A/N: Thank you so much for all the kind and generous reviews – I don't seem to be having much luck adding that to the document page. But I really do appreciate it!

(End of Chapter 2…)

…Jesse tried to smile back, heading slowly down the corridor toward his next patient. He couldn't really say how, but somehow or other, he felt like he'd made things worse.

Chapter 3

The feeling was still hovering around the edges of his mind a couple of hours later when he stopped by the doctor's lounge for coffee.

Amanda was already there, adding cream to her cup. She smiled at him as he entered. "Good morning - whoa. What's wrong with you? You look like you've lost your best friend."

Jesse sighed gustily. "Funny you should say that."

Amanda twinkled. "Don't tell me. You broke the news to Steve that he won't be going home today."

"Well, yeah, but - he actually took that better than I expected."

"Then why the long face?"

Jesse poured coffee into his favorite mug and shrugged. "I don't know. I think maybe I said something I shouldn't have."

"You? That's hard to believe."

Jesse shot her a look at her dry tone and dropped himself into a chair at the table. "This isn't funny, Amanda."

"I'm sorry." She pulled up a chair next to his and rested a hand on his arm. "Why don't you tell me about it. Maybe it's not as bad as it seems."

Jesse took a sip of his coffee, peeking up at her from under his fringe of bangs. "Well, I - you know how Steve is so hung up on this Fuller case, right?"

"Hung up in what way? I mean, it's solved."

Jesse threw his arms wide. "That's what I said!"

"And that made Steve angry?"

"No, no - not that. It's just he keeps saying how Madge Fuller didn't do it, and I keep telling him how she confessed and everything…"

"And he said…?"

"He said she didn't do it. That somebody else did."

"Well, who?"

"He doesn't know."

"Then what makes him think it wasn't Madge Fuller?"

"He says he doesn't remember - he just knows it wasn't."

Amanda raised her brows, stirring absently at her coffee. "He took a pretty hard hit to the head, Jesse. Maybe he's just not thinking very clearly."

Jesse nodded enthusiastically. "That's what I said, too!"

"And that made Steve mad."

"No. No, I don't think that made him mad. Not really. I mean, he's not."

Amanda took a deep breath. "All right then. So you told Steve Madge Fuller was the killer and that he wasn't thinking very clearly and he said…?"

"That he wanted to read his case notes over. That they might jog his memory."

Amanda waited, then nudged his arm. "And - ?"

"Well, and I told him he couldn't read yet. He can hardly see, really. He shouldn't be trying to do any close work."

"And that made him mad."

Jesse shook his head. "Naw…well, for a minute maybe. Until he realized he couldn't tell me how many fingers I was holding up."

"And so?"

"Well, so I said I'd stop by on my break and play cards with him. Since he can't do much else."

Amanda leaned back in her chair and stared at him. "Well, I find it hard to believe that that made him mad."

"Oh. No," Jesse took another sip of coffee. "No, he thanked me for that."

"Jesse!" Jesse looked up in surprise at her exasperated tone. "Then what on earth makes you think Steve is mad at you? What did you say?"

"Oh." Jesse felt his ears grow red all over again. "Um…I think I said something about…about how he must get tired of…his Dad always rushing in and solving his cases while he…" he cleared his throat. "…while he lies unconscious on the floor," he finished in a rush. Amanda stared at him. "It just came out!" he defended himself desperately. "I meant - I meant to put it a lot better than that."

"I see." Amanda turned discreetly forward, drinking her own coffee to fill the awkward pause. "And, um, what did Steve say to…that?"

Jesse cleared his throat. "He said he…did…get tired of the unconscious part. Well, not exactly that. Something like that. I - I told him I was sorry."

"And?"

"And he said it was okay."

"Well, then," Amanda looked relieved. "Then he's not mad."

"No…" Jesse wrapped his hands around his cup and hunched over it. "Not mad, he just…"

"Jesse," Amanda's tone became brisk. "If Steve said it was all right…"

Jesse made a face. "It - wasn't what he said. It was - I don't know - something in his eyes." He poked at his coffee with his spoon. "I think I hurt his feelings. You know I'd never hurt him on purpose, Amanda."

"Of course I know that." Amanda patted him briskly on the back. "And Steve knows that, too. Why don't you talk to him?"

*

Sometimes those two are worse than CJ and Dion, Amanda thought as she made her way down the hospital corridor away from the Path Lab, cradling a fat file in her arms. Still, it never hurt for a friend to stop by and pour oil on troubled waters, and if Steve was troubled by the Fuller case then maybe she could put his mind at rest. It was better to keep these things down to earth and dispassionate sometimes - stick to the facts. Steve liked the facts, and the facts were her specialty - one reason they worked so well together. As she approached the room she heard the familiar sounds of good-natured arguing and smiled to herself. Sounded like things were back to normal. Figured. Neither one was really any good at staying mad. She shook her head. Just like CJ and Dion…and pushed her way into the room.

"Sounds like a battle in here," she remarked cheerfully.

Steve turned his head from Jesse and broke into a smile. "Hi."

"Hi yourself. You're looking better. Jesse's looking a little grim though."

"That's because I lost four out of five hands. I think he cheats."

"You're just a sore loser. Want us to deal you in, Amanda?"

"Uh-uh," Jesse held up his hands. "You're not taking any more of even my imaginary money."

"And I - " Amanda indicated the file with a flourish. "Brought you something I think you're going to find more interesting. David Fuller's autopsy report."

Steve brightened and reached for the file, but Jesse plucked it neatly from in front of him. "I'm sure Amanda was planning on reading this to you herself."

Steve's jaw set. "Jesse - "

Jesse forestalled him with a shake of his head. "I told you no reading yet and I meant it. You try and I promise you, you'll end up with a headache that will make the worst hangover you've ever had seem like a picnic. Your vision is still all over the place. The only reason I won that one hand is because you thought that six was an eight."

Steve started to protest, then paused. "That was a six?"

Jesse nodded.

"And you didn't tell me?"

Jesse looked innocent. "Did I forget to tell you that?"

Steve stared at him. "I can't believe you took advantage of my condition - "

"Fine! You can have your imaginary money back! Does that make us even?"

"Boys, boys…" Amanda pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. "Do you want to talk about this autopsy report or not?"

"I think I remember most of it," Steve said thoughtfully, immediately forgetting the cards. "But I'd like to see if there's anything I overlooked."

"'See' being metaphorical, of course."

Steve glared. "I think you're exaggerating that. I see just fine now. Except," he admitted reluctantly, "for the cards."

"Ah-ah-ah! Remember - " Jesse tugged significantly at his white coat.

"I know - you're the doctor. Some doctor. The only doctors I've ever heard give a diagnosis of amnesia are hawking household detergents afternoons and making personal appearances at shopping malls."

Jesse smiled serenely. "Amnesia is a perfectly valid medical phenomenon. Television doctors have to get their information from someplace." He made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed. "And I - " his eyes caught on something in the doorway. "Oh, hi, Cheryl."

Cheryl was leaning against the door lintel, a grin growing on her face. "Amnesia?" She stepped into the room. "Amnesia, Sloan?"

Steve's glare deepened. "I do not have amnesia! Real people don't get amnesia! Cheryl, if this gets around at the station, I swear, I'll make you every bit as miserable as they make me."

Cheryl sighed, the grin lingering. "It would almost be worth it. How's the head, partner?"

"I'm fine. I could go home, if they'd cut me loose."

Jesse made a scoffing sound in his throat and Cheryl chuckled. "Behaving as well as ever, I see. Well, I have something to help you pass the time."

Jesse neatly intercepted the file she proffered before Steve could grab it. "Thanks," he said brightly. "One of us will read it to him."

Steve didn't even bother to protest this time, just skewered Jesse with a glower that would have been very effective if his eyes had managed to focus simultaneously. He gave up and turned back to Cheryl. "Jesse tells me that you arrested Madge Fuller."

"That's right. Got a full confession."

Steve shook his head doubtfully. "Any other grounds?"

"All of them. Means, motive, opportunity."

Steve closed his eyes for a minute, groping through his memory. "Opportunity? But she didn't. That was one reason we eliminated her. She was running her High School homeroom at the time of the murder - had all kinds of witnesses."

Cheryl shrugged. "Given that we only have a time frame for the murder and not an exact time, your Dad managed to prove that it was possible for her to commit the murder and still be at her homeroom on time. It's tight, but it's not impossible."

Steve hesitated. "I don't know," he objected at last. "In L.A. traffic? And what about clean up? If she clubbed somebody with a baseball bat, she'd catch a lot of spatter. She'd have to clean up before anybody saw her."

"There's a copy of the potential timeline in the folder I gave y - er - Jesse."

Steve nodded distractedly. "Means? They find the bat?"

"No," Cheryl admitted. "But she was a softball champ, an ex-coach of her son's little league team and her son now plays varsity. There were bats all around that house. Be the easiest thing in the world to grab one."

Steve sighed. "What about motive? I know we hadn't been able to find one."

"Well, that information came through while we were at the Fullers - seems David Fuller had quietly withdrawn a very large sum of money and hidden it. We think he was paying for a mistress."

"And they think Madge Fuller found about this?"

"That's right."

"But they don't know. Any idea where the money went for sure?"

"Nope. All dead ends so far. But we're still digging."

Steve kneaded absently at his eyebrows. "All circumstantial, then."

"Except for the confession, but the confession makes a big difference. Prosecutor thinks he can make a strong case."

"Yeah," Steve leaned back into his pillows. "Be better to have a little concrete evidence, though."

"Well, that's one of the reasons I'm here." Cheryl smiled. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened in the time between you ringing the Fuller front doorbell and me breaking in the back door and finding you on the floor." Cheryl flipped open her notebook. "Okay - so you rang the doorbell and I went around to cover the back. Then what?"

Steve reddened.

Cheryl looked at him questioningly. "Steve?"

"Um…" Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well…uh…" Cheryl lowered her pencil in surprise, looking from Steve to Amanda to Jesse. The red flush spread from Steve's cheekbones to his ears. "I - don't remember all the details. Exactly," he confessed.

Jesse nodded knowingly and mouthed the word "amnesia", pointing to Steve behind his back.

"I saw that," Steve warned, without looking.

Cheryl stared. "You weren't kidding about this amnesia thing."

"I do NOT have amnesia. I'm just having trouble…remembering a couple of things." He closed his eyes; whether to shut them out or collect his thoughts was hard to tell.

Cheryl looked past Steve to Jesse this time, read in his hand gestures to go easy.

"I saw that too," Steve interjected, without opening his eyes.

"Okay," Cheryl perched on the end of the bed, the smile fading from her face. "Why don't you just tell me what you do remember, then."

"Well - " Steve opened his eyes again and shot an embarrassed glance from one to the other. "I think - we had lunch, right?"

"But you don't remember?"

"Why, was it memorable?" Steve retorted, frustrated. "And I think I remember the ride to the Fuller house. Sort of. I guess it could be any of a dozen rides like that we've taken, though, because - well - I don't honestly remember anything specific about it."

Cheryl raised her eyebrows at Jesse.

Jesse cleared his throat. "It could come back. Most times it comes back - in reverse, usually - the event of the actual injury last. Of course, the actual event - the injury itself, I mean - he may never remember that."

"What?" Steve tried to turn his head to meet his eyes.

Jesse moved to position himself so he was more comfortably in Steve's line of vision. "You might. But a lot of times, that part is gone for good. We don't know why - the bruising, or just the mind's way of protecting itself. The rest you'll probably remember, given some rest and time."

Steve stared at him, then dropped his eyes to the cards spread out on the tray in front of him.

Cheryl quietly put her notebook away. "Okay. That was the part I was interested in, but it's not crucial. Like I say, the DA's office feels pretty confident."

"I may NEVER remember?"

Jesse grimaced. "Maybe not," and, at the sight of his face, "It's a few seconds of your life, Steve, and probably painful ones. Would it really be so bad not to remember?"

"I don't know…" admitted Steve slowly. "It's just…a shock."

"Because they always get their memories back on soap operas."

Despite himself, Steve smiled a little. "Cheryl, maybe if you tell me what happened in detail it will jog something loose."

"Good idea," Jesse nodded. "Evening visiting hours start at six, Cheryl, if you want to come back then."

Steve stopped absently massaging his temple. "Jesse, she's here right now!"

"Yep. But she's leaving. Visiting hours are over and you need a break."

"She's not visiting, she's on official police business and I feel fine!"

"Mm hm. That's the third time you've rubbed your head and the second time you've closed your eyes. The nurse will be around with your meds soon, then you can get some sleep." He placed the two files on a side table just out of Steve's reach. "I'll leave those there for someone to read to you when you wake up."

Steve arranged his face into his most reasonable, compliant expression. "Look, let Cheryl go over the case with me, and then I promise I'll sleep. In fact, I'll rest much better without that on my mind."

Jesse smiled. "Oh, you'll sleep just fine once you get those meds, believe me. Sorry, bud, but…" he tugged meaningfully at his jacket again.

Steve smiled bitterly. "Oh, I haven't forgotten. Think I'll get myself a white jacket - seems they give those out to just about anybody."

Jesse grinned. "You know what your problem is? No gratitude. You think all my patients get this kind of tender loving care?"

"No, no - " Steve drawled. "I'm sure you save this treatment just for me." He turned to look hopefully at Amanda, but she was already standing up.

"Sorry, Steve - I was just going to suggest the same thing. You're showing definite signs of fatigue."

"How can I have signs of fatigue when I haven't even gotten out of bed?" Steve argued.

Cheryl started gathering her things. "If it makes you guys feel any better, he is every bit this recalcitrant at work." She patted the foot under the blanket near her. "Get some rest, partner. I'll be back and we'll go over everything."

"Recalcitrant?" Steve shifted carefully, annoyed to find that his eyes were indeed aching with heaviness. "When have I ever been - ?"

Amanda kissed his cheek lightly. "You'll feel better after a little sleep."

"I feel f - "

"See you later." Cheryl raised a hand in farewell.

Steve gazed after her, blinked when her image fuzzed, then divided into two. He swallowed. Only Jesse remained. "How'd you get everybody on your side?" he grumbled.

"Personal charm." Jesse was scratching something on his chart. "I think you'll be out in about two minutes, but if you want I'll give you the remote for a little background noise."

Since Jesse was suddenly triplets, Steve bobbed a short nod and closed his eyes again. Jesse clicked the set on and handed him the remote.

"Thanks," Steve curled his hand around it, turning his head into the pillow in spite of himself. "You know, you owe me for that fifth hand…" he muttered sleepily.

"Right," Jesse's voice seemed to be floating above him now. "Put it on my imaginary bill."

Steve was still trying to think of a smart answer when Jesse seemed to fade away all together.