Jesse opened his eyes. It took him a minute to get his bearings, but he
soon realized where he was. Recollections of the lounge, Marion, the
coffee, and falling into blackness all gradually came back to him. Marion.
The young, attractive doctor was sitting in a chair beside the hospital
bed.
"Good morning, Jesse. Feeling better?"
"You must love being right all the time," he murmured cynically.
"Well, you're obviously doing better. You had us worried for a while there."
This confused Jesse, who was still a bit stunned after the day's events. "What do you mean, us? You're the only one in here."
"You must have hit your head harder than I thought. You can't pass out in the hospital lounge and not expect to have all you doctor friends find out," Marion said. At that moment, Amanda Bentley, the pathologist and medical examiner at Community General, and one of Jesse's best friends, rushed in the door of Jesse's room.
"Oh, Jess! I got here as soon as I could. Are you alright?" She took a seat on Jesse's other side and tenderly brushed his brown-blond hair off of his forehead. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got run over by a bus," he murmured, his eyes barely open. "How long have I been out?"
Marion checked her watch. "A few hours, I'd say. Now that you here, Amanda, I'm going to get something from the hospital cafeteria. Either of you want anything?"
"I'm all set," Amanda replied.
"Apparently, you don't know hospital food. I'm satisfied with drinking through this needle in my arm. It tastes a lot better," Jesse laughed weakly, gesturing at the IV bag next to his head.
"I'll be careful," Marion said, also laughing, as she stood up and went out the door. Jesse smiled at her affectionately and closed his eyes. When the woman was obviously out of hearing distance, Amanda leaned over in her chair and arched her eyebrow at Jesse.
"So, Jess, what's going on between you and Marion?" she whispered.
"Nothing. We're just friends," was his pathetic excuse.
"Right. You can't fool me. I can read you like a book. How'd you meet?"
"If you must know, it was in the lounge before I passed out."
"Fate?"
"Maybe."
"Well, just make sure you know who your friends are," Amanda warned him.
Puzzled, Jesse gazed over at Amanda with a confused look on his face. "What are you trying to say?"
"I'm not saying I'm right, but-"
"Don't even say that. Look what happened the last time somebody said it," Jesse interrupted, motioning at his current and bland surroundings.
"Anyway, I can't say anything for sure. At least, not until Steve gets here. It was his idea originally."
"When you said you got here as soon as you could, you lied, didn't you?"
"More like stretching the truth," Amanda admitted sheepishly. "Oh, here they come now."
Mark Sloan, the head of internal medicine at Community General, entered the miniscule room, closely followed by his son Steve, a homicide detective of the LAPD. Jesse sat up in his bed; his spirits lifted by the arrival of his other friends.
"Hey, Steve, Mark. What's this news about Marion that Amanda's dying to tell me?" he whispered hoarsely as Amanda cringed at his word choice. He could tell he was losing his voice, probably because of his previous illness. Jesse's friends stood edgily at the foot of his hospital bed.
"I'll let you take this one, Steve," Mark said, backing up against the wall.
"Come on, Dad!" Steve complained. Mark held up his hand and shook his head, leaving his son no choice but to tell the story. "Listen, Jesse. I don't have much time, I have to be back at the station at five, but here's the news. I stopped by the lounge before I got here. See, when you passed out, the coffee you were holding spilled out onto the floor."
"Oh yeah, gravity at its finest," Jesse commented sarcastically. "Your point?"
"Well, by the time I got there, the janitorial staff still hadn't cleaned up."
"They were cleaning up after a exceptionally messy operation down in the ER," explained Mark.
"I was supposed to be working that shift," moaned Jesse, resting his forehead in the palms of his hands.
"Anyway, you know when coffee dries, it leaves a dark ring around the edge?"
"Yes. Your point?" Jesse repeated. He couldn't see where this conversation was going. He found it getting increasingly harder to focus on Steve's never-ending tale, his vision blurred, and he felt himself dozing off.
"Jesse! I won't take much longer. My point being, when I looked in the room, I noticed that the ring was white. Like some kind of drug," Steve said, lowering his tone on the final word, as if to keep someone from hearing.
Jesse stared blankly at the Steve. He heard all of the information; he heard that there were possibly drugs in his coffee, but couldn't put it all together. It was as if someone had put his mind on slow motion, on the verge of shutting down, a result of his sleeplessness. Despite the fact that he had been unconscious for hours, the young doctor felt like falling asleep at that very moment. "What are you saying, Steve?"
With a perfectly serious face, Mark replied to Jesse's question, "Jesse, it looks like someone tried to poison you."
He sat, astonished under the white linens. "Why would someone want to kill me?" he asked, his tongue feeling thick and in the way, as if he were drunk, causing him to slur his words.
"That's what we'd like to know," Amanda, brushing Jesse's hair again out of his way, said. "And what we're going to ask Marion Warhurst, the only person in the room at the time, and the as of now, the only person who could have done it."
"Good morning, Jesse. Feeling better?"
"You must love being right all the time," he murmured cynically.
"Well, you're obviously doing better. You had us worried for a while there."
This confused Jesse, who was still a bit stunned after the day's events. "What do you mean, us? You're the only one in here."
"You must have hit your head harder than I thought. You can't pass out in the hospital lounge and not expect to have all you doctor friends find out," Marion said. At that moment, Amanda Bentley, the pathologist and medical examiner at Community General, and one of Jesse's best friends, rushed in the door of Jesse's room.
"Oh, Jess! I got here as soon as I could. Are you alright?" She took a seat on Jesse's other side and tenderly brushed his brown-blond hair off of his forehead. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got run over by a bus," he murmured, his eyes barely open. "How long have I been out?"
Marion checked her watch. "A few hours, I'd say. Now that you here, Amanda, I'm going to get something from the hospital cafeteria. Either of you want anything?"
"I'm all set," Amanda replied.
"Apparently, you don't know hospital food. I'm satisfied with drinking through this needle in my arm. It tastes a lot better," Jesse laughed weakly, gesturing at the IV bag next to his head.
"I'll be careful," Marion said, also laughing, as she stood up and went out the door. Jesse smiled at her affectionately and closed his eyes. When the woman was obviously out of hearing distance, Amanda leaned over in her chair and arched her eyebrow at Jesse.
"So, Jess, what's going on between you and Marion?" she whispered.
"Nothing. We're just friends," was his pathetic excuse.
"Right. You can't fool me. I can read you like a book. How'd you meet?"
"If you must know, it was in the lounge before I passed out."
"Fate?"
"Maybe."
"Well, just make sure you know who your friends are," Amanda warned him.
Puzzled, Jesse gazed over at Amanda with a confused look on his face. "What are you trying to say?"
"I'm not saying I'm right, but-"
"Don't even say that. Look what happened the last time somebody said it," Jesse interrupted, motioning at his current and bland surroundings.
"Anyway, I can't say anything for sure. At least, not until Steve gets here. It was his idea originally."
"When you said you got here as soon as you could, you lied, didn't you?"
"More like stretching the truth," Amanda admitted sheepishly. "Oh, here they come now."
Mark Sloan, the head of internal medicine at Community General, entered the miniscule room, closely followed by his son Steve, a homicide detective of the LAPD. Jesse sat up in his bed; his spirits lifted by the arrival of his other friends.
"Hey, Steve, Mark. What's this news about Marion that Amanda's dying to tell me?" he whispered hoarsely as Amanda cringed at his word choice. He could tell he was losing his voice, probably because of his previous illness. Jesse's friends stood edgily at the foot of his hospital bed.
"I'll let you take this one, Steve," Mark said, backing up against the wall.
"Come on, Dad!" Steve complained. Mark held up his hand and shook his head, leaving his son no choice but to tell the story. "Listen, Jesse. I don't have much time, I have to be back at the station at five, but here's the news. I stopped by the lounge before I got here. See, when you passed out, the coffee you were holding spilled out onto the floor."
"Oh yeah, gravity at its finest," Jesse commented sarcastically. "Your point?"
"Well, by the time I got there, the janitorial staff still hadn't cleaned up."
"They were cleaning up after a exceptionally messy operation down in the ER," explained Mark.
"I was supposed to be working that shift," moaned Jesse, resting his forehead in the palms of his hands.
"Anyway, you know when coffee dries, it leaves a dark ring around the edge?"
"Yes. Your point?" Jesse repeated. He couldn't see where this conversation was going. He found it getting increasingly harder to focus on Steve's never-ending tale, his vision blurred, and he felt himself dozing off.
"Jesse! I won't take much longer. My point being, when I looked in the room, I noticed that the ring was white. Like some kind of drug," Steve said, lowering his tone on the final word, as if to keep someone from hearing.
Jesse stared blankly at the Steve. He heard all of the information; he heard that there were possibly drugs in his coffee, but couldn't put it all together. It was as if someone had put his mind on slow motion, on the verge of shutting down, a result of his sleeplessness. Despite the fact that he had been unconscious for hours, the young doctor felt like falling asleep at that very moment. "What are you saying, Steve?"
With a perfectly serious face, Mark replied to Jesse's question, "Jesse, it looks like someone tried to poison you."
He sat, astonished under the white linens. "Why would someone want to kill me?" he asked, his tongue feeling thick and in the way, as if he were drunk, causing him to slur his words.
"That's what we'd like to know," Amanda, brushing Jesse's hair again out of his way, said. "And what we're going to ask Marion Warhurst, the only person in the room at the time, and the as of now, the only person who could have done it."