A/N: Gee, guys, thanks for all the helpful feedback—it means so much to me! And if you come across something (besides a little, non-repetitious grammatical error J) that you'd like to constructively criticize, I encourage you to do so! Also, I tried my best to research the effects of ether, but there isn't much out there. I can only be as true to medicine as the Internet and my mother (a nurse) allows. Thanks, kids! ~jenben
Desperate Acts
Jesse was back in the ER, working hard to save lives. Three hours into a long shift and he'd already seen six car crash victims (from four separate accidents), eleven broken bones, two gunshots, two knifings, and an attempted suicide by overdose.
"And a partridge in a pear tree," the young man sang to himself. He was taking a quick caffeine break in the doctor's lounge.
"You seem in better spirits," Amanda observed as she entered.
Jess grinned. "Why shouldn't I be? I treated 22 people this afternoon and they're all still alive. The police are taking the case seriously, so they should be able to arrest Miss. Nelson soon. Mr. and Mrs. Harrow are gonna get justice. And," he added, holding up his cup, "the coffee doesn't taste like mud today."
"It's about time you started sounding like yourself again. You had us pretty worried. Ooh, and the coffee isn't mud today."
He gave her a gentle smile. "I'm not discounting the part I played in Mr. Harrow's death. But I know Miss. Nelson's guilty and now Steve knows she's guilty and Miss. Nelson knows that we know that she's guilty. So we can kinda relax now."
Amanda stood staring at her dear friend and colleague. "Jess, I love you and I think the world of you as a doctor, but please don't explain anything to me ever again."
"I—okay."
"All right. I'm gonna go; you know how testy patients can be when you make them wait."
He nodded knowingly and watched her leave, then stopped. "Hey. Wait a minute—your patients are all dead!"
Two hours and fifteen emergencies later found Jesse's pager going off. He was wanted on the third floor. He found that odd, since the third floor housed the maternity ward and—thank you very much—he had no reason to be in a birthing room.
But medical personnel have a silly habit of not questioning their pagers, so Dr. Travis jogged up two flights of stairs and began walking down the corridor.
There was a little part of him, that voice he found himself repeatedly ignoring, that sent out warning signals. While walking down a corridor did not normally induce anxiety, it was a relatively bare section of the third floor. Moreover, he didn't know with whom he was supposed to consult and what about. He was accustomed to running all over the hospital without knowing exactly what he was doing—he was a young ER doctor with an overactive pager. But…
No, he scolded himself. You're just tired. Remember that time you were tired and you thought you saw that guy get killed but he didn't really get killed because they were just trying to make it look like he was killed……..Amanda's right. I gotta stop explaining things.
Those were Jesse's last thoughts before a sharp pain at the base of his skull sent him reeling into unconsciousness and the floor.
Pete looked down, a little shocked at what he had just done. In all his life he'd never hurt anybody, but Julie had said he would do this if he really loved her. And he really loved her. More than anything. So, shrugging off his conscience, he grabbed Jesse's legs and hauled the young doctor into a tiny supply closest. He set him propped against the wall, then went for the bottles he had carted to the third floor. Ether. Six, two-liter bottles of the stuff.
Julie had given him the instructions. In the small closet, with no ventilation, the ether would stop his respiration. Should he awaken before it did that, it would also knock him back out. Moreover, the door locked from the outside, so he wouldn't be able to get out. It was all very simple. Just unnecessary. If only Julie would leave—they could get away with no problem. But she wouldn't. And Pete would do anything for Julie.
Breaking the bottles on the floor, Pete leapt out of the room, slammed the door, and was gone from the deserted corridor.
"Have you seen Jesse?"
"Yeah, a little over two hours ago in the lounge. Why?"
"Steve got those financial reports from the brokerage company; over five million in funds are missing. They're being traced right now, but everything's haywire. It looks like Miss. Nelson is trying to not only cover her tracks, but send the accountants all over the world looking for that money."
Amanda smiled. "It looks like he's on his way to arresting her."
"I wanted to give Jess the good news. If you see him first, let him know, won't you?"
"Of course! He'll be thrilled."
Before they could continue their conversation, Mark's pager went off. "I'll see you at dinner tonight—at the beach house?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
Not two minutes after Pete closed the door, Jesse woke up. His head hurt worse than…well, worse than the last time somebody had knocked him unconscious. Why was that always happening?
Clutching his throbbing skull, it took a second for him to realize that he was choking. Something burned his lungs. But what on Earth was it? And why was he beginning to feel so buzzed? He managed to get to his feet, but it was an effort. What…what…was that ether?
That was when the side effects started to really kick in. First his motor skills abandoned him and he fell to his knees. Then he tried to call for help, but the only words that came out were complete gibberish. He felt euphoric, but angry that his attempts to get help were failing miserably. Why wouldn't his body cooperate?
Jolts of energy were flowing up and down his spine. The room blurred, spun, and no matter how hard he tried to get up, it was as though his brain had lost complete communication with his body. The ceiling lights flashed like lightening. Jesse avoided drugs, and he was now certain that had been a wise decision. Through out it all, he continued chocking on the ether, unable to get the necessary oxygen.
Before he could even grasp the great danger the situation posed, he found the floor coming closer and closer until it smacked him in the face and he was unconscious again.
Moments later, Jesse's went into repertory arrest with no one around to call the code.