Reflections
All disclaimers apply. The fictional characters Jesse Travis, Mark Sloan, Steve Sloan, Amanda Bentley, CJ, Dion, are products of their originators and are used for the purposes of this story, no profit is being made from this. The characters Hank and Sam Dirks, Gunther Dirks and others are products of the author.
Synopsis: Two young strangers may change Jesse's life.
Story by Andi
Genre: Drama/General
Rating: PG
Author's note: I would greatly appreciate constructive criticism. I do have problems concentrating, but I have improved.
*Special thanks to my sister, Debbie, who helps me concentrate, gives her opinions, and makes me laugh.*
Introduction-
A gunshot. A man. And his uncle's dead body. Hank stood and watched the smoke hanging in the air like a ghost. He felt inside of him quiver as he watched the shooter cut through the fog like a razor blade. The boy was on the verge of biting his tongue out of fear and stumbling backwards when the man vehemently grabbed his wrist.
"Listen you little brat, you better tell the police that Keith did this..." The man left off, searching his mind for some threat. "or I'll hurt your brother, and then I'll come after you."
Hank whimpered, tears began to sour in his eyes. The man stared at him with confident, yet nervous green eyes. He let go of the boy's wrist and stalked away, blending in with the hard, agitated mood. Now the man had left out the back door. Hank ventured through the door frame, cradling his hand, and into the kitchen, and looked.
Steve and Mark stepped out into the crispy night air. Two patrol cars parked closely to the sidewalk curb, their blue and white lights flashing brighter than the street lamps. Steve recognized them as the new vehicles that he heard were issued not long ago. Yellow tape had already been run around the house, and Steve and Mark continued up the long drive way. The house was middle class and one story. A strong, earthy scent led Mark to believe that the grass had been mowed not too long ago.
"Amanda, hi." Steve called, standing in the kitchen door frame. It felt kinda strange how one of his best friends could sometimes pay more attention to a cadaver than to him. "Amanda."
The M.E. turned from where she knelt over the body, "Mark! I need you to look at something for me."
Mark stepped on the linoleum. "Sure. What do you need?"
Amanda stood, straightening the bottom of her jacket as she did so. "We think there's a witness but he won't talk." She stated, "I thought, maybe you could try to speak with him."
"I'd be happy to."
"Thanks. He's in the front room."
"Okay."
Back again in the front room, and seeing the large leather sofa, coffee tables, and TV, this was also the den or living room. On the burgundy sofa, sitting nearest to the front window, was a small boy, probably about nine, Mark guessed. His head bent downward, his shoulders slumped, his mind occupied. He directed his question at the child. "Do I know you?"
Steve looked at his father curiously, then took a closer look at the boy. He was sure he'd never met the boy before, but there was something strangely familiar about him that nagged the detective. Steve fought ferociously to place the kid.
The boy raised his head to answer Mark's unusual question, "I...don't know. My name's Hank."
Mark smiled and knelt down, "I'm Dr. Sloan and this is my son Steve."
Hank's blue eyes perked with interest. "Doctor?"
"Yes, that's right."
"You mean like a hospital doctor?"
"Yes."
Hank sighed. "Can you help me?"
"That's what were here for." Mark answered, grateful that Hank was responding to them.
"Good." Hank slid off the couch and stood to face the two, with a more relaxed countenance. "Because my brother's sick, my uncle thought it was just the flu or something..." He said, motioning them to follow him. "But even if he has the flu he's up. This...I'm scared." Hank stopped a moment, worry haunting his eyes.
Mark and Steve shared looks, and followed him down a hallway to a room.
"This is our room." Hank said, hand on the doorknob, he twisted it and entered, the father and son duo behind him. Hank silently walked to bottom bunk. "Sam, are you awake?" Easily, he grabbed Sam's right shoulder and shook it gently.
Sam moaned a little, but hardly moved. Mark took two wide steps to them and sat on the bed. "Steve, flip on the light." Steve did as he was told. Light illuminated the room as fast as the speed of thought. Mark gasped quietly, and his eyes widened. "You're a twin?" The physician inquired Hank.
Hank nodded.
Mark returned his focus on Sam. The child's eyes were closed, and he was shivering slightly underneath the plaid bed sheets. "Sam can you tell me what's wrong?" Mark waited a moment, watching the boy breathe gasping breaths through what sounded like an inflamed throat. Mark put the back of his hand against Sam's flushed face. "He's burning up." Mark stared at Hank, "Has he thrown up any?"
"A little." Hank replied. "And he said that he hurt all over this morning...he's worse now...will he be okay?"
Steve observed the short boy, a pained, almost guilty look in his almost familiar eyes.
"Well, we won't know until we get him to the hospital."
"Hos-hospital?" Hank stammered, scarcely drawing a breath, while taking in the impending seriousness of his twin's condition.
Mark gazed softly at Hank. "I'm afraid so. Hank, I need you to get ready to go to the hospital, really fast."
Hank was off, in search of his jacket. Steve watched him go, a bit relieved that the little lad had something to occupy him. "Dad, what do you want to do?"
Mark pulled the comforter around Sam. "I told you: get him to a hospital." The physician determined, his tone both a mixture of a professional and a father.
"You want me to call for an ambulance?"
"No, we'll take them."
End of Introduction
I re-worked this introduction. Thank you Kayrie and Ficfan! I'm glad you told me what you thought was wrong, it helped. I feel better about it than I did before. Thanks to Weumsel and Lila, too! - the author
All disclaimers apply. The fictional characters Jesse Travis, Mark Sloan, Steve Sloan, Amanda Bentley, CJ, Dion, are products of their originators and are used for the purposes of this story, no profit is being made from this. The characters Hank and Sam Dirks, Gunther Dirks and others are products of the author.
Synopsis: Two young strangers may change Jesse's life.
Story by Andi
Genre: Drama/General
Rating: PG
Author's note: I would greatly appreciate constructive criticism. I do have problems concentrating, but I have improved.
*Special thanks to my sister, Debbie, who helps me concentrate, gives her opinions, and makes me laugh.*
Introduction-
A gunshot. A man. And his uncle's dead body. Hank stood and watched the smoke hanging in the air like a ghost. He felt inside of him quiver as he watched the shooter cut through the fog like a razor blade. The boy was on the verge of biting his tongue out of fear and stumbling backwards when the man vehemently grabbed his wrist.
"Listen you little brat, you better tell the police that Keith did this..." The man left off, searching his mind for some threat. "or I'll hurt your brother, and then I'll come after you."
Hank whimpered, tears began to sour in his eyes. The man stared at him with confident, yet nervous green eyes. He let go of the boy's wrist and stalked away, blending in with the hard, agitated mood. Now the man had left out the back door. Hank ventured through the door frame, cradling his hand, and into the kitchen, and looked.
Steve and Mark stepped out into the crispy night air. Two patrol cars parked closely to the sidewalk curb, their blue and white lights flashing brighter than the street lamps. Steve recognized them as the new vehicles that he heard were issued not long ago. Yellow tape had already been run around the house, and Steve and Mark continued up the long drive way. The house was middle class and one story. A strong, earthy scent led Mark to believe that the grass had been mowed not too long ago.
"Amanda, hi." Steve called, standing in the kitchen door frame. It felt kinda strange how one of his best friends could sometimes pay more attention to a cadaver than to him. "Amanda."
The M.E. turned from where she knelt over the body, "Mark! I need you to look at something for me."
Mark stepped on the linoleum. "Sure. What do you need?"
Amanda stood, straightening the bottom of her jacket as she did so. "We think there's a witness but he won't talk." She stated, "I thought, maybe you could try to speak with him."
"I'd be happy to."
"Thanks. He's in the front room."
"Okay."
Back again in the front room, and seeing the large leather sofa, coffee tables, and TV, this was also the den or living room. On the burgundy sofa, sitting nearest to the front window, was a small boy, probably about nine, Mark guessed. His head bent downward, his shoulders slumped, his mind occupied. He directed his question at the child. "Do I know you?"
Steve looked at his father curiously, then took a closer look at the boy. He was sure he'd never met the boy before, but there was something strangely familiar about him that nagged the detective. Steve fought ferociously to place the kid.
The boy raised his head to answer Mark's unusual question, "I...don't know. My name's Hank."
Mark smiled and knelt down, "I'm Dr. Sloan and this is my son Steve."
Hank's blue eyes perked with interest. "Doctor?"
"Yes, that's right."
"You mean like a hospital doctor?"
"Yes."
Hank sighed. "Can you help me?"
"That's what were here for." Mark answered, grateful that Hank was responding to them.
"Good." Hank slid off the couch and stood to face the two, with a more relaxed countenance. "Because my brother's sick, my uncle thought it was just the flu or something..." He said, motioning them to follow him. "But even if he has the flu he's up. This...I'm scared." Hank stopped a moment, worry haunting his eyes.
Mark and Steve shared looks, and followed him down a hallway to a room.
"This is our room." Hank said, hand on the doorknob, he twisted it and entered, the father and son duo behind him. Hank silently walked to bottom bunk. "Sam, are you awake?" Easily, he grabbed Sam's right shoulder and shook it gently.
Sam moaned a little, but hardly moved. Mark took two wide steps to them and sat on the bed. "Steve, flip on the light." Steve did as he was told. Light illuminated the room as fast as the speed of thought. Mark gasped quietly, and his eyes widened. "You're a twin?" The physician inquired Hank.
Hank nodded.
Mark returned his focus on Sam. The child's eyes were closed, and he was shivering slightly underneath the plaid bed sheets. "Sam can you tell me what's wrong?" Mark waited a moment, watching the boy breathe gasping breaths through what sounded like an inflamed throat. Mark put the back of his hand against Sam's flushed face. "He's burning up." Mark stared at Hank, "Has he thrown up any?"
"A little." Hank replied. "And he said that he hurt all over this morning...he's worse now...will he be okay?"
Steve observed the short boy, a pained, almost guilty look in his almost familiar eyes.
"Well, we won't know until we get him to the hospital."
"Hos-hospital?" Hank stammered, scarcely drawing a breath, while taking in the impending seriousness of his twin's condition.
Mark gazed softly at Hank. "I'm afraid so. Hank, I need you to get ready to go to the hospital, really fast."
Hank was off, in search of his jacket. Steve watched him go, a bit relieved that the little lad had something to occupy him. "Dad, what do you want to do?"
Mark pulled the comforter around Sam. "I told you: get him to a hospital." The physician determined, his tone both a mixture of a professional and a father.
"You want me to call for an ambulance?"
"No, we'll take them."
End of Introduction
I re-worked this introduction. Thank you Kayrie and Ficfan! I'm glad you told me what you thought was wrong, it helped. I feel better about it than I did before. Thanks to Weumsel and Lila, too! - the author