Author's note:- Apologies to those of you following Aftermath but bits of
this story keep whizzing round my head like very annoying flies buzzing
around the room on a Summer's day, so I just had to write some more. Hope
you like it, I'm trying something new here so please let me know what you
think.
Part 2 Plot? What Plot?
Moving to point at the red scarf, had brought Jesse closer to the body and he gasped as he recognised Paul Peterson, one of the hospital porters. In his story the victim had also been a porter. He stared for a few moments more, before turning abruptly, as he tried to deal with the mixture of emotions that assaulted him.
There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that this was the scene he had described in his story, there hadn't been from the moment he had entered the trauma room. The fact that the victim was one of the hospital porters only reinforced what he already knew, and that could only mean that Peterson had been killed because of him, because of what he had written. The sense of guilt was almost overwhelming.
Mark watched his young friend as the emotions played across his face, concerned at his shocked pale complexion, he opened his mouth to say something. He knew that given the circumstances, Jesse would blame himself for this, despite the fact that he could in no way be held responsible for it. "Jess," he began.
Jesse was staring at the floor, he did not look up, even at the use of his name. "I.. I.. I'm sorry," he stammered and rushed form the room.
Steve broke off the conversation he was having into his cell phone to watch as his friend left, he exchanged a meaningful look with his father, who then hurried after the young doctor.
Jesse had made it as far as the opposite side of the hall. He knew that he couldn't stay in the room any longer but once he was outside, he really didn't know where to go. He was still trying to make up his mind when Mark caught up to him. He felt the hand on his shoulder as he heard the familiar tones of his mentor. "Jess," Mark said, the concern evident, "Are you all right?" He asked, knowing that the answer was no, but needing a place to start to get the young doctor talking.
This time Jesse turned to look at him. "Yes. no," he replied, the confusion evident even without the words. "I mean I.." he looked into Mark's eyes. "That man in there is dead because of me."
"Now come on Jess," Mark returned his gaze. "We don't know that, just because it seems to fit what you wrote in your story, doesn't mean that you are responsible. It could all be a coincidence.."
"No," Jesse interrupted slightly more sharply than he'd intended. He leant back against the wall and stared at the floor, letting out a long slow breath to try to calm himself. He looked back up. "you and Amanda spotted it immediately as well. It's just too close to be a coincidence."
Reluctantly Mark nodded, he had hoped that Jesse would accept his reassurances at face value but he had known even as he said it that it was unlikely. Jesse was too astute for that. The young doctor was staring at the floor again, as though gazing at it would give him some sort of comfort.
"All right," Mark conceded, "but even if it isn't a coincidence, there is still nothing you can be held responsible for. If someone has used your story..."
Jesse reacted to the word 'if' "Mark, someone has used it and because of it they've killed someone and."
"And it's still not your fault." Mark stated, more firmly this time.
Jesse thought about Mark's statement, but, however he looked at it, he couldn't get past the guilt. He nodded towards the trauma room door. "Try telling Peterson that," he said pushing himself off the wall. "I need to get some coffee," he added walking off towrds the doctor's lounge.
Mark watched him leave. He considered following him but knew that speaking to him wouldn't do any good at the moment. Jesse had been clearly shocked by the events and needed time to think things through, besides, Mark needed his own time for consideration of what to say.
Mark was still standing in the hallway a few minutes later, deep in thought, when Steve joined him. "Dad?"
Mark turned as the familiar voice broke his train of thought, and gave his son an acknowledging smile.
"OK, the crime scene team are here and I've got a couple of officers interviewing the staff to see if anyone saw anything." Steve said closing his notebook and putting it in his pocket.
Mark looked at his son. "Tell me, who found the body?"
"That was Dr. Collins, he was." Steve began.
"Paged to come to the Trauma room, presumably by the killer." Mark finished for him.
"That's what happened in Jess' story?" Steve asked.
"Different name, but one of the ER doctors," Mark replied, "so, yes."
Steve looked around. "Do you know where Jess went?" He asked. "I need to ask him a few questions about this story of his."
"He went to the doctor's lounge," Mark replied, "but can't this wait, he's pretty shaken up at the moment."
"I know," Steve said sympathetically, "but there may be something in his story that we can use to help catch whoever did this, so the sooner I get to read it the better." Steve did not question that the murder and Jesse's story were related. Simply the reactions of his friends and his father had been enough to convince him.
They found Jesse sitting at one of the tables staring vacantly at the wall. He had a mug of coffee in his hand but wasn't drinking. "Jess," Steve said gently, attracting the young doctor's attention. "I was.."
He got no further, as at that moment the alarm that signalled a major incident interrupted him.
Jesse stood as all available staff were called to the ER. He looked apologetically at Steve. "Whatever it is it's going to have to wait," he said as he headed for the door with Mark moments ahead of him.
"What have we got?" Mark asked one of the nurses, as Amanda emerged from the trauma room to join them.
"Some sort of gas explosion in a local diner," the nurse replied, "We've got four severe trauma cases on the way in, with more to follow."
This time when all the colour drained from Jesse's face there was no one watching to see it. Mark and Amanda were in front of him and he had his back to Steve, who had followed them from the lounge.
Steve did, however, see his knees start to buckle and just heard the barely audible "Oh God!" that Jesse uttered before he fell. He moved in to catch his friend.
"Dad," Steve called urgently and both Mark and Amanda were instantly at Jesse's side.
"Let's get him back into the doctor's lounge," Mark said, helping to support him as they moved back in the direction they had come .
Jesse had felt himself begin to fall as the implications of the nurses words hit him, more people injured, possibly dead. A myriad of thoughts feelings and emotions had assaulted his mind and, overwhelmed, it had simply shut down.
He became vaguely aware of the movement first, of strong hands supporting him as he was half carried back to the lounge, then of voices and lights but his brain still wasn't processing the sensory input properly. It was like viewing the world around through a giant kaliedoscope.
"Something else from his story?" Steve asked as he helped his friend to rest back on the couch.
"Yes," Amanda replied as Mark gave Jesse a quick examination. "The murder investigation is interrupted when the ER has to deal with a major incident."
"Let me guess," Steve said with a growing sense of unease, "a gas explosion in a diner."
Amanda nodded grimly.
Steve looked sympathetically down at his friend, like the murder scene, it was all too much to be coincidence and Steve knew that Jesse would feel responsible for what was happening.
"He's fine he just fainted," Mark pronounced, looking up at his son. "Steve could you stay with him? Amanda and I need to get back to the ER, especially since we're one trauma room down."
"Sure," Steve said, sitting down. "I'll look after him."
Mark nodded gratefully and he and Amanda hurried off.
It took another couple of minutes before Jesse's eyes focused on the concerned face of his best friend. "Steve, what.." he said, moving forward and regretting it as the world shifted uncomfortably.
"Hey take it easy," Steve said, grabbing his shoulder to steady him. "It's OK you just lost it there for a moment, just take a few deep breaths."
Jesse breathed in deeply. "Hey, who's the doctor here?" he asked smiling.
"You are," Steve admitted, "But I'm not the one who just fainted."
"Fainted?" Jesse repeated his brow creasing in confusion. "What on earth made me.." and then the crushing reality of the situation returned "Oh," he finished quietly. He took a moment before he turned to look Steve in the eye. "How long was I out?"
"Just a couple of minutes," Steve replied, watching his friend carefully, grateful that some of the colour was starting to return to his cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Jesse began, feeling the need to apologise. Fainting just wasn't something that grown men did. "It's just the gas explosion it's.." he continued, clearly agitated.
"I know, it's another element of your story," Steve interrupted, keeping his voice calm, "Dad told me, and you have nothing to apologise for, all of this must come as quite a shock."
Jesse nodded, and then began to move forward as a more urgent thought came to him. " I've got to get to the ER," he said attempting to stand.
"Hey, you're in no condition.." Steve began, by this time Jesse had made it, somewhat shakily to his feet and he stood for a few moments consolidating his balance. Steve stood up next to him, ready to catch him if he should fall again."
"I'll be fine," Jesse said, forcing a smile, "and I'm needed out there."
"The last thing they need is a doctor who might keel over at any minute, possibly in the middle of treating a patient," Steve argued.
"It's OK. I'm not going to faint again," Jesse said, determindly and headed for the door, feeling steadier with each pace. When he reached the doorway, he turned and smiled, this time it wasn't forced. "Trust me I'm a doctor," he said, before disappearing into the corridor beyond.
Steve stood and followed at a discrete distance, watching his friend closely as he moved to greet the gurney from an incoming ambulance. Jesse listened to the paramedics as they filled him in on the patient's condition and then rattled off a list of instructions, before moving to meet a second gurney. Steve was amazed by his resilience. If he hadn't seen it for himself, watching the young doctor at work now, he would have been hard pressed to believe that he had received a major shock only a few minutes ago.
Satisfied that his friend was indeed going to be all right, at least whilst the current crisis kept him busy, Steve headed for his car. He had an urgent need to establish whether or not the explosion at the diner was an accident; a bizarre coincidence, or something more sinister.
It was two hours before Steve made it back to the hospital, by that time the ER was clear of patients from the incident. Trauma 2 was still taped off but the body had been removed and the forensics teams had left. Steve found his father sitting with Jesse in the doctor's lounge.
The three men greeted each other with a comfortable familiarity.
"I've just been out to the diner to see what I could find out," Steve explained as he took a seat.
"And?" Mark asked.
"Definitely no accident, an incendiary device was rigged to one of the pipes in the kitchen. Remote detonation, triggered by a cell phone."
"Well at least that's something that's different from what I wrote," Jesse said, an uncharacteristically bitter tone in his voice. "The diner explosion in the story really is an accident."
"I know Jess," Steve said cautiously. He really didn't want to upset his friend, but if they were going to get to the bottom of this, there were questions that needed to be asked and realities that had to be faced. "But the timing is just too big a coincidence to be ignored. I really need to get a look at what you've written."
Jesse stood. "It's all on my laptop," he said, "I left it upstairs."
"Is there anything else that's about to happen, that I should know about?" Steve asked as they walked.
"No," Jesse said thoughtfully, "At least not for a while. The next thing that happens is the police arrive and start interviewing everyone, then they get the results of the autopsy. It's not until the following day before.." his voice tailed off. He took a deep breath, "Before the second body is discovered," he completed quietly and stepped into the elevator that had just arrived.
Steve looked at him, he really needed more information but this was clearly so hard on his friend, he didn't like to pressure him. He opened his mouth to ask for more details but Mark interrupted.
"The second victim is a nurse, age 25 blonde hair, blue eyes, works in the ER," he said. "She's found in the supply room when the new shift starts in the morning."
"What time does the morning shift take over here?" Steve asked.
"6 a.m." Mark replied.
Steve looked at his watch, it was coming up on 5.30. "So we've got a little over twelve hours to find whoever is doing this and stop them before."
"Before I get someone else killed," Jesse completed, the distress and bitterness all too clear. They had reached their floor and he strode purposefully from the elevator, not really caring if the others were with him or not.
Steve and Mark were not quite so quick to react to the opening doors and it took them a moment to catch him up.
"Jess," Steve tried to comfort his friend, "Whoever's doing this, whatever their reasons, you just wrote a story it's not."
Jesse stopped and rounded on his friend. "What? Not my fault?" Jesse shouted the words, letting out some of the emotions that he had suppressed for the last two hours as he had dealt with the victims from the explosion. An explosion that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't written about it. "Then who's fault is it? Two people are dead, four more are in intensive care and there are thirty other people recieving treatment." His voice quietened, anger replaced with guilt. "Who's fault is that?"
Steve met his gaze, did not react to his friend's angry outburst, he just waited until he had finished. "It's the fault of whoever set the bomb Jess," he said, calmly, quietly "and no one else's."
Jesse let his shoulder's drop, deep down he knew Steve was right, knew Mark had been right when he had told him the same thing earlier, but somehow, knowing that he wasn't at fault was doing little to assuage the feelings of guilt and responsibility. Unable to look into his friend's eyes any longer, his gaze dropped back to the floor.
Steve waited a few moments more before putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, let's go get this lap top of yours."
Jesse nodded and they began to move down the corridor again.
Mark followed, he continued to watch Jesse's reactions, deeply concerned at the effect this was having on the young man that he viewed as a second son. He had decided not to interfere, letting Steve handle it, allowing him to reinforce what he had told Jesse earlier, sometimes just being there was enough.
The three men entered the doctor's lounge together and Jesse moved over to one of the tables. He began searching around. "I left it right here," he said, pointing at the clearly empty table.
"I'll go ask if anyone has moved it," Mark said.
Twenty minutes later it was clear that the computer had been stolen. Steve and Jesse had searched the room and Mark had asked everyone who had legitimate access to the doctor's lounge if they had seen it. One or two of them remembered it being there at lunch but no one could remember seeing it since, nor could anyone remember seeing anyone who shouldn't be there in the room.
"Damn," Jesse said, dropping onto the couch.
"Hey, it's not so bad," Mark said, trying to remain positive. "We can still access the story online and read it that way."
"I know," Jesse said, "But I've actually nearly finished it. The rest of the story is all stored on the hard drive of my lap top I just haven't posted it yet. I was still checking it for obvious errors and trying my best to correct the punctuation and spelling before I put it out there for people to read."
"So how many unposted chapters are there?" Steve asked.
"About five."
"And how many have you posted?"
"Three."
Steve looked thoughtful. "Do you think you can remember what happened in those extra chapters?" he asked.
Jesse nodded. "Yes most of it," he said, considering himself why Steve was asking. "You don't think that whoever's doing this took the laptop do you?"
"It's a possibility," Steve replied, "So it would be a big help if you could write down what you can remember." Not to mention the fact that it would keep the young doctor busy so he wouldn't have time to dwell on what had happened earlier. "Meanwhile I'll go online and read the first three chapters."
"You can use the computer in my office," Mark said.
Steve stood. "Good idea, you coming Jess?"
Jesse looked up at his two friends. "No, I'll find myself some paper and get to work down here," he replied.
Both Steve and Mark hesitated momentarily at leaving him alone but came to the conclusion that he could probably use the space to sort his emotions out. "OK, see you in a while," Steve said and they headed off.
Steve had been reading for about ten minutes. He had spent a little while on the phone speaking to the LAPD's computer crimes division, giving them details of the web site where Jesse's story was posted and asking them to find out what they could about those who were accessing it, and then he had settled down to reading. Mark was doing some paperwork at the other side of the room attempting to keep himself busy.
"Dad!" he exclaimed.
Mark looked up recognising the tone, it was one Steve had used since he was a teenager to let his father know that he wasn't happy about something.
"Why didn't you tell me about this before today?" He asked.
"Why should I have?" Mark replied with a, not unreasonable question.
Steve looked at him, assessing his approach. "The lieutenant from homicide who comes out to the hospital." he paused, watching for a reaction.
"Yes," Mark was giving nothing away.
"He doesn't strike you as a little." he searched for the right word, "familiar?"
"Should he?" Mark asked guilelessly.
"Six foot two, slim athletic build, light brown hair, blue eyes." Steve began
Mark shrugged.
"He's called Steve Slade, for heavens sake."
Mark kept his expression blank. "And?" he asked.
Steve looked at his father, knew that he was being played, but couldn't stop himself from continuing, just in case his father really hadn't spotted it.
"His outside interests are surfing and riding dirt bikes!" Steve said with increasing exascerbation at his father's denial of the obvious.
"There are lots of people who like outdoor pursuits," Mark said, somehow managing to keep his expression serious.
"Dad, it's set in Chicago!" Steve presented the last damning piece of evidence. "I don't think those are common pastimes there."
Mark finally conceded the point, allowing a huge grin to spread over his face. "OK, so maybe Jess did base his character on someone he knew." He looked across at his son. "You know they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
"Yes, well I'll reserve judgement until I see the rest of what he's written about me," Steve replied, before emersing himself back in his reading.
A few moments later Amanda appeared at the door, but Steve was too engrossed in the computer screen to notice her. Mark put a finger to his lips and moved out into the corridor to join her.
"Steve's reading Jess' story," he explained. "Looking for anything that might help us figure out who is responsible for what happened this afternoon."
Amanda nodded. "I came down to fill him in on the autopsy but it just confirms what we already knew."
Mark looked at her, a familiar twinkle in his eye. "He's just realised that Lt. Steve Slade is based on him."
"Yes, well it is rather obvious.." she began, and then memories of an earlier conversation began to return to her. "Oh," she said her eyes widening before she broke into a grin of her own. "Has he got to the part where he describes."
At that moment they both heard a couple of choice words that Steve Sloan never uttered, certainly not within his father's hearing.
Mark grinned back. "I think he just got there," he replied.
Amanda laughed, not sure if she was laughing at the remembered description of how Jesse had described Steve Slade's hair or Steve's reaction to it or, indeed, the conversation that she had had with Mark about how he would react if he ever read it.
They both went back into the room grinning.
Steve raised his head, glowering at them as they entered. "It's not funny," he said, in a tone reminiscent of a parent or a teacher admonishing a child not to laugh at whatever misdemeanor they had just committed and, predictably, as would happen with the child in question, this served only to set his father and Amanda giggling. "I do not change my hair colour every four months," more giggling, "I can remember what colour it was originally," more giggling. "Will you two stop it." A very brief attempt at control, followed by a simultaneous splutter and more giggling. "I have no intention of going white 'gracefully' like my distinguished father," Mark pointed to himself mouthing the words 'that's me' before continuing to laugh. The more they laughed, the sterner Steve became only adding to the comic value of the situation. "And, most importantly of all, my hair does not have a mind of it's own." Steve stated. It was, of course at that moment that the hair at the front decided to fall on to his forehead and Mark and Amanda dissolved into hysteria, leaving Steve to sit shaking his head disapprovingly.
"You know," he muttered to the room in general, "when all this is over Jesse's going to pay for this big time." And he attempted to focus his attention back on the screen.
Part 2 Plot? What Plot?
Moving to point at the red scarf, had brought Jesse closer to the body and he gasped as he recognised Paul Peterson, one of the hospital porters. In his story the victim had also been a porter. He stared for a few moments more, before turning abruptly, as he tried to deal with the mixture of emotions that assaulted him.
There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that this was the scene he had described in his story, there hadn't been from the moment he had entered the trauma room. The fact that the victim was one of the hospital porters only reinforced what he already knew, and that could only mean that Peterson had been killed because of him, because of what he had written. The sense of guilt was almost overwhelming.
Mark watched his young friend as the emotions played across his face, concerned at his shocked pale complexion, he opened his mouth to say something. He knew that given the circumstances, Jesse would blame himself for this, despite the fact that he could in no way be held responsible for it. "Jess," he began.
Jesse was staring at the floor, he did not look up, even at the use of his name. "I.. I.. I'm sorry," he stammered and rushed form the room.
Steve broke off the conversation he was having into his cell phone to watch as his friend left, he exchanged a meaningful look with his father, who then hurried after the young doctor.
Jesse had made it as far as the opposite side of the hall. He knew that he couldn't stay in the room any longer but once he was outside, he really didn't know where to go. He was still trying to make up his mind when Mark caught up to him. He felt the hand on his shoulder as he heard the familiar tones of his mentor. "Jess," Mark said, the concern evident, "Are you all right?" He asked, knowing that the answer was no, but needing a place to start to get the young doctor talking.
This time Jesse turned to look at him. "Yes. no," he replied, the confusion evident even without the words. "I mean I.." he looked into Mark's eyes. "That man in there is dead because of me."
"Now come on Jess," Mark returned his gaze. "We don't know that, just because it seems to fit what you wrote in your story, doesn't mean that you are responsible. It could all be a coincidence.."
"No," Jesse interrupted slightly more sharply than he'd intended. He leant back against the wall and stared at the floor, letting out a long slow breath to try to calm himself. He looked back up. "you and Amanda spotted it immediately as well. It's just too close to be a coincidence."
Reluctantly Mark nodded, he had hoped that Jesse would accept his reassurances at face value but he had known even as he said it that it was unlikely. Jesse was too astute for that. The young doctor was staring at the floor again, as though gazing at it would give him some sort of comfort.
"All right," Mark conceded, "but even if it isn't a coincidence, there is still nothing you can be held responsible for. If someone has used your story..."
Jesse reacted to the word 'if' "Mark, someone has used it and because of it they've killed someone and."
"And it's still not your fault." Mark stated, more firmly this time.
Jesse thought about Mark's statement, but, however he looked at it, he couldn't get past the guilt. He nodded towards the trauma room door. "Try telling Peterson that," he said pushing himself off the wall. "I need to get some coffee," he added walking off towrds the doctor's lounge.
Mark watched him leave. He considered following him but knew that speaking to him wouldn't do any good at the moment. Jesse had been clearly shocked by the events and needed time to think things through, besides, Mark needed his own time for consideration of what to say.
Mark was still standing in the hallway a few minutes later, deep in thought, when Steve joined him. "Dad?"
Mark turned as the familiar voice broke his train of thought, and gave his son an acknowledging smile.
"OK, the crime scene team are here and I've got a couple of officers interviewing the staff to see if anyone saw anything." Steve said closing his notebook and putting it in his pocket.
Mark looked at his son. "Tell me, who found the body?"
"That was Dr. Collins, he was." Steve began.
"Paged to come to the Trauma room, presumably by the killer." Mark finished for him.
"That's what happened in Jess' story?" Steve asked.
"Different name, but one of the ER doctors," Mark replied, "so, yes."
Steve looked around. "Do you know where Jess went?" He asked. "I need to ask him a few questions about this story of his."
"He went to the doctor's lounge," Mark replied, "but can't this wait, he's pretty shaken up at the moment."
"I know," Steve said sympathetically, "but there may be something in his story that we can use to help catch whoever did this, so the sooner I get to read it the better." Steve did not question that the murder and Jesse's story were related. Simply the reactions of his friends and his father had been enough to convince him.
They found Jesse sitting at one of the tables staring vacantly at the wall. He had a mug of coffee in his hand but wasn't drinking. "Jess," Steve said gently, attracting the young doctor's attention. "I was.."
He got no further, as at that moment the alarm that signalled a major incident interrupted him.
Jesse stood as all available staff were called to the ER. He looked apologetically at Steve. "Whatever it is it's going to have to wait," he said as he headed for the door with Mark moments ahead of him.
"What have we got?" Mark asked one of the nurses, as Amanda emerged from the trauma room to join them.
"Some sort of gas explosion in a local diner," the nurse replied, "We've got four severe trauma cases on the way in, with more to follow."
This time when all the colour drained from Jesse's face there was no one watching to see it. Mark and Amanda were in front of him and he had his back to Steve, who had followed them from the lounge.
Steve did, however, see his knees start to buckle and just heard the barely audible "Oh God!" that Jesse uttered before he fell. He moved in to catch his friend.
"Dad," Steve called urgently and both Mark and Amanda were instantly at Jesse's side.
"Let's get him back into the doctor's lounge," Mark said, helping to support him as they moved back in the direction they had come .
Jesse had felt himself begin to fall as the implications of the nurses words hit him, more people injured, possibly dead. A myriad of thoughts feelings and emotions had assaulted his mind and, overwhelmed, it had simply shut down.
He became vaguely aware of the movement first, of strong hands supporting him as he was half carried back to the lounge, then of voices and lights but his brain still wasn't processing the sensory input properly. It was like viewing the world around through a giant kaliedoscope.
"Something else from his story?" Steve asked as he helped his friend to rest back on the couch.
"Yes," Amanda replied as Mark gave Jesse a quick examination. "The murder investigation is interrupted when the ER has to deal with a major incident."
"Let me guess," Steve said with a growing sense of unease, "a gas explosion in a diner."
Amanda nodded grimly.
Steve looked sympathetically down at his friend, like the murder scene, it was all too much to be coincidence and Steve knew that Jesse would feel responsible for what was happening.
"He's fine he just fainted," Mark pronounced, looking up at his son. "Steve could you stay with him? Amanda and I need to get back to the ER, especially since we're one trauma room down."
"Sure," Steve said, sitting down. "I'll look after him."
Mark nodded gratefully and he and Amanda hurried off.
It took another couple of minutes before Jesse's eyes focused on the concerned face of his best friend. "Steve, what.." he said, moving forward and regretting it as the world shifted uncomfortably.
"Hey take it easy," Steve said, grabbing his shoulder to steady him. "It's OK you just lost it there for a moment, just take a few deep breaths."
Jesse breathed in deeply. "Hey, who's the doctor here?" he asked smiling.
"You are," Steve admitted, "But I'm not the one who just fainted."
"Fainted?" Jesse repeated his brow creasing in confusion. "What on earth made me.." and then the crushing reality of the situation returned "Oh," he finished quietly. He took a moment before he turned to look Steve in the eye. "How long was I out?"
"Just a couple of minutes," Steve replied, watching his friend carefully, grateful that some of the colour was starting to return to his cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Jesse began, feeling the need to apologise. Fainting just wasn't something that grown men did. "It's just the gas explosion it's.." he continued, clearly agitated.
"I know, it's another element of your story," Steve interrupted, keeping his voice calm, "Dad told me, and you have nothing to apologise for, all of this must come as quite a shock."
Jesse nodded, and then began to move forward as a more urgent thought came to him. " I've got to get to the ER," he said attempting to stand.
"Hey, you're in no condition.." Steve began, by this time Jesse had made it, somewhat shakily to his feet and he stood for a few moments consolidating his balance. Steve stood up next to him, ready to catch him if he should fall again."
"I'll be fine," Jesse said, forcing a smile, "and I'm needed out there."
"The last thing they need is a doctor who might keel over at any minute, possibly in the middle of treating a patient," Steve argued.
"It's OK. I'm not going to faint again," Jesse said, determindly and headed for the door, feeling steadier with each pace. When he reached the doorway, he turned and smiled, this time it wasn't forced. "Trust me I'm a doctor," he said, before disappearing into the corridor beyond.
Steve stood and followed at a discrete distance, watching his friend closely as he moved to greet the gurney from an incoming ambulance. Jesse listened to the paramedics as they filled him in on the patient's condition and then rattled off a list of instructions, before moving to meet a second gurney. Steve was amazed by his resilience. If he hadn't seen it for himself, watching the young doctor at work now, he would have been hard pressed to believe that he had received a major shock only a few minutes ago.
Satisfied that his friend was indeed going to be all right, at least whilst the current crisis kept him busy, Steve headed for his car. He had an urgent need to establish whether or not the explosion at the diner was an accident; a bizarre coincidence, or something more sinister.
It was two hours before Steve made it back to the hospital, by that time the ER was clear of patients from the incident. Trauma 2 was still taped off but the body had been removed and the forensics teams had left. Steve found his father sitting with Jesse in the doctor's lounge.
The three men greeted each other with a comfortable familiarity.
"I've just been out to the diner to see what I could find out," Steve explained as he took a seat.
"And?" Mark asked.
"Definitely no accident, an incendiary device was rigged to one of the pipes in the kitchen. Remote detonation, triggered by a cell phone."
"Well at least that's something that's different from what I wrote," Jesse said, an uncharacteristically bitter tone in his voice. "The diner explosion in the story really is an accident."
"I know Jess," Steve said cautiously. He really didn't want to upset his friend, but if they were going to get to the bottom of this, there were questions that needed to be asked and realities that had to be faced. "But the timing is just too big a coincidence to be ignored. I really need to get a look at what you've written."
Jesse stood. "It's all on my laptop," he said, "I left it upstairs."
"Is there anything else that's about to happen, that I should know about?" Steve asked as they walked.
"No," Jesse said thoughtfully, "At least not for a while. The next thing that happens is the police arrive and start interviewing everyone, then they get the results of the autopsy. It's not until the following day before.." his voice tailed off. He took a deep breath, "Before the second body is discovered," he completed quietly and stepped into the elevator that had just arrived.
Steve looked at him, he really needed more information but this was clearly so hard on his friend, he didn't like to pressure him. He opened his mouth to ask for more details but Mark interrupted.
"The second victim is a nurse, age 25 blonde hair, blue eyes, works in the ER," he said. "She's found in the supply room when the new shift starts in the morning."
"What time does the morning shift take over here?" Steve asked.
"6 a.m." Mark replied.
Steve looked at his watch, it was coming up on 5.30. "So we've got a little over twelve hours to find whoever is doing this and stop them before."
"Before I get someone else killed," Jesse completed, the distress and bitterness all too clear. They had reached their floor and he strode purposefully from the elevator, not really caring if the others were with him or not.
Steve and Mark were not quite so quick to react to the opening doors and it took them a moment to catch him up.
"Jess," Steve tried to comfort his friend, "Whoever's doing this, whatever their reasons, you just wrote a story it's not."
Jesse stopped and rounded on his friend. "What? Not my fault?" Jesse shouted the words, letting out some of the emotions that he had suppressed for the last two hours as he had dealt with the victims from the explosion. An explosion that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't written about it. "Then who's fault is it? Two people are dead, four more are in intensive care and there are thirty other people recieving treatment." His voice quietened, anger replaced with guilt. "Who's fault is that?"
Steve met his gaze, did not react to his friend's angry outburst, he just waited until he had finished. "It's the fault of whoever set the bomb Jess," he said, calmly, quietly "and no one else's."
Jesse let his shoulder's drop, deep down he knew Steve was right, knew Mark had been right when he had told him the same thing earlier, but somehow, knowing that he wasn't at fault was doing little to assuage the feelings of guilt and responsibility. Unable to look into his friend's eyes any longer, his gaze dropped back to the floor.
Steve waited a few moments more before putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, let's go get this lap top of yours."
Jesse nodded and they began to move down the corridor again.
Mark followed, he continued to watch Jesse's reactions, deeply concerned at the effect this was having on the young man that he viewed as a second son. He had decided not to interfere, letting Steve handle it, allowing him to reinforce what he had told Jesse earlier, sometimes just being there was enough.
The three men entered the doctor's lounge together and Jesse moved over to one of the tables. He began searching around. "I left it right here," he said, pointing at the clearly empty table.
"I'll go ask if anyone has moved it," Mark said.
Twenty minutes later it was clear that the computer had been stolen. Steve and Jesse had searched the room and Mark had asked everyone who had legitimate access to the doctor's lounge if they had seen it. One or two of them remembered it being there at lunch but no one could remember seeing it since, nor could anyone remember seeing anyone who shouldn't be there in the room.
"Damn," Jesse said, dropping onto the couch.
"Hey, it's not so bad," Mark said, trying to remain positive. "We can still access the story online and read it that way."
"I know," Jesse said, "But I've actually nearly finished it. The rest of the story is all stored on the hard drive of my lap top I just haven't posted it yet. I was still checking it for obvious errors and trying my best to correct the punctuation and spelling before I put it out there for people to read."
"So how many unposted chapters are there?" Steve asked.
"About five."
"And how many have you posted?"
"Three."
Steve looked thoughtful. "Do you think you can remember what happened in those extra chapters?" he asked.
Jesse nodded. "Yes most of it," he said, considering himself why Steve was asking. "You don't think that whoever's doing this took the laptop do you?"
"It's a possibility," Steve replied, "So it would be a big help if you could write down what you can remember." Not to mention the fact that it would keep the young doctor busy so he wouldn't have time to dwell on what had happened earlier. "Meanwhile I'll go online and read the first three chapters."
"You can use the computer in my office," Mark said.
Steve stood. "Good idea, you coming Jess?"
Jesse looked up at his two friends. "No, I'll find myself some paper and get to work down here," he replied.
Both Steve and Mark hesitated momentarily at leaving him alone but came to the conclusion that he could probably use the space to sort his emotions out. "OK, see you in a while," Steve said and they headed off.
Steve had been reading for about ten minutes. He had spent a little while on the phone speaking to the LAPD's computer crimes division, giving them details of the web site where Jesse's story was posted and asking them to find out what they could about those who were accessing it, and then he had settled down to reading. Mark was doing some paperwork at the other side of the room attempting to keep himself busy.
"Dad!" he exclaimed.
Mark looked up recognising the tone, it was one Steve had used since he was a teenager to let his father know that he wasn't happy about something.
"Why didn't you tell me about this before today?" He asked.
"Why should I have?" Mark replied with a, not unreasonable question.
Steve looked at him, assessing his approach. "The lieutenant from homicide who comes out to the hospital." he paused, watching for a reaction.
"Yes," Mark was giving nothing away.
"He doesn't strike you as a little." he searched for the right word, "familiar?"
"Should he?" Mark asked guilelessly.
"Six foot two, slim athletic build, light brown hair, blue eyes." Steve began
Mark shrugged.
"He's called Steve Slade, for heavens sake."
Mark kept his expression blank. "And?" he asked.
Steve looked at his father, knew that he was being played, but couldn't stop himself from continuing, just in case his father really hadn't spotted it.
"His outside interests are surfing and riding dirt bikes!" Steve said with increasing exascerbation at his father's denial of the obvious.
"There are lots of people who like outdoor pursuits," Mark said, somehow managing to keep his expression serious.
"Dad, it's set in Chicago!" Steve presented the last damning piece of evidence. "I don't think those are common pastimes there."
Mark finally conceded the point, allowing a huge grin to spread over his face. "OK, so maybe Jess did base his character on someone he knew." He looked across at his son. "You know they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
"Yes, well I'll reserve judgement until I see the rest of what he's written about me," Steve replied, before emersing himself back in his reading.
A few moments later Amanda appeared at the door, but Steve was too engrossed in the computer screen to notice her. Mark put a finger to his lips and moved out into the corridor to join her.
"Steve's reading Jess' story," he explained. "Looking for anything that might help us figure out who is responsible for what happened this afternoon."
Amanda nodded. "I came down to fill him in on the autopsy but it just confirms what we already knew."
Mark looked at her, a familiar twinkle in his eye. "He's just realised that Lt. Steve Slade is based on him."
"Yes, well it is rather obvious.." she began, and then memories of an earlier conversation began to return to her. "Oh," she said her eyes widening before she broke into a grin of her own. "Has he got to the part where he describes."
At that moment they both heard a couple of choice words that Steve Sloan never uttered, certainly not within his father's hearing.
Mark grinned back. "I think he just got there," he replied.
Amanda laughed, not sure if she was laughing at the remembered description of how Jesse had described Steve Slade's hair or Steve's reaction to it or, indeed, the conversation that she had had with Mark about how he would react if he ever read it.
They both went back into the room grinning.
Steve raised his head, glowering at them as they entered. "It's not funny," he said, in a tone reminiscent of a parent or a teacher admonishing a child not to laugh at whatever misdemeanor they had just committed and, predictably, as would happen with the child in question, this served only to set his father and Amanda giggling. "I do not change my hair colour every four months," more giggling, "I can remember what colour it was originally," more giggling. "Will you two stop it." A very brief attempt at control, followed by a simultaneous splutter and more giggling. "I have no intention of going white 'gracefully' like my distinguished father," Mark pointed to himself mouthing the words 'that's me' before continuing to laugh. The more they laughed, the sterner Steve became only adding to the comic value of the situation. "And, most importantly of all, my hair does not have a mind of it's own." Steve stated. It was, of course at that moment that the hair at the front decided to fall on to his forehead and Mark and Amanda dissolved into hysteria, leaving Steve to sit shaking his head disapprovingly.
"You know," he muttered to the room in general, "when all this is over Jesse's going to pay for this big time." And he attempted to focus his attention back on the screen.