Hey hey, it's me who's gettin' on your nerves again!! So here is the third
chapter....enjoy! And thanks to Mady for telling me about that
restroom=bathroom thing, I really didn't know that. Ok, maybe I did but I
forgot it...Keep it to yourself Wuemsel, I know what you wanna say! Obst
rules! No, only kiddin', I looove you!! Anyway, I hope you didn't mind that
li'l mistake (oh, please don't answer) and I also hope that you'll forgive
me for not correcting it, I'd miss your reviews!! ;-)
And as if that wouldn't have been annoying enough, I still have a disclaimer for you*please don't hit me!!* : The song "Wish" wasn't written by me (duh!). It belongs to the Lighthouse Family and was published on their album "Whatever Gets You Through The Day" (2001)
Nooooo, don't stop readin', the chapter hasn't ended, yet! Actually it's beginning now. Have fun! :-)
I thought I got the A-Z but now I'm lost
And don't know where I'm going, don't know what I'm looking for anymore
I'm all burnt out
There ain't that much I care about
And I know I'm missing something
I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore
I won't let it get to me
But I really miss you badly
I wish I knew how I'm gonna be happy without you
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
I thought I got it all mapped out but now I'm lost
In a world that ain't got you in I don't know what I'm living for
Hopeless without the only thing I cared about
'Cause you have been me salvation in a world where there's no love anymore
----------------------
The tall man glanced at the clock over the kitchen door again and again and everytime he did so, he became more and more impatient. His fingers were drumming nervously on the coffee machine and he repeated only one sentence "My gosh, hurry up!", which was inaudible for the guests, fortunately. They would probably have thought that he was completely irrational.
Corrie watched him carefully from the corners of her eyes, while she was taking orders. "Two coke and a salad without dressing." She handed her scribbles into the kitchen and went over to the coffee machine, where her boss was still pausing in this tensed and quite uncomfortable posture. The red apron didn't fit him, his upper body was just too broad and muscular. He looked every inch like a cop, his facial expression, his posture, his eyes. Not unlikeable though. Tall, dark blonde hair, blue eyes, charming and good-natured. Normally anyway. At the moment he looked as though he was up to bite somebody's head off and Corrie even knew, whose head it was.
Actually that was one of the reasons why she had asked for a job here. She had really wanted to see how a homicide detective from the LAPD and an ER surgeon ran a restaurant together. It was as she had expected it to be: totally chaotic. And it was the best job she had ever had, though. The two owners acted like brothers and were always nice, even mostly to each other. Detective Steve Sloan's business partner was, as already said, a young doctor, who was also kind and good-looking. Together they ran the BBQ Bob's and were proud to say that they sold the best ribs you could find in LA.
Steve threw the clock a very last glare as though it was a murdering machine and took off his apron. He grabbed his jacket and put on his holster with the gun, which he was used to keep under the counter. 'Once a cop, always a cop', thought Corrie and at the same moment Steve build up in front of her. "Jesse isn't here, yet, I'm sure he'll be coming soon. Do you think you can manage this on your own?"
Corrie nodded. Actually she liked her job very much and besides there was Alex, whose shift was also starting soon. Between coffee mugs and ribs there was always some time to flirt with that very attractive medicine student.
"I'd really stay, but I have just got a new case and..." Steve excused himself, but was interrupted by Corrie's self-confident, waving away gesture. Usually he didn't like having only new employees in his restaurant, especially if they were still students and it was close to dinner time. But Corrie seemed to be trusting and what could he say against it, at least she was in time what he couldn't claim Jesse to be. Anyway 'have just got' was put mildly, Steve had got the call from chief Masters fourty-five minutes ago. So he headed off finally.
It was not much later when he walked through the halls of the Community General Hospital to request an autopsy report from the pathologist and coroner Dr. Amanda Bentley. On his way, he passed the doctor's lounge and decided to have a cup of coffee. There was always some and Steve knew that. Two of the most remarkable things which connected him to his father, were their passion for solving crimes and their addiction to coffee. Trying not to think of his heart rhythm, Steve sipped on the dark liquid and turned around to settle down on the couch and wait for Amanda.
To his surprise he now realised that he wasn't the only man in the room. Another one was sitting on one of the chairs and stared into his empty mug.
Steve bent forward and he had to admit that he was kinda angry. "Jesse, what are you still doing here?! You may have forgotten about it, but we own a restaurant and your shift there began two hours ago...Have you lost your tongue? I'm talking to you!...I see, you find that funny, do you?!" He paused when he noticed that his words didn't seem to have an effect. Jesse hadn't even moved.
Now Steve watched his friend more carefully. Jesse trembled as though he had just swum in the ice sea, which made the mug between his fingers shaking slightly. His scrubs were soiled with blood, which bestowed Jesse's shirt an ugly purple in connection with the light-blue.
Steve slowly got aware of the fact that his remarks had been totally misplaced. Obviously something was very, very wrong because Jesse was usually not the kind of man who missed his duties without any reason. Why hadn't Steve thought about that earlier? Jesse looked so frustrated, as he still hadn't lifted his head, Steve couldn't see his face, but his body language was unmistakable.
The detective hadn't expected a respond any more, therefore he almost jumped when Jesse mumbled: "Sorry, Steve. I didn't mean to let you down."
The way he said that, Steve couldn't help but thinking of a murderer who claimed that he really didn't mean to kill a person. To Steve those statements never seemed to be very truthful, but Jesse had sounded so pleadingly, that you could really get the impression he wanted to save himself from a lethal injection.
Steve got up from the couch and walked over to his best friend, who sat on a chair, hanging his head. He had the odd feeling that something fateful had happened and he wanted to know what. If Jesse would tell him?
Right now Jesse felt too shaken to speak. His reply to Steve had been honest, he felt really guilty for letting down his friend, but nevertheless this remark was devoted to someone else.
He had thought that he had got over Susan. At least he had managed to dupe himself so well, that he was rather shocked to discover that there was still something. Why had she come back? Only to break his heart again, to bring past events back to his mind he wanted to forget? If that were her reasons, Jesse had to admit, that she had achieved her goal. Never ever he had reacted so much out of character in his job. He had shouted at Mark, who definitely hadn't wanted to do him any harm, he had made a fool of himself and -and that was probably the worst- he had risked Susan's life, only to proof himself that she didn't mean anything to him any more. And that wasn't even true.
He was about to get up and pour another cup of coffee for himself, when Mark walked in, Amanda was close to his heels.
Mark didn't know what he should do. He had to tell Jesse the truth, that he would find out anyway, but he had no idea how. The last sentence Jesse had said to him before he had left the trauma room, was still wandering around in Mark's head: 'Please don't let her die!' Now his young friend was standing there in the bright, artificial light of the neon tubes in the hospital lounge and seemed to expect the worst, as he straightened up and took a deep breath. Mark had often seen that, but earlier he had never understood it. Within the years he had learned that collecting as much air as possible in your lungs was a good way to prevent yourself from starting to cry. A last attempt of pretending strength, where there was only despair.
'Please, Mark, keep the bad news to yourself 'cause I don't want you to see me having a break down here right now!' Jesse thought, and somehow he hoped that Mark was able to read his thoughts.
Steve watched his father and Jesse curiously. A few feet separated them from each other and none of them seemed to want to make the first step. Jesse didn't want to hear anything and Mark didn't scramble for saying anything.
His son threw Amanda a tell-me-finally-what's-going-on-look and Amanda threw a don't-dare-to-ask-now-look back.
"Jesse, listen to me! Susan is alive, but in ICU and in coma. I won't lie at you, it doesn't look very good at the moment. But it's still too early to judge the situation, we can only wait. I....I'm sorry , Jess..." Mark couldn't go ahead. He had seen how Jesse hands clenched around the edge of the table, in order to fetch the support Jesse's body wasn't able to give any more. Mark could hardly resist the urge to hug the young man, to tell him that everything would be fine as he had done it with his own son when he had been younger. Much younger. But he knew that the hurt Jesse felt at the moment was more than the pain of a bleeding knee. It was deeper and it was more complicated. If only Jesse had shown any kind of reaction, shown that he had got what Mark had just said. Mark wouldn't repeat it. Not for all goods in the world. Looking into these sad blue eyes and causing with his words more inevitable pain, no, Mark didn't have the heart to do this.
Jesse guessed that his friends expected a reaction from him. He really wanted to talk to them, but he hardly believed that they would understand him, he didn't even understand it himself. Never ever he would be able to put it into words. All the love, the worries, the despair, the anger, the guilt, wasn't to be expressed with anything. He could simply nod. "Thanks, Mark. Really. Now would, would you excuse me, please?..."
Mark and Amanda released the doorway more or less voluntarily and watched Jesse heading off. Amanda couldn't just see him like this and out of quick impulse she grabbed his arm. He stopped abruptly and turned his face to her, she could see the confusion and also fear in it. "Amanda...", he stammered, "please don't! Whatever you are up to say, please don't!" He spoke rather quietly, Amanda was so surprised by that, that she loosened the grip around his wrist.
Jesse straightly went to the reception desk in the ER, where he was greeted by Tom Chandler, the paramedic, who was filling in his reports. Tom was about Jesse's age, tall, dark-skinned and very good-looking. He and the doctor had become quite good friends, as Jesse didn't make paramedics feel like odd-job men, but was always excited and impressed when Tom told him something about the 'battlefield' outside the hospital. And Tom admired Jesse a bit for the passion, the patience, the honesty and reliability he treated his patients with and although Tom was probably not somebody to judge that, he regarded Jesse as one of the best doctors he had ever seen in his life, and that were -God-knows- lots of.
"Hey, doc, you ok again?" he asked Jesse in his strange, but lovely accent, he had from his mother, who was from France. Tom had always been better at French than at English.
The much shorter, blonde man looked up from a chart and swayed his head, absently. Tom couldn't make out if it was a 'yes', a 'no' or a 'you're sucking'. "Wow, man, what's wrong with you? You're looking as though someone has died..." Tom suddenly sensed that those 'street'-proverbs, as he knew them from his hometown Chicago, could be a little too tricky for the usage in hospitals. He put on an apologising look. "Has...anyone died?"
Jesse tried to smile. He knew that Tom hadn't wanted to hurt him. He just didn't know it better and often said the wrong things at the wrong time. Normally Jesse had chuckled about that. Yeah, he and Tom were quite similar to each other.
Jesse now definitely shook his head. "I'm fine, really! Everyone has an off- day now and then, today somehow seems to be mine." He hoped that his excuse didn't sound too lame.
But Tom only nodded understandingly. "Man, I know exactly what you are meaning. Hey, I have told you about this girl, Cindy, you know, blonde, tall and..." Jesse actually didn't want to hear stories about Tom's almost- dates, but right now he saw Brandon Dawn leaving the elevator and decided quickly that Tom was the better alternative. At the moment he was thankful for any kind of distraction.
In the meantime three very confused friends had sat down on the seats in the doctors lounge and were looking very ancietly at each other.
"So Susan is back in Los Angeles?" asked Steve. He was mentally still kicking himself for yelling at Jesse. How couldn't he have noticed anything? Why hadn't he had a closer look firstly? Jesse had needed someone who was there for him and what had he done? Shouted at him, blamed him, made sarcastic remarks. One of the instructors at the police academy had always said: "Cops shoot first, then they start asking. But the good cops have enough intuition to ask firstly and then shoot." Steve had always thought that he could heed this advice. That he could be one of the good cops. Of course words were no bullets, but Steve knew that they could hurt the same way, both could cause a sharp pain deep inside you. Instead of helping his friend, he had only hurt him more. At least he felt like that.
Mark nodded and said thoughtfully. "Yeah, I only wonder why. It has been more than a year since she and Jesse split up."
"With whom did she leave LA?" Steve had to admit that he couldn't remember that fact.
"With a chiropraticer..." Mark answered slowly, he wasn't quite sure about that. It had never been really important. Jesse had rarely ever talked about it and when he had, he had only cracked jokes.
"I'm worried about Jesse", mumbled Amanda.
"So we are..." added Mark and shook his head in despair. "I just don't know what to do. I don't want him to lose his hope that Susan may wake up again, but if that doesn't happen....he would never admit it but she means still a lot to him and if she....if she dies..." Mark was at a loss of words. What he actually wanted to say was that he wasn't sure if Jesse could cope with that. But he sensed that saying so wouldn't have been fair. He knew that behind Jesse's often as vulnerable appearing way, there was an ardent and stubborn strength. But even such a strength had its limits. When would they be striked? Mark also knew that Jesse was a grown-up man and certainly didn't like to be treated like a small child, nevertheless Mark just wanted to protect him. He had always seen in Jesse a little boy, who hadn't met many people in his life who really loved him. But Mark did. That man was like a son to him.
"All we can do is just being there and listen to him if he wants to talk. That is gonna be hard for him", the older doctor said finally and his son and Amanda agreed with a silent nod.
"I have to go!" Steve got up suddenly. He didn't like those quiet moments very much. And he still had a lot of work to do. Captain Newman was already waiting at the headquaters with a new case. "Amanda, have you finished the autopsy I asked you to do yesterday?"
"Suicide, no doubt!", muttered Amanda. She was a bit mad with Steve. Why did he always keep his emotions to himself? She was sure that he also wanted to help Jesse, but it seemed to be very hard for him to show it. 'Men...', she thought.
Steve took note of the fact that Amanda was somehow not in the mood to talk to him furtherly. But the piece of information she had given him was actually enough. "See ya. Bye!" He waved his father and the pathologist and left.
As Steve dialled his father's cell-phone number from the phone on his desk in the LAPD headquaters, his heart had sunk so deep that it had almost reached his boots. Staring at the file in front of him, he sighed heavily, while waiting for the ringing tone.
Going his rounds, Mark had checked on Susan and now that he had finished his work at the moment and was back in the lounge, he was completely down in the dumps. He still remembered her quite well from then, and the sight of her by now made him feel very sad. He had always liked her. She and Jesse had fit to each other. Stupid little girl. Maybe she had made mistakes. But don't we all do? Mark asked in silence someone who wasn't in the room, someone he didn't knew, someone who probably wasn't even living on this earth.
Mark was interrupted in thinking when his cell-phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hi dad, it's me!" Steve's rather nervous voice could be heard from the other site of the line.
"Hey son, what's up?" Mark knew from his son's tone that something was wrong. Even the static sounds that were audible when the air from Steve's breaths striked the receiver, told volumes. Short, flat.
"How's Susan?"
"Not better than she was when you left. She is hardly able to breath and the fracture on her head is very bad. There could be internal bleedings we don't even know of...Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"What's wrong?"
"It's just...there is the possibility...eventually..."
"Steve!!"
"The police...Tanis...we assume...we have proofs that Susan's accident wasn't an accident..."
"What?!" Mark was totally stunned.
"The car which hit Susan had no number plate. We have found it four streets away from the scene of the accident. A black BMW. It was stolen."
"Maybe it was a thief on the run..." Mark suggested. He just couldn't believe it.
Steve shook his head, though his father couldn't see it. He could imagine how his dad looked at the moment. Shocked and astounded. "We have witnesses who say that the car drove along the street with normal speed. It first accelerated when it was about 200 feet away from her. It looks like attempted murder, dad."
"Ok, thanks son. I'll call you later. Bye."
"Bye dad."
Mark put his cell-phone back into his pocket. He had to talk to Jesse. That wasn't gonna be easy. Jesse had been avoiding him for hours, perhaps he wanted to be alone, Mark could understand that, but now he had to find him. 'Maybe I should speak to Amanda first', thought Mark and went to pathology lab. As he opened the door and entered, he instinctively threw a searching look into the room because he wanted to make sure that Jesse wasn't there.
"Hey Mark, what's up?" asked Amanda, finishing the very last autopsy of this shift. Actually she had planned to go home and have a nice evening with her sons, but at the moment things looked different. She couldn't leave Jesse like that. He was something like a brother to her and even something like a second dad to her sons, especially CJ.
"I've just got a call from Steve. He said that they have indications that Susan's accident wasn't just an accident. The car which hit her hadn't a number plate and was stolen." Now that he was saying it himself Mark finally got what had happened.
Amanda almost dropped the scalpel. "Oh no! Does Jesse know about it?"
Mark shook his head. "No, I haven't told him, yet. I...I don't dare to."
Jesse walked along the halls and reached the pathology. The pressure on his chest almost choked him and his blood roared in his ears. He had been avoiding the ICU as well as possible. He couldn't go in there because he knew that he could never deal with what was expecting him. Jesse hated himself for his damn pride. But Susan had hurt him so much and she shouldn't get the power to mess up his life again.
He wanted to have a cup of coffee with his friends. For hours he hadn't shown up because he hadn't want to see their pitying looks. But secretly he was afraid of something else. Every time Jesse looked at them he had the feeling that they could practically look inside him, read his mind and that he couldn't throw sand into their eyes. Was he really so transparent?
Nevertheless Jesse was sorry for letting himself go so awfully. After all Mark, Amanda and Steve hadn't any fault, Susan's accident was his problem, not theirs.
When Jesse wanted to open the door, he suddenly froze as he heard Mark talking inside. "...that Susan's accident wasn't just an accident. The car which hit her hadn't a number plate and was stolen."
Then Amanda: "Does Jesse know about it?"
"No I haven't told him, yet! I...I don't dare to..."
Jesse stood back and leaned with his back against the wall. He still heard the sounds from inside, but they were muffled and echoed in his ears. That wasn't true, no, please not. All this was a nightmare, a horror movie, wasn't real. Gasping for air, Jesse burried his head in his hands. The tears whelmed up in him, but he wouldn't let them get control over him. "Don't cry", he mumbled, "don't dare to cry!" Slowly his hands sank again. Now he clenched his fingers and started to hit them against the wall behind him.
"Jesse...Jesse! Jess! Geez, Jesse, can you hear me!"
Now Jesse realised that someone had grabbed his shoulders and was shaking him heavily. He saw the grey-haired doctor standing in front of him, watching him with a worried expression on his face.
Mark felt Jesse's tensed body was getting calmer and moments later Jesse collapsed against the wall again. Only Mark's extented arm prevented him from falling. "How much have you heard?" Mark asked, feeling awful because this was exactly the situation he had wanted to avoid.
Jesse shrugged wearily. "Enough..." By then he had to swallow again. All this was becoming too much. And why did he have the feeling that it hadn't even really started? He began to walk. His first steps were rather insecure, but they became determined.
Mark caught him up. "Sorry Jesse, I didn't want to tell it you that way..."
Jesse shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, Mark. It's ok."
Now it was Mark's turn to shake his head. "It's not ok, Jesse, you know that. If you wanna talk, I'm always here for you..."
Jesse nodded. He didn't feel like talking to anybody at the moment, though. "Thanks Mark... But I've gotta go now." Then Jesse headed off as fast as he could, feeling Mark's looks practically piercing his back.
Mark watched the young man and shook his head. All that was dreadful. Why did he have the feeling that this was just the beginning?
And as if that wouldn't have been annoying enough, I still have a disclaimer for you*please don't hit me!!* : The song "Wish" wasn't written by me (duh!). It belongs to the Lighthouse Family and was published on their album "Whatever Gets You Through The Day" (2001)
Nooooo, don't stop readin', the chapter hasn't ended, yet! Actually it's beginning now. Have fun! :-)
I thought I got the A-Z but now I'm lost
And don't know where I'm going, don't know what I'm looking for anymore
I'm all burnt out
There ain't that much I care about
And I know I'm missing something
I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore
I won't let it get to me
But I really miss you badly
I wish I knew how I'm gonna be happy without you
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
I thought I got it all mapped out but now I'm lost
In a world that ain't got you in I don't know what I'm living for
Hopeless without the only thing I cared about
'Cause you have been me salvation in a world where there's no love anymore
----------------------
The tall man glanced at the clock over the kitchen door again and again and everytime he did so, he became more and more impatient. His fingers were drumming nervously on the coffee machine and he repeated only one sentence "My gosh, hurry up!", which was inaudible for the guests, fortunately. They would probably have thought that he was completely irrational.
Corrie watched him carefully from the corners of her eyes, while she was taking orders. "Two coke and a salad without dressing." She handed her scribbles into the kitchen and went over to the coffee machine, where her boss was still pausing in this tensed and quite uncomfortable posture. The red apron didn't fit him, his upper body was just too broad and muscular. He looked every inch like a cop, his facial expression, his posture, his eyes. Not unlikeable though. Tall, dark blonde hair, blue eyes, charming and good-natured. Normally anyway. At the moment he looked as though he was up to bite somebody's head off and Corrie even knew, whose head it was.
Actually that was one of the reasons why she had asked for a job here. She had really wanted to see how a homicide detective from the LAPD and an ER surgeon ran a restaurant together. It was as she had expected it to be: totally chaotic. And it was the best job she had ever had, though. The two owners acted like brothers and were always nice, even mostly to each other. Detective Steve Sloan's business partner was, as already said, a young doctor, who was also kind and good-looking. Together they ran the BBQ Bob's and were proud to say that they sold the best ribs you could find in LA.
Steve threw the clock a very last glare as though it was a murdering machine and took off his apron. He grabbed his jacket and put on his holster with the gun, which he was used to keep under the counter. 'Once a cop, always a cop', thought Corrie and at the same moment Steve build up in front of her. "Jesse isn't here, yet, I'm sure he'll be coming soon. Do you think you can manage this on your own?"
Corrie nodded. Actually she liked her job very much and besides there was Alex, whose shift was also starting soon. Between coffee mugs and ribs there was always some time to flirt with that very attractive medicine student.
"I'd really stay, but I have just got a new case and..." Steve excused himself, but was interrupted by Corrie's self-confident, waving away gesture. Usually he didn't like having only new employees in his restaurant, especially if they were still students and it was close to dinner time. But Corrie seemed to be trusting and what could he say against it, at least she was in time what he couldn't claim Jesse to be. Anyway 'have just got' was put mildly, Steve had got the call from chief Masters fourty-five minutes ago. So he headed off finally.
It was not much later when he walked through the halls of the Community General Hospital to request an autopsy report from the pathologist and coroner Dr. Amanda Bentley. On his way, he passed the doctor's lounge and decided to have a cup of coffee. There was always some and Steve knew that. Two of the most remarkable things which connected him to his father, were their passion for solving crimes and their addiction to coffee. Trying not to think of his heart rhythm, Steve sipped on the dark liquid and turned around to settle down on the couch and wait for Amanda.
To his surprise he now realised that he wasn't the only man in the room. Another one was sitting on one of the chairs and stared into his empty mug.
Steve bent forward and he had to admit that he was kinda angry. "Jesse, what are you still doing here?! You may have forgotten about it, but we own a restaurant and your shift there began two hours ago...Have you lost your tongue? I'm talking to you!...I see, you find that funny, do you?!" He paused when he noticed that his words didn't seem to have an effect. Jesse hadn't even moved.
Now Steve watched his friend more carefully. Jesse trembled as though he had just swum in the ice sea, which made the mug between his fingers shaking slightly. His scrubs were soiled with blood, which bestowed Jesse's shirt an ugly purple in connection with the light-blue.
Steve slowly got aware of the fact that his remarks had been totally misplaced. Obviously something was very, very wrong because Jesse was usually not the kind of man who missed his duties without any reason. Why hadn't Steve thought about that earlier? Jesse looked so frustrated, as he still hadn't lifted his head, Steve couldn't see his face, but his body language was unmistakable.
The detective hadn't expected a respond any more, therefore he almost jumped when Jesse mumbled: "Sorry, Steve. I didn't mean to let you down."
The way he said that, Steve couldn't help but thinking of a murderer who claimed that he really didn't mean to kill a person. To Steve those statements never seemed to be very truthful, but Jesse had sounded so pleadingly, that you could really get the impression he wanted to save himself from a lethal injection.
Steve got up from the couch and walked over to his best friend, who sat on a chair, hanging his head. He had the odd feeling that something fateful had happened and he wanted to know what. If Jesse would tell him?
Right now Jesse felt too shaken to speak. His reply to Steve had been honest, he felt really guilty for letting down his friend, but nevertheless this remark was devoted to someone else.
He had thought that he had got over Susan. At least he had managed to dupe himself so well, that he was rather shocked to discover that there was still something. Why had she come back? Only to break his heart again, to bring past events back to his mind he wanted to forget? If that were her reasons, Jesse had to admit, that she had achieved her goal. Never ever he had reacted so much out of character in his job. He had shouted at Mark, who definitely hadn't wanted to do him any harm, he had made a fool of himself and -and that was probably the worst- he had risked Susan's life, only to proof himself that she didn't mean anything to him any more. And that wasn't even true.
He was about to get up and pour another cup of coffee for himself, when Mark walked in, Amanda was close to his heels.
Mark didn't know what he should do. He had to tell Jesse the truth, that he would find out anyway, but he had no idea how. The last sentence Jesse had said to him before he had left the trauma room, was still wandering around in Mark's head: 'Please don't let her die!' Now his young friend was standing there in the bright, artificial light of the neon tubes in the hospital lounge and seemed to expect the worst, as he straightened up and took a deep breath. Mark had often seen that, but earlier he had never understood it. Within the years he had learned that collecting as much air as possible in your lungs was a good way to prevent yourself from starting to cry. A last attempt of pretending strength, where there was only despair.
'Please, Mark, keep the bad news to yourself 'cause I don't want you to see me having a break down here right now!' Jesse thought, and somehow he hoped that Mark was able to read his thoughts.
Steve watched his father and Jesse curiously. A few feet separated them from each other and none of them seemed to want to make the first step. Jesse didn't want to hear anything and Mark didn't scramble for saying anything.
His son threw Amanda a tell-me-finally-what's-going-on-look and Amanda threw a don't-dare-to-ask-now-look back.
"Jesse, listen to me! Susan is alive, but in ICU and in coma. I won't lie at you, it doesn't look very good at the moment. But it's still too early to judge the situation, we can only wait. I....I'm sorry , Jess..." Mark couldn't go ahead. He had seen how Jesse hands clenched around the edge of the table, in order to fetch the support Jesse's body wasn't able to give any more. Mark could hardly resist the urge to hug the young man, to tell him that everything would be fine as he had done it with his own son when he had been younger. Much younger. But he knew that the hurt Jesse felt at the moment was more than the pain of a bleeding knee. It was deeper and it was more complicated. If only Jesse had shown any kind of reaction, shown that he had got what Mark had just said. Mark wouldn't repeat it. Not for all goods in the world. Looking into these sad blue eyes and causing with his words more inevitable pain, no, Mark didn't have the heart to do this.
Jesse guessed that his friends expected a reaction from him. He really wanted to talk to them, but he hardly believed that they would understand him, he didn't even understand it himself. Never ever he would be able to put it into words. All the love, the worries, the despair, the anger, the guilt, wasn't to be expressed with anything. He could simply nod. "Thanks, Mark. Really. Now would, would you excuse me, please?..."
Mark and Amanda released the doorway more or less voluntarily and watched Jesse heading off. Amanda couldn't just see him like this and out of quick impulse she grabbed his arm. He stopped abruptly and turned his face to her, she could see the confusion and also fear in it. "Amanda...", he stammered, "please don't! Whatever you are up to say, please don't!" He spoke rather quietly, Amanda was so surprised by that, that she loosened the grip around his wrist.
Jesse straightly went to the reception desk in the ER, where he was greeted by Tom Chandler, the paramedic, who was filling in his reports. Tom was about Jesse's age, tall, dark-skinned and very good-looking. He and the doctor had become quite good friends, as Jesse didn't make paramedics feel like odd-job men, but was always excited and impressed when Tom told him something about the 'battlefield' outside the hospital. And Tom admired Jesse a bit for the passion, the patience, the honesty and reliability he treated his patients with and although Tom was probably not somebody to judge that, he regarded Jesse as one of the best doctors he had ever seen in his life, and that were -God-knows- lots of.
"Hey, doc, you ok again?" he asked Jesse in his strange, but lovely accent, he had from his mother, who was from France. Tom had always been better at French than at English.
The much shorter, blonde man looked up from a chart and swayed his head, absently. Tom couldn't make out if it was a 'yes', a 'no' or a 'you're sucking'. "Wow, man, what's wrong with you? You're looking as though someone has died..." Tom suddenly sensed that those 'street'-proverbs, as he knew them from his hometown Chicago, could be a little too tricky for the usage in hospitals. He put on an apologising look. "Has...anyone died?"
Jesse tried to smile. He knew that Tom hadn't wanted to hurt him. He just didn't know it better and often said the wrong things at the wrong time. Normally Jesse had chuckled about that. Yeah, he and Tom were quite similar to each other.
Jesse now definitely shook his head. "I'm fine, really! Everyone has an off- day now and then, today somehow seems to be mine." He hoped that his excuse didn't sound too lame.
But Tom only nodded understandingly. "Man, I know exactly what you are meaning. Hey, I have told you about this girl, Cindy, you know, blonde, tall and..." Jesse actually didn't want to hear stories about Tom's almost- dates, but right now he saw Brandon Dawn leaving the elevator and decided quickly that Tom was the better alternative. At the moment he was thankful for any kind of distraction.
In the meantime three very confused friends had sat down on the seats in the doctors lounge and were looking very ancietly at each other.
"So Susan is back in Los Angeles?" asked Steve. He was mentally still kicking himself for yelling at Jesse. How couldn't he have noticed anything? Why hadn't he had a closer look firstly? Jesse had needed someone who was there for him and what had he done? Shouted at him, blamed him, made sarcastic remarks. One of the instructors at the police academy had always said: "Cops shoot first, then they start asking. But the good cops have enough intuition to ask firstly and then shoot." Steve had always thought that he could heed this advice. That he could be one of the good cops. Of course words were no bullets, but Steve knew that they could hurt the same way, both could cause a sharp pain deep inside you. Instead of helping his friend, he had only hurt him more. At least he felt like that.
Mark nodded and said thoughtfully. "Yeah, I only wonder why. It has been more than a year since she and Jesse split up."
"With whom did she leave LA?" Steve had to admit that he couldn't remember that fact.
"With a chiropraticer..." Mark answered slowly, he wasn't quite sure about that. It had never been really important. Jesse had rarely ever talked about it and when he had, he had only cracked jokes.
"I'm worried about Jesse", mumbled Amanda.
"So we are..." added Mark and shook his head in despair. "I just don't know what to do. I don't want him to lose his hope that Susan may wake up again, but if that doesn't happen....he would never admit it but she means still a lot to him and if she....if she dies..." Mark was at a loss of words. What he actually wanted to say was that he wasn't sure if Jesse could cope with that. But he sensed that saying so wouldn't have been fair. He knew that behind Jesse's often as vulnerable appearing way, there was an ardent and stubborn strength. But even such a strength had its limits. When would they be striked? Mark also knew that Jesse was a grown-up man and certainly didn't like to be treated like a small child, nevertheless Mark just wanted to protect him. He had always seen in Jesse a little boy, who hadn't met many people in his life who really loved him. But Mark did. That man was like a son to him.
"All we can do is just being there and listen to him if he wants to talk. That is gonna be hard for him", the older doctor said finally and his son and Amanda agreed with a silent nod.
"I have to go!" Steve got up suddenly. He didn't like those quiet moments very much. And he still had a lot of work to do. Captain Newman was already waiting at the headquaters with a new case. "Amanda, have you finished the autopsy I asked you to do yesterday?"
"Suicide, no doubt!", muttered Amanda. She was a bit mad with Steve. Why did he always keep his emotions to himself? She was sure that he also wanted to help Jesse, but it seemed to be very hard for him to show it. 'Men...', she thought.
Steve took note of the fact that Amanda was somehow not in the mood to talk to him furtherly. But the piece of information she had given him was actually enough. "See ya. Bye!" He waved his father and the pathologist and left.
As Steve dialled his father's cell-phone number from the phone on his desk in the LAPD headquaters, his heart had sunk so deep that it had almost reached his boots. Staring at the file in front of him, he sighed heavily, while waiting for the ringing tone.
Going his rounds, Mark had checked on Susan and now that he had finished his work at the moment and was back in the lounge, he was completely down in the dumps. He still remembered her quite well from then, and the sight of her by now made him feel very sad. He had always liked her. She and Jesse had fit to each other. Stupid little girl. Maybe she had made mistakes. But don't we all do? Mark asked in silence someone who wasn't in the room, someone he didn't knew, someone who probably wasn't even living on this earth.
Mark was interrupted in thinking when his cell-phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hi dad, it's me!" Steve's rather nervous voice could be heard from the other site of the line.
"Hey son, what's up?" Mark knew from his son's tone that something was wrong. Even the static sounds that were audible when the air from Steve's breaths striked the receiver, told volumes. Short, flat.
"How's Susan?"
"Not better than she was when you left. She is hardly able to breath and the fracture on her head is very bad. There could be internal bleedings we don't even know of...Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"What's wrong?"
"It's just...there is the possibility...eventually..."
"Steve!!"
"The police...Tanis...we assume...we have proofs that Susan's accident wasn't an accident..."
"What?!" Mark was totally stunned.
"The car which hit Susan had no number plate. We have found it four streets away from the scene of the accident. A black BMW. It was stolen."
"Maybe it was a thief on the run..." Mark suggested. He just couldn't believe it.
Steve shook his head, though his father couldn't see it. He could imagine how his dad looked at the moment. Shocked and astounded. "We have witnesses who say that the car drove along the street with normal speed. It first accelerated when it was about 200 feet away from her. It looks like attempted murder, dad."
"Ok, thanks son. I'll call you later. Bye."
"Bye dad."
Mark put his cell-phone back into his pocket. He had to talk to Jesse. That wasn't gonna be easy. Jesse had been avoiding him for hours, perhaps he wanted to be alone, Mark could understand that, but now he had to find him. 'Maybe I should speak to Amanda first', thought Mark and went to pathology lab. As he opened the door and entered, he instinctively threw a searching look into the room because he wanted to make sure that Jesse wasn't there.
"Hey Mark, what's up?" asked Amanda, finishing the very last autopsy of this shift. Actually she had planned to go home and have a nice evening with her sons, but at the moment things looked different. She couldn't leave Jesse like that. He was something like a brother to her and even something like a second dad to her sons, especially CJ.
"I've just got a call from Steve. He said that they have indications that Susan's accident wasn't just an accident. The car which hit her hadn't a number plate and was stolen." Now that he was saying it himself Mark finally got what had happened.
Amanda almost dropped the scalpel. "Oh no! Does Jesse know about it?"
Mark shook his head. "No, I haven't told him, yet. I...I don't dare to."
Jesse walked along the halls and reached the pathology. The pressure on his chest almost choked him and his blood roared in his ears. He had been avoiding the ICU as well as possible. He couldn't go in there because he knew that he could never deal with what was expecting him. Jesse hated himself for his damn pride. But Susan had hurt him so much and she shouldn't get the power to mess up his life again.
He wanted to have a cup of coffee with his friends. For hours he hadn't shown up because he hadn't want to see their pitying looks. But secretly he was afraid of something else. Every time Jesse looked at them he had the feeling that they could practically look inside him, read his mind and that he couldn't throw sand into their eyes. Was he really so transparent?
Nevertheless Jesse was sorry for letting himself go so awfully. After all Mark, Amanda and Steve hadn't any fault, Susan's accident was his problem, not theirs.
When Jesse wanted to open the door, he suddenly froze as he heard Mark talking inside. "...that Susan's accident wasn't just an accident. The car which hit her hadn't a number plate and was stolen."
Then Amanda: "Does Jesse know about it?"
"No I haven't told him, yet! I...I don't dare to..."
Jesse stood back and leaned with his back against the wall. He still heard the sounds from inside, but they were muffled and echoed in his ears. That wasn't true, no, please not. All this was a nightmare, a horror movie, wasn't real. Gasping for air, Jesse burried his head in his hands. The tears whelmed up in him, but he wouldn't let them get control over him. "Don't cry", he mumbled, "don't dare to cry!" Slowly his hands sank again. Now he clenched his fingers and started to hit them against the wall behind him.
"Jesse...Jesse! Jess! Geez, Jesse, can you hear me!"
Now Jesse realised that someone had grabbed his shoulders and was shaking him heavily. He saw the grey-haired doctor standing in front of him, watching him with a worried expression on his face.
Mark felt Jesse's tensed body was getting calmer and moments later Jesse collapsed against the wall again. Only Mark's extented arm prevented him from falling. "How much have you heard?" Mark asked, feeling awful because this was exactly the situation he had wanted to avoid.
Jesse shrugged wearily. "Enough..." By then he had to swallow again. All this was becoming too much. And why did he have the feeling that it hadn't even really started? He began to walk. His first steps were rather insecure, but they became determined.
Mark caught him up. "Sorry Jesse, I didn't want to tell it you that way..."
Jesse shook his head. "It wasn't your fault, Mark. It's ok."
Now it was Mark's turn to shake his head. "It's not ok, Jesse, you know that. If you wanna talk, I'm always here for you..."
Jesse nodded. He didn't feel like talking to anybody at the moment, though. "Thanks Mark... But I've gotta go now." Then Jesse headed off as fast as he could, feeling Mark's looks practically piercing his back.
Mark watched the young man and shook his head. All that was dreadful. Why did he have the feeling that this was just the beginning?