Psychotic Break-out

Hey guys! I'm sorry this took me so long to post. I confess I did have a little bit of writer's block, that and sooooo soooo much homework! Okay, enough excuses! Thanks guys for all your reviews, and on with the story!

All Disclaimers Apply

Chapter 10 – Cancer

Jesse furtively looked round the hospital reception area. No Mark. No Steve. No Amanda. Good! He thought. The idea of dealing with them right now made his stomach feel like jelly. He winced at the memory of Steve's outburst the previous night – Steve had been right of course, the whole thing was his fault, but it felt considerably worse coming from his best friend than it had from himself.

He darted from his temporary hiding place in the storeroom, hoping to make it across the reception area without running into one of them.

He must have made it only half way before someone tapped him on the shoulder. Jesse turned slowly, dread churning in the pit of his stomach. Which one would it be?

Soon, he was staring into the probing, clear blue eyes of Mark Sloan. Mark had a concerned air about his features as his eyes examined Jesse's face; it was clear to Mark that his young protégéé wanted nothing more than the floor to just swallow him up whole.

"Jesse!" Mark said faux-cheerfully, trying to avoid the tangible awkwardness between them.

"Mark!" Jesse laughed nervously, and inwardly cringing. He hated these sort of moments. "How are things? How's Ste…" Jesse cut himself off as he realised he had just brought up the subject that he most wanted to steer clear of.

"Steve is, uh, as well as can be expected" Mark answered as tactfully as he could manage. "Look Jesse, Steve told me what transpired between the two of you last night – " Mark went straight to the point, hoping to shock his young friend into a direct answer.

"Mark, can we just not…go there right now, I don't wanna talk about it" Jesse made as if to turn around, but Mark caught his shoulder.

"Jesse I do not want you getting the idea that this is all your fault. Steve said some things – "

"Mark I really don't have time for this! I've still gotta do my rounds, I mean I need to get round the ICU before midday and – "

"Someone can cover for you, we need to talk about this now!" Mark protested, desperately trying not to let Jesse talk his way out of this.

Luckily, Jesse was saved – or not as the case may be – by the arrival of Amanda Bentley. Her face was flushed and her eyes urgent as she reached them.

"Mark…Jesse, I've completed Yoshe's autopsy" she announced, shooting a glance at Jesse, a look that did not go unnoticed by the young doctor. She leaned towards Mark. "Steve is here" she whispered into his ear.

"Guys?" Jesse tapped Amanda on the shoulder. "I'm not deaf okay? If Steve is here, then he won't want to see me. So it's probably better if I just stay out of his way, okay? You can tell me about the autopsy later, anyway, I have the delightful Mrs Hayes to see in the ICU, so I'll be going" He pivoted and stalked angrily down the corridor.

"But Jesse!" Mark called.

Amanda laid an arm on his shoulder, "Leave him. He's right, Steve doesn't want him there, and I think the one person who can sort this out is Steve – so you'd be better talking to him rather than Jesse"

Mark sighed and watched the retreating figure of his young friend "You're right Amanda" he admitted reluctantly and followed her up to the pathology lab.

* * * *

Steve sat staring blankly in front of him, he barely even noticed when his father and Amanda entered the lab, and barely even acknowledged their greeting.

"Steve?" Mark waved a hand before Steve's still gaze, and watched the recognition flash back into his eyes.

"Oh, hey Dad." He said in a monotonous voice, "When did you get here?" he asked, not particularly interested in the answer. Shock had apparently stepped in to replace the anger inside Steve. Mark crouched down to study his son's features; he looked just like a small child, innocent and confused.

"Steve" he said in a soft, fatherly tone, "Amanda's gonna read out the autopsy results now okay?"

"Yeah" Steve replied absently. This made his father even more worried; Mark had expected anger - even tears and hysteria – but the way his son was so calm and devoid of emotion made him anxious about how Yoshe's death was affecting him.

Mark tried to ignore Steve's reply. "Amanda?"

"Right Mark, Steve…it's pretty obvious how Yoshe died. She was struck, uh, above the knee and rolled onto the windshield of the vehicle. The speed that it was travelling was so great that she was thrown from – " she paused to clear her throat, "from the windshield and hit the ground where she broke her spinal chord in the region of the neck. She died of asphyxia; the bone restricted the supply of oxygen to her brain. There was nothing that could have been done, she died within a matter of minutes." She stressed the last sentence deliberately, trying to show Steve that Jesse could have done nothing to influence the outcome of the accident.

Mark had been watching Steve throughout Amanda's speech; he had seen the silent tear rolling down his son's cheek, and had watched his shoulders shake as he sobbed silently. He reached over and pulled his son into an embrace, he expected resistance, but Steve just collapsed into his arms. "Its okay son" he whispered soothingly.

Amanda closed her file softly letting a tear run down her own cheek at the thought of what Steve must be feeling. She realised that she was intruding on what was clearly a private moment, so she laid the file down and tip-toed out of the lab, wiping the tear away as she went.

* * * *

Jesse let himself go as he sped down the empty highway. He didn't care if he got busted; he just wanted to feel the wind whipping through his hair and to feel free as the world whizzed by him. He wished he could let his guilt be carried off by the wind, but it just wasn't as easy as that. The nauseous feeling in his stomach was like a cancer, spreading to all parts of his body and making him almost paralysed with shame and guilt.

It practically consumed him; the accident; his failure; Steve's outburst. He just wanted to escape it all. Maybe I could transfer to another hospital! Start afresh! They'd never have to see me again and I'd never have to see them!

It would never work though, he decided as he turned up his familiar street and pulled up outside his apartment block, wherever he went it would follow him like a dark cloud. Could he ever be happy again? Without his closest friends? Knowing that he had as good as ruined Steve's life?

Maybe I'd be better off dead, He thought. Part of him was serious. Would they all miss me? Jesse didn't usually allow himself these self-indulgent thoughts, but this was a mitigating circumstance.

He got out of his convertible and stood still for a moment, staring at that spot on the asphalt. Still covered by the tent used by the forensics experts, it stood out like a beacon against the darkness of the street. He couldn't stay here, he just couldn't, but he didn't know where he would go. To his mother's? The thought almost made him laugh out loud.

He turned and walked up the pathway to his apartment block, but stopped halfway and spun round. He had the unshakeable feeling that he was being watched. His eyes roved the street and buildings around him. Nothing. He was about to move forward again when he noticed a small tabby cat looking at him from behind a shrub on the verge by the pathway. Its yellow eyes glinted suspiciously as it observed him. Just a cat! Jesse chuckled despite himself, I really am getting too paranoid!

He turned the light on in his small apartment as he entered, it's bare bulb casting a bright glow across the room, and headed straight for the cupboard where he stored his alcohol. Pulling out a bottle of vodka, he scrutinised it and considered downing it all at once, but then thought better of it and decided to drink it a shot at a time. After two shots, he decided to pour himself a bigger glass.

He sat down on his couch and put the glass to his lips. Is this the way my life is gonna turn out? He asked himself, Is this what I have been reduced to? He screwed up his features as the liquid burned his parched throat, and sighed as he swallowed it.

He set the glass down on his coffee table and glanced over at his front door. A pile of letters lay brushed aside; he must have walked passed without noticing them. He got up slowly and went to pick them up. Most of them were bills. The one from his credit card company caught his eye. He ripped it open and began to read. Right at the bottom was an amount for three thousand dollars, it was for Diamonds are Forever.

He dropped the stack of letters as an image of Yoshe's face, ecstatic because he had agreed to help her buy Steve's ring, pasted itself in front of his eyes. As if by magic, it melted into a worried expression.

"You won't tell Steve I couldn't pay for it will you?"

"Not if you don't want me to. I promise"

Could he ever tell Steve that Yoshe had borrowed money to buy him a ring? It would upset him so much, and it would be wrong since Yoshe had begged him not to say anything.

Jesse put his hands to his head. He couldn't deal with all this emotion. He felt selfish for his own unhappiness, Steve was the one who deserved his sympathy and support. But would it be wrong to play the supportive role when he had been the cause of the anguish in the first place?

So not only am I responsible for her death, but I'm a selfish idiot as well. She's dead, and here I am feeling sorry for myself! I don't deserve to live!

The thought had occurred to him earlier in a panicked moment, but after he considered it he realised that there was so much truth in it. He didn't deserve to live! In California people who committed murder were executed, and he really was no better than a murderer.

In a burst of adrenaline he had grabbed his car keys. The metal dug into his flesh as he picked up his coat and threw it around his shoulders. He didn't care about the pain; after all, he deserved it.

All of a sudden, the reality of what he was about to do hit him like a slap on the face. Did he really want to go through with this? Was it really worth it? Was killing himself really the answer? He deliberated this for some time, making movements towards the door and then stopping himself. The despair of his situation was like a knife sticking into his heart, and he truly did not know what to do.

A sudden, sharp knock at the door brought him back down to earth with a thump. Who would call at 2.00 a.m? he asked himself as he fumbled with the door keys. His eyes blurred with a combination of alcohol consumption and exhaustion as he pulled open the door, but the person standing in the doorway made his senses waken up at once. His eyes widened in fear as he saw what they were holding.

To Be Continued…

Hope that was worth the wait! Please Review and tell me what you think!