Chapter Eleven – Frequent Patient Discount Upgrade

Steve slowly swam back to awareness.  A persistent ache permeated his side.  The pain in his head that had been his companion since the incident in the bar made its presence felt with a vengeance.  He carefully rolled onto his left side and lifted a hand to his forehead.  He felt a sticky warm liquid.  Damn.  His next thought centered on his assailant.  He needed to get up and back inside the restaurant.  He pushed against the ground with his left arm and managed to achieve a sitting position.  The movement had pulled at the wound on his side and he felt the fresh flow of a warm liquid running along the waist band of his pants.  Gritting his teeth he moved to his knees, then using the garbage dumpster he pulled himself upright.  He leaned heavily against the dumpster before walking a less than straight line back inside Bob's.  As he cleared the door he fell back against it closing it with his body weight, he secured the lock and stumbled towards the office.  He dropped into the chair and reached for the phone.  He dialed the number of the beach house and waited for his father to answer.  Mark picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Dad, I need….," a wave of pain cut him off.

"Steve?" Mark questioned, concern suddenly evident in his voice.

"Dad, I've been shot."

"What!" Mark exclaimed.  "Steve, where are you?"

"I'm at Bob's, hurry, Dad," as he dropped once again into the dark void of unconsciousness.

"Steve….,Steve, can you hear me….,Steve, I'm on my way!  Mark grabbed his keys and coat and ran to the door.  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket as he ran, he made two phone calls one to 911 for the police and an ambulance and the other to Jesse.  He prayed that he had not yet left the hospital and would be there to take care of Steve.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he answered and said he would be there waiting.

Mark had broken numerous traffic laws and reached Bob's in record time.  The paramedics were still unloading their gear as he came screeching into the parking lot.  When he thought back on it later, he had no recollection of what happened after that.  His concern for his son was so great that he blew past the paramedics without even acknowledging their presence.  He dodged the outstretched arms of the police officer who tried to stop him.

"Sir, we haven't secured the scene yet," the officer shouted as Mark flew by him.

Mark raced forward screaming Steve's name.  The lack of response sent a shiver of fear down his spine that nearly incapacitated him.  He continued through the restaurant until he reached the office and stopped abruptly on the threshold.  Steve sat with his head resting on his arms which were folded on the desk top.  If not for the phone call Mark would have thought his son had fallen asleep while working on paperwork. 

An officer was leaning over feeling his neck for a pulse and Mark felt the other officer move in behind him.

"Is it ok for the paramedics to come in?" the officer asked.  The other officer nodded yes.

"Sir, we need to get in there," the paramedic said.

Mark jumped as he realized he was blocking the door and preventing his son from receiving medical care.  He followed them into the room and watched as they gently sat him back in the chair.  Mark gasped as he saw the blood staining Steve's shirt.  With infinite care the paramedics cut away his shirt and placed a bandage on his side and after a quick check of his head they moved him to the gurney and back out to the waiting ambulance.  Mark had watched it all with a strange detachment.  He had found himself unable to even ask any questions.  He stood still staring at the desk.  He was finally pulled from the fog by a hand touching his arm.

"Sir, we need to go, what hospital did you want us to take your friend to?"

"He's my son, and please take him to Community General."

………………..

Mark walked beside the gurney with a hand resting on Steve's arm.  He had still not regained consciousness.  Mark smiled gratefully as he saw Jesse coming towards them.

"How is he?" Jesse asked.

"Bullet wound to the right side and a head injury," replied the paramedic.  He has been unconscious since we got there.  His pupils are slightly dilated.

"Ok, thanks, let's get him into trauma three, Mark I'll come to the lounge as soon as I have completed my exam."

He then followed the gurney into the exam room.  "Steve, can you hear me?" Jesse asked as he moved the bandage off the bullet wound in his side.  The bullet had made a furrow that got deeper as it had traveled across his side.  Jesse sighed in relief, it was not that bad.  A couple of sutures on the deep end and it should be fine.  The head wound by itself didn't look bad, but it followed closely on the heels of Steve's bar altercation

 "Let's get a CT scan, and clean both these wounds up, I'll be right back."

………………..

Jesse walked into the lounge to find Mark standing and staring out the window.  "Mark?"

Jesse saw his shoulder's droop slightly and then he took a deep breath and turned around to face him.

"How bad?"

"The gunshot is a flesh wound, he's gone to get a CT scan for his head.  I think everything will be fine."

"Has he regained consciousness yet?"

"No, but that's not unexpected.  He has had two head traumas in a relatively short period of time."

"He should have been more careful.  He asked us all to participate in making him a target and he can't even take simple precautions?" Mark voiced with anger invading his tone.

"Mark, Steve is careful, but the only way to prevent this would be to never leave the house and that is not who he is.  Innocent people are being murdered and he wants to catch the culprit.  I seem to recall a time or two in the past when you have been lax in your own personal safety.  We had to stand by while you made yourself the target.  Though concerned and at times a little angry Steve has always been supportive"

"It's not the same, Jesse."

"Why, because you're the one doing the worrying?  You don't know how many times I have watched him while you are carrying out one of your schemes.  It tears him up because he knows that if things don't go perfectly, that even as close as he is, he couldn't stop you from being harmed."

"He never said anything."

"He wouldn't, because he knows that it is part of what makes you who you are.  The willingness to make sacrifices to help right a wrong.  He can't say anything because it's a trait you share and how can he ask you to act differently than he would?  If the situations were reversed would you have refused to do it?"

Mark stood silently and considered all that Jesse had said.  He was right of course, but that still didn't change the fact that a parent had a right to have different standards for their children.  He smiled at the young man who stood in front of him.   "Jesse, you're right, but remember the old saying 'Do as I say, not as I do', I only want to keep him safe."

"I know, Mark, believe me, that's all I want as well, but we can't change who he is, and he became that person to some extent by following the examples you set."

"So you're saying this is all my fault?" Mark asked with a smile.

Jesse looked into the face of his mentor trying to gauge his mood and realized that the anger had passed.  "No, the fault lies with the individual who pulled the trigger."

"Did anybody ever tell you that you would make a fine therapist?" Mark asked.

Jesse's response was interrupted.  "Dr. Travis, Mr. Sloan is back in the exam room," a nurse explained.

"Ok, thanks, Mark let me get him sutured up and, read these films and, I'll be back."

"Thanks, Jesse."

………………..

Jesse had been pleased with what the films had shown him.  No serious damage was visible.  He had numbed the wound in Steve's side and was suturing the area when a slight head movement caught his attention.  After finishing the last suture and motioning for the nurse to bandage the area, he moved up by Steve's head.  There were definite signs that he was struggling back towards full consciousness.  "Nurse, can you get Dr. Sloan, please?"

Jesse reached out and laid a hand on Steve's shoulder.  'Steve, can you hear me?"

The eyelids jumped, the mouth opened to moisten dry lips, and the brow furrowed slightly.  "Steve, come on, your Dad is on the way in here and it would do him good to see you awake.  Actually, it would do me good as well."  Again, he saw the reactions that indicated Steve was coming around.  This time when the eyelids jumped, he caught a brief glimpse of blue.  As he prepared to offer more encouragement Mark entered the room and stopped on the other side of Steve.

Mark reached a hand and rested it on Steve's forehead.  "Steve, you need to wake up now."  The reactions this time were more prominent, and the blue eyes were suddenly visible.  Mark smiled.  "Hello."

Steve tried to speak, but ended up coughing instead.  He closed his eyes and swallowed to bring some moisture into his throat.  He opened them back up and locked gazes with his father.  His expression reflected his confusion.  "Dad, what happened?"

Mark moved the hand from his forehead down to his shoulder and squeezed lightly.  "You had a little accident at Bob's."

Steve frowned.  His thoughts were jumbled.  He closed his eyes as he tried to remember and organize what had happened.  He remembered being at Bob's and talking with Alex, then taking the trash out.  Like a light switch had been flipped, the rest came back in an instant.  "I was shot when I took the trash out," he stated simply.

"You were?" Jesse asked looking at Mark for confirmation.

Mark shrugged his shoulders; he had been intent on getting his son to the hospital and had not asked any questions.

"How bad?" Steve questioned.

"Not bad, but it will be painful, you also managed to crack your head again.  You know it might be advisable for you to start wearing your football helmet all the time," Jesse offered.

Even with his fogged mind, Steve recognized what Jesse was trying to do.  He smiled and mouthed a grateful thank you. 

"You're welcome, how about we get you into a regular room?"

Steve braved a slight nod of his damaged head and turned to once again focus on his father.  He noticed the lines of worry and fatigue around his eyes and the strained tightness of his lips.  He felt a flash of guilt because he knew he was responsible.  "Dad, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Mark questioned.

"For putting you through this."

"Steve, I won't lie and say it isn't difficult, but you're going to be ok, and that's all that matters."

……………...

Steve awoke to sunlight streaming through the hospital window.  He blinked to help focus his eyes then looked around the room.  He was alone.  He attempted to stretch and instantly regretted it.  The dull ache in his side he had noticed when he woke up flared to a raging pain.  He slowed his breathing and squeezed his eyes shut while he waited for the agony to lessen.  When he opened his eyes again he found himself being observed by a pair of soft brown eyes.  "Hello, Amanda."

"Good afternoon," she responded.

'Afternoon, how long have I been here?"

"You were brought in around 1AM this morning, how are you feeling?"

"Fine, as long as I don't move."

"Well, I see a problem with that, because knowing you, I doubt that you plan on staying still."

Steve chuckled.  "Where's Dad?"

"I sent him to the cafeteria to get something to eat and then hopefully go home for awhile, I told him I would sit with you."

"I don't need a babysitter, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Really, well I think based on the number of times you end up here that would be a debatable statement."

Steve gave her a glare that held no malice.  "Very funny, I don't end up here that often."

She smiled sweetly as if humoring a child.  "How about a late lunch?"

As Steve was still considering her question a rumble sounded from his stomach.  "I guess the answer is yes."

………………..

Steve had eaten his lunch, grateful for Amanda's company.  She had left a short time later to get home to the boys and he was considering turning the TV on when the door to his room opened.  He turned and was surprised to see the Chief.

"Lieutenant Sloan," he greeted.

"Sir," Steve responded.

"How are we feeling?"

Looking at the Chief, Steve decided he was feeling just fine.  Steve on the other hand was pretty miserable.  "Fine, sir."

" We need to take advantage of this latest development."

"Ok, what did you have in mind?"

"We don't know if this attack was perpetrated by our killer, or just someone who took offense to seeing your face in the paper, but we can't take a chance.  Ms Thompson and her photographer are out in the hall.  We need to take some pictures and come up with some more inflammatory quotes for tomorrow's paper."

"No," Mark spoke for the doorway.  "I won't have my son put in any more danger."

The Chief smiled.  "Doctor Sloan, it's not your decision, and I think we both know what your son will decide don't we?"

Steve contemplated the two figures that stood in front of him.  Either way he went it was going to be unpleasant.