Disclaimer: All still apply.

SACRIFICES

(PART FIVE)

Guy Patterson had once been a successful armed robber. He knew all about getaway cars, reckless driving, and how to avoid the police. Unfortunately for him, he had also been in prison for fifteen years and, during that time, police procedures had not only changed, they had also drastically improved.

Losing his pursuers was proving to be impossible, but he had meant what he'd said to Steve. Death was infinitely preferable to him than a return to prison. So, slewing the van wildly across the road and smiling grimly at the muffled cry of pain this elicited from his captive, he changed his course and headed towards the docks.

A police helicopter was tracking the van's progress, while patrol units converged from every direction. Without knowing it, Guy was being neatly shepherded exactly to where the police wanted him to go.

Guy had heard of 'stingers' but had never had first-hand experience of them. As he drove down a road that ran adjacent to the docks, he was aware of movement ahead of him. He caught a brief glimpse of police uniforms and saw them throw something across the road, straight into his path. Not knowing what it was, sheer instinct caused him to swerve, but by then it was too late.

The van's offside tyres ran right over the spiked mat and were instantly shredded. There was no way that Guy could maintain control. The van skidded in a huge arc, as he desperately fought the wheel. It was futile. As Guy saw the side of a building rushing towards him with frightening speed, he gave up any pretence that he might escape.

Taking a firm grip of the steering wheel, he planted his foot firmly on the accelerator. Death was, after all, infinitely preferable to prison.

*****

Mark had eventually been forced to sedate Jesse. The younger doctor just wouldn't calm down enough to allow his friend to treat him. Aside from the very obvious injuries to his hand, Jesse's face was bruised and dried blood matted the hair on the back of his head.

But Jesse had continued to fight him, pleading with him to find somebody called Mitch, in order to make him tell then where Steve was. Mark, of course, had been kept up to date with events and he knew that the police were closing in on Steve and his kidnapper. When he tried to tell this to Jesse, the young man simply refused to listen and, as his agitation grew, Mark had been left with no choice.

The hurt in Jesse's eyes as he'd administered the drug almost broke Mark's heart but he knew, as a doctor, that he was doing the right thing. The drug took effect almost immediately and Jesse sagged forward into his arms.

Only then could Mark take a proper look at his injured hand and the sight horrified him. His fingers looked as though they had been crushed and, while the swelling prevented a completely accurate diagnosis, Mark shuddered to think of what permanent damage might have been done.

At his bidding, an ambulance had been called and when it arrived, Mark helped the paramedics to transfer his young friend into it. Then he sat by his side, holding his good hand and murmuring soothing words during the drive to Community General, regardless of the fact that the injured man couldn't hear him.

When they arrived at the hospital, Mark still refused to leave his side. As worried as he was about Steve, he needed to be doing something constructive. And he needed to see for himself what the real damage was to Jesse's hand.

It didn't look good and when Mark thought of what any permanent disability would mean to his colleague, his heart turned to ice in his chest. If he could no longer work in the ER, it would destroy Jesse.

*****

The police approached the wrecked van cautiously. While it was unlikely that the driver could have survived the head-on crash, they weren't taking any chances.

One officer, his gun drawn, peered in through the driver's side window, then turned abruptly away, sickened by what he saw. The man hadn't been wearing a seatbelt and had connected violently with the windshield, before being thrown back into his seat. There wasn't much of his face left.

Other officers yanked open the back doors. Steve was sprawled on the floor of the van, blood pouring from a vicious gash on his head , as well as the bullet wounds inflicted by Guy. He was white-faced with pain, but somehow was still conscious.

"Jesse," he muttered, through gritted teeth. "Tell me you found Jesse."

"We found him," an officer hurried to assure him. "He's on his way to the hospital. Your dad is with him."

One of the cops was removing the cuffs from Steve's wrists. He worked as gently as he could, but Steve still hissed in pain. It was only then that he realised that his right arm was broken.

"Get me to Community General," he said, attempting to get to his feet.

"The ambulance will be here any minute."

"Take me in one of the cars," Steve snapped, his worry making him short-tempered. "I have to get there now!"

"With all due respect, sir..."

The cop was saved the trouble of having to argue by the arrival of the ambulance. Steve allowed one of the officers to help him into the back, then told the paramedics, in no uncertain terms, that they could treat him on the way to the hospital.

"If we don't get moving, I'm going to get out and walk," he threatened, when they'd tried to protest. "I have to get to Community General. Now!"

The paramedics wisely decided that it would be easier to accede than to argue. As they took off, with sirens screaming, Steve finally lay back and allowed them to start patching him up.

*****

Mark had been informed that his son was on his way and so was waiting when Steve was wheeled in on a gurney. The doctor paled when he saw Steve's blood-soaked clothes. He didn't have time to dwell on the matter as Steve surged up against hands that were trying to help him and locked gazes with his father.

"Tell me how Jesse is, dad," he pleaded. "They won't tell me how Jesse is."

Mark hurried to his side and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"He's in surgery, son," he said, not prepared to lie, even as he saw the anguish on Steve's face. "I don't know if you saw, but his hand is..."

He trailed off as he choked on the memory. The hand had looked bad at first glance. On closer inspection, it had looked worse.

"Dad?"

"It looks like somebody went at it with a hammer. Two of his fingers are crushed, the other two broken."

Steve's face paled even further as he realised the implications of what he was being told. All of the fight was drained out of him and he lay back, his eyes filling with tears. He loved Jesse, with all of his heart, but what had that love cost?

Guy Patterson had known how much he cared for the young doctor and had used it in his twisted plot for revenge. If he and Jesse hadn't been involved, then Jesse wouldn't have been hurt. Jesse's career wouldn't now be hanging in the balance. Never again, Steve vowed silently. Nobody will ever hurt him again, because of me.

*****

Mark sat in the doctor's lounge with his head in his hands and allowed the events of the day to catch up with him. Both his son and his dear friend had undergone surgery and were now lost in deep, healing sleep. It still wasn't over for Jesse. He'd need further, extensive surgery, in order to try and rebuild his shattered hand. And there were still no guarantees that he would ever regain full mobility.

As for Steve... Mark sighed heavily as he thought about his son. He had gone to visit him after his operation to remove the bullets and set his arm. Steve had been strangely quiet, almost lethargic and Mark couldn't get him to talk. Most worrying of all, he hadn't once asked after Jesse.

Mark rubbed at his face tiredly. He was exhausted, but was loath to go home when two of the people he cared most about in the world, were lying hurt elsewhere in the hospital.

Amanda found him, still sitting there, some hours later.

"Mark," she said, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. "How are they?"

"Okay, I guess. Steve's going to be fine. But Jesse... Well, only time will tell with Jesse."

He didn't know exactly how much Amanda knew and he didn't know if he had the energy to offer her a detailed explanation. Of course she'd know about his hand, but there was also the state that Jesse had been in when they'd found him. The way he'd huddled into a corner like a frightened animal.

Mark couldn't help but wonder if it was only Jesse's physical well-being that he should be worried about. Amanda was a close friend to all of them and she had a right to know, so that she could do her part in aiding Jesse with the healing process.

"Mark?" Amanda prompted gently, as the silence stretched.

"We don't know exactly what they did to him, but he was..." Mark bit back a sob, as the stress that he'd been under finally started to show.

Amanda moved quickly to put her arm around him.

"Not only did they beat him and wreck his hand," Mark somehow managed to continue, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But they... stripped him and left him... naked..."

"Oh no," Amanda whispered, horrified.

Like Mark, she was remembering Jesse's horrendous ordeal with Marcus Marriott. The young doctor was only just beginning to get over that. This latest incident could set his recovery back indefinitely.

"We don't know what else they might have done." Mark's voice dropped to a whisper. "He was in such a state, so scared. He wouldn't let anyone near him. God, Amanda, if you'd have seen him..."

It all became too much for the compassionate man. Tears started to spill down his cheeks. Tears for both Jesse and Steve. And Amanda simply took him into her arms and cried along with him.

*****

Amanda had been so concerned about Mark that she had insisted on driving him home, then sat with him until he'd drifted off to sleep. After making a quick call to her babysitter, she'd settled down in the guest room.

Both of them only got a couple of hours sleep, but that was better than nothing and Amanda was on hand the next morning to ensure that Mark at least tried to eat something, before driving him back to the hospital.

They were greeted with the news that both men had had a comfortable night so, with warm thanks to Amanda for her care, Mark headed up to see his son.

Comfortable night or not, Steve's mood hadn't improved from the previous day. He glanced towards the door as his dad entered, then lowered his gaze back to the bedclothes.

"How do you feel?" Mark asked, not as a doctor, but as a father.

"Not too bad, considering."

Mark waited for what he thought was the inevitable question, as to Jesse's health, to follow. When Steve remained silent, he decided to take the bull by the horns and try to find out what was wrong.

"Jesse's doing a little better."

"That's good news."

"Do you want to see him?" Mark could hardly believe that he'd had to ask that question, he'd expected his son to be camped out in his friend's room. "Maybe you could sit with him for a while."

"No."

"What?"

"Which part of the word 'no' didn't you understand, dad?" Steve snapped. It was hurting him to say such words, but he felt as though he had no choice. "I don't want to sit with Jesse. I don't even want to see him. Not now, not ever."

TO BE CONTINUED...