Part 3 Relief --

Jesse had never seen Mark like this, if he wasn't witnessing it for himself he would never have believed his friend capable of such rage against another. He watched as Mark dragged the man to his feet and tried to get him to tell him what he had done with Steve and knew from the man's changing expression that it was hopeless. David Kelsey wasn't a ruthless killer, he was a college professor, Steve's abduction was part of a mental breakdown that was rapidly coming to a conclusion, the man was falling apart before his eyes. Mark would have spotted it too if he hadn't been so angry.

Jesse's eyes moved frantically around the room looking for anything else that might tell them where he had taken Steve. That was when he noticed the water on the floor, he turned to look at Kelsey and for the first time realised that the man was wearing damp clothing, a towel had fallen to the floor when Mark dragged him to his feet.

Jesse's eyes followed the trail of water to a set of glass doors , beyond which he could just make out in the moonlight the pool beyond.

"Mark," he shouted sharply, intuitively interpreting the clues, "Steve's in the pool," he continued as he set off at a sprint.

It took a moment for the shout to penetrate through the haze, a moment more for him to interpret the words, the sharp movements helping to emphasise the urgency of the comments and then Mark was reacting himself. He dropped Kelsey back onto the chair and set off at a run after Jesse.

Jesse reached the edge of the pool but there was no one in it, for a moment he thought that his intuition had been wrong but then he spotted the grey shadow in the centre. His heart leaped into his throat and he swallowed. Barely acknowledging the near panic the sight brought to his system as the words ' You're too late,' echoed in his mind, he kicked off his shoes and took a running dive into the icy water.

Mark was only a few steps behind and it took him a moment to spot the reason his friend had dived in. When he caught sight of the grey shadow in the water he froze. The strength of negative emotion, momentarily blocking all reason and reaction.

He was barely aware of the figure that appeared at his side and tried to ask him a question as he fought his way back. There was no time for this now. He had to act, had to save his son. He moved to take his shoes off, he needed to follow Jesse. The figure at his side gripped his arm firmly, his words finally penetrating.

"Dr. Sloan," the young police officer asked, recognising Mark from the briefing he'd been given. "What's going on? What is it?"

"Steve," Mark gestured towards the shadow, "He's in there, I have to get him out."

The young officer did not need any prompting. "Let me go," he said firmly, kicking off his own shoes.

Mark nodded, it made more sense, the officer was younger, fitter, he had more chance and that was all that mattered.

The young man dived into the pool and swam strongly for the point where Jesse had already disappeared below the surface.

Jesse grabbed Steve under the arms and kicked strongly, taking a deep gulp of air as soon as he was able. Surprised at how hard he had to kick to get them both to the surface, he pushed the thought aside as he turned all of his attention to the limp figure he held. Steve wasn't breathing, he needed to get him to the side to start CPR. He started to swim that way

He did not get far before he felt himself being yanked back, something was pulling on Steve. At that point the young police officer joined him at his side.

"What's wrong," the officer asked, helping to take some of the weight.

"I need to get him to the side but there's something pulling him back," Jesse said, "He's not breathing," he added, emphasising the urgency of the situation.

The officer nodded, "I'll take a look," he said, kicking under the surface of the water.

Jesse turned Steve and positioned him so that he could check his airway and then assessed his chances of starting CPR whilst still in the water, but it was taking too much effort to just to keep above the surface. As he struggled to support them both, he hoped the officer would be able to free Steve soon, every second counted.

The officer emerged from under the water and took a deep breath before muttering a curse. "He's chained to the bottom of the pool," he stated incredulously, "by his right ankle. He's used a pair of handcuffs so I should be able to get him free." All the time he was speaking he was searching through his pockets to find his key. As soon as he had it, he disappeared below the surface again.

Jesse felt the moment that the chain was released and without waiting for the officer to reemerge, he made a kick for the side.

The wait at the side of the pool seemed like an eternity. Mark watched, a small gasp escaping him as Jesse pulled Steve above the surface. Relief that he had found his son mixed in equal measure with despair that they may be too late, and he said a silent prayer as he watched and waited.

Jesse's pronouncement that Steve was not breathing, opened a chasm of despair in front of him and it took a huge effort of will not to fall into it. There was still some hope, he had to hold on to that, had to believe it. He watched with growing frustration as the two men tried to get Steve to the side, knowing that every second was precious and could literally mean life or death. As Jesse finally moved Steve in his direction he stepped closer to the side, emotion was replaced by the need to do whatever he could to save his son. He knelt reaching out his hand, waiting for that touch that could finally anchor him in either safety or despair.

Mark had been joined by two more uniformed officers, and they helped to lift Steve, gently on to the side, Mark bit back the emotion as he felt the coldness of his son's skin, a small part of his mind reminding him that cold was good in drowning cases, gave them more not less chance of survival. Then he noticed the ragged wound in Steve's side. "Oh God," he whispered and he closed his eyes briefly as the fight for control of his emotions increased. Somehow he managed to suppress them again and refocus, to not do so could mean the loss of any chance they had.

Jesse waited until he was sure that Steve was safely on the side before levering himself out, as he placed his weight on his wrist a spasm of pain shot up his arm but he ignored it, saving Steve's life was his only focus, nothing else mattered.

He quickly moved into position by Steve's head, looking up into Mark's eyes, concerned that he would find it difficult to help with his son's resuscitation, but a momentary eye contact was enough to reassure him. He didn't even bother to speak to Mark as the older doctor began the necessary compressions, he didn't have to, professional communication and trust took over at a subconscious level as the two doctors worked as a team, Jesse blew air into Steve's lungs, quietly encouraging his friend to come back to them, as he waited between breaths.

Another eternity passed and then Steve began to cough, water flooded out of his mouth as his lungs forced it up. Jesse held his own breath as he felt for a pulse, it was there, weak, but it was there.

"Steady Steve," Mark said soothingly, lifting and turning him slightly so that the water did not go straight back into his lungs, as he continued to cough weakly

Jesse couldn't help the smile of relief that touched his lips, "We've got him back," he said breathlessly, "I can feel a pulse, we've got him back."

The relief Mark felt was indescribable, Steve was still alive. It wasn't until that moment that he realised how close he had been to believing that it was all over. He nodded at his young friend, returning the smile, for a moment grateful for this small victory. They had a long way to go, but now at least there was hope.

He looked back down finally able to examine Steve more closely, the wound was clearly from a bullet which had torn through the muscle along the left side of the lower abdomen, the water had washed most of the blood away but there was a fresh trickle indicating that it was still bleeding. Someone handed him a first aid kit and he grabbed some gauze to press firmly against it.

Jesse's examination had continued down Steve's leg and he gasped in horror at the state of Steve's ankle. The pair of handcuffs were still in place. One of them had been secured around the thinnest part of the ankle and forced closed so that it dug into the flesh which was now so badly swollen that it almost obscured the metal of the cuff, the damage caused by the constant movement against the drag of the heavy chain making such a mess that even as an experienced ER doctor, Jesse wasn't sure where to start.

"I'm sorry," the young officer who had been in the pool with Jesse spoke from his side. "I didn't know how to release that one without causing more damage."

Jesse looked up at him, "It's OK," he said, "You did the right thing." Jesse wouldn't have wanted to try to remove it without getting Steve stabilised first.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as the EMTs arrived. Mark fell back, relieved to be able to relinquish Steve's care to them, as the tenuous damn he had built to block the emotions, threatened to spill over. He stood, suddenly needing air, his knees weak as his mind tried to acknowledge how close they had come to failure, trying to ignore his medical knowledge which told him failure was still a very real possibility. He watched Jesse work efficiently with the paramedics, until Steve was as stable as they could get him, before transferring him to a gurney. His temperature, blood pressure and oxygen saturation were all still too low but they had done all they could here, now they needed to get him back to the hospital. He followed as they began to head for the ambulance.

As Steve was wheeled away, Jesse belatedly recognised just how many other people were around him. Police officers and forensics teams had descended on the house and pool. It was as though he had been wearing blinkers to both sight and sound for the past few minutes, his focus on his friend had been so strong . He trailed behind Mark, the headache that had somehow disappeared during the rescue returning with a vengeance, pain accompanying every shout, every flash. The noise, flashing lights and movement assaulted his senses, suddenly reaching overwhelming proportions.

Mark was about to climb into the ambulance when a cry behind him alerted him to the fact that something was wrong. He turned to see that Jesse had sunk down to his knees. For the first time he looked properly at his friend. He was soaked, and deathly pale, the bandage that bound his injured wrist was partly unfurled, the end dragging and the blanket which someone had thought to drape around the young doctor's shoulders had fallen to the ground. Mark moved closer and saw that his friend's eyes were clouded by pain and barely focussed. He knelt, "Jess," he said gently.

Jesse looked up and he forced himself to concentrate. He saw Steve being loaded into the back of the ambulance. "I'm sorry Mark," he said guiltily, "Go, you should be with Steve, I'll be fine. I guess it's just the crash and everything catching up with me."

Mark ignored Jesse's comment, resisting the urge to point out that the 'and everything' involved ignoring his own injuries and diving into freezing water to rescue his son, not to mention that it was his memory that had led them here and he who had figured that Steve was in the pool, without Jesse there was no telling how long he would have taken to reach the same conclusion and then they almost certainly would have been too late, they had come so close anyway. Mark shuddered at the thought. He had no intention of leaving Jesse anywhere. "It's OK," he said reassuringly, "We need to get you to the hospital too, get you checked out." He picked up the blanket and wrapped it around Jesse's shoulders helping him to his feet.

--

Mark sat in the doctor's lounge allowing his mind to drift, as he waited for news. He wasn't entirely sure how he came to be there or who had poured the cup of cold coffee that he held in his hand. His last clear recollection was of helping Jesse into the ambulance, beyond that there were flashes of the journey, Steve's cold, pale, unmoving form, the readouts on the equipment that monitored his heart rate and breathing, the paramedic applying another IV, Jesse sitting slightly dazed next to him, and then he was here. There must have been stages in between, arriving at the hospital, checking that Steve and Jesse were both being taken care of, being asked to go and wait whilst his son was treated. It must have happened but he couldn't recall any of it.

He looked down at the cup and considered drinking but lifting it to his mouth seemed like too much effort. The experiences of the day had drained him physically and emotionally. He stared into the dark liquid not even sure that he had the energy to think.

A gentle hand rested on his, coaxing the cup away, replacing it with a steaming mug of fresh coffee. "Mark," an equally gentle voice said, though it was edged with concern.

Mark looked up into soft brown eyes, realising from her expression that it was not the first time Amanda had spoken to him, but he hadn't heard her.

"Drink this," she continued, "You've been nursing that last cup for over an hour now."

"Thanks," Mark replied, forcing himself to take a sip from the cup. It took all of his attention for a moment, it wasn't until Amanda spoke his name again that he realised that the cup was back on the table and he was once more staring down at it. He looked up and forced his attention back to the room. "Steve?" he asked, his voice a trembling mixture of hope and fear.

There were times when he hated being a doctor, hated knowing the possible prognosis, the list of complications that could arise, he longed for the bliss of ignorance, for the ability to trust in the 'miracles' that doctors could perform. A trust that relatives often afforded him. They did not need to know what could go wrong unless it did, but he did not have that luxury, he knew only too well the complications that could arise from Steve's injuries, the hypothermia, the near drowning. He realised now why he had been blocking out his thoughts, sitting here trying not to think until he knew, until he had some definite news on his son's condition, to block out all of the possible negative outcomes. He held his breath as he waited for her answer.

"He's still in surgery, but he's holding his own," she said, reassuringly, "I went up to check and they have Dr. Rodenski looking at his ankle. Dr. Taylor is going to come straight here when he's finished."

Mark nodded, relaxing slightly, Steve was getting the best possible care and the fact that he had made it this far was encouraging in itself.

"I've just come from Jesse's room," Amanda began.

Mark let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and an exclamation and lowered the cup he had been about to take a drink from. He felt a sudden pang of guilt that he hadn't followed Jesse's care more closely, instead of sitting here he could have been doing something more practical, helping the young doctor.

Dammit he had saved Steve's life, he deserved better than being left alone, and even if he hadn't helped to save Steve, Mark felt a responsibility and a closeness to the young doctor that made him more like family than just a friend and colleague "How is he?"

Amanda noticed the look of guilt as it passed across Mark's face. She rested her hand on his. "He's going to be fine," she started with that reassurance first before continuing with a run down of Jesse's injuries, there was no point in trying to hide anything from Mark, although she knew he had enough to worry about with Steve, since he would no doubt check the young doctors chart as soon as he got the chance. "He's been admitted for observation with a mild concussion, he also has a nice new cast because two of the bones in his wrist were broken and he has severe bruising down his right side and across his chest from the impact and his seatbelt."

Mark stared at her for a moment as the list of injuries sank in, concussion, he had suspected that, but not that the wrist was broken, and he hadn't even considered the bruising, although he'd seen the severity of the crash, he should have suspected. but Jesse had said nothing, hadn't complained, had just continued to help.

Mark stood abruptly, "I have to see him," he said, looking expectantly at her.

Startled by Mark's sudden animation, Amanda nevertheless understood what the expectant expression was for. "Room 312," she supplied, regretting elaborating on Jesse's condition, the last thing Mark needed was more stress after the events of the day, but she really hadn't expected such an extreme reaction, "but why the urgency?" She asked, softly, "He is going to be all right they're just keeping him as a precaution."

Mark let out a sigh. "I know it's just.." He tried to put into words the sudden turmoil of emotion that he felt. He'd been so focussed on finding Steve and grateful for Jesse's help that he hadn't even noticed Jesse's own injuries, hadn't even asked how he was feeling. Jesse had ignored his own discomfort to help find Steve, to help rescue him, he had saved Steve's life. Despite the reasoning in his head Mark found it difficult to articulate his feelings. "I need to apologise," he said, quietly, "he helped me find Steve, helped pull him out of the water and I didn't once." he faltered his voice tailing off.

"It's OK," Amanda said, she stood and placed a hand on his shoulder, as she spoke. "He understands how worried you were about Steve, he was too."

Mark paused for a moment, before looking her in the eye, it was good to have such close friends, ones that you could rely on whatever the crisis. "I still need to see him," he said, knowing that she would understand.

--

Mark pushed the door to Jesse's room. The young doctor, had his eyes closed, his cast resting on top of the covers. Mark had a moment to observe the blue black bruising on his right temple before his friend's eyes opened and a slight smile of recognition touched his features.

"Mark," Jesse said, shifting to a slightly more upright position on the raised bed, "How's Steve?"

Mark almost smiled at the question, if Steve's condition had been more certain, he would have done. Amanda was right, Jesse understood, he understood the close bond between father and son, understood why Mark's focus had been on Steve to the exclusion of all else. He looked affectionately at the young doctor who had become such a large part of both of their lives, as he attempted to answer his question. "He's stable but he's not out of surgery yet."

Jesse nodded, it was the answer he had been expecting, having seen the state of Steve's ankle. That was part of the reason why he had been lying awake instead of sleeping, it was difficult to get the images of the crash, Steve's abduction, and how they had finally found him out of his head. He looked down at the bed as the images returned.

"Jess," Mark said, meaning to apologise for not recognising his injuries, for not insisting that Jesse come to the hospital and get checked out earlier, but they both knew that if he had done that they would not have found Steve alive, meaning to express his gratitude that Jesse had stayed, had helped find and then rescue Steve, but, as the young doctor's eyes met his, only two words came out. "Thank you," he said and knew that he did not have to say more, did not need to explain himself.

Jesse smiled, "He would have done the same for me," he replied, safe in the knowledge that the sentiment was true.

--

Mark was halfway through opening the door to Steve's room when he heard his son's voice and stopped, he didn't mean to eavesdrop but somehow found himself unable to continue in, unable to walk away, Steve was giving his statement to Cheryl, and an irresistible mixture of curiosity and concern kept him listening as Steve described what had happened to him.

Given the traumas that Steve had suffered he hadn't wanted to ask about it too much, knowing that Steve would open up if and when he was ready, but in the last two days as his strength had been returning he hadn't seemed to want to say much about it. Focussing much of his conversation, when he wasn't sleeping, on the skin grafts and physiotherapy that he needed to get his ankle back to fully functioning, and also the seemingly inevitable question about when he would be able to get home, even before he had had the strength to lift his head off the pillow. That more than anything else had provided Mark with the reassurance that Steve would be fine, but Mark had still been curious as to what had happened in the time between Steve's abduction and when they had found him.

"..Once I was out of the car, he stopped and made me put my hands behind my back, he cuffed me and pushed me towards a white van. As we reached it he put a hood of some kind, I think it was a sack, it was rough, over my head. He then pushed me forward so that I fell into the back. He pushed my legs up and I heard the door slamming and then the engine starting, he drove off at a fair speed." Steve paused, he was trying to keep his voice clear and even, he had given enough statements and depositions in his time to know what details were needed, but he was having difficulty separating the emotion from the memories.

The feeling of helplessness that returned now with the memory of sliding around the back of the van was almost overwhelming in its intensity. Steve was used to being in control, used to being able to affect his own destiny. Blind and cuffed, still suffering from the shock of the crash, he hadn't even been able to prevent himself from slamming into the sides as it rounded the bends.

"Steve," Cheryl prompted when the pause became a little too long.

He looked up and met her gaze, used the familiar sight to reassure himself that it was only a memory, he took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing, he hadn't got to the worst part yet. "I'm not sure how long he drove for, it seemed like a long time. When he finally stopped he left me in the van, said he had things to prepare."

He looked down at the bed, the next part was going to be much harder to get through.

"Any idea how long for?" Cheryl asked.

Steve thought about it, he shrugged, "Ten, fifteen minutes maybe, I don't think it was more."

Cheryl nodded, "Then what?"

"He pulled me out and made me walk round to the back of the house, he kept the hood on and I could feel the gun in my side." Steve could feel his heart rate increasing, as he remembered the stumbled journey, could virtually smell the musty material mixed, despite the cold, with his own sweat as adrenaline coursed through his system, increasing the intensity of every sensation, including the fear. "He stopped me and pulled the hood off, stepping back at the same time so that I couldn't try anything. He kept the gun on me, pointing at my chest. There was." Steve's voice trailed off for a moment as a clear image of David Kelsey staring at him formed, when he continued there was a slight shake to his voice that only those who knew him well would pick up on. "There was the strangest expression on his face, like he wasn't really there."

Steve knew that the description was wholly inadequate, he had arrested a lot of people in his time who had been mentally unstable or high on various substances but he had never seen anything like the expression on David Kelsey's face. He knew in that moment that the man intended to kill him, but that that act had no more significance to him than doing the dishes. He was totally detached from the reality of what he was doing and that in itself was more frightening than facing a killer with intent. How did you reason with a man who did not acknowledge what he was doing. Nonetheless, Steve had tried.

"I tried to talk to him, I asked him what he was doing, tried to get him to talk to me, but he ignored me, he just spoke to himself as though I wasn't there."

"Do you remember what he said?" Cheryl asked, scrutinising her partner, he had asked her to come and take his statement but she was beginning to wonder if he'd really been ready to relive it all again.

"He just kept muttering that it had to be right, all the details had to be right and then." again Steve's voice trailed off.

"Steve?" Cheryl prompted.

He looked up at her and shook his head slightly to clear it. "And then he shot me," he stated quietly. He drew in a deep breath and Cheryl noted that he was considerably paler than when they had started.

"Do you remember what happened next?"

Steve nodded and continued, his voice still quiet. "I fell backwards, I don't really remember hitting the ground, or Kelsey coming over to me but he must have done because my hands were free, I was holding my side, so he must have undone the cuffs and." he looked down at his ankle, remembering the second source of pain when the cuffs cut into his leg.

"Steve?" This time there was no immediate response, Steve was staring at his still heavily bandaged ankle. "Steve?" She tried a little louder. He turned to look at her and she saw a momentary confusion on his face as he tried to remember why she was there. Then his expression cleared.

"Sorry I drifted off for a moment, where were we?"

Cheryl looked critically at him. "Look Steve there's no rush for this, given Kelsey's mental state, it's unlikely this will ever go to trial, why don't I come back tomorrow."

"No," the interruption was sharper than he'd intended but he really didn't want to have to go through this more than once, "I'm fine let's just get this over with."

"OK," Cheryl replied, "What happened after he shot you?"

"He put one of the cuffs around my ankle and then the next thing I remember is the water hitting my face and going under. I kicked my way back to the surface but it was all I could do to get a breath before I was pulled under again. I thought I was going to drown there and then, but I eventually managed to surface and tread water." Steve swallowed against the bubbling fear that the memory was forcing to the surface. "Kelsey was back on the side by then looking down at me. He told me about the chain that would stop me from reaching the side and then.and then he left me to drown." Steve did not mention the almost total panic that had gripped him as Kelsey had walked away, the pain and shock had weakened his defences and the fear of dying slowly, of dying alone had taken hold. He had tried to pull against the chain, had ignored the pain to swim down to see if there was any way it would come free but had quickly confirmed there was no escape. He couldn't put any of that into words, couldn't possibly explain his emotions as he'd tried to stay alive. "I had to tread water to stay above the surface, so I did for as long as I could." He rested his head back on the pillow with a slight sigh that he had made it to the end, at least the end of what he was prepared to tell. "You'll have to ask my dad and Jesse about the rest."

Cheryl smiled at her partner, "I've already got both of their statements." She stood, wary of how tired Steve was looking. "You get some rest, I'll get this typed up and bring it by tomorrow for you to sign."

Steve smiled back, "Hey do you think we can make this a regular thing. You doing all of the paperwork for me."

Cheryl's grin widened. "Nope, this service is strictly limited to occasions when you are kidnapped at gunpoint," she stated, as she moved towards the door "and when you're out of here I'll expect a plate of ribs in lieu of payment. Now, get yourself some sleep Sloan, I'd quite like my partner back in the not too distant future," she added, and with a last smile moved out into the hall.

"Dr. Sloan," she said, as she almost tripped over Mark on leaving the room.

"Hi," Mark replied, a slightly guilty expression on his face.

It did not take Cheryl's detective skills to figure out that he had been listening, "You heard Steve's statement huh?"

Mark nodded, he had heard every word and he was having a difficult time dealing with the emotions that it invoked. The image of his son chained to the bottom of the pool, injured and alone, waiting to die, was more than he could bear and he had to suppress it. Had to remind himself that Steve had survived and was going to be fine. It would take time but he would make a full recovery. It took him a moment to realise that Cheryl was speaking again.

"Even without it we have enough forensics evidence to convict Professor Kelsey several times over. Not, as I said to Steve, that I think that this will ever make it to trial. The hospital shrink says he's in a severe dissociative state, unlikely to recover." She paused looking back at Steve's door. "I'm just glad Steve's going to be all right, thanks to you and Dr. Travis." She looked Mark directly in the eye. "It was too close," she said, her eyes welled with unshed tears, betraying the emotion that she had been controlling for Steve's sake.

Mark put his hand on her shoulder for a moment and gave a gentle squeeze. "Yes it was," he replied softly.

"Well forgive me," she said, holding up her notepad, "I'd better get this back to the station."

Mark watched her leave. It was good to know that his son worked with people who cared so much about him. He waited until she was out of sight before pushing Steve's door open.

Steve was staring at the far wall, still trying to sort through the emotional responses that were so closely tied to his memories. He didn't look up until Mark was next to the bed. "You heard it all." It was a statement not a question.

"I'm sorry I." Mark started to apologise.

"No, it's OK," Steve interrupted, "I knew you were curious. I'm glad you know." He looked down at the blanket.

"Do you want to talk some more about it?"

"Yes. No.It's just.." Steve faltered. Damn, there were so many things he wanted to say. Things he thought that he'd never have the opportunity to say again and here he was, with the chance to open up and now he couldn't find the words. The emotions were so strong they built a lump in his throat and robbed his mouth of it's moisture. He swallowed. "I really thought that I was going to.." Die, his mind screamed at him, you thought you were going to die, why can't you just say it? The word wouldn't form, so he decided to try to press on. "I don't think I've ever been that afraid, I thought I'd never see you again. I didn't want. without telling you." . Still the important words wouldn't form, wouldn't leave his lips.

Mark sat on the edge of the bed and rested both hands on his son's shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. "It's OK son, you don't have to say it. I already know." It was there in his eyes, in his expression, in their every shared interaction, Mark knew that Steve loved and respected him and it had given him strength on more than one occasion. Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered once again how near he had been to losing that, Cheryl had been right, it had been far too close.

Steve cursed the reserved part of him that somehow wouldn't allow him to articulate his feelings. He leant back into the pillows and felt his eyelids start to droop, it had been an exhausting afternoon.

"I'll let you get some rest," Mark said, standing.

Steve nodded, his mind already beginning to surrender to sleep, "Mm hm," he muttered shifting slightly, his eyes closing. Mark was already moving away when a sleepy voice called to him, "Dad,"

Mark turned, Steve's eyes were still closed but the next three words were clear. "I love you." Somehow as his mind surrendered to sleep, the inhibitions that stopped him from uttering the sentiments were stripped away.

Mark felt the tear tracks form on his cheeks as flashes of memories returned, Steve had never expressed his feelings well, but, from early childhood, in those few moments before he'd drifted off to sleep was always when he had told him that he loved him.

"I love you too son," Mark replied softly, as he always had, "I love you too." The repeat was for himself, Steve was already asleep.

--

"So are you going to help me clear up or are you going to just sit and watch." Steve said as he began to pick up plates from the counter. This was Steve's first night back at Bob's and he had let the rest of the staff go early in gratitude for them covering his shifts for him whilst he had been laid up.

Jesse sighed and stood. "Well since you let everyone else go home I guess I'm helping."

They worked in silence for a few minutes. Jesse watched his friend, critically, he was still limping, the damage to his ankle was going to take a while to repair but apart from that he seemed fine, at least physically. Jesse couldn't help feeling that there was some tension between them, but was unsure what it was or what he could do about it.

"Jess," Steve said, pausing from his task and waiting until his friend gave him his full attention. "There's been something I've been meaning to say ever since.I should have said something sooner I was just waiting for the right occasion, except it never seemed to come up," Steve was aware that he was beginning to ramble, he took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say thanks for pulling me out, for saving my life."

The sincerity and emotion behind the comment was out of the blue and it took Jesse a moment to process. So that was what had been bothering his friend, he had been trying to work out a way to thank him, not that it was necessary. "Hey, it's no big deal," he replied, touched by the sentiment but not entirely comfortable with the emotions it forced to the surface. His face broke into a wide grin as he deliberately lightened the tone. "I knew watching all of those episodes of 'Baywatch,' would come in handy one day."

Steve smiled back. "I suppose you watched them purely for medical research."

"Absolutely," Jesse replied heading for the kitchen.

They carried on working in companionable silence for a few more minutes. "Hey," Jesse said as an idea occurred to him, "I've got an idea as to how you can repay me for saving you."

Steve looked across at him, "Jess I could never repay." he began seriously.

Jesse's grin widened, attempting to convey to his friend that his 'idea' was not entirely serious, "Hear me out," he interrupted, "All I want you to do is next time I'm trying to impress Lucy.."

"She's the EMT you've been trying to get a date with for the last three months?" Steve returned the grin, as he realised his friend was about to embark on a round of friendly banter, something he had sorely missed whilst he had been recuperating, trying to get back to full fitness, he was almost there apart from a slight limp, but it had been hard work and he had missed this.

Jesse nodded smiling, "That's the one. If you could be there and just happen to mention my heroic rescue.."

"Heroic?" Steve questioned, raising his eyebrow.

Jesse ignored him. "Where despite my broken arm."

".wrist!"

"And concussion."

".mild.."

"I single handedly.."

"Apart from officer Hanlon, and half a dozen others."

"Pulled you from the raging ocean."

"It was a swimming pool!"

"And saved your life."

Steve looked at him, "Well the last part is true."

"Hey," Jesse said, "what's wrong with a little embellishment." He grinned again, it was so good to see his friend smiling

Steve grinned back, "OK but I think you're going a bit far with the raging ocean thing."

--

Fin

Author's note:- OK that was a deliberate challenge to myself to write a short (well compared to my others,) story. Please let me know how you think I did with it, and, once again, thank you for your reviews and your support. Every one is gratefully received.