Disclaimer: All still apply.

SOMETHING TO PROVE

(PART ELEVEN)

It was the noise that spurred Steve into motion. The horrendous sound of metal colliding with metal, of rubber screeching on asphalt, of a harsh, blaring horn, finally pulled him out of his paralysis and he took off at a run towards the intersection, even though he dreaded what he might find there.

He could see other people getting out of their cars and approaching the wrecked vehicles cautiously. Some were drawn to the truck, others to the Mustang, but Steve had only one destination in mind. Even as he ran, he unconsciously pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled 911, gasping details of the accident to the infuriatingly calm operator.

He wanted to yell at her, to scream that this was Jesse who had been hurt and she'd better get help there pretty Damned fast, but he needed his breath for running.

But, in spite of his panic, of the sheer terror that the crash had invoked in him, he found that he had to slow down as he neared the actual site. The Mustang was a write-off. The metal had crumpled as though it were paper, ruining the sleek lines of what had once been a beautiful car. The windshield was starred and steam, or smoke, billowed out from under the hood.

One sensible bystander had produced a fire extinguisher and was dousing the engine with liberal coatings of foam, so that the immediate danger of an explosion was averted. Two other men were trying to force the buckled driver's side door open, but Steve could still clearly see Jesse's blond head, slumped over the steering wheel.

He paused for a moment, utterly shocked by the sight, then the jammed door suddenly came free and those same two men crowded in on his friend. Steve surged forwards, pushing his way unceremoniously through the assembled crowd, desperate to reach Jesse before the men could move him and possibly compound any damage that might have already been done.

"Let me through!" he demanded, grabbing the shoulder of one of the men.

"Are you a doctor?"

"Police officer."

The second man spared him the briefest glance.

"I'm a paramedic," he said. "Let me help him. Why don't you go check on the other guy."

"No." Steve's voice was little more than a strangled whisper, but he did move back half a pace. "He's my friend, my best friend. Is he gonna be okay?"

"He's alive," the paramedic answered, grimly. "And that's about all we can hope for right now."

*****

Mark had headed straight down to the path lab after he'd finished his meeting with the hospital Board. While he couldn't assuage Amanda's fears about Jesse's welfare, he could at least let her know that the young doctor's professional future was safe. Then they could keep each other company while they waited to hear from Steve.

He found Amanda sitting at a bench, chin rested in one hand and staring off into the distance. She had long since given up any pretence of trying to work.

Steve had had more than enough time to get to Jesse's apartment and yet there was still no word. Her worry was almost palpable.

Even though the lab door was open, Mark knocked lightly before he entered. He didn't want to startle her, but even that slight sound caused her to flinch and he realised that she must have been seriously lost in thought.

She leapt to her feet when she saw who it was that had disturbed her.

"Mark, any news?"

Mark saw the hopeful look on her face and cursed himself for not being able to tell her what she so obviously, desperately wanted to hear. He tried to formulate an answer, not wanting to sound glib by simply telling her that the Board had exonerated Jesse. From her expression, she wouldn't have overly cared if his career was in tatters, she just needed to know that he was safe.

Then, before he could even speak, his phone rang.

"Steve." The relief was clearly evident in Mark's voice when he answered and his gaze locked with Amanda's. "Did you..?"

All of the colour drained from the older doctor's face, as his son interrupted him urgently. His eyes dropped to the ground.

"Oh no," he whispered. "Oh God... Yes... Thanks Steve."

He hung up without saying another word and forced himself to look back up at the young pathologist. There were tears in her eyes and she looked as though she were about to faint, but when she spoke, her voice was strong.

"What's happened?" she demanded. "Jesse?"

No matter how many times he'd had to impart bad news, Mark had never found an easy way to do it. There was no easy way. Imparting bad news to a friend, about a friend, was nigh on impossible. His only option was blunt honesty.

"There's been an accident."

*****

Mark and Amanda kept their distance when Jesse, looking unnaturally still and pale, was wheeled into the ER, then through to a trauma room. They listened in numb shock as the paramedics catalogued his list of injuries. A badly broken leg, severe whiplash, head injuries... The list went on.

As much as Mark wanted to be with his young protégé, he forced himself to wait outside. He had every faith in his colleagues and knew that he was in no state, emotionally, to treat him himself. When he had seen Jesse so badly hurt, guilt had flooded through him and now weighed heavily on his shoulders.

"How did I ever let it come to this?" he murmured, mostly to himself.

But Amanda overheard him and whirled on him, a look of shocked disbelief on her face.

"Mark, how can you possibly think that this is in any way your fault?"" she demanded. "It was an accident, that's all, a terrible accident."

"Amanda, what if he's been drinking again?" Mark looked at her sadly.

"It still wouldn't be your fault," she tried to argue. "Jesse was depressed."

"Of course he was depressed, Dammit! We know how much he loves to work and, when he was suspended, we should have known how it would affect him."

"Mark, you can't blame yourself for..."

"But I do," he interrupted fiercely. "I should have tried harder to fight his suspension. I should have gone to see him last night, instead of hiding away just because I didn't want to admit to him what happened with Melissa."

"And I should have stayed with him," Amanda put in, sadly. "When I saw the state he was in, I never should have left him. But I did."

"Amanda..."

"No, Mark. You're not only one wishing that you'd done things differently. There's blame enough to go around, but it's not going to help Jesse."

Mark looked as though he was ready to argue some more, but Steve's arrival in the ER forestalled whatever he'd been about to say.

"Dad, how is he?" Steve demanded, crossing to where they stood.

Amanda looked at her friend worriedly. The detective looked as though he had gone through his own kind of Hell.

"It's too soon to tell," Mark answered, with genuine regret. "We should know more once he's been up to x-ray. Steve, what happened?"

"He was running away from me." Steve ran a shaky hand over his eyes. "I tried to tell him... Then there was this stop light and... God, dad, he didn't even try to stop."

"Are you saying he did it deliberately?"

There was real pain in Steve's eyes as he reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope.

"This fell out of his pocket," he whispered, proffering it to his dad.

Mark looked at the envelope, but made no move to take it. He could clearly see his own name and the address of the hospital, written in Jesse's all too familiar script.

"Oh no," Amanda breathed.

Mark glanced at her and could see by her face exactly what she was thinking. The same thing that he was thinking. Suicide note.

"Are you going to open it?" Steve asked, his voice subdued.

Mark couldn't answer. His heart was hammering in his chest and his mouth was dry with dread, but he reached out a trembling hand and took the letter from his son.

TO BE CONTINUED...