Disclaimer: The characters of Mark and Steve Sloan, Amanda Bentley and
Jesse Travis do not belong to me. I have only borrowed them for a short
time and will put them back when I'm done. Please read and enjoy :o)
HOBSONS CHOICE
Mark Sloan reached over to his bed stand to silence the whining alarm and settled his head back into the comfort of his soft feather pillow. Moments later, his pager beeped, causing the senior doctor to reawaken with a start. Mark rubbed at his crystal blue eyes with his thumb and forefinger, trying to clear the remaining sleep from his vision. The clock read 6.17am. Mark's head fell heavily upon his pillow before he tried to focus upon the small digital writing that had woken him from the pleasant slumber he had been enjoying. No prizes for guessing, it was the hospital, requesting him to start his shift early.
The senior doctor at Community General Hospital, Dr Mark Sloan, flipped the covers back, slid his legs round off the bed and straight into a pair of waiting slippers; he grabbed the dark blue towelling robe from the foot of the bed and slipped it on over the pale blue cotton pyjamas he wore. Mark stopped in front of the mirror in his room and spoke to his own reflection. "Well hello. I must say that you look as bad as I feel," the reflection smiled back at him. "And after only three hours sleep!" Mark chuckled.
The rest of the house remained quiet. A figure on the balcony caught Mark's attention as he entered the front room. It was his son, Steve.
Steve, a police lieutenant with the LAPD, had been working on a particular case for about six months and it was now beginning to take its toll on the youthful detective. It involved a loan shark, who, single-handedly could practically wipe out half the national debt with all the money he had out on loan. He also had a rather nasty way with those who could not keep up the repayments. Firstly, he would take possessions in lieu of payments and when they ran out he would take lives.
"Steve?" questioned his father. Steve turned and smiled, but Mark could see straight through the facade. His son bore the distinct weariness of a man who lacked sleep. Many a doctor had shown the same symptoms after covering a thirty-odd hour shift. Yet there was something else, something beyond mere tiredness. "Are you OK?" Mark quizzed. Steve nodded and tried to change the subject. "I've made some fresh coffee," he said offering a ¾ full carafe. "I'll just get a cup," Mark said and disappeared into the kitchen. He worried about his son, but knew that the detective would only tell him when he was ready and any amount of pushing on his behalf wouldn't change that.
The elder Sloan returned to the balcony and the two of them sat in the sun, watching the waves and early morning joggers in respectful silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ER at Community General was in full swing that morning. A major RTA had stretched the EMT crews to full capacity transporting casualties into the buzzing corridors of the emergency department.
The swing doors swung open as a stretcher was wheeled in by two uniformed paramedics. Dr Jesse Travis, flanked by two nurses, swooped in as the ambulance crew reeled off a list of injuries and medication given en route. Jesse took command, he ordered a litre of ringers, full CBC and x-rays of the broken bones, just as the entrance doors swung wildly again heralding the arrival of another patient.
Mark Sloan entered the chaos and let out a sigh. "Hey Mark," called Dr Travis. "Come and join the party!" Jesse was renowned for his sense of humour but his professionalism was never in doubt. Mark smiled and took charge of yet another emergency case to come through the casualty entrance.
The hours ticked by and eventually things had calmed down enough for both Jesse and Mark to pour themselves a cup of coffee and sit down in the relative comfort of the Doctor's Lounge. "Good morning," began Jess with a cheeky smile. "And good morning to you," Mark responded as the pair of them 'chinked' their cups together. "Hey guys," called a woman in navy blue scrubs. "Hi Amanda," called Mark. "Come and join us." Dr Amanda Bentley, senior pathologist and county medical examiner, poured herself a coffee and moved to sit with her friends. "Is everything alright?" asked Mark concerned. He noted Amanda didn't look her normal bubbly self. "Yes," she lied unconvincingly. "I was called to murder scene last night. Steve was there. It was another execution style shooting, this time a young woman. She was only 19 years old." Amanda paused, her eyes welled with grief. Amanda was used to seeing death, she worked with this every day, and she was an excellent pathologist, often solving mysteries with the use of her thorough and meticulous knowledge and work. But, occasionally, a particular case would come along and remind her that life is sacred and should not be squandered. This was one such case. "It's the third one this week. The victims are shot in the head whilst kneeling on the ground." Mark now realised why his son was acting the way he did this morning. "Is there any other connection between this and the previous two killings?" he asked. "Steve seems to think that they were murdered by an 'Edmund Thomas' but, as yet I haven't been able to find any physical evidence either way." Amanda thought for a moment. "Isn't today supposed to be your 'late' shift?" "Oh yeah, why are you in so early? Just couldn't stand to be away from my wit and charm?" teased Jesse playfully. Both Mark and Amanda looked at him mockingly and laughed. "No," began Mark "apparently, Dr Fiona Davis didn't show up for her shift so they called me in." A voice from the door made the group spin around. "I know, I've just got a call to go to her apartment - she's been found, murdered." It was Steve. Amanda stood and headed for the door. "I'll get my things. See you later," she called to the two doctors who remained in their seats, as both detective and pathologist headed off together along the corridor. "Is Steve OK?" asked Jess noting the solumness in his best friend. Mark didn't get the opportunity to answer as the tannoy sounded calling Drs Sloan and Travis to the ER. ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dr Davis' apartment was sparsely furnished, even the floorboards were bare. Her body lay crumpled in the middle, a single bullet wound to her forehead. Amanda Bentley examined the corpse. "Judging by the lividity, I'd say that she has been dead about 15 hours, putting the time of death at about 9.30 - 10pm yesterday. As for the cause of death, initial findings would suggest the single gunshot to the skull, and," she continued "she was kneeling when it happened." "Another execution," Steve sounded dismayed. "I'd say so," agreed Amanda. At that moment Steve's cell phone rang. "Sloan," answered the detective. "I'll be right there." He snapped shut his phone and looked at Amanda. "We've got another one, c'mon." Amanda instructed the two officers from the coroners department to take the body to CGH before she left with the detective.
The next crime scene was almost identical to the previous. Little furniture remained and two bodies lay at the centre of the room, both with bullet wounds in the front of their heads. Steve held his hand up to his head. He had no leads, no evidence only more dead bodies.
A sound from upstairs caught his attention. A floorboard creaked. Steve and Amanda looked at each other. The detective drew his 9mm Beretta, and indicated for Amanda to stay put. Cautiously, Steve crept up the stairs. The detective moved cat-like as he stealthily made his way to the next floor. From the landing he could see three rooms, two bedrooms and a bathroom. The latter was empty. Next, was obviously the bedroom of the deceased, still nothing. The last room was a child's. At first glance this too appeared to be empty, but hidden amid a pile of fluffy toys was a pair of very frightened eyes. Steve reholstered his gun, approached the mass of cuddly toys and crouched down. "Hi there," the soft caring tones of the detective began. "My name is Steve." The eyes blinked at him. "You can come out now, no-one is going to hurt you." Still nothing. Steve stood revealing his lieutenant's badge clipped to his belt. A child, aged about six years old, rushed out form behind the toys. The little girl wrapped her arms around Steve's waist and she began to sob, her tears soaked into the detective's crimson shirt. Carefully, Steve lifted the little girl into his well-muscled arms and carried her downstairs, mindful not to take her through the front room where her parents lay - dead. Amanda hurried outside and opened the car door allowing Steve to place the little girl on the back seat. The girl's grip tightened as he tried to pull away. "Give me the keys and I'll drive," offered Amanda. Steve just nodded and tossed her the keys.
Across the road, watching from a parked car, sat Edmund Thomas and one of his accomplices Ross Adams. "Damn," exclaimed Thomas. "I thought the place was empty." "Sorry boss, I looked round the house, but saw no-one." "Well, we can't leave any witnesses. I haven't come this far to throw everything away now."
HOBSONS CHOICE
Mark Sloan reached over to his bed stand to silence the whining alarm and settled his head back into the comfort of his soft feather pillow. Moments later, his pager beeped, causing the senior doctor to reawaken with a start. Mark rubbed at his crystal blue eyes with his thumb and forefinger, trying to clear the remaining sleep from his vision. The clock read 6.17am. Mark's head fell heavily upon his pillow before he tried to focus upon the small digital writing that had woken him from the pleasant slumber he had been enjoying. No prizes for guessing, it was the hospital, requesting him to start his shift early.
The senior doctor at Community General Hospital, Dr Mark Sloan, flipped the covers back, slid his legs round off the bed and straight into a pair of waiting slippers; he grabbed the dark blue towelling robe from the foot of the bed and slipped it on over the pale blue cotton pyjamas he wore. Mark stopped in front of the mirror in his room and spoke to his own reflection. "Well hello. I must say that you look as bad as I feel," the reflection smiled back at him. "And after only three hours sleep!" Mark chuckled.
The rest of the house remained quiet. A figure on the balcony caught Mark's attention as he entered the front room. It was his son, Steve.
Steve, a police lieutenant with the LAPD, had been working on a particular case for about six months and it was now beginning to take its toll on the youthful detective. It involved a loan shark, who, single-handedly could practically wipe out half the national debt with all the money he had out on loan. He also had a rather nasty way with those who could not keep up the repayments. Firstly, he would take possessions in lieu of payments and when they ran out he would take lives.
"Steve?" questioned his father. Steve turned and smiled, but Mark could see straight through the facade. His son bore the distinct weariness of a man who lacked sleep. Many a doctor had shown the same symptoms after covering a thirty-odd hour shift. Yet there was something else, something beyond mere tiredness. "Are you OK?" Mark quizzed. Steve nodded and tried to change the subject. "I've made some fresh coffee," he said offering a ¾ full carafe. "I'll just get a cup," Mark said and disappeared into the kitchen. He worried about his son, but knew that the detective would only tell him when he was ready and any amount of pushing on his behalf wouldn't change that.
The elder Sloan returned to the balcony and the two of them sat in the sun, watching the waves and early morning joggers in respectful silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ER at Community General was in full swing that morning. A major RTA had stretched the EMT crews to full capacity transporting casualties into the buzzing corridors of the emergency department.
The swing doors swung open as a stretcher was wheeled in by two uniformed paramedics. Dr Jesse Travis, flanked by two nurses, swooped in as the ambulance crew reeled off a list of injuries and medication given en route. Jesse took command, he ordered a litre of ringers, full CBC and x-rays of the broken bones, just as the entrance doors swung wildly again heralding the arrival of another patient.
Mark Sloan entered the chaos and let out a sigh. "Hey Mark," called Dr Travis. "Come and join the party!" Jesse was renowned for his sense of humour but his professionalism was never in doubt. Mark smiled and took charge of yet another emergency case to come through the casualty entrance.
The hours ticked by and eventually things had calmed down enough for both Jesse and Mark to pour themselves a cup of coffee and sit down in the relative comfort of the Doctor's Lounge. "Good morning," began Jess with a cheeky smile. "And good morning to you," Mark responded as the pair of them 'chinked' their cups together. "Hey guys," called a woman in navy blue scrubs. "Hi Amanda," called Mark. "Come and join us." Dr Amanda Bentley, senior pathologist and county medical examiner, poured herself a coffee and moved to sit with her friends. "Is everything alright?" asked Mark concerned. He noted Amanda didn't look her normal bubbly self. "Yes," she lied unconvincingly. "I was called to murder scene last night. Steve was there. It was another execution style shooting, this time a young woman. She was only 19 years old." Amanda paused, her eyes welled with grief. Amanda was used to seeing death, she worked with this every day, and she was an excellent pathologist, often solving mysteries with the use of her thorough and meticulous knowledge and work. But, occasionally, a particular case would come along and remind her that life is sacred and should not be squandered. This was one such case. "It's the third one this week. The victims are shot in the head whilst kneeling on the ground." Mark now realised why his son was acting the way he did this morning. "Is there any other connection between this and the previous two killings?" he asked. "Steve seems to think that they were murdered by an 'Edmund Thomas' but, as yet I haven't been able to find any physical evidence either way." Amanda thought for a moment. "Isn't today supposed to be your 'late' shift?" "Oh yeah, why are you in so early? Just couldn't stand to be away from my wit and charm?" teased Jesse playfully. Both Mark and Amanda looked at him mockingly and laughed. "No," began Mark "apparently, Dr Fiona Davis didn't show up for her shift so they called me in." A voice from the door made the group spin around. "I know, I've just got a call to go to her apartment - she's been found, murdered." It was Steve. Amanda stood and headed for the door. "I'll get my things. See you later," she called to the two doctors who remained in their seats, as both detective and pathologist headed off together along the corridor. "Is Steve OK?" asked Jess noting the solumness in his best friend. Mark didn't get the opportunity to answer as the tannoy sounded calling Drs Sloan and Travis to the ER. ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dr Davis' apartment was sparsely furnished, even the floorboards were bare. Her body lay crumpled in the middle, a single bullet wound to her forehead. Amanda Bentley examined the corpse. "Judging by the lividity, I'd say that she has been dead about 15 hours, putting the time of death at about 9.30 - 10pm yesterday. As for the cause of death, initial findings would suggest the single gunshot to the skull, and," she continued "she was kneeling when it happened." "Another execution," Steve sounded dismayed. "I'd say so," agreed Amanda. At that moment Steve's cell phone rang. "Sloan," answered the detective. "I'll be right there." He snapped shut his phone and looked at Amanda. "We've got another one, c'mon." Amanda instructed the two officers from the coroners department to take the body to CGH before she left with the detective.
The next crime scene was almost identical to the previous. Little furniture remained and two bodies lay at the centre of the room, both with bullet wounds in the front of their heads. Steve held his hand up to his head. He had no leads, no evidence only more dead bodies.
A sound from upstairs caught his attention. A floorboard creaked. Steve and Amanda looked at each other. The detective drew his 9mm Beretta, and indicated for Amanda to stay put. Cautiously, Steve crept up the stairs. The detective moved cat-like as he stealthily made his way to the next floor. From the landing he could see three rooms, two bedrooms and a bathroom. The latter was empty. Next, was obviously the bedroom of the deceased, still nothing. The last room was a child's. At first glance this too appeared to be empty, but hidden amid a pile of fluffy toys was a pair of very frightened eyes. Steve reholstered his gun, approached the mass of cuddly toys and crouched down. "Hi there," the soft caring tones of the detective began. "My name is Steve." The eyes blinked at him. "You can come out now, no-one is going to hurt you." Still nothing. Steve stood revealing his lieutenant's badge clipped to his belt. A child, aged about six years old, rushed out form behind the toys. The little girl wrapped her arms around Steve's waist and she began to sob, her tears soaked into the detective's crimson shirt. Carefully, Steve lifted the little girl into his well-muscled arms and carried her downstairs, mindful not to take her through the front room where her parents lay - dead. Amanda hurried outside and opened the car door allowing Steve to place the little girl on the back seat. The girl's grip tightened as he tried to pull away. "Give me the keys and I'll drive," offered Amanda. Steve just nodded and tossed her the keys.
Across the road, watching from a parked car, sat Edmund Thomas and one of his accomplices Ross Adams. "Damn," exclaimed Thomas. "I thought the place was empty." "Sorry boss, I looked round the house, but saw no-one." "Well, we can't leave any witnesses. I haven't come this far to throw everything away now."