I'm very well aware of the fact you all hate me. But please: First read, then review, then start throwing your stuff after me. At the bottom you'll find an Author's Note with a honest apologize for the state of the story. Just thought that after this delay, you may rather want to read on than being bored with my excuses. Thanks for all the reviews I got for the first two chapters, I'm sorry that I disappointed your expectations.
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Once again checking over the functions of the machines that kept the little boy alive, Jesse sighed in frustration. There was physically no way that Jimmy would ever regain concussioness. The young doctor's gaze wandered over the limb form in the bed, then dropped for a second, and focussing on the ground Jesse left the room and shut the door. Outside he threw another quick glance through the window, before he lowered his head to fill out the chart. But he simply wasn't able to concentrate on the paper work. The thoughts of the young boy whose life had been in his hands were still continuing to keep his mind busy. The boy whose life he had rescued physically, but with what kind of result?
It had been all for nothing. Secretly Jesse couldn't help but feeling that he would have spared a lot of people lots of pain if he had ended up all this when there was still a chance to do it. Before all this had turned into that long endless sleep which it was only medical because sleep usually is interrupted by waking up. But not in this case. In Jimmy's case there was only one way out of the sleep. Death.
"Jesse Travis, are you listening to me?", a well-known voice inquired and caused Jesse to jump about one feet into the air. He whirled around only to face Mark who seemed to have been standing next to him for quite a while without being noticed by him.
"Woah, Mark, it's you...", he said, sounding puzzled.
Mark frowned. "It's been me for the whole past minute. Haven't you heard me?" He scutinisized his friend, concernedly.
"Well...urm...no...", Jesse admitted, blushing. "I was thinking..."
Mark's look immediatly lost its confusion while it took on a much softer, yet also more worried expression. His head swayed to the door of the room Jesse had just exited. "Of Jimmy Harris?"
The younger man nodded his head. "Yeah...I dunno...I just wish..."
Guessing to know what Jesse was so eager about, Mark put an assuring hand on his best friend's shoulder. "You did everything you could to keep him alive..."
Jesse nodded his head in sad realization. "Yeah...I just wish I hadn't...I could've brought this to an end..." By the time the words had left his mouth Jesse found that he had fully counted with the derogating look that he earned from his mentor's normally so understanding and calm expression.
Mark gasped in disbelief. He simply wasn't sure if he could trust his ears. "Jesse...", he mumbled, only slowly becoming aware of the horror he felt. However, he tried to regain his speech, no matter how awkward he suddenly felt towards the man he had always thought he would know like a son. "You don't mean that...I know, you don't..."
By the time he said so, Mark got a grib on Jesse's arm which, as the younger doctor noticed, was more intense, almost threatening compared to all of Mark's gestures towards him before this. "You have no idea..." Those words hit the young doctor like a baseball bat. Not only that he was scared of Mark more than ever he could remember, he also couldn't recall his friend ever being so quick-judging.
He had thought that, if anyone would understand how he was feeling right now, it would be Mark. Disappointment suddenly rose in him, at the same time he cursed himself for ever revealing his thoughts to Mark. He had his friend's opinion now. He had no idea. With a fast movement Jesse tore away from his friend's hand, bringing himself into a secure distance, a gesture that had something of a difficult child to the older doctor who only slowly considered how harsh he had sounded.
As they had the trait of character to interrupt any kind of friendly discussion or a bad quarrel, a pager also now went off to disturb that awkward scene between the two doctors, the two friends, who simply stared at each other, both facing a certain icyness they didn't know and didn't like in each other's expressions.
Jesse switched off his pager, murmured a dismissing:"Excuse me!", and headed for the ER, and Mark, if he wanted or not, had to let him pass, watching his friend's back in quiet horror. Looking back, he understood his own reaction even less than he did Jesse's. By the time he had seen that honesty in his protégé's eyes, that acknowledged his interpretation of Jesse's words, something inside him had simply snapped.
However, Mark felt that he had badly over-reacted. He would apologize to his friend when he was back from the ER.
Stomping into the ER, Dr Travis was near something that wasn't rage, yet an unflattering mix of confusion, depression and nervousity. He had told Mark all this because he had thought that he would understand. Jesse hadn't expected anyone to approve this, in any other case he probably wouldn't have himself, nevertheless he had believed Mark would listen to him. And that was, as Jesse suddenly realized, the one thing that had scared him mostly. That Mark hadn't even made an attempt of understanding, his reaction, that way he had looked at Jesse had been just resolut and final.
Jesse inwardly smiled sarcastically. Thereby it had only been a thought, spoken out. No deed, no intention had been behind it, apart from maybe the intention to let out some frustration that the young doctor had been aware of ever since the moment Mr Harris glare had stroke him first.
"What have we got?", he asked his routine questions, still being completely absent-minded.
"Male, white, early sixties, broke down on the street...", the EMT answered, noticing the doctor's mental absense, nevertheless he was too tired himself to be surprised by that.
Wheeling the patient into the trauma room, Jesse threw a quick glance at his patient, gave some half-hearted commands to the nurses, while his mind mechanically ruled out everything that could be helpful for the right diagnosis. Food poisoning? Heart attack? You have no idea... Stroke? Infection? You have no idea... Heat shock? Simple exhaustion? You have no idea...
The more Jesse wanted to forget this argument with Mark, the more he told himself that it had only been a stupid misunderstanding, the less he believed he was right. There was more behind it, more behind Mark's reaction that he wasn't able to understand. And being honest to himself he hadn't given much of an effort to understand. He had only wanted to be understood.
"You could at least say 'hello', Jesse!", said a weak, somewhat sadly amused voice next him. At first Jesse didn't know where it came from, when he heard his name, he was not too sure if it had really been there or just in his head. But his confusion didn't keep him from looking around searchingly. His gaze came to a hold on the man on the stretcher who seemed to have watched him all the time Jesse had been lost in his thoughts.
The young doctor gasped for air. "Phillip?!", it slipped out of him while his eyes widened slowly. It was unbelievable. That man before him was Dr Phillip Morton, once Head of the ER at the Minnesota County Hospital, the man who had once been his teacher, the man who had...killed his own daughter. Not even noticing he did so, Jesse closed his eyes for a moment, listening to his pulse. What was it after all those years that made him nervous about this man, more than nervous, Phillip still scared him as he had then.
Thereby he didn't look like someone to be scared of. He was a fragile person with also transparent pale skin, thin, smaller than Jesse remembered him. He had aged, indeed, seemingly it had been twenty years within ten. That was why his former student hadn't recognized him. Phil didn't have much of his former physical self left. Mentally though, he was still the calm, distanced person he had been ever since. "Right, it's me." He raised his eyebrows at Jesse and smiled wryly. "There is a proverb, saying that men always meet twice in life...I'm slowly getting the meaning of it..."
"Yeah...", Jesse replied reservedly and turned around to the nurse. "Okay, I want a blood analysis, a catscan and..."
"You can spare yourself and your staff the whole circus. I will tell you what it is...", Phillip murmured grumpily.
Jesse hesitated for a moment before he closed the chart and stuck his pen back into the pocket of his white jacket. Then he stepped closer to the stretcher, careful to keep distance, but near enough that no one else apart from Morton could hear him. "It's Leukemia, isn't it?", he asked earnestly.
Phillip nodded. "Late stage...too late, I guess...", he added quietly.
Jesse understood that this was all that had to be said. An oh so powerful disease had found another victim.
The younger doctor turned away from his patient and talked the nurse behind him in undertone. Then he turned back to his patient and smiled forcedly at him before he left the room.
Heading back to the reception desk, a shudder ran down Jesse's spine. He had never acted like that before. He hadn't acted like himself. He hadn't acted like the doctor he wanted to be and usually was. When the hell had everything started to work against him. 'When have I started to hate myself for what I do', Jesse asked himself. For now he shouldn't get an answer since a look at his chart reminded him of something else that would only let grow the mispleasure he felt now, he knew that.
"Hey Doc!", Potts greeted him, smiling friendly.
Jesse looked up and smiled back, again it seemed forced. "Hey, Mike...how was lunch?"
Michael waved it away with one gesture. "You're really asking me that?! Have you ever eaten in that cantine?!"
Jesse chuckled. "Okay, I know what you mean...listen, you talked to Mrs Harris, the li'l boy's mother earlier, didn't you?"
Michael acknowledged that. "Yeah, kinda...you know, she cried mostly. Poor woman..."
"I need to talk to her. Maybe it would be good if you joined me, I mean, she knows you..."
"Okay, no prob..."
"Then let's go..."
They found Mrs Harris in front of her son's ICU room, where she stood her head leaned against the window and stared at Jimmy's limp form in the bed. Her face was covered with tears, the water sparkled on her skin and was reflected by the glass of the window. The two doctors approached her from the side and she only noticed them when they came to a hold directly in front of her.
Only reluctantly she tore her gaze away from her child to face the two men in scrubs and white coats. "Hello", she mumbled and bowed her head when she said, "I'm sorry, I can't remember your names."
Jesse gave her a pitiful look and shook his head. "Never mind, Mrs Harris. I'm Dr Travis and this is Michael Potts, an intern here. Mrs Harris, I really don't want to bother you, but we need to talk to you about an important matter..."
She nodded immediatly. "Oh, I need to talk to you, too, Doctor...please..."
Jesse shrugged, not really knowing what was expecting him, but he was willing to listen. The young woman –she was even younger than Jesse, not quite still matching Michaels age though- took a deep breath and used the back of her right hand to wipe the tears out of her face. "I...I...", she started off and paused again. "Oh, my God, this is so hard...I'm sorry..."
Michael felt that he should say something. He had seen her crying earlier and felt great pity for her. "You don't have to be sorry. We understand that this is hard for you..."
She swallowed and looked at the two of them. "Dr Travis...I want to apologize that my husband became so brutal. I mean, you rescued my son, I'm so grateful for that...I...I...I don't know how to thank you..."
Jesse didn't answer and felt simply guilty. He hadn't rescued that boy. All he had done was to make all this even worse than it had been already. He had done what he had to do. He had done no harm. And there it was again, that question. 'When have I started to hate all this?'
Mrs Harris sobbed quietly and turned back to the window, watching Jimmy through it. "He looks so peaceful...as though he is sleeping...he is going to wake up again, isn't he?..."
Jesse took a deep breath. "Maybe we should have a seat", he suggested while leading the girl to a group of waiting chairs where they both sat down while Michael stayed standing. "Missus Harris, I...", now it was up to Jesse to stutter. "Unfortunately I have to tell you that at the moment the machines are keeping your son alive. And right now I can tell you for sure that the chances that Jimmy may wake up again..."
Her eyes had followed his words floading into the room, passing by, they had caught each of them, held fast to them.
"...are practically zero..."
She stared at him, plainly, her gaze saying more than thousands of words. Neither Jesse nor Michael knew what to do or say. There wasn't a medical prescription for that. "No...", Mrs Harris mumbled, massaging her fingers somewhat intensly. "No, this can't be true..."
Jesse moisted his lips, he still had the most important thing to sort out. "Mrs Harris....I know that must be horrible for you, but consindering things as they are now, I have to ask you that. Since you are Jimmy's mother it's your decision wether we should stop the machines or not..."
She winced. "My decision? You want me to tell you if my son should die or not...", the horror was clearly evident in her eyes.
Jesse nodded. "I'm sorry, yes, I need to ask you that. No matter what you tell me, I will do what you want. But please take your time to dec...."
'Decide' he had wanted to say, but Jimmy's mother had interrupted him already with a firm "No!"
"Sorry?"
She shook his head. "Jimmy isn't going to die! I want you to keep him alive. No matter what, okay? My son is going to live!"
Jesse closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, he saw in quiet shock how Michael's fingers had clenched so tightly that the knuckles were already white. "Lady...", the intern said determinedly, "Are you sure? I mean, do you really want to put your son through more angony? You heard what Dr Travis said, so why do you want to put Jimmy through this? How can you be so darn selfish!?", he exclaimed, furiousity taking the better part of him that the resident had problems to keep him calm.
"Michael! Stop that!", commanded Jesse, shooting the younger man a sharp glare. "It's her decision!", he added through gritted teeth. Michael shrugged angrily, the turned around on his heel and went away.
Jesse looked to Mrs Harris apologetically. "I'm sorry...", he stated, biting on his lips when he saw her tears flowding again. That was all the support he could give and he knew that the woman probably sensed that he didn't like that decision either. But what kind of a choice did he have than to accept it?
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The syringe felt cold between his fingers, even through the rubber gloves he could feel the astonishing impact of the little viole. The strength to kill. To release. He knew it was risky, but it somehow didn't feel wrong to him. Not even when he injected to morphine into the drip.
The sound of the flatline made him smile. It was better this way, that was for sure. But now he had to hurry to not to get caught. It was truly good feeling, but it wasn't worth to be charged for it.
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Amanda swallowed hard when the door of the pathology lab opened a crack. In a few moments it would open entirely, but that was at least enough time for her to prepare for this certainly uncomfortable conversation.
In the meantime, Jesse had made sure that Amanda was where he had supposed her to be and had entered the lab, after shortly peering into it first. "Hey, you wanted to talk to me?", he asked, hardly surpressing a yawn, his way to tell her that whatever it was, she should come to terms quickly, otherwise he would fall asleep while standing in front of her desk. As often Jesse hadn't got much sleep during his night shift and he was now dead tired.
"You know, that one of your patients died tonight...Jimmy Harris...I'm sorry, Jess..."
He nodded remorsefully. "Yeah, me too. Flatline around eleven o'clock. We tried to stabalize him, but it was too late...seems as though the injury was worse than I've thought, probably this was going to happen sooner or later anyway...", he thought out loud, but didn't dare to tell Amanda that he thought that it maybe was the best this way. He still hadn't talked to Mark about yesterday.
Amanda run one hand over her face, then looked at him, careful not to drop her gaze, but focussing his eyes instead while she handed him a file. "The autopsy report....Jimmy died of an overdose of morphine..."
Jesse read through the front paper of the file in disbelief before he could face Amanda. "What does that mean? That...that...that someone murdered him?", he asked, unsure of his own ability to jugde the situation.
She nodded. "Yeah, it looks like that..." She told the truth.
He shook his head in pure shock. "But who would...who could..."
"I'm afraid that this is not your biggest problem now....", she murmured carefully.
Jesse frowned. "How do you mean that?"
Amanda took a deep breath. "Jesse, there is note on Jimmy's chart that gives evidence who was the last person that admistered any medications. That was signed by you...", she trailed off, when she saw him gasping.
"You...you think I've got anything to do with it?!", he stammered.
"No, of course not! But there will be an investigation and it's very likely that they will use this chart as a proof. You were the doctor in charge and they'll maybe assume that it was a mistake of yours or..."
Meeting his eyes, she saw his lips forming the word that she hadn't wanted to speak out. "Euthanasia...", Jesse said quietly. That couldn't be true. He wouldn't kill anyone. Never. No matter for what.
Amanda had put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Jesse!", she gently rubbed her hand over his shoulder. "We all know that you wouldn't do something like that. You're a good doctor and we will find another explanation for that. As soon as can I will talk to Mark..."
"Mark...", Jesse repeated dumb-foundedly. Scraps of his argument with his mentor popped up in his mind. Oh damnit!
"Mark is going to help you, Jess!!", Amanda told him, but he didn't appear to listen. All of sudden he tore away from her, as though he was fearing something. However, Amanda misinterpreted his reaction. She couldn't know what had happened between her two colleagues and friends yesterday.
"Excuse me...", Jesse mumbled and quickly made his way to the door.
"You know he is going to believe you!", Amanda cried after him, but he had already closed the door with a bump.
Outside Jesse leaned against the wall, his friend's last words still on his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to start crying. "I wouldn't be too sure...", he mumbled in despair.
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Author's Note: Well, so after this huuuuuuuuuuge delay, I'm back and this is not the last chapter, in fact I finished the story and have all chapters ready for posting. I'm really really sorry for vanishing in the underground just like that with a started story left behind. I normally wouldn't do that. But after it took me ages to get the third chappy written, I figured that it was maybe better to first finish the story and then post it in a row which I will do now. I'm really grateful for your patience and in case you're still willing to give it, I would appreciate your feedback. I promise that will never happen again. Again I can't do more but ask you for forgiveness and beg you to read on and let me know what you think!
Bye, Geo