The Murder
"...If I don't have a full blood analysis in my hands in at least twenty minutes, I'll test some new toxic liquids on yourself!", yelled Jen into the room and closed the door with a bump.
'Don't get upset, remember your blood pressure', she told herself. That was a very bad joke. One hour and these snails hadn't even started with the blood examination. Scratching her head, she turned around to Mark and Steve.
"I'm sorry, but we can't be sure until we have the final results. I only can say it was definetly no shock reaction because of the heat as I assumed first. It must be something else, but as I said...", she accusingly pointed out the door behind her on which some big, black letters read 'Laboratory'.
"I should better go and give these fools another bawling-out, otherwise they'll never learn that they work for a hospital and not for a travel agency where they can watch football all day..." She smiled optimisticly at the two men, waved them a good-bye and disappeared behind the door.
Steve and Mark didn't feel for smiling. They still saw their friend laying on the couch, unconcussious, pale, with sweat covered face. They had screamed his name, again and again, but he didn't appear to hear them, he was writhing somewhere in a delirious dream.
"Mark! Steve! Oh my God, what's up?!", Amanda cried out, running over to them. Finally she'd got out of that conference. Since Mark had suddenly headed off she had wondered what could be wrong. Finally she could ask him.
"Amanda!", Mark was glad to see her, she was always so warm, so comforting, he knew how the news would shock her and wondered how he could put it into words. "Jesse is ill. He's got very high fever and I'm sorry to say that we don't know why..."
Amanda's eyes widened with horror. She wasn't able to say anything, but she picture that she had in her mind was clear, a bit to clear for her taste. She hadn't even realised it but her lips formed a weak 'Not again' and Mark nodded in silent correspondence.
"Dad?", Steve didn't have an idea if he should really dare to ask this question, but he just had to know. "In his condition, I mean if he gets worse, I mean the temperature...how..how bad is it?", he stammered.
His father avoided Steve's eyes and swallowed hard. Should he really tell him the truth? Maybe it was right to lie at him. Mark wished that he could dupe himself. Sometimes he hated to be a doctor. But no, it wasn't fair, to none of them.
"We should wait for the results, but...", and now he was at a loss of words. He closed his eyes and opened them again. Nothing had changed, still were two blue eyes curiously frowning at him. "If he doesn't get better in the next fourty-eight hours, then..."
He couldn't go on. No, he would never let this happen!
A cellphone ringed. 'What a great moment!', Steve thought angrily and answered the call. "Sloan?...yeah....what, now?...ok...ok...where?!...will be there in as soon as possible..."
"What was that?", asked Mark, though he was only mediocrely interested. His usual so mischievous blue eyes had lost their shine. His mind seemed to be too far away, somewhere else...
"A murder was commited in the security wing of the LA prison! I've gotta go there, let me know if there's anything new..." Steve wiped the sweat from his face and ran towards elevator.
Not knowing what to do next, Mark and Amanda wandered planlessly along the halls. The heat became more and more oppressive and Mark didn't even wanted to guess how Jesse had to feel. What had the boy done, that those things always happened to him? The nurses and doctors passing by nodded in their direction, of course they already knew how serious Jesse's shape was.
Mark sometimes smiled back at the people who obviously tried to give them comfort, to be there in the way you can for some one you don't really know and like though. A young man grinned brightly at them and Mark again smiled back friendly, wondering where he knew this man from. He had sworn that it wasn't from the hospital, but maybe the heat and the circumstances affected his memory.
They were on their way to Jesse's room when they suddenly froze. Was that imagination or...The sound that had joined them for the whole summer couldn't be heard any more. The faint humming had gone at once. A moment of horrorfied silence was followed by loud moanings and complaints.
Jesse had just woken up out of his feverish sleep. Wondering where he was, he rubbed his face and tried to focus something, but the cold sweat streamed into his eyes, everything appeared through a layer of water.He backed up on his elbows and listened into the darkness of his room. Nothing...not even...."Oh no, please..", he muttered as he sank back onto his pillow.
Obviously the air-conditioner had just broke.
Steve walked along the halls of the security wing of the prison at the outskirts of LA. The ride there had been another trip through the hell, literally, traffic jam after traffic jam, passengers who were roaste in their cars, Steve had stopped to count the men who were replacing the splitted tires with new ones at the hard shoulder.
A stocky security man guarded the detective through the grey corridors, the stones had cracks in some places, the heat in summers and coldness in winters had left their traces, an insulation was virtually not there.
The recreation room was a complete chaos. Fallen furniture, a broken TV set and blood everywhere. The body was still on the floor, his position was already marked with white tapes.
Blood covered his face, he was a white man, late thirties probably. He was rather unshaved and thin, long strands of greasy hair hang down from his angular skull.
Steve bent down to him. The skin of the corps had still its normal color, obviously he wasn't dead for long, yet.
"We had problems with some inmates", said the stocky guard and rubbed his moustache, "one of the guys from Block D flipped out and knocked him out with a chair. We have about one dozen witnesses. Will spare you lots of trouble, officer!" The security man grinned smugly.
"Leutenant!", corrected Steve dryly and turned up his nose. The man smelled strongly of sweat. Steve decided not to give him the tip to have shower as soon as possible, but nodded in the direction of the corp that was now laid onto a stretcher and wheeled away.
"Who is he?"
"You will have to ask the boss of this block and that's not me. I'm only a little employee who does his job, the hard work to watch these bastards every day that they don't kill each other...", answered the officer bitterly and glared at Steve as though it was whose fault that he had never had the chance to push his career foward.
Steve rolled with his eyes. Not only that he worried sick about Jesse, now he also had to play the psychatrist for some security guys with inferiority complexes. "You know anything about that man?!", he asked harshly.
The officer shrugged unimpressedly. "He introduced himself to me as Pete. One of the few nice guys here. Always polite. Has never talked much....and he liked peppermint drops", he added at last and smiled proudly.
Steve nodded. He had to get away from this dreadful stench. So he headed off after asking an officer to find out the name of the dead person and report him straightly. Leaning back in the burning hot seat of his Ford for a moment Steve sorted his mind. The case was easy, they had a victim, they had a killer, they had witnesses.
The only thing that was nagging him was where he had seen the face of the murdered man before. It had probably been years ago, but when? He couldn't assign the face. Steve scratched his arm and winced. He had totally forgotten his sun burn. Damn heat!
Mark had just finished his rounds when Steve arrived at the hospital and asked for his dad at the reception. "Here I am, son!", called Mark, leaving the elevator. Steve turned around and saw his father standing in front of him. He looked worn-out, tired and a bit sad. Steve didn't have to guess. "How's Jesse?"
Mark shook his head. "Please don't ask, I feel bad enough anyway. We still don't have a blood analysis, but we're doing what we can. I just can't fight the feeling that that isn't enough." Not even noticing his anger, he hit his wrist onto the reception desk.
Steve took note of it and he could understand his father. Mark was good doctor, that was even understated, he was definetly one of the bests. Knowing that he couldn't help some one was one of the things he never had really learned to accept.
Steve remembered how his dad had acted after Katherine, his mother and Mark's wife had died. The experience that he couldn't help one of the persons he loved most, had taken ages for Mark to get over it. He had never been satisfied with himself as a doctor, always been raring to go and always, and, hell, he still was, stubborn. Helplessness was something he couldn't deal with. At least not very well.
"Have you seen Amanda anywhere?", Steve asked. Something was still bothering him and he had just decided to pursue an impulse.
"She's staying with Jesse. I only had to finish my rounds, I'm going back there now."
Steve thought that now was probably the right time to tell his dad something. "Dad, could...could you give me something against my sun burn?" He grinned sheepishly as he lifted his arm.
"My God, Steve that looks awful, since when have you got it?" There was it! The look, the look in his fathers eyes. Steve sighed. He felt like six years old. "Dad, please! Just give me some cooling ointment and let's leave it then!", he pleaded.
Mark chuckled. His son was really one of the worst patients he'd ever seen. "What do you want Amanda to do? The autopsy on that prisoner?" Maybe it was good to change the topic, Mark thought, while searching for some ointment in one of the shelfs,.
Steve nodded. "Everything points on a fracture on the head, but..." He didn't go on.
His father lay the ointment on Steve's red arm, smiling suspicously at him. "But what?"
Steve shrugged. "Dunno! Just havin' a strange feeling about it. What's so funny?"
Mark couldn't help but giggling. "You're becoming more and more similar to me!"
"Well, I could've hit it worse, couldn't I ?", Steve replied friendly.
Mark pulled up his eyebrows. "I hope so, son, I hope so!" And he felt a bit proud.
That happy atmosphere shouldn't last for a long time.
WELL, URM, NOT EXACTLY SOMETHIN' THAT WAS WORTH WAITING FOR. BUT I'LL GET THE DIRECTION (and hopefully a new English dictionary, soon,lol)...SOMEWHEN! LOL :-) THANX FOR THE REVIEWS! C YA, BYEEEEEEE
"...If I don't have a full blood analysis in my hands in at least twenty minutes, I'll test some new toxic liquids on yourself!", yelled Jen into the room and closed the door with a bump.
'Don't get upset, remember your blood pressure', she told herself. That was a very bad joke. One hour and these snails hadn't even started with the blood examination. Scratching her head, she turned around to Mark and Steve.
"I'm sorry, but we can't be sure until we have the final results. I only can say it was definetly no shock reaction because of the heat as I assumed first. It must be something else, but as I said...", she accusingly pointed out the door behind her on which some big, black letters read 'Laboratory'.
"I should better go and give these fools another bawling-out, otherwise they'll never learn that they work for a hospital and not for a travel agency where they can watch football all day..." She smiled optimisticly at the two men, waved them a good-bye and disappeared behind the door.
Steve and Mark didn't feel for smiling. They still saw their friend laying on the couch, unconcussious, pale, with sweat covered face. They had screamed his name, again and again, but he didn't appear to hear them, he was writhing somewhere in a delirious dream.
"Mark! Steve! Oh my God, what's up?!", Amanda cried out, running over to them. Finally she'd got out of that conference. Since Mark had suddenly headed off she had wondered what could be wrong. Finally she could ask him.
"Amanda!", Mark was glad to see her, she was always so warm, so comforting, he knew how the news would shock her and wondered how he could put it into words. "Jesse is ill. He's got very high fever and I'm sorry to say that we don't know why..."
Amanda's eyes widened with horror. She wasn't able to say anything, but she picture that she had in her mind was clear, a bit to clear for her taste. She hadn't even realised it but her lips formed a weak 'Not again' and Mark nodded in silent correspondence.
"Dad?", Steve didn't have an idea if he should really dare to ask this question, but he just had to know. "In his condition, I mean if he gets worse, I mean the temperature...how..how bad is it?", he stammered.
His father avoided Steve's eyes and swallowed hard. Should he really tell him the truth? Maybe it was right to lie at him. Mark wished that he could dupe himself. Sometimes he hated to be a doctor. But no, it wasn't fair, to none of them.
"We should wait for the results, but...", and now he was at a loss of words. He closed his eyes and opened them again. Nothing had changed, still were two blue eyes curiously frowning at him. "If he doesn't get better in the next fourty-eight hours, then..."
He couldn't go on. No, he would never let this happen!
A cellphone ringed. 'What a great moment!', Steve thought angrily and answered the call. "Sloan?...yeah....what, now?...ok...ok...where?!...will be there in as soon as possible..."
"What was that?", asked Mark, though he was only mediocrely interested. His usual so mischievous blue eyes had lost their shine. His mind seemed to be too far away, somewhere else...
"A murder was commited in the security wing of the LA prison! I've gotta go there, let me know if there's anything new..." Steve wiped the sweat from his face and ran towards elevator.
Not knowing what to do next, Mark and Amanda wandered planlessly along the halls. The heat became more and more oppressive and Mark didn't even wanted to guess how Jesse had to feel. What had the boy done, that those things always happened to him? The nurses and doctors passing by nodded in their direction, of course they already knew how serious Jesse's shape was.
Mark sometimes smiled back at the people who obviously tried to give them comfort, to be there in the way you can for some one you don't really know and like though. A young man grinned brightly at them and Mark again smiled back friendly, wondering where he knew this man from. He had sworn that it wasn't from the hospital, but maybe the heat and the circumstances affected his memory.
They were on their way to Jesse's room when they suddenly froze. Was that imagination or...The sound that had joined them for the whole summer couldn't be heard any more. The faint humming had gone at once. A moment of horrorfied silence was followed by loud moanings and complaints.
Jesse had just woken up out of his feverish sleep. Wondering where he was, he rubbed his face and tried to focus something, but the cold sweat streamed into his eyes, everything appeared through a layer of water.He backed up on his elbows and listened into the darkness of his room. Nothing...not even...."Oh no, please..", he muttered as he sank back onto his pillow.
Obviously the air-conditioner had just broke.
Steve walked along the halls of the security wing of the prison at the outskirts of LA. The ride there had been another trip through the hell, literally, traffic jam after traffic jam, passengers who were roaste in their cars, Steve had stopped to count the men who were replacing the splitted tires with new ones at the hard shoulder.
A stocky security man guarded the detective through the grey corridors, the stones had cracks in some places, the heat in summers and coldness in winters had left their traces, an insulation was virtually not there.
The recreation room was a complete chaos. Fallen furniture, a broken TV set and blood everywhere. The body was still on the floor, his position was already marked with white tapes.
Blood covered his face, he was a white man, late thirties probably. He was rather unshaved and thin, long strands of greasy hair hang down from his angular skull.
Steve bent down to him. The skin of the corps had still its normal color, obviously he wasn't dead for long, yet.
"We had problems with some inmates", said the stocky guard and rubbed his moustache, "one of the guys from Block D flipped out and knocked him out with a chair. We have about one dozen witnesses. Will spare you lots of trouble, officer!" The security man grinned smugly.
"Leutenant!", corrected Steve dryly and turned up his nose. The man smelled strongly of sweat. Steve decided not to give him the tip to have shower as soon as possible, but nodded in the direction of the corp that was now laid onto a stretcher and wheeled away.
"Who is he?"
"You will have to ask the boss of this block and that's not me. I'm only a little employee who does his job, the hard work to watch these bastards every day that they don't kill each other...", answered the officer bitterly and glared at Steve as though it was whose fault that he had never had the chance to push his career foward.
Steve rolled with his eyes. Not only that he worried sick about Jesse, now he also had to play the psychatrist for some security guys with inferiority complexes. "You know anything about that man?!", he asked harshly.
The officer shrugged unimpressedly. "He introduced himself to me as Pete. One of the few nice guys here. Always polite. Has never talked much....and he liked peppermint drops", he added at last and smiled proudly.
Steve nodded. He had to get away from this dreadful stench. So he headed off after asking an officer to find out the name of the dead person and report him straightly. Leaning back in the burning hot seat of his Ford for a moment Steve sorted his mind. The case was easy, they had a victim, they had a killer, they had witnesses.
The only thing that was nagging him was where he had seen the face of the murdered man before. It had probably been years ago, but when? He couldn't assign the face. Steve scratched his arm and winced. He had totally forgotten his sun burn. Damn heat!
Mark had just finished his rounds when Steve arrived at the hospital and asked for his dad at the reception. "Here I am, son!", called Mark, leaving the elevator. Steve turned around and saw his father standing in front of him. He looked worn-out, tired and a bit sad. Steve didn't have to guess. "How's Jesse?"
Mark shook his head. "Please don't ask, I feel bad enough anyway. We still don't have a blood analysis, but we're doing what we can. I just can't fight the feeling that that isn't enough." Not even noticing his anger, he hit his wrist onto the reception desk.
Steve took note of it and he could understand his father. Mark was good doctor, that was even understated, he was definetly one of the bests. Knowing that he couldn't help some one was one of the things he never had really learned to accept.
Steve remembered how his dad had acted after Katherine, his mother and Mark's wife had died. The experience that he couldn't help one of the persons he loved most, had taken ages for Mark to get over it. He had never been satisfied with himself as a doctor, always been raring to go and always, and, hell, he still was, stubborn. Helplessness was something he couldn't deal with. At least not very well.
"Have you seen Amanda anywhere?", Steve asked. Something was still bothering him and he had just decided to pursue an impulse.
"She's staying with Jesse. I only had to finish my rounds, I'm going back there now."
Steve thought that now was probably the right time to tell his dad something. "Dad, could...could you give me something against my sun burn?" He grinned sheepishly as he lifted his arm.
"My God, Steve that looks awful, since when have you got it?" There was it! The look, the look in his fathers eyes. Steve sighed. He felt like six years old. "Dad, please! Just give me some cooling ointment and let's leave it then!", he pleaded.
Mark chuckled. His son was really one of the worst patients he'd ever seen. "What do you want Amanda to do? The autopsy on that prisoner?" Maybe it was good to change the topic, Mark thought, while searching for some ointment in one of the shelfs,.
Steve nodded. "Everything points on a fracture on the head, but..." He didn't go on.
His father lay the ointment on Steve's red arm, smiling suspicously at him. "But what?"
Steve shrugged. "Dunno! Just havin' a strange feeling about it. What's so funny?"
Mark couldn't help but giggling. "You're becoming more and more similar to me!"
"Well, I could've hit it worse, couldn't I ?", Steve replied friendly.
Mark pulled up his eyebrows. "I hope so, son, I hope so!" And he felt a bit proud.
That happy atmosphere shouldn't last for a long time.
WELL, URM, NOT EXACTLY SOMETHIN' THAT WAS WORTH WAITING FOR. BUT I'LL GET THE DIRECTION (and hopefully a new English dictionary, soon,lol)...SOMEWHEN! LOL :-) THANX FOR THE REVIEWS! C YA, BYEEEEEEE