Part 4 Concerns
Entering Mark's office, Jesse sank down on to the couch along the wall, Amanda sat next to him, whilst Mark went for his desk, pausing to flick through his rolodex as he took his seat. He found the number he was looking for and pulled the phone towards him.
He looked at Steve as he dialed. "I'll call Mark Griegson," he said explaining his actions, "He's in charge of staffing, they'll be no one in personnel at this time of night and we need to find out how many of the nursing staff match Jesse's description."
"Good idea," Steve said, "As soon as we know what sort of numbers we're dealing with I can check with the Captain and see about getting some more men."
At that point Mark clearly got an answer. "Hello Mark, it's Mark Sloan, sorry to bother you at home but we've got a bit of a situation here and I urgently need some information about the nursing staff."
Steve, Jesse and Amanda sat silently and listened to the one side of the conversation they could hear, as Mark explained, without going into the details of why, that they thought some of the nursing staff may be in danger. Having completed his request for the information he wanted, he paused listening to the reply.
"How sure are you about this?" Griegson asked.
"Very," Mark said, pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration. "Look, I know it's a big inconvenience but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." He wanted to add that two people had been killed already, but was wary of doing so with Jesse in the room. He was already concerned at the effect all of this was having on his friend's mental state.
Jesse would not have noticed, however, he was already lost again in a sea of negative thoughts, the brief emotional respite provided by the image of Steve covered in hospital food, already forgotten as he once more contemplated the fact that he was putting people in danger, getting people killed. He stared absently at his fingers, fidgeting with them, with no purpose apart from to release a little of the nervous energy that was building.
Griegson sighed. "OK, Mark," he said looking at his watch. He knew Mark personally as well as by reputation and so was prepared to take his word for it that the information was urgently needed. "I'll be there in about thirty minutes. If you meet me in personnel I'll check the files for you."
"No problem, I'll see you when you get here, and thanks, I really appreciate this," Mark said, hanging up he turned to the others. "He's on his way in. I said we'd meet him when he gets here. In the meantime let's put together anything we have so far."
"I'm still waiting for the full report from forensics but it looks like Jesse was right, no prints on the screwdriver." Steve said.
Jesse looked up at the mention of his name. "I told you there wouldn't be," he said quietly, his tone held a slight edge of uncharacteristic bitterness.
The three exchanged concerned glances as Jesse stared back down at his hands.
"So," Steve asked, turning to face Amanda, trying to keep his own tone positive. "Did your search of the hospital records come up with anything?"
Amanda shook her head "I went back six months and there was nothing. No complaints made to the hospital board involved patients that Jesse had been treating."
Jesse looked up at this, turning to face her with a slightly shocked expression on her face. "You've been checking if people have been complaining about me?" He asked, somewhat bewildered. If this had been happening to someone else he would have had no difficulty in figuring out why his friends had been following that line of enquiry, but he already felt persecuted. Negative reasoning and emotions, despite his best efforts, were firmly in control, and he could not see past the fact that they had been checking his record. Presumably to see if he had done something wrong, if he was responsible for what was happening.
Guilt coloured every thought and a flash of anger and indignation, his eyes flicking from one to the other, "but I." the sentence tailed off ' haven't done anything wrong' should have followed, was replaced by resignation and acceptance that his friends were right to check up on him. He was responsible for the two deaths and the suffering of many others, he must have done something wrong, something very wrong, his eyes dropped to the floor once more, his shoulders slumped.
Amanda turned to watch him, as did the others, used to his somewhat mercurial emotions, it was usually his leaps from pleasure to exuberance to excitement that had them stretching to keep up with him. Rarely did they see such negativity, but the changes were just as rapid, his emotions just as easy to read as his feelings openly adorned his expressive face.
Replaying what they had said to each other, both Steve and Amanda mentally kicked themselves for their insensitivity. They already knew that their friend was barely holding it together in the face of the many shocks he had already had that day, and they also had the feeling that it was going to get worse before it got better. Given the circumstances, they needed to be as supportive as possible, and that did not include giving Jesse any reason to believe that they thought any of this was his fault.
"Hey," Amanda said gently, "We're just trying to figure out who's behind this. Which means we need to find someone who thinks they have a motive to want to get at you." She paused before stating slightly more firmly, "We weren't checking up on you, we all know any complaints would be unfounded."
She paused watching him, waiting for some kind of response, when she got none she flashed another concerned glance at Steve.
"Whoever is behind this has some reason, however twisted, for wanting to make you suffer," Steve picked up. "We need to try to figure out what that reason is. So we need your help Jess. Can you think of anyone who may think they have a reason to have a grudge against you?"
Jesse shook his head, at least that was something, but he still did not look up, and the fact that he remained silent spoke volumes for his mental state. Jesse normally dealt with everything in life, including his problems, at full volume. One of his strengths was his ability to reason things through, to bounce ideas off people, his ability to express comments and questions verbally often held the key to the solution of a case. Silence from him was unnerving.
Steve tried again, he needed to get Jesse away from any motives that he could possibly feel responsible for "You've helped me put lots of people away for murder," he said, changing the line of questioning "Can you remember anyone threatening you, anyone at all who stands out?"
Jesse shook his head again, still refusing to make eye contact.
Mark watched the entire exchange, noting Jesse's response or rather lack of, with the same concern as the others. "Steve," he said, turning to his son. "Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up, I've got a spare shirt here that you can change into, you can use the shower in the locker room."
It took Steve a moment to drag his gaze away from Jesse, his brow still creased in concern, his brain taking a little time to process his father's words.
Mark's attention turned to Amanda. "And I think it would be a good idea if you went down to personnel, so that you can let us know when Griegson gets here."
Amanda knew that Mark Griegson would page them as soon as he arrived, she also knew he wouldn't be arriving for some time yet, so she instantly picked up on where Mark was going.
"Sure thing," she said standing.
Steve too had managed to figure out his father's reasoning, he wanted them to leave so that he could talk to Jesse alone.
Steve stood taking the shirt that Mark retrieved from the bottom drawer of his desk and proffered in his direction. "Thanks," he said, "I'll check up on the rest of the forensics results too." He looked across at Jesse then back at his father who met his gaze. A silent communication of mutual concern passed between them, then Steve moved over to the door and held it open for Amanda.
Once outside the two stopped and looked at each other. "I've had more subtle dismissals," Steve said.
"Well we weren't helping," Amanda replied.
Steve nodded. "The only way we're really going to help him is to catch this maniac, preferably before they hurt anyone else."
"Then let's get to it," Amanda said, allowing a slight smile to twist her lips. "That is as soon as you get rid of that new aftershave that you're wearing." She pretended to hold her nose. "What is it 'eau de meatloaf?"
Steve couldn't help taking a sniff of the air himself, she was right the odour was rather pungent. He gave her a longsuffering look. "I'll meet you down in personnel," he replied allowing a small smile of his own to cross his face.
--
Mark moved to the leather armchair, pulling it a little closer to Jesse's position, before sitting down. "Jess?" he said gently.
Jesse looked up meeting his gaze. Whilst there had been three people in the room, he could get away with limited responses, but now that he was alone with Mark, the intimacy made a direct appeal difficult to ignore. His eyes searched Mark's expression, looking for the disapproval that his negative emotions demanded be there. He was blaming himself, surely those around him must blame him too. Mark as his mentor and friend should at the very least be disappointed in him, but those emotions were not there, instead he saw only gentle concern. He glanced down to the floor and swallowed, partly relieved but still confused by his own powerful self doubt.
"Jess?" Mark repeated, gently prompting his young friend, waiting to be given an opening that he could work with.
Jesse met his gaze once more, asking the most powerful of the myriad of repeating questions. "How could anyone hate me that much?" His voice was quiet, unshed tears brimming in his eyes. "Enough to kill people?"
The question was asked with such guileless innocence that it almost broke Mark's heart.
Not that Jesse was naïve, far from it, intellectually he understood the motives for murder as well as anyone, but at an emotional level he would never understand the anger or hatred that could drive someone to kill. It was so far outside his own emotional range.
Mark looked at him and tried to remember the last time he had even seen the young man genuinely angry. No wonder he was having such difficulty coping in the face of such malevolence.
He shook his head. "I don't know, Jess. I just don't know." He paused for a moment and let out a breath. "But I do know that you're not responsible for any of this."
Jesse looked at him. "But my story."
"No," Mark interrupted the protest, trying to counter the guilt. "Whoever this is may be using what you've written, but if it hadn't been that it would have been something else." his speech tailed off as he watched Jesse's expression.
"Anything to make me suffer," Jesse said, dropping his gaze to the floor once more as the tears threatened. "Why couldn't they just come after me?" He studied the ground, shaking his head slightly. "Why not just kill me?"
Mark could not help but pick up on the implication that Jesse would have preferred that to what was happening. He tried hard not to sigh, not to show the despondency that he too felt. He had complete empathy, knowing that if he were in Jesse's position, he would feel the same and yet, that was not what Jesse needed to hear.
"Jess, this person, whoever it is, is a killer and a dangerous one. One we need to catch before they hurt you or anyone else. No one deserves," he emphasised the word, "to be a victim, especially not you." He paused briefly before reiterating his earlier assertion, wondering how many times he would have to repeat it before it broke through the wall of guilt that Jesse had erected. "You have done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this."
Mark watched for a few moments as Jesse considered his comments, before deciding that he needed to push a little harder if he was going to have any chance of keeping Jesse on track. Although, like Steve, he knew that the only thing that would really help would be to catch whoever was responsible for this nightmare.
"Steve was right." He said, shifting his position in the chair "We can't solve this without you, and you are going to need to stay focussed, do you think you can do that?" Again Mark watched as Jesse considered. He gave him about a minute this time, when there was still no reply... "Jess?" He prompted.
Jesse slowly met his gaze once more. He took a deep breath and did the mental equivalent of squaring his shoulders. He nodded slightly. "I can try."
Mark smiled and put his hand out to rest on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. "Then lets get started."
--
Steve stood leaning against the wall, letting the pounding spray of the hot shower massage some of the knots from tense muscles. For a moment he let his mind drift, forgetting briefly the trauma of the last few hours, as he lost himself in the sensations of the tingling water on his skin. All too soon the niggling questions returned and he sighed as he turned his mind once again to the case and how he could help his best friend. Still grateful for the brief respite.
He picked up the shampoo, wondering idly if salad dressing was good for his hair, after all it did contain oil, but even that stray thought reminded him of Jesse's story, pulled his mind back to the potential threats and the emotional turmoil that his friend was going through. He hurriedly massaged the suds through his hair before rinsing them off and, with a sigh, he reluctantly turned off the stream of water. He grabbed the two towels that he had brought in with him, wrapping one around his waist, he began to rub the water from his chest and arms with the other.
He paused as he thought he heard something from the room next door. Suddenly his senses were alert as he instinctively tensed, he could feel every water droplet on his skin. He stood motionless and listened, sure that there was someone in the locker room, and not sure why he should find that alarming, this was after all a busy hospital, even at this time in the evening there could be any number of people who had a legitimate reason to be there. He was however, painfully aware of his own nakedness, not just his lack of clothing but the fact that he had locked his gun in one of the unused lockers in the next room. He was unarmed and there was a killer with a powerful vendetta on the loose somewhere in the hospital.
He held his breath and padded silently across to the open doorway that divided the shower section from the lockers, his heart pounding in his chest. Cautiously he peered round the corner to the room beyond.
It was empty.
He heaved a sigh of relief, muttering to himself as he strode boldly out into the centre of the room in a deliberate counter to the sheepishness that he actually felt. "Pull yourself together or you'll be seeing the bogey man next Sloan." He wouldn't admit it to himself but part of the reason he spoke the words aloud was for the comfort of hearing his own voice.
He dropped the second towel on the bench, acknowledging at least tacitly that the situation had him a little spooked, by going to the locker and retrieving his gun and clothes before moving back to get dried and dressed..
He was drying his hair when he noticed the sheets of paper on the bench opposite. Still rubbing at his hair with the towel, he stood, curious as to what they were. As soon as he was close he picked them up and instantly recognised Jesse's handwriting.
It did not take long to realise that the sheets contained Jesse's summary of what happened in the next chapters of the story. Steve sat and began to read, oblivious to the fact that he still wasn't dressed. He frowned slightly as he read the sequence of events. Events that could become all too real if they did not manage to do something about it, but it was the last sheet, with the unfinished part of the story that gave him most cause for concern. He read it through again before gazing thoughtfully at the floor for a few moments. The last page was indeed worrying but there was something else niggling at the edge of his consciousness. He just couldn't quite figure out what it was.
He placed the sheets back on the bench and began to dress as he thought about it. When whatever it was wouldn't come, he resolved to take the sheets to his father, maybe he could pick out what it was that was bothering him, but if he was going to do that there was something he needed to do first. As soon as his trousers were fastened, he carefully took the back sheet and folded it, placing it in his pocket. That was one thing that he did not intend to show to his father, unless or until it became absolutely necessary.
He glanced at the front sheet again and then it hit him. With a sudden urgency he pushed his feet, sockless into his shoes, grabbed his shirt, pulling it over still wet shoulders and, without waiting to button it, scooped up the sheets almost running from the room.
He didn't notice the appreciative glances for his exposed torso from a couple of the nurses that he passed, as he ran along the corridor to his father's office, bursting in, breathless, he hoped to find Jesse still sitting there with his father. Instead he was dismayed to find Mark alone.
"Where's Jess?" He asked without preamble.
Mark was slightly shocked by Steve's half dressed appearance but, recognising the urgency of his son's tone, answered. "He's gone to check on some of his patients. Why?"
He dropped the sheets of paper on his father's desk. "I just found these," he said. "It's Jesse's summary of the next few chapters. In it the murder weapon, the screw driver, is found in Dr. Carter's locker. The very next thing that happens is Dr. Carter gets knocked out by a blow to the head."
Mark's eyes widened as he picked up on the implications. "And the murder weapon was found in Jesse's locker."
Steve nodded.
Mark picked up his phone, "I'll have him paged," he said.
Steve took out his cell phone, "and I'll try his pager."
That done both men knew that the next step was to begin a step by step search. They could not afford to just wait around until Jesse contacted them. Even though in Jesse's story Dr. Carter had not been seriously hurt, both of them knew better than most how unpredictable a blow to the head could be. Steve had seen his fair share of homicides over the years where the murderer had only intended to knock the person out.
As they left his office Mark gave instructions. "I'll check this floor," he said, "Jesse has patients on the next floor down and in ICU. The nurses will be able to tell you which rooms."
Steve nodded grimly. "Call me if you find him," he said as he headed for the elevator, attempting to button his shirt as he went..
--
Fifteen minutes later, Steve knew there was something wrong. Jesse hadn't responded to any of the announcements over the hospital address system, nor had he replied to Steve's pages. He had checked all of the rooms on the third floor and was preparing to head up to ICU when something else occurred to him. If events were mimicking the story so closely then Jesse would be found in the same place Dr. Carter had, the ER.
Steve pushed the down button to call the elevators and danced nervously from foot to foot whilst he waited impatiently for it to arrive. When the doors opened, his father was already standing inside.
"You know it occurred to me," Mark said, as Steve stepped in and hit the down button. "That Dr. Carter works in the ER, that is after all what the program is called."
Steve knew better than to be surprised that his father had come to the same conclusion as he had, only with far less information. He nodded, "According to Jesse's notes Carter is found in one of the trauma rooms, it didn't specify which."
As the lift doors opened both men rushed out into a fairly quiet ER. Mark headed for the desk. "Has anyone seen Dr. Travis recently?" He shouted the question as he approached.
The nurse at the desk nodded. "He came down about fifteen minutes ago, said he 'd been paged. I think he went into Trauma three."
Mark did not wait, he rushed for the door, Steve at his side, both hoping that their fears were unfounded.
Steve was the first through the door, breathing a sigh of relief at the apparently empty room. The relief however was short lived as he moved further in and noticed the slumped form on the opposite side of the exam table.
"Oh God Jesse!" Mark exclaimed as he too moved into the room and caught sight of the figure on the floor.
Entering Mark's office, Jesse sank down on to the couch along the wall, Amanda sat next to him, whilst Mark went for his desk, pausing to flick through his rolodex as he took his seat. He found the number he was looking for and pulled the phone towards him.
He looked at Steve as he dialed. "I'll call Mark Griegson," he said explaining his actions, "He's in charge of staffing, they'll be no one in personnel at this time of night and we need to find out how many of the nursing staff match Jesse's description."
"Good idea," Steve said, "As soon as we know what sort of numbers we're dealing with I can check with the Captain and see about getting some more men."
At that point Mark clearly got an answer. "Hello Mark, it's Mark Sloan, sorry to bother you at home but we've got a bit of a situation here and I urgently need some information about the nursing staff."
Steve, Jesse and Amanda sat silently and listened to the one side of the conversation they could hear, as Mark explained, without going into the details of why, that they thought some of the nursing staff may be in danger. Having completed his request for the information he wanted, he paused listening to the reply.
"How sure are you about this?" Griegson asked.
"Very," Mark said, pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration. "Look, I know it's a big inconvenience but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." He wanted to add that two people had been killed already, but was wary of doing so with Jesse in the room. He was already concerned at the effect all of this was having on his friend's mental state.
Jesse would not have noticed, however, he was already lost again in a sea of negative thoughts, the brief emotional respite provided by the image of Steve covered in hospital food, already forgotten as he once more contemplated the fact that he was putting people in danger, getting people killed. He stared absently at his fingers, fidgeting with them, with no purpose apart from to release a little of the nervous energy that was building.
Griegson sighed. "OK, Mark," he said looking at his watch. He knew Mark personally as well as by reputation and so was prepared to take his word for it that the information was urgently needed. "I'll be there in about thirty minutes. If you meet me in personnel I'll check the files for you."
"No problem, I'll see you when you get here, and thanks, I really appreciate this," Mark said, hanging up he turned to the others. "He's on his way in. I said we'd meet him when he gets here. In the meantime let's put together anything we have so far."
"I'm still waiting for the full report from forensics but it looks like Jesse was right, no prints on the screwdriver." Steve said.
Jesse looked up at the mention of his name. "I told you there wouldn't be," he said quietly, his tone held a slight edge of uncharacteristic bitterness.
The three exchanged concerned glances as Jesse stared back down at his hands.
"So," Steve asked, turning to face Amanda, trying to keep his own tone positive. "Did your search of the hospital records come up with anything?"
Amanda shook her head "I went back six months and there was nothing. No complaints made to the hospital board involved patients that Jesse had been treating."
Jesse looked up at this, turning to face her with a slightly shocked expression on her face. "You've been checking if people have been complaining about me?" He asked, somewhat bewildered. If this had been happening to someone else he would have had no difficulty in figuring out why his friends had been following that line of enquiry, but he already felt persecuted. Negative reasoning and emotions, despite his best efforts, were firmly in control, and he could not see past the fact that they had been checking his record. Presumably to see if he had done something wrong, if he was responsible for what was happening.
Guilt coloured every thought and a flash of anger and indignation, his eyes flicking from one to the other, "but I." the sentence tailed off ' haven't done anything wrong' should have followed, was replaced by resignation and acceptance that his friends were right to check up on him. He was responsible for the two deaths and the suffering of many others, he must have done something wrong, something very wrong, his eyes dropped to the floor once more, his shoulders slumped.
Amanda turned to watch him, as did the others, used to his somewhat mercurial emotions, it was usually his leaps from pleasure to exuberance to excitement that had them stretching to keep up with him. Rarely did they see such negativity, but the changes were just as rapid, his emotions just as easy to read as his feelings openly adorned his expressive face.
Replaying what they had said to each other, both Steve and Amanda mentally kicked themselves for their insensitivity. They already knew that their friend was barely holding it together in the face of the many shocks he had already had that day, and they also had the feeling that it was going to get worse before it got better. Given the circumstances, they needed to be as supportive as possible, and that did not include giving Jesse any reason to believe that they thought any of this was his fault.
"Hey," Amanda said gently, "We're just trying to figure out who's behind this. Which means we need to find someone who thinks they have a motive to want to get at you." She paused before stating slightly more firmly, "We weren't checking up on you, we all know any complaints would be unfounded."
She paused watching him, waiting for some kind of response, when she got none she flashed another concerned glance at Steve.
"Whoever is behind this has some reason, however twisted, for wanting to make you suffer," Steve picked up. "We need to try to figure out what that reason is. So we need your help Jess. Can you think of anyone who may think they have a reason to have a grudge against you?"
Jesse shook his head, at least that was something, but he still did not look up, and the fact that he remained silent spoke volumes for his mental state. Jesse normally dealt with everything in life, including his problems, at full volume. One of his strengths was his ability to reason things through, to bounce ideas off people, his ability to express comments and questions verbally often held the key to the solution of a case. Silence from him was unnerving.
Steve tried again, he needed to get Jesse away from any motives that he could possibly feel responsible for "You've helped me put lots of people away for murder," he said, changing the line of questioning "Can you remember anyone threatening you, anyone at all who stands out?"
Jesse shook his head again, still refusing to make eye contact.
Mark watched the entire exchange, noting Jesse's response or rather lack of, with the same concern as the others. "Steve," he said, turning to his son. "Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up, I've got a spare shirt here that you can change into, you can use the shower in the locker room."
It took Steve a moment to drag his gaze away from Jesse, his brow still creased in concern, his brain taking a little time to process his father's words.
Mark's attention turned to Amanda. "And I think it would be a good idea if you went down to personnel, so that you can let us know when Griegson gets here."
Amanda knew that Mark Griegson would page them as soon as he arrived, she also knew he wouldn't be arriving for some time yet, so she instantly picked up on where Mark was going.
"Sure thing," she said standing.
Steve too had managed to figure out his father's reasoning, he wanted them to leave so that he could talk to Jesse alone.
Steve stood taking the shirt that Mark retrieved from the bottom drawer of his desk and proffered in his direction. "Thanks," he said, "I'll check up on the rest of the forensics results too." He looked across at Jesse then back at his father who met his gaze. A silent communication of mutual concern passed between them, then Steve moved over to the door and held it open for Amanda.
Once outside the two stopped and looked at each other. "I've had more subtle dismissals," Steve said.
"Well we weren't helping," Amanda replied.
Steve nodded. "The only way we're really going to help him is to catch this maniac, preferably before they hurt anyone else."
"Then let's get to it," Amanda said, allowing a slight smile to twist her lips. "That is as soon as you get rid of that new aftershave that you're wearing." She pretended to hold her nose. "What is it 'eau de meatloaf?"
Steve couldn't help taking a sniff of the air himself, she was right the odour was rather pungent. He gave her a longsuffering look. "I'll meet you down in personnel," he replied allowing a small smile of his own to cross his face.
--
Mark moved to the leather armchair, pulling it a little closer to Jesse's position, before sitting down. "Jess?" he said gently.
Jesse looked up meeting his gaze. Whilst there had been three people in the room, he could get away with limited responses, but now that he was alone with Mark, the intimacy made a direct appeal difficult to ignore. His eyes searched Mark's expression, looking for the disapproval that his negative emotions demanded be there. He was blaming himself, surely those around him must blame him too. Mark as his mentor and friend should at the very least be disappointed in him, but those emotions were not there, instead he saw only gentle concern. He glanced down to the floor and swallowed, partly relieved but still confused by his own powerful self doubt.
"Jess?" Mark repeated, gently prompting his young friend, waiting to be given an opening that he could work with.
Jesse met his gaze once more, asking the most powerful of the myriad of repeating questions. "How could anyone hate me that much?" His voice was quiet, unshed tears brimming in his eyes. "Enough to kill people?"
The question was asked with such guileless innocence that it almost broke Mark's heart.
Not that Jesse was naïve, far from it, intellectually he understood the motives for murder as well as anyone, but at an emotional level he would never understand the anger or hatred that could drive someone to kill. It was so far outside his own emotional range.
Mark looked at him and tried to remember the last time he had even seen the young man genuinely angry. No wonder he was having such difficulty coping in the face of such malevolence.
He shook his head. "I don't know, Jess. I just don't know." He paused for a moment and let out a breath. "But I do know that you're not responsible for any of this."
Jesse looked at him. "But my story."
"No," Mark interrupted the protest, trying to counter the guilt. "Whoever this is may be using what you've written, but if it hadn't been that it would have been something else." his speech tailed off as he watched Jesse's expression.
"Anything to make me suffer," Jesse said, dropping his gaze to the floor once more as the tears threatened. "Why couldn't they just come after me?" He studied the ground, shaking his head slightly. "Why not just kill me?"
Mark could not help but pick up on the implication that Jesse would have preferred that to what was happening. He tried hard not to sigh, not to show the despondency that he too felt. He had complete empathy, knowing that if he were in Jesse's position, he would feel the same and yet, that was not what Jesse needed to hear.
"Jess, this person, whoever it is, is a killer and a dangerous one. One we need to catch before they hurt you or anyone else. No one deserves," he emphasised the word, "to be a victim, especially not you." He paused briefly before reiterating his earlier assertion, wondering how many times he would have to repeat it before it broke through the wall of guilt that Jesse had erected. "You have done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this."
Mark watched for a few moments as Jesse considered his comments, before deciding that he needed to push a little harder if he was going to have any chance of keeping Jesse on track. Although, like Steve, he knew that the only thing that would really help would be to catch whoever was responsible for this nightmare.
"Steve was right." He said, shifting his position in the chair "We can't solve this without you, and you are going to need to stay focussed, do you think you can do that?" Again Mark watched as Jesse considered. He gave him about a minute this time, when there was still no reply... "Jess?" He prompted.
Jesse slowly met his gaze once more. He took a deep breath and did the mental equivalent of squaring his shoulders. He nodded slightly. "I can try."
Mark smiled and put his hand out to rest on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. "Then lets get started."
--
Steve stood leaning against the wall, letting the pounding spray of the hot shower massage some of the knots from tense muscles. For a moment he let his mind drift, forgetting briefly the trauma of the last few hours, as he lost himself in the sensations of the tingling water on his skin. All too soon the niggling questions returned and he sighed as he turned his mind once again to the case and how he could help his best friend. Still grateful for the brief respite.
He picked up the shampoo, wondering idly if salad dressing was good for his hair, after all it did contain oil, but even that stray thought reminded him of Jesse's story, pulled his mind back to the potential threats and the emotional turmoil that his friend was going through. He hurriedly massaged the suds through his hair before rinsing them off and, with a sigh, he reluctantly turned off the stream of water. He grabbed the two towels that he had brought in with him, wrapping one around his waist, he began to rub the water from his chest and arms with the other.
He paused as he thought he heard something from the room next door. Suddenly his senses were alert as he instinctively tensed, he could feel every water droplet on his skin. He stood motionless and listened, sure that there was someone in the locker room, and not sure why he should find that alarming, this was after all a busy hospital, even at this time in the evening there could be any number of people who had a legitimate reason to be there. He was however, painfully aware of his own nakedness, not just his lack of clothing but the fact that he had locked his gun in one of the unused lockers in the next room. He was unarmed and there was a killer with a powerful vendetta on the loose somewhere in the hospital.
He held his breath and padded silently across to the open doorway that divided the shower section from the lockers, his heart pounding in his chest. Cautiously he peered round the corner to the room beyond.
It was empty.
He heaved a sigh of relief, muttering to himself as he strode boldly out into the centre of the room in a deliberate counter to the sheepishness that he actually felt. "Pull yourself together or you'll be seeing the bogey man next Sloan." He wouldn't admit it to himself but part of the reason he spoke the words aloud was for the comfort of hearing his own voice.
He dropped the second towel on the bench, acknowledging at least tacitly that the situation had him a little spooked, by going to the locker and retrieving his gun and clothes before moving back to get dried and dressed..
He was drying his hair when he noticed the sheets of paper on the bench opposite. Still rubbing at his hair with the towel, he stood, curious as to what they were. As soon as he was close he picked them up and instantly recognised Jesse's handwriting.
It did not take long to realise that the sheets contained Jesse's summary of what happened in the next chapters of the story. Steve sat and began to read, oblivious to the fact that he still wasn't dressed. He frowned slightly as he read the sequence of events. Events that could become all too real if they did not manage to do something about it, but it was the last sheet, with the unfinished part of the story that gave him most cause for concern. He read it through again before gazing thoughtfully at the floor for a few moments. The last page was indeed worrying but there was something else niggling at the edge of his consciousness. He just couldn't quite figure out what it was.
He placed the sheets back on the bench and began to dress as he thought about it. When whatever it was wouldn't come, he resolved to take the sheets to his father, maybe he could pick out what it was that was bothering him, but if he was going to do that there was something he needed to do first. As soon as his trousers were fastened, he carefully took the back sheet and folded it, placing it in his pocket. That was one thing that he did not intend to show to his father, unless or until it became absolutely necessary.
He glanced at the front sheet again and then it hit him. With a sudden urgency he pushed his feet, sockless into his shoes, grabbed his shirt, pulling it over still wet shoulders and, without waiting to button it, scooped up the sheets almost running from the room.
He didn't notice the appreciative glances for his exposed torso from a couple of the nurses that he passed, as he ran along the corridor to his father's office, bursting in, breathless, he hoped to find Jesse still sitting there with his father. Instead he was dismayed to find Mark alone.
"Where's Jess?" He asked without preamble.
Mark was slightly shocked by Steve's half dressed appearance but, recognising the urgency of his son's tone, answered. "He's gone to check on some of his patients. Why?"
He dropped the sheets of paper on his father's desk. "I just found these," he said. "It's Jesse's summary of the next few chapters. In it the murder weapon, the screw driver, is found in Dr. Carter's locker. The very next thing that happens is Dr. Carter gets knocked out by a blow to the head."
Mark's eyes widened as he picked up on the implications. "And the murder weapon was found in Jesse's locker."
Steve nodded.
Mark picked up his phone, "I'll have him paged," he said.
Steve took out his cell phone, "and I'll try his pager."
That done both men knew that the next step was to begin a step by step search. They could not afford to just wait around until Jesse contacted them. Even though in Jesse's story Dr. Carter had not been seriously hurt, both of them knew better than most how unpredictable a blow to the head could be. Steve had seen his fair share of homicides over the years where the murderer had only intended to knock the person out.
As they left his office Mark gave instructions. "I'll check this floor," he said, "Jesse has patients on the next floor down and in ICU. The nurses will be able to tell you which rooms."
Steve nodded grimly. "Call me if you find him," he said as he headed for the elevator, attempting to button his shirt as he went..
--
Fifteen minutes later, Steve knew there was something wrong. Jesse hadn't responded to any of the announcements over the hospital address system, nor had he replied to Steve's pages. He had checked all of the rooms on the third floor and was preparing to head up to ICU when something else occurred to him. If events were mimicking the story so closely then Jesse would be found in the same place Dr. Carter had, the ER.
Steve pushed the down button to call the elevators and danced nervously from foot to foot whilst he waited impatiently for it to arrive. When the doors opened, his father was already standing inside.
"You know it occurred to me," Mark said, as Steve stepped in and hit the down button. "That Dr. Carter works in the ER, that is after all what the program is called."
Steve knew better than to be surprised that his father had come to the same conclusion as he had, only with far less information. He nodded, "According to Jesse's notes Carter is found in one of the trauma rooms, it didn't specify which."
As the lift doors opened both men rushed out into a fairly quiet ER. Mark headed for the desk. "Has anyone seen Dr. Travis recently?" He shouted the question as he approached.
The nurse at the desk nodded. "He came down about fifteen minutes ago, said he 'd been paged. I think he went into Trauma three."
Mark did not wait, he rushed for the door, Steve at his side, both hoping that their fears were unfounded.
Steve was the first through the door, breathing a sigh of relief at the apparently empty room. The relief however was short lived as he moved further in and noticed the slumped form on the opposite side of the exam table.
"Oh God Jesse!" Mark exclaimed as he too moved into the room and caught sight of the figure on the floor.