have this operation?"
Amanda took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. "Jess, you know as well as I do that you need this operation if you want to regain full function in that hand again. You also know that if you don't have it you will probably never go back to your job in the ER." Amanda kept her voice calm and quiet but her eyes filled with moisture as she looked into those of her friend and saw only fear and pain. "I don't know why you've made the decision that you have but you know better than anyone the reasons for surgery and the risks involved. I haven't come to persuade you, just to listen if you need me."
Amanda had chosen the right strategy. Jesse had been ready to defend himself in an argument and prepared to ignore a speech. He had made up his mind about what he was going to do and nothing was going to change it, but Amanda offered neither. Instead, she was a sounding board for his own internal argument.
He returned her grip and leaned his head back against the pillows staring across at the far wall. "I'm so scared," he admitted, "Every time I close my eyes I have this nightmare."
He swallowed hard, tears welled up in his eyes and he briefly squeezed them shut as he recalled once more the painful visions, attempting to control his reactions enough so that he could talk about it.
When he spoke again each word was quiet and deliberate. "You and Mark are waiting for me to wake up from the operation to tell me that it has gone wrong," He hesitated before continuing, "they can't save my arm. I turn and look and it's not..." The last words choked off as he found himself unable to complete the description. He turned to look at Amanda. "I don't think I could live with that."
Amanda chose her words carefully, "and can you live with the consequences of not having the surgery?"
Jesse thought about it. Considered properly for the first time never being able to work in the ER again, having to change his life and career, living with a permanent disability. Up until that point all he had been able to think about was what might go wrong, but the risk of his nightmare becoming reality was actually relatively small, whereas the consequences of not having the surgery were fairly definite. Putting it off would not decrease the risk, it would only lessen the chance of a successful recovery.
Whilst he thought he had defocused his eyes again, looking in the direction of the bed without really seeing it. There were several minutes of silence while Jesse reconsidered his position. It was an argument he had had with himself several times that day, only this time he was considering more than just the irrational thoughts driven by fear, eventually he answered her question. "No," he replied quietly, "I don't think I could live with that either, not when I know that there's a chance I can do something about it." He looked up into the face of his friend "I have to have the surgery don't I?" he asked.
"Only you can answer that." Amanda replied allowing him to keep the initiative.
Jesse drew in a deep breath, slightly dazed by how quickly Amanda had managed to turn his ideas round without seeming to try. "You'd better get Dr. Taylor then before I change my mind."
Amanda smiled at him and stood up. "OK I won't be long."
As she reached the door Jesse called her back "Amanda."
She turned "Yes?"
"Remind me never to play chess against you."
Amanda smiled. "You're welcome," she returned the unspoken thank you. It was there in his eyes even if he had hidden it behind a characteristic jibe.
Nathan drove to community general trying to organise the events of the last couple of hours in his head, trying to decide if he should have done things differently. If he had called for backup as procedure dictated then Mark would not now be missing. Chances were that they would also have had both of the Asian gunmen in custody and the Fielding woman too, and he would not be in so much trouble with his superiors, but he had chosen not too and had followed Mark instead, and now Mark was missing, only the injured gunmen had been captured and there was a major mess and media circus at one of LA's biggest shopping malls
Still, there was no use beating himself up about it now. The events had happened and there was nothing he could do to change them. All he could do was face the consequences and, having cleared up at the scene, he was on his way to deal with one of those consequences now. He had to tell Jesse and Amanda that Mark had been taken at gunpoint. It was not going to be easy but he figured he owed it to them to tell them face to face, not over the phone.
He was breaking procedure again. He should have reported straight back to the station to start the paperwork and follow up on the incident at the mall and have his inevitable interview with his superior. He shuddered at the thought of how captain Newman was going to react, especially since the NSA were breathing down their necks on this one, but all of that was going to have to wait.
He pulled into the hospital car park and turned off the engine. He took a moment to compose himself and then headed in to the building.
Dr. Taylor was standing by the nurses' station checking through patient charts when Amanda moved over to join him. He looked up and could tell by her expression that she had been successful. "That didn't take long," he said "How did you manage it?"
"Oh it's easy when you know just what not to say," she replied deliberately cryptic and smiled. At Dr. Taylor's questioning expression she added "Let's just say I helped Jesse to change his own mind about what he wanted. You'd better go before he has time to change it back again."
Dr. Taylor picked up the clipboard and headed off for the room. "OK and thanks."
Amanda watched him go and said a quiet prayer. She knew that she had done the right thing but until Jesse was in recovery and she had it confirmed that everything had gone well, she too would have to live with the fear that his nightmare may come true.
Mark navigated the car up the last of the winding roads that led to the cabin. He couldn't remember most of the journey getting there. He had focused his mind as well as he could on what Emma was telling him but there were parts of it that he would have to ask her to repeat later. At least now he had some understanding of why Steve did not want to risk staying at the hospital and, with the actions of the NSA Agents, why he could not trust in police protection for him or for Emma.
The closer he got to his destination, the closer he got to his son, the more difficult he found it to concentrate. All he could think about was Steve and the possibility that they might be too late to save him. After so many hours of worry and frustration, he did not seem to be able to focus on the hope that being so close and able to help should bring, only on the fear of failure and the despair that went with it.
He pulled up outside the cabin and, forcing his tensed muscles to respond, he climbed quickly out of the car only vaguely aware of Emma doing the same. He grabbed the heavy medical bag from where he had thrown it on the back seat and rushed into the building.
He opened the door and paused catching his breath as once more he was gripped by fear. What if he was too late?
Time seemed to freeze as he regarded the still pale form of his son lying on the couch less than twenty feet from him. He could not move, did not want to approach in case his fear was confirmed. Momentarily paralysed all he could do was stand and stare.
The stillness of the tableau before him was broken by a movement in his peripheral vision as Emma came through the door behind him. It was enough to prompt him into some sort of motion. He stepped forward, still in a dazed dream like state, fear controlling his actions. He reached the side of the couch, dropped the bag and fell to his knees next to Steve, reaching forward but not quite daring to touch him as tears formed in his eyes.
He watched the slight rise and fall of Steve's chest and heard the laboured rasp of his breathing although it was barely audible over his own thundering heartbeat. He said a prayer of thanks. They weren't too late, Steve was still alive. There was still a chance, thank God!
Mark closed his eyes as he fought back the tears of relief and then opened them again to look down at his son once more, his hand still hovering, still unable to touch him in case it was an illusion that would disappear.
Emotion had robbed him of all of his professional competence as a doctor, had robbed him of his intellect and his ability to act in a crisis. At that moment he was just a father feeling for a son in pain, terrified that he might lose him.
The sight of his son's condition had given him every reason to use his medical knowledge and act quickly whilst simultaneously taking away his ability to do so.
It was Emma again who broke through to him "Dr. Sloan," she said sharply, when she got no response she tried again. "Dr. Sloan I need your help, please."
Mark slowly turned his head to look at her. She had opened up the bag and proceeded to take out the equipment inside. Mark had brought one of the paramedic bags that contained the latest design of monitoring device. There were advantages to being head of internal medicine when you needed something.
"It's been a long time," Emma said holding out the monitor, "and they didn't have anything like this in my day." She handed the device to Mark. "You'll have to show me."
Mark turned back to Steve and began to attach the sensors to his hand, explaining his actions as he did so. Working in a teaching hospital he frequently had to help students and explain procedures to them. The normalcy of what he was now doing was enough to snap him out of his stupor. Professional detachment and with it competence returned as Steve became a patient.
He turned the device on and instantly got a readout of Steve's temperature- too high, heart rate- rapid and irregular, and blood pressure- dangerously low.
Emma was already inserting an IV line into the back of his hand as Mark first checked Steve's airway and then placed an oxygen mask over his face. He and Emma worked together as a team for the next ten minutes. He gave instructions to her as he worked, stopping to explain anything she did not understand as they tried to stabilise Steve's condition. Mark maintained his focus by sheer will, forcibly maintaining the emotional detachment he needed to work.
Finally the lines of pain etched on Steve's features began to relax as the drugs began to take effect. Steve's breathing settled as his blood oxygen level came back up and his blood pressure slowly rose. Mark checked the monitors and relaxed slightly. Steve was no longer in immediate danger.
He sat back onto the coffee table by his son's side, moving the monitor to where he could see it clearly. He needed to wait now and allow Steve's vital signs to improve further before he would risk moving him.
Emma returned from the kitchen with some iced water and he watched as she used it to gently cool the skin on Steve's face. There was a tender affection there, clear in her expression, in her actions. Steve meant more to her than just a friend.
"You were once medically trained?" he asked her needing to know more about this mysterious woman who had brought his son so close to dying.
She nodded. "I was a nurse but it was a long time ago." Realising that the old doctor wanted to know more she continued. "Nearly thirty years in fact. I trained in England and then worked in Japan in one of the American military hospitals."
Suddenly for Mark it all fell in to place, how Steve knew this woman and why he did not know anything about her.
He knew that Steve had been transferred to a military hospital in Japan during his first tour of duty in Vietnam. He was recovering from shrapnel wounds in his neck and shoulder following a anti personnel mine explosion and spent eight weeks there before returning to finish his tour. Mark looked at the woman before him. Steve must have met her there.
Of the many areas of their life that they shared, Steve's time in Vietnam was the one thing his son had never been willing or able to discuss with him. The only thing Mark knew was the deep and lasting effect it had had on his son's psyche. When he had returned that first time Mark had seen the change in his son, the loss of innocence and the deep unspoken grief that only the images of war could mark on a man's soul. It had, Mark knew, changed his son forever
He had felt for him, his own experiences in serving as a doctor in Korea gave him an insight into what his son was going through, but despite that, Steve had shut him out, at the time and ever since it was the one taboo area of discussion between them. Mark occasionally commented on the pride he had at his son's distinguished record but beyond that the subject was closed.
"So you met Steve.." Mark began
"At the hospital," Emma confirmed still gently mopping Steve's brow. "He was one of my patients at first and then we became... that is we were..." She gazed affectionately at Steve hesitating in finishing the sentence, English propriety leaving her unable to say what she meant, that they were lovers, especially not to the man's father. "We were very close." She finally settled on.
She looked up into the eyes of Steve's father and something in the expression made her want to confess more to him, to tell him something that she had never been able to tell Steve, something she had never fully admitted to herself. "I fell in love with your son Dr. Sloan. The first time I saw him over thirty years ago and I have been in love with him ever since, time and circumstance have kept us apart, my fault mostly." She looked down, "but however hard I try not to, I still love him."
Mark recognised the confession for what it was and was unsure what to say. "I'm sorry, he didn't.. that is, I'm afraid he never talked about you."
"I'm not surprised," she said smiling sardonically, "I hurt him very deeply." She looked up at Mark again. "When I met him I was already engaged. I didn't tell Steve about it until it was too late. Steve was in love with me too. He wanted to marry me, to bring me back to the states with him."
Mark realised that what he was being told was deeply personal although he was curious he did not want to pry into his son's past. "You don't have to explain to me...."
"Yes I do Dr. Sloan." She interrupted. "You asked me in the car why your son risked his life for me. I'm not quite sure why but at least I can tell you my side." She looked across at him and he nodded slightly, she took this as a signal to continue. "I left it until the very last day of his leave to tell him. I was young and scared of change and it had all moved too quickly for me, so I had chosen to return to England, to my fiancee, to take the easiest path."
Mark shifted his position, still keeping a watchful eye on both Steve and the monitor.
"Have you ever made a decision that you have truly regretted Dr. Sloan?" Emma asked
Mark smiled, looking up at her. "Probably several hundred in my time."
"Well I made one that day when I walked away, and a part of me has regretted it every day since." She sighed and looked back down at Steve. "I hurt him then and I finally turn up in his life again and in one day I do this to him."
Mark recognised the self recrimination. "No," he said quietly. "I can't comment on what you did in the past but you did not do this to him. His injuries were all inflicted by other people. You are as much a victim in this as anyone."
Emma started to protest "But.."
Mark stopped her. "Come on, Steve's stable enough for me to take a look at the bullet wound. I have to do something about it before any infection gets worse."
Mark's comment had the desired effect and returned her thoughts to the practical. She nodded. "The bullet needs to come out. It may be a long time since I've done this sort of thing but I saw enough in my time." She indicated the dining table behind the couch. "I set this up so you could work properly."
For the first time Mark noticed that the table had been draped in clean sheets and that two smaller tables also draped in sheets had been placed next to it. Along with every non fixed lamp and lighting source in the house. Everything he would need to operate. He looked back at Steve and considered what he needed to do. The bullet needed removing and getting Steve to hospital was not an option. The only other person he could trust to do this without involving the authorities and possibly getting them all killed would have been Jesse, but that was also not an option.
So he had no choice, he would have to operate on Steve. At that moment he realised that Emma had spoken to him and he had missed it. "I'm sorry?" he asked
"I said do you think you'll be able to manage to remove the bullet?"
Had it been anyone else on the planet the answer to Emma's question would have been a straight yes, but this was Steve. He remembered how he had reacted just a few minutes ago to the sight of his son in pain. Could he trust himself to control his emotions so that he could treat his son? The answer came simply enough. He would have to. "Yes," he finally said, "but I will need your help."
The first task was to get Steve over to the table with as little trauma as possible. It was difficult but between them they managed to lift him across. It took a few minutes more for Mark to be happy that he had settled after the move.
Then, with Emma's help Mark removed the dressing and let out an involuntary gasp at the inflamed ragged hole in Steve's shoulder. Once more emotion threatened to take hold as he felt for the pain his son must have been in, but he repressed it. Turning to arrange the things he would need whilst he refocused his mind.
He applied a local anaesthetic and antibiotics directly to the wound and gave Emma instructions to make sure that Steve did not move, working with only a local anaesthetic and an unconscious patient it was a real danger and could have disastrous consequences. He then tore open the sealed pouch that contained the scalpel. He took it out and held it, realising that his hand was shaking. Taking a deep breath to calm himself he slowly brought the scalpel down.
Amanda remained with Jesse until the medication had taken effect. She could tell that he was still afraid of what might happen and so she stayed with him attempting to reassure him with her presence until he was asleep. Then she walked down with him until he was wheeled into the OR still unwilling to leave his side.
She too was afraid for him and wished that Mark were there. Right now she needed some comfort herself..
She turned to walk away, deciding to return to work until there was some news, when she saw Nathan approaching from the end of the corridor. She smiled and hurried towards him opening her mouth to issue a greeting, but the words died on her lips as she saw the expression on his face and knew in that instant that there was something terribly wrong.
Baker looked at his boss with an expression of shock on his face. "You want me to do what sir?"
If he had thought about it he might have tried to word his question with a little more respect for his superior's position but the rapid change in circumstances over the last twelve hours had taken away his ability to respond with anything other than incredulity. He was a lowly clerk, at best his position could be described as personal assistant. A role that he was good at yes, but it did not yet qualify him for anything more and yet his boss had not only brought him on a field assignment but was now effectively asking him to work under cover.
"I want you to go in to the field office here in Malibu assigned as extra support on the Fielding case and keep your eyes and ears open about what is happening. I want you to report everything directly back to me." Collins explained again patiently. He watched the young man, whose expression showed that he was about to protest again so he held up his hand to stay the protest and continued, "Look I've been through all of the reports and I'm sure that we're not being told everything. That's why we're down here."
"Then why don't you just..." Baker began
Collins interrupted him. "Just walk in there and demand to know what is going on?"
Baker nodded.
"Because reading the reports has convinced me that Carlson can't have been working alone. He had to have an accomplice and I suspect that could be one of the agents working on the case. If I just walk in there and use my position to demand answers, whoever it is could just stop their activities and we'll be left with nothing." He watched as the young agent absorbed this information. "I'm willing to bet that whoever it is is still trying to get their hands on the disc and when they do we'll be waiting."
"But why me?" Baker asked.
"Three reasons," Collins answered. "First you're my assistant, since this is an important case, it won't strike anyone as too unusual that I've sent you down here as a field liaison for me.. Second, forgive me for this, but a simple background check will confirm to anyone that you are too green to be up to anything devious, so they won't feel threatened by you and thirdly," he paused to ensure that he had eye contact. "I trust you, and given the nature of this case that's not a quality to be underestimated." He stared his subordinate directly in the eye. "So will you do it?"
Baker thought very briefly about what he was being asked to do before he replied. "Yes sir."
Mark drove the car out of the car park and on to the road. His pulse was still racing and the adrenaline coursing through his system allowed him to think with a clarity that belied his tiredness. He risked a glance across at the woman sitting next to him. She still held the gun pointed at him. She gripped it so tightly that her knuckles were white and her hand shook slightly from the tension or perhaps from the shock of the events of the last few minutes. He risked a second look up at her face. It was undoubtedly the same woman that Steve had introduced him to the day before at the hospital. She looked now as she had then, pale and anxious, her lips drawn in a thin tight line.
Steve had introduced her as a friend so Mark decided, despite the gun, to risk some conversation. "If you are taking me to help my son. You don't need that," he said nodding his head slightly in the direction of the weapon. ' Emma looked over at him. She was still stunned by the events in the mall, trying to come to terms with having shot someone. She knew that Dr. Sloan had spoken to her but had not heard what he had said. "Pardon?" She asked.
Mark was unsure whether she had genuinely not heard him or was not reacting badly to his comment. He had no choice however but to try again. "I said that if you are taking me to see my son there is no need for the gun. I won't do anything to risk Steve's life." He replied keeping his voice as calm as he could manage.
Emma looked down at the gun in her hand and realised that she was still pointing it at Steve's father. She was gripping it so tightly that it took a conscious effort of will to relax her hand. "I'm sorry Dr. Sloan," she said apologetically. "I know that I don't need it. Steve told me that you would come if I just asked for your help."
Mark was completely taken aback by her reaction and her comment. "Then why.." he began but did not know how to phrase the rest of his question.
Emma did not need any more. "Steve said that if you came and helped him then you would get into trouble, that you could lose your medical license," she explained "He wouldn't let me call you for help. So I thought that if it looked like you were forced to come then the only person in trouble would be me and considering what I'm facing," She paused as a melancholy look briefly crossed her face. She shook it off, repressing the thoughts that accompanied it. "Well, I don't think it could get much worse for me."
Mark considered her comment. He was still trying to come to terms with Emma's sudden change from hostage taker to apologetic passenger. "You're saying Steve wouldn't call me for help because he didn't want me to lose my medical license?" Mark asked incredulously. Surely Steve couldn't possibly think that a bit of paper was more important to him than his well being.
Emma heard the disbelief in Mark's tone. "Not just that," she replied quickly. "You saw what just happened at the mall. He didn't want to get you involved. He was worried that you might get hurt." She paused before adding quietly. "Like his friend Dr. Travis." She hesitated again afraid of the answer to the next question but she had to ask. "How is he, Dr. Travis?"
"He's recovering at the hospital." Mark replied, noting the tinge of genuine concern from the woman who was asking. His mind was certainly having to work quickly to keep up with his changing perceptions.
Emma sighed with relief. "Good I'm glad. He was good to me and all I brought him was trouble."
Despite the many other questions Mark had for the woman seated next to him there was one concern that overrode all others. "How is my son?" he asked.
Emma was quiet for a few moments before she replied, this only served to heighten Mark's concern. Her answer when it came did little to make him feel better . "Not good," she said and proceeded to describe Steve's condition when she had left him.
Mark had by now reached the freeway. "How long will it take us to get there?" He asked, the words almost catching in his throat as he fought to control the emotions that threatened to take away his ability to function. From what Emma had told him there was the possibility that they would be too late.
Emma told the doctor where they were going. He recognised the location instantly from her description and moved out into the traffic hitting the gas peddle to accelerate up to the speed limit.
"I'm sorry Dr. Sloan," Emma said remorsefully. "I shouldn't have listened to Steve, I should have come for you earlier."
Mark kept his eyes on the traffic. "It will take us around twenty minutes to get to the cabin." He said keeping his tone neutral. "I think you'd better use that time to explain to me just exactly what Steve has got himself involved in and why he's put his life at risk to help you?" It was information that he needed to know and besides, he needed to keep his mind occupied until he reached Steve. There was no use in worrying about what might be happening. He could do nothing about it until he got there.
Emma took a deep breath and began to repeat the story that she had told Steve and relate what had happened since she called him.
"Don't," Jesse said as Amanda entered the room and moved to his bedside. He could not bring himself to look at her. "Don't say it," he continued, staring over at the window on the opposite side of the room. "I don't want to discuss it." His tone was sullen, resigned.
Amanda sat down next to him and said nothing.
Jesse was disconcerted by her silence. He had expected a speech from her, perhaps an argument. He had not expected her to do what he asked and remain quiet. Still refusing to look at her, he could not stop himself from filling the silence with a comment that required an answer. "It won't do any good you know?"
"What won't?" Amanda obliged with a reply.
"Trying to talk me into it." Jesse continued.
"I wasn't." Amanda stated simply.
"Why not?" Jesse asked, of all the positions he had expected Amanda to adopt this was not one of them.
"Because you told me you didn't want to talk about it." Amanda replied. "I just came down to let you know that I'm here for you. Whatever happens."
Jesse finally turned to look at her. "So you don't think I need to have this operation?"
Amanda took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. "Jess, you know as well as I do that you need this operation if you want to regain full function in that hand again. You also know that if you don't have it you will probably never go back to your job in the ER." Amanda kept her voice calm and quiet but her eyes filled with moisture as she looked into those of her friend and saw only fear and pain. "I don't know why you've made the decision that you have but you know better than anyone the reasons for surgery and the risks involved. I haven't come to persuade you, just to listen if you need me."
Amanda had chosen the right strategy. Jesse had been ready to defend himself in an argument and prepared to ignore a speech. He had made up his mind about what he was going to do and nothing was going to change it, but Amanda offered neither. Instead, she was a sounding board for his own internal argument.
He returned her grip and leaned his head back against the pillows staring across at the far wall. "I'm so scared," he admitted, "Every time I close my eyes I have this nightmare."
He swallowed hard, tears welled up in his eyes and he briefly squeezed them shut as he recalled once more the painful visions, attempting to control his reactions enough so that he could talk about it.
When he spoke again each word was quiet and deliberate. "You and Mark are waiting for me to wake up from the operation to tell me that it has gone wrong," He hesitated before continuing, "they can't save my arm. I turn and look and it's not..." The last words choked off as he found himself unable to complete the description. He turned to look at Amanda. "I don't think I could live with that."
Amanda chose her words carefully, "and can you live with the consequences of not having the surgery?"
Jesse thought about it. Considered properly for the first time never being able to work in the ER again, having to change his life and career, living with a permanent disability. Up until that point all he had been able to think about was what might go wrong, but the risk of his nightmare becoming reality was actually relatively small, whereas the consequences of not having the surgery were fairly definite. Putting it off would not decrease the risk, it would only lessen the chance of a successful recovery.
Whilst he thought he had defocused his eyes again, looking in the direction of the bed without really seeing it. There were several minutes of silence while Jesse reconsidered his position. It was an argument he had had with himself several times that day, only this time he was considering more than just the irrational thoughts driven by fear, eventually he answered her question. "No," he replied quietly, "I don't think I could live with that either, not when I know that there's a chance I can do something about it." He looked up into the face of his friend "I have to have the surgery don't I?" he asked.
"Only you can answer that." Amanda replied allowing him to keep the initiative.
Jesse drew in a deep breath, slightly dazed by how quickly Amanda had managed to turn his ideas round without seeming to try. "You'd better get Dr. Taylor then before I change my mind."
Amanda smiled at him and stood up. "OK I won't be long."
As she reached the door Jesse called her back "Amanda."
She turned "Yes?"
"Remind me never to play chess against you."
Amanda smiled. "You're welcome," she returned the unspoken thank you. It was there in his eyes even if he had hidden it behind a characteristic jibe.
Nathan drove to community general trying to organise the events of the last couple of hours in his head, trying to decide if he should have done things differently. If he had called for backup as procedure dictated then Mark would not now be missing. Chances were that they would also have had both of the Asian gunmen in custody and the Fielding woman too, and he would not be in so much trouble with his superiors, but he had chosen not too and had followed Mark instead, and now Mark was missing, only the injured gunmen had been captured and there was a major mess and media circus at one of LA's biggest shopping malls
Still, there was no use beating himself up about it now. The events had happened and there was nothing he could do to change them. All he could do was face the consequences and, having cleared up at the scene, he was on his way to deal with one of those consequences now. He had to tell Jesse and Amanda that Mark had been taken at gunpoint. It was not going to be easy but he figured he owed it to them to tell them face to face, not over the phone.
He was breaking procedure again. He should have reported straight back to the station to start the paperwork and follow up on the incident at the mall and have his inevitable interview with his superior. He shuddered at the thought of how captain Newman was going to react, especially since the NSA were breathing down their necks on this one, but all of that was going to have to wait.
He pulled into the hospital car park and turned off the engine. He took a moment to compose himself and then headed in to the building.
Dr. Taylor was standing by the nurses' station checking through patient charts when Amanda moved over to join him. He looked up and could tell by her expression that she had been successful. "That didn't take long," he said "How did you manage it?"
"Oh it's easy when you know just what not to say," she replied deliberately cryptic and smiled. At Dr. Taylor's questioning expression she added "Let's just say I helped Jesse to change his own mind about what he wanted. You'd better go before he has time to change it back again."
Dr. Taylor picked up the clipboard and headed off for the room. "OK and thanks."
Amanda watched him go and said a quiet prayer. She knew that she had done the right thing but until Jesse was in recovery and she had it confirmed that everything had gone well, she too would have to live with the fear that his nightmare may come true.
Mark navigated the car up the last of the winding roads that led to the cabin. He couldn't remember most of the journey getting there. He had focused his mind as well as he could on what Emma was telling him but there were parts of it that he would have to ask her to repeat later. At least now he had some understanding of why Steve did not want to risk staying at the hospital and, with the actions of the NSA Agents, why he could not trust in police protection for him or for Emma.
The closer he got to his destination, the closer he got to his son, the more difficult he found it to concentrate. All he could think about was Steve and the possibility that they might be too late to save him. After so many hours of worry and frustration, he did not seem to be able to focus on the hope that being so close and able to help should bring, only on the fear of failure and the despair that went with it.
He pulled up outside the cabin and, forcing his tensed muscles to respond, he climbed quickly out of the car only vaguely aware of Emma doing the same. He grabbed the heavy medical bag from where he had thrown it on the back seat and rushed into the building.
He opened the door and paused catching his breath as once more he was gripped by fear. What if he was too late?
Time seemed to freeze as he regarded the still pale form of his son lying on the couch less than twenty feet from him. He could not move, did not want to approach in case his fear was confirmed. Momentarily paralysed all he could do was stand and stare.
The stillness of the tableau before him was broken by a movement in his peripheral vision as Emma came through the door behind him. It was enough to prompt him into some sort of motion. He stepped forward, still in a dazed dream like state, fear controlling his actions. He reached the side of the couch, dropped the bag and fell to his knees next to Steve, reaching forward but not quite daring to touch him as tears formed in his eyes.
He watched the slight rise and fall of Steve's chest and heard the laboured rasp of his breathing although it was barely audible over his own thundering heartbeat. He said a prayer of thanks. They weren't too late, Steve was still alive. There was still a chance, thank God!
Mark closed his eyes as he fought back the tears of relief and then opened them again to look down at his son once more, his hand still hovering, still unable to touch him in case it was an illusion that would disappear.
Emotion had robbed him of all of his professional competence as a doctor, had robbed him of his intellect and his ability to act in a crisis. At that moment he was just a father feeling for a son in pain, terrified that he might lose him.
The sight of his son's condition had given him every reason to use his medical knowledge and act quickly whilst simultaneously taking away his ability to do so.
It was Emma again who broke through to him "Dr. Sloan," she said sharply, when she got no response she tried again. "Dr. Sloan I need your help, please."
Mark slowly turned his head to look at her. She had opened up the bag and proceeded to take out the equipment inside. Mark had brought one of the paramedic bags that contained the latest design of monitoring device. There were advantages to being head of internal medicine when you needed something.
"It's been a long time," Emma said holding out the monitor, "and they didn't have anything like this in my day." She handed the device to Mark. "You'll have to show me."
Mark turned back to Steve and began to attach the sensors to his hand, explaining his actions as he did so. Working in a teaching hospital he frequently had to help students and explain procedures to them. The normalcy of what he was now doing was enough to snap him out of his stupor. Professional detachment and with it competence returned as Steve became a patient.
He turned the device on and instantly got a readout of Steve's temperature- too high, heart rate- rapid and irregular, and blood pressure- dangerously low.
Emma was already inserting an IV line into the back of his hand as Mark first checked Steve's airway and then placed an oxygen mask over his face. He and Emma worked together as a team for the next ten minutes. He gave instructions to her as he worked, stopping to explain anything she did not understand as they tried to stabilise Steve's condition. Mark maintained his focus by sheer will, forcibly maintaining the emotional detachment he needed to work.
Finally the lines of pain etched on Steve's features began to relax as the drugs began to take effect. Steve's breathing settled as his blood oxygen level came back up and his blood pressure slowly rose. Mark checked the monitors and relaxed slightly. Steve was no longer in immediate danger.
He sat back onto the coffee table by his son's side, moving the monitor to where he could see it clearly. He needed to wait now and allow Steve's vital signs to improve further before he would risk moving him.
Emma returned from the kitchen with some iced water and he watched as she used it to gently cool the skin on Steve's face. There was a tender affection there, clear in her expression, in her actions. Steve meant more to her than just a friend.
"You were once medically trained?" he asked her needing to know more about this mysterious woman who had brought his son so close to dying.
She nodded. "I was a nurse but it was a long time ago." Realising that the old doctor wanted to know more she continued. "Nearly thirty years in fact. I trained in England and then worked in Japan in one of the American military hospitals."
Suddenly for Mark it all fell in to place, how Steve knew this woman and why he did not know anything about her.
He knew that Steve had been transferred to a military hospital in Japan during his first tour of duty in Vietnam. He was recovering from shrapnel wounds in his neck and shoulder following a anti personnel mine explosion and spent eight weeks there before returning to finish his tour. Mark looked at the woman before him. Steve must have met her there.
Of the many areas of their life that they shared, Steve's time in Vietnam was the one thing his son had never been willing or able to discuss with him. The only thing Mark knew was the deep and lasting effect it had had on his son's psyche. When he had returned that first time Mark had seen the change in his son, the loss of innocence and the deep unspoken grief that only the images of war could mark on a man's soul. It had, Mark knew, changed his son forever
He had felt for him, his own experiences in serving as a doctor in Korea gave him an insight into what his son was going through, but despite that, Steve had shut him out, at the time and ever since it was the one taboo area of discussion between them. Mark occasionally commented on the pride he had at his son's distinguished record but beyond that the subject was closed.
"So you met Steve.." Mark began
"At the hospital," Emma confirmed still gently mopping Steve's brow. "He was one of my patients at first and then we became... that is we were..." She gazed affectionately at Steve hesitating in finishing the sentence, English propriety leaving her unable to say what she meant, that they were lovers, especially not to the man's father. "We were very close." She finally settled on.
She looked up into the eyes of Steve's father and something in the expression made her want to confess more to him, to tell him something that she had never been able to tell Steve, something she had never fully admitted to herself. "I fell in love with your son Dr. Sloan. The first time I saw him over thirty years ago and I have been in love with him ever since, time and circumstance have kept us apart, my fault mostly." She looked down, "but however hard I try not to, I still love him."
Mark recognised the confession for what it was and was unsure what to say. "I'm sorry, he didn't.. that is, I'm afraid he never talked about you."
"I'm not surprised," she said smiling sardonically, "I hurt him very deeply." She looked up at Mark again. "When I met him I was already engaged. I didn't tell Steve about it until it was too late. Steve was in love with me too. He wanted to marry me, to bring me back to the states with him."
Mark realised that what he was being told was deeply personal although he was curious he did not want to pry into his son's past. "You don't have to explain to me...."
"Yes I do Dr. Sloan." She interrupted. "You asked me in the car why your son risked his life for me. I'm not quite sure why but at least I can tell you my side." She looked across at him and he nodded slightly, she took this as a signal to continue. "I left it until the very last day of his leave to tell him. I was young and scared of change and it had all moved too quickly for me, so I had chosen to return to England, to my fiancee, to take the easiest path."
Mark shifted his position, still keeping a watchful eye on both Steve and the monitor.
"Have you ever made a decision that you have truly regretted Dr. Sloan?" Emma asked
Mark smiled, looking up at her. "Probably several hundred in my time."
"Well I made one that day when I walked away, and a part of me has regretted it every day since." She sighed and looked back down at Steve. "I hurt him then and I finally turn up in his life again and in one day I do this to him."
Mark recognised the self recrimination. "No," he said quietly. "I can't comment on what you did in the past but you did not do this to him. His injuries were all inflicted by other people. You are as much a victim in this as anyone."
Emma started to protest "But.."
Mark stopped her. "Come on, Steve's stable enough for me to take a look at the bullet wound. I have to do something about it before any infection gets worse."
Mark's comment had the desired effect and returned her thoughts to the practical. She nodded. "The bullet needs to come out. It may be a long time since I've done this sort of thing but I saw enough in my time." She indicated the dining table behind the couch. "I set this up so you could work properly."
For the first time Mark noticed that the table had been draped in clean sheets and that two smaller tables also draped in sheets had been placed next to it. Along with every non fixed lamp and lighting source in the house. Everything he would need to operate. He looked back at Steve and considered what he needed to do. The bullet needed removing and getting Steve to hospital was not an option. The only other person he could trust to do this without involving the authorities and possibly getting them all killed would have been Jesse, but that was also not an option.
So he had no choice, he would have to operate on Steve. At that moment he realised that Emma had spoken to him and he had missed it. "I'm sorry?" he asked
"I said do you think you'll be able to manage to remove the bullet?"
Had it been anyone else on the planet the answer to Emma's question would have been a straight yes, but this was Steve. He remembered how he had reacted just a few minutes ago to the sight of his son in pain. Could he trust himself to control his emotions so that he could treat his son? The answer came simply enough. He would have to. "Yes," he finally said, "but I will need your help."
The first task was to get Steve over to the table with as little trauma as possible. It was difficult but between them they managed to lift him across. It took a few minutes more for Mark to be happy that he had settled after the move.
Then, with Emma's help Mark removed the dressing and let out an involuntary gasp at the inflamed ragged hole in Steve's shoulder. Once more emotion threatened to take hold as he felt for the pain his son must have been in, but he repressed it. Turning to arrange the things he would need whilst he refocused his mind.
He applied a local anaesthetic and antibiotics directly to the wound and gave Emma instructions to make sure that Steve did not move, working with only a local anaesthetic and an unconscious patient it was a real danger and could have disastrous consequences. He then tore open the sealed pouch that contained the scalpel. He took it out and held it, realising that his hand was shaking. Taking a deep breath to calm himself he slowly brought the scalpel down.
Amanda remained with Jesse until the medication had taken effect. She could tell that he was still afraid of what might happen and so she stayed with him attempting to reassure him with her presence until he was asleep. Then she walked down with him until he was wheeled into the OR still unwilling to leave his side.
She too was afraid for him and wished that Mark were there. Right now she needed some comfort herself..
She turned to walk away, deciding to return to work until there was some news, when she saw Nathan approaching from the end of the corridor. She smiled and hurried towards him opening her mouth to issue a greeting, but the words died on her lips as she saw the expression on his face and knew in that instant that there was something terribly wrong.