Part 5 Unnerved.
Father and son went round opposite sides of the table to get to their friend, each dropping to their knees by his side. Steve watched, feeling a little helpless as his father quickly assessed Jesse's condition.
Jesse was only semi conscious, there was blood pouring from a deep gash above his right eye. Mark couldn't see any other injuries. "Jess? Can you hear me?" He asked in gentle, professional tones. There was no response.
Mark turned to his son. "Help me get him up on to the table."
Steve nodded and between them they lifted Jesse on to the examining table, although his eyes were open and he was moving, it was clear that he was not with them. The shift in position, however, seemed to cause some agitation.
"It's OK, Jess," Mark said soothingly, "You're going to be OK." His voice had the desired effect and Jesse seemed to calm a little. Mark turned his attention to his son who had moved around to the other side of the table. "Make sure he doesn't fall.," he instructed. Steve nodded and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder and arm whilst his father first went to the doors and called for assistance and then retrieved some items he would need from the trolleys that ran along the side of the room.
The two nurses who entered did a slight double take when they realised who the patient was but rapidly switched into professional mode as Mark gave them instructions.
Steve's position at the table was quickly replaced and he obediently backed out of the way to give his father and the two nurses room to work. He knew that he should wait outside the room, but he did not feel that he could. The sight of his best friend lying injured on the table aroused strong protective instincts and, irrational though it was with both his father and the two nurses there, he felt that if he even went into the corridor he would be leaving his friend unprotected.
He was already reproaching himself for having let this happen. He had known that Jesse was a target for someone who had killed more than once, he should have insisted that Jesse had protection whilst moving around the building. Guilt edged his concern as he waited for his father to tell him just how badly he had allowed his friend to be hurt.
Mark continued to talk to Jesse as he cleaned and sutured the wound and was rewarded with signs of returning coherence.
Jesse struggled to make sense of surroundings that returned in brief flashes, as though viewed through shattered glass. His eyes refused to focus, his thoughts were jumbled, snippets of sound, voices that he knew, familiar smells, movements, gentle touches. There was only one constant, and that was the pain in his head, as the world phased in and out.
"Jesse, do you know where you are?"
Finally a sentence that made sense filtered through, as his vision simultaneously cleared and Mark's concerned features sharpened, briefly blurred and then cleared again. Jesse stared at his friend as he waited patiently for an answer. He had to think about it. "The hospital," he finally answered hesitantly, unsure of his ability to form the words.
Mark smiled with relief at the coherent reply, it was a little shaky but at least it showed that his friend was back with him. He continued to ask straightforward questions, smiling as the replies, each a little stronger than the last, confirmed Jesse's return to coherence.
Jesse answered the last of Mark's questions, recognising them as ones he would use himself. "It's all right Mark, I think I'm OK." He moved to sit up from the half reclined position he was in and winced as the thumping in his head became briefly unbearable before settling down again.
"Take it easy," Mark admonished gently, the concern still showed in his eyes. "You took a nasty blow to the forehead," he said, "Took seven stitches."
Jesse rested back, "That would explain the thumping headache," he said, forcing a half smile, "So what happened?"
"Well we were hoping that you could tell us," Steve replied from the opposite side of the table. He had moved across as soon as Jesse's replies began to become more coherent. Both men turned to look at him, Mark hadn't realised that he had stayed and Jesse had been unaware of his presence.
Jesse thought about it. What had happened? He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, unwilling to risk any more movement than that, the space where the memory should have been was an empty void. "Sorry," he replied, "there's nothing there."
"Well don't worry about it." Mark said patting the back of his hand. "Somebody clearly hit you with something that had a fairly sharp edge."
"It was a metal tray," Steve said flatly.
Mark looked up at him.
"Chapter 4 of Jesse's story, that's what was used to knock out Dr. Carter," Steve answered the unspoken question.
Jesse let out a sigh, Steve's comment was enough to return his memories of the day's events with a startling clarity, and with them came the painful emotions. "At least this time it wasn't someone else who got hurt," he said quietly staring straight ahead.
Mark recognised the return of the melancholy and determined to stop him going back down that path. "So do you remember why you came down here?" he asked.
Again Jesse took a moment to think about it, aware of his own slow responses. He looked up at Steve. "Because you paged me." The thought occurred to him that he hadn't been terribly cautious about his actions, despite the situation, because it had been Steve who had called him down. "From your cell phone."
Steve stared at him for a moment, he hadn't paged him, maybe he was confused, after all the blow to the head seemed pretty serious. "Jess I didn't.." he began.
"Wait," Jesse said reaching into the pocket of his coat "I have it here, I'm sure." He let the sentence tail off as he handed his pager over to Steve who checked the last message.
Mark and Jesse both watched as some of the colour drained from Steve's features. It was his cell number but how.? He retrieved his phone from his pocket so that he had both that and Jesse's pager in his hands, as his mind worked rapidly to piece together the events of the last half hour. He didn't like the conclusions he was beginning to draw. He looked up to meet the gazes of his father and his friend. "I don't understand." he said. "It's definitely my number."
Jesse's head was already hurting, he didn't need a puzzle. "You mean it wasn't you who wanted me down here," he said, his voice taking on a slight panic, now he couldn't even trust messages from his friends.
Steve shook his head, "No."
Jesse was beginning to get more agitated and Mark did not like the signs. "But I'm sure there's a logical explanation for all of this," Mark stated soothingly, he needed to keep Jesse calm. Although it looked like he only had a very mild concussion, he had lost a fair amount of blood from the wound and was clearly still in some pain, excitement and agitation of any kind would only make things worse.
Jesse turned to look at him. He'd been hurt, other people had been killed and now his friend's were luring him into traps for the killer. The irrationality of the last thought failed to register in his confused and emotional state, as did the assurance that Steve had not actually sent the page. The blow to his head was still affecting his short term memory. He turned to look at Steve slightly accusingly. "Why did you page me?" he asked, "the killer was waiting here for me."
Steve was stunned by both the question and the accusatory look. His own sense of guilt for having allowed this to happen to Jesse, was already enhanced by the realisation that his friend had come down here and been attacked when he thought he was coming to meet him. To have Jesse actually accuse him of some complicity only further reinforced those feelings. Whoever was doing this seemed to be playing with them. It wasn't just the violence, it was the deliberate attempts to emotionally unbalance them, particularly Jesse. Who could hate him so much?
Steve met his friend's gaze, he had moments earlier, seemed to accept that it hadn't been him who sent the page, but now he was behaving as though he still thought he had. Steve looked up at his father, partly to question the younger man's responses but mostly because he could not deal with the hurt and bewilderment in his friend's expression.
Mark recognised Jesse's loss of comprehension, the stress of the situation combined with the head injury was causing the confusion.. The stunned expression that crossed Steve's features was not lost on him, either, Steve was clearly troubled, and not just by Jesse's changing state of mind. He sighed inwardly, he would have to tackle that later, but at the moment he had more immediate priorities. "Jess," he said, drawing the young doctor's attention back from his son. "I really need you to try to remain calm, there are some more tests I need to run and you need to get some rest. You have a mild concussion."
"But I." Jesse began.
"Steve can come back and talk to you later about what happened." Mark stated in a tone which though gentle, invited no argument.
Steve did not need any more of an invitation. "Yeah, Jess, get some rest, there are a few things I need to check on and I'll get back to you."
Mark briefly looked up at his son as he left the room and attempted to read his expression and was surprised when he couldn't. He did not have time to consider it though, as his attention was drawn back to his patient.
"But he still didn't tell me why he paged me?" Jesse said.
"That's ok, he'll explain later."
--
Mark came out on to the corridor determined to look for Steve, but he did not have far to go. Steve stood only a short distance away, leaning his chin against one elbow which was resting shoulder height against the wall. He was deep in thought, lines of strain clearly showing on his face. Mark did not get any reaction as he approached, "Steve?" he asked still unable to read his son's expression.
Steve pulled himself back from his ponderings, dropping his arm down from the wall as he turned slightly to face his father. "How's Jess?" He asked.
"Still confused, but he's going to be fine. He's just gone up to X-ray and then I'll get him settled in a room for the night." Steve opened his mouth to ask another question but Mark anticipated what he was going to say. "There are two people from security with him, and they've got instructions not to let him out of their sight." He studied his son's pale drawn features, "but he's not the only one I'm worried about."
Steve looked into his father's eyes, he leant back against the wall and let out a small sigh. "I shouldn't have let this happen," he stated, reproaching himself.
So there it was, Mark had thought that it was something like this. He knew that Steve felt very protective towards Jesse, their friendship had always had Steve in older brother mode, almost from the day they had met, and over the years he had had plenty of opportunity to demonstrate that protectiveness. When he felt that he had let his friend down, it always hit him hard.
Mark understood the reaction, but knew that, as usual, Steve was being too hard on himself. "Steve there was nothing you could have done."
"I could have stayed with him, got security, or some uniforms down here," Steve said allowing a flash of anger to show, but it was directed at himself not at Mark.
"Steve you couldn't have known."
"Oh but I think I could," Steve interrupted, he stared at his father for a moment before continuing. "I've been running through what happened to Jess, and the more I go through it the more I don't like what I find."
"Which is?"
"Well, I found the pages that Jesse had written when I came out of the shower. It was only after reading them that I realised that he was in danger."
Mark nodded. "That's why we started to look for him."
"Well I don't think that they were there, or at least not where I found them, before I went into the shower. I think the killer put them there so that I would find them and read them. I was sure I heard someone in the locker room when I got out of the shower." Steve paused briefly to allow his father to think about the implications of what he was saying. "I also think that they used my cell phone to page Jesse at the same time, knowing that he would come without question, thinking it was me." Steve's hands balled into fists as he subconsciously reacted to the anger of being used to trap his friend. "Whoever it is then left the locker room."
"And went down to the Trauma room to fulfill the next part of the story and attack the person they've given the role of Dr. Carter." Mark completed for him.
Steve. nodded, both men stood in silence. Now Steve had put his suspicions into words it hadn't lessened his anger at being used, nor reduced the guilt and frustration that he felt at not being able to stop the attack on Jesse, despite the fact that the killer was telegraphing their every move. If only he had stepped out of the shower sooner or listened to his instincts when he thought someone was there, he might have caught them before they could do any more damage.
Mark stared at the floor, considering Steve's version of events it certainly seemed to fit the facts as they knew them. "But the killer was taking an awful risk. Jesse might not have been alone when he was paged, or you could have come out of the shower and caught them."
"I wish I had," Steve muttered with a slight bitterness before giving a more considered answer. "I've been thinking about that too. If whoever did this was watching your office from down the corridor, they could see both your door and the entrance to the locker room. When they saw Jesse come out they could have taken their opportunity then."
Mark nodded, "But they would still be taking an awful risk."
"I know," Steve replied, "and that's what scares me more than anything else." He paused for emphasis and held his father's gaze. "I think that whoever is doing this to Jess, is too insane to care."
Father and son went round opposite sides of the table to get to their friend, each dropping to their knees by his side. Steve watched, feeling a little helpless as his father quickly assessed Jesse's condition.
Jesse was only semi conscious, there was blood pouring from a deep gash above his right eye. Mark couldn't see any other injuries. "Jess? Can you hear me?" He asked in gentle, professional tones. There was no response.
Mark turned to his son. "Help me get him up on to the table."
Steve nodded and between them they lifted Jesse on to the examining table, although his eyes were open and he was moving, it was clear that he was not with them. The shift in position, however, seemed to cause some agitation.
"It's OK, Jess," Mark said soothingly, "You're going to be OK." His voice had the desired effect and Jesse seemed to calm a little. Mark turned his attention to his son who had moved around to the other side of the table. "Make sure he doesn't fall.," he instructed. Steve nodded and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder and arm whilst his father first went to the doors and called for assistance and then retrieved some items he would need from the trolleys that ran along the side of the room.
The two nurses who entered did a slight double take when they realised who the patient was but rapidly switched into professional mode as Mark gave them instructions.
Steve's position at the table was quickly replaced and he obediently backed out of the way to give his father and the two nurses room to work. He knew that he should wait outside the room, but he did not feel that he could. The sight of his best friend lying injured on the table aroused strong protective instincts and, irrational though it was with both his father and the two nurses there, he felt that if he even went into the corridor he would be leaving his friend unprotected.
He was already reproaching himself for having let this happen. He had known that Jesse was a target for someone who had killed more than once, he should have insisted that Jesse had protection whilst moving around the building. Guilt edged his concern as he waited for his father to tell him just how badly he had allowed his friend to be hurt.
Mark continued to talk to Jesse as he cleaned and sutured the wound and was rewarded with signs of returning coherence.
Jesse struggled to make sense of surroundings that returned in brief flashes, as though viewed through shattered glass. His eyes refused to focus, his thoughts were jumbled, snippets of sound, voices that he knew, familiar smells, movements, gentle touches. There was only one constant, and that was the pain in his head, as the world phased in and out.
"Jesse, do you know where you are?"
Finally a sentence that made sense filtered through, as his vision simultaneously cleared and Mark's concerned features sharpened, briefly blurred and then cleared again. Jesse stared at his friend as he waited patiently for an answer. He had to think about it. "The hospital," he finally answered hesitantly, unsure of his ability to form the words.
Mark smiled with relief at the coherent reply, it was a little shaky but at least it showed that his friend was back with him. He continued to ask straightforward questions, smiling as the replies, each a little stronger than the last, confirmed Jesse's return to coherence.
Jesse answered the last of Mark's questions, recognising them as ones he would use himself. "It's all right Mark, I think I'm OK." He moved to sit up from the half reclined position he was in and winced as the thumping in his head became briefly unbearable before settling down again.
"Take it easy," Mark admonished gently, the concern still showed in his eyes. "You took a nasty blow to the forehead," he said, "Took seven stitches."
Jesse rested back, "That would explain the thumping headache," he said, forcing a half smile, "So what happened?"
"Well we were hoping that you could tell us," Steve replied from the opposite side of the table. He had moved across as soon as Jesse's replies began to become more coherent. Both men turned to look at him, Mark hadn't realised that he had stayed and Jesse had been unaware of his presence.
Jesse thought about it. What had happened? He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, unwilling to risk any more movement than that, the space where the memory should have been was an empty void. "Sorry," he replied, "there's nothing there."
"Well don't worry about it." Mark said patting the back of his hand. "Somebody clearly hit you with something that had a fairly sharp edge."
"It was a metal tray," Steve said flatly.
Mark looked up at him.
"Chapter 4 of Jesse's story, that's what was used to knock out Dr. Carter," Steve answered the unspoken question.
Jesse let out a sigh, Steve's comment was enough to return his memories of the day's events with a startling clarity, and with them came the painful emotions. "At least this time it wasn't someone else who got hurt," he said quietly staring straight ahead.
Mark recognised the return of the melancholy and determined to stop him going back down that path. "So do you remember why you came down here?" he asked.
Again Jesse took a moment to think about it, aware of his own slow responses. He looked up at Steve. "Because you paged me." The thought occurred to him that he hadn't been terribly cautious about his actions, despite the situation, because it had been Steve who had called him down. "From your cell phone."
Steve stared at him for a moment, he hadn't paged him, maybe he was confused, after all the blow to the head seemed pretty serious. "Jess I didn't.." he began.
"Wait," Jesse said reaching into the pocket of his coat "I have it here, I'm sure." He let the sentence tail off as he handed his pager over to Steve who checked the last message.
Mark and Jesse both watched as some of the colour drained from Steve's features. It was his cell number but how.? He retrieved his phone from his pocket so that he had both that and Jesse's pager in his hands, as his mind worked rapidly to piece together the events of the last half hour. He didn't like the conclusions he was beginning to draw. He looked up to meet the gazes of his father and his friend. "I don't understand." he said. "It's definitely my number."
Jesse's head was already hurting, he didn't need a puzzle. "You mean it wasn't you who wanted me down here," he said, his voice taking on a slight panic, now he couldn't even trust messages from his friends.
Steve shook his head, "No."
Jesse was beginning to get more agitated and Mark did not like the signs. "But I'm sure there's a logical explanation for all of this," Mark stated soothingly, he needed to keep Jesse calm. Although it looked like he only had a very mild concussion, he had lost a fair amount of blood from the wound and was clearly still in some pain, excitement and agitation of any kind would only make things worse.
Jesse turned to look at him. He'd been hurt, other people had been killed and now his friend's were luring him into traps for the killer. The irrationality of the last thought failed to register in his confused and emotional state, as did the assurance that Steve had not actually sent the page. The blow to his head was still affecting his short term memory. He turned to look at Steve slightly accusingly. "Why did you page me?" he asked, "the killer was waiting here for me."
Steve was stunned by both the question and the accusatory look. His own sense of guilt for having allowed this to happen to Jesse, was already enhanced by the realisation that his friend had come down here and been attacked when he thought he was coming to meet him. To have Jesse actually accuse him of some complicity only further reinforced those feelings. Whoever was doing this seemed to be playing with them. It wasn't just the violence, it was the deliberate attempts to emotionally unbalance them, particularly Jesse. Who could hate him so much?
Steve met his friend's gaze, he had moments earlier, seemed to accept that it hadn't been him who sent the page, but now he was behaving as though he still thought he had. Steve looked up at his father, partly to question the younger man's responses but mostly because he could not deal with the hurt and bewilderment in his friend's expression.
Mark recognised Jesse's loss of comprehension, the stress of the situation combined with the head injury was causing the confusion.. The stunned expression that crossed Steve's features was not lost on him, either, Steve was clearly troubled, and not just by Jesse's changing state of mind. He sighed inwardly, he would have to tackle that later, but at the moment he had more immediate priorities. "Jess," he said, drawing the young doctor's attention back from his son. "I really need you to try to remain calm, there are some more tests I need to run and you need to get some rest. You have a mild concussion."
"But I." Jesse began.
"Steve can come back and talk to you later about what happened." Mark stated in a tone which though gentle, invited no argument.
Steve did not need any more of an invitation. "Yeah, Jess, get some rest, there are a few things I need to check on and I'll get back to you."
Mark briefly looked up at his son as he left the room and attempted to read his expression and was surprised when he couldn't. He did not have time to consider it though, as his attention was drawn back to his patient.
"But he still didn't tell me why he paged me?" Jesse said.
"That's ok, he'll explain later."
--
Mark came out on to the corridor determined to look for Steve, but he did not have far to go. Steve stood only a short distance away, leaning his chin against one elbow which was resting shoulder height against the wall. He was deep in thought, lines of strain clearly showing on his face. Mark did not get any reaction as he approached, "Steve?" he asked still unable to read his son's expression.
Steve pulled himself back from his ponderings, dropping his arm down from the wall as he turned slightly to face his father. "How's Jess?" He asked.
"Still confused, but he's going to be fine. He's just gone up to X-ray and then I'll get him settled in a room for the night." Steve opened his mouth to ask another question but Mark anticipated what he was going to say. "There are two people from security with him, and they've got instructions not to let him out of their sight." He studied his son's pale drawn features, "but he's not the only one I'm worried about."
Steve looked into his father's eyes, he leant back against the wall and let out a small sigh. "I shouldn't have let this happen," he stated, reproaching himself.
So there it was, Mark had thought that it was something like this. He knew that Steve felt very protective towards Jesse, their friendship had always had Steve in older brother mode, almost from the day they had met, and over the years he had had plenty of opportunity to demonstrate that protectiveness. When he felt that he had let his friend down, it always hit him hard.
Mark understood the reaction, but knew that, as usual, Steve was being too hard on himself. "Steve there was nothing you could have done."
"I could have stayed with him, got security, or some uniforms down here," Steve said allowing a flash of anger to show, but it was directed at himself not at Mark.
"Steve you couldn't have known."
"Oh but I think I could," Steve interrupted, he stared at his father for a moment before continuing. "I've been running through what happened to Jess, and the more I go through it the more I don't like what I find."
"Which is?"
"Well, I found the pages that Jesse had written when I came out of the shower. It was only after reading them that I realised that he was in danger."
Mark nodded. "That's why we started to look for him."
"Well I don't think that they were there, or at least not where I found them, before I went into the shower. I think the killer put them there so that I would find them and read them. I was sure I heard someone in the locker room when I got out of the shower." Steve paused briefly to allow his father to think about the implications of what he was saying. "I also think that they used my cell phone to page Jesse at the same time, knowing that he would come without question, thinking it was me." Steve's hands balled into fists as he subconsciously reacted to the anger of being used to trap his friend. "Whoever it is then left the locker room."
"And went down to the Trauma room to fulfill the next part of the story and attack the person they've given the role of Dr. Carter." Mark completed for him.
Steve. nodded, both men stood in silence. Now Steve had put his suspicions into words it hadn't lessened his anger at being used, nor reduced the guilt and frustration that he felt at not being able to stop the attack on Jesse, despite the fact that the killer was telegraphing their every move. If only he had stepped out of the shower sooner or listened to his instincts when he thought someone was there, he might have caught them before they could do any more damage.
Mark stared at the floor, considering Steve's version of events it certainly seemed to fit the facts as they knew them. "But the killer was taking an awful risk. Jesse might not have been alone when he was paged, or you could have come out of the shower and caught them."
"I wish I had," Steve muttered with a slight bitterness before giving a more considered answer. "I've been thinking about that too. If whoever did this was watching your office from down the corridor, they could see both your door and the entrance to the locker room. When they saw Jesse come out they could have taken their opportunity then."
Mark nodded, "But they would still be taking an awful risk."
"I know," Steve replied, "and that's what scares me more than anything else." He paused for emphasis and held his father's gaze. "I think that whoever is doing this to Jess, is too insane to care."