All in a Days Work

by Holstered .38

REVISED! I have taken on board the comments made previously and rewriten some of this. Please take the time to read and review. A superhero causes trouble for Steve and Jesse has problems of his own.

All in a Days Work...

The mediocre light from a couple of street lamps illuminated two figures. The first man was running west along Magenta Boulevard with the second in pursuit. The image could have been one from a comic book, as the person doing the chasing was wearing a green lycra catsuit and matching mask! The man he was chasing had just left a convenience store with the days takings following the resonating sound of a gunshot.

The chase went on for three blocks before the two men hit the sidewalk after a flying tackle any quarterback would have been proud of.

The police and ambulance arrived at Palmer's 24seven store and were stunned by the statements being given. One officer was heard to comment "Put an APB out for the Green Hornet..."

Three blocks away a man stood tied to a street lamp with a makeshift sign around his neck stating 'I burgled Palmer's Store!'. The police picked him up within ten minutes of them arriving at the scene of the crime, but there was no sign of the masked man...

The emergency room of Community General Hospital was electrified with activity as doctors and nurses alike tended the sick and injured. Dr Mark Sloan, head of internal medicine, stood at the nurse's station and signed his last patient over to orthopaedics with a medical regime that could finance any drug rep's vacation. His shift had ended, officially, nearly forty minutes earlier, but his fastidious nature had not allowed him to leave without ensuring his patient's well-being had been taken care of.

Dr Jesse Travis, one of Mark's most talented residents, exited Trauma room two snapping the latex gloves from his hands. A weary look emerged from beneath his blue surgical mask. Mark looked quizzically, one foxy white eyebrow raised higher that the other and Jesse just shook his head. "Mr Palmer didn't make it, he'd lost too much blood. It was amazing he'd survived as long as he did."

"I'm sorry Jess," consoled the senior physician, putting a fatherly arm around his shoulders. "If your shift has finished, why don't you come to the beach house for supper? I'll cook up some of that Spaghetti bolognaise that I know you are so fond of... How about it?"

Jesse's eyes softened. It was true; food had always been his way of shaking off any depression he felt. That was part of the reason he had gone into partnership with Mark's son, Steve, selling barbecue and between them 'Barbecue Bobs' had experienced a large and loyal clientele making it one of the most popular restaurants and take-away stores for miles around. "Just let me get changed," he replied, accepting Mark's generous offer.

About ten minutes later, the off-duty doctors met in the staff parking lot. Jesse climbed into his dark blue vintage VW beetle and followed Mark in his white MG along the Pacific Coast Highway to the beach house in Malibu.

The place was almost in complete darkness. Only a single light shone from the downstairs unit indicating Steve was at home in his half of the beachfront property.

Frustrated murmurings emanated from downstairs, much to the intrigued doctor's amusement, until finally Steve emerged still muttering under his breath. "Green suit...what is with the green outfit?...Must think he's some sort of comic book hero...Ohh, hi Dad, Jess!"

"Hi Steve," the pair replied in unison.

Steve moved toward the refrigerator and took a bottle of chilled beer from the door. "Have you heard about this guy who goes about the place, interfering in criminal investigations, dressed in a green lycra cat suit?" Without waiting for a response he continued his rantings. "The newspapers have nicknamed him the 'Green Crusader'!"

Jesse had to turn away with his hand over his mouth for fear of letting the suppressed giggle escape. Mark, too, was trying to contain himself as he watched his son get emotional over some geek who wanders the streets at night wearing a spandex suit and a green balaclava!

Suddenly aware of the hilarity being suppressed by his father and best friend, Steve let his face relax and a lop-sided smirk emerged. He had to admit, much to Chief Masters' dismay, that this character in green spandex had brightened his otherwise monotonous workload!

Mark changed the subject as he walked towards the kitchen. "I'm just about to make SOME Spaghetti bolognaise, do you want to join us? It was a silly question really, one to which he already knew the answer.

"Thanks Dad," Steve replied. "I was wondering what to do about dinner and had almost decided, but I don't think that Sloan's surprise matches up to Spaghetti bolognaise, do you?

"Sloan's surprise?" queried Jess.

Mark and Steve looked at each other before focusing on Jesse. "We look in the cupboard and refrigerator and it's a surprise if there is anything in there!" explained Steve. All three friends shared the joke.

The meal was delicious and the conversation turned back to the 'Green Crusader' as Steve outlined the case he was involved in.

A couple of days later, a pink and blue neon sign flickered testily as Texas Joe's Bar and Grill advertised its business. Outside a beige sedan parked up, its steamed windows gave evidence to its two occupants. Conversation remained virtually non-existent, only the radio buzzed and crackled as the announcer gave a blow-by-blow commentary of the basketball game between the LA Lakers and the New York Knicks. The home team were up by five points and the crowd could be heard cheering as each basket was won. The radio signal faded in and out as the odd taxicab or tram drove by.

Texas Joe's was a popular venue for evening meals and did a good trade in liquor too with regulars sat around the vast expanse of bar space. Each of the stupefied residents drowning in their own glassful of misery and occasionally sharing a reticent memory or moment with the bar tender as another refill came their way.

Several hours had passed and the midnight hour had long since gone, when the occupants of the beige sedan decided to enter the bar. Most of its customers had staggered off or caught cabs back to their home lives. Only two middle aged men sat at the end of the bar talking to a guy who had to be Joe. The bar tender wore a brown plaid shirt and suede waistcoat that any sheriff would be proud of. He ambled over to the new customers with a tea towel draped over his left shoulder fresh from polishing the clean glasses out of the dishwasher. "What can I get you guys?" he asked in a thick drawling accent.

The taller of the two men waved him closer with two fingers, as if what he was about to say might be overheard by eavesdroppers. "I'll have a Jack Daniels and my friend here will have the contents of your cash register!"

The bar tender looked somewhat confused and surprised but the sight of a handgun being pointed in his direction soon clarified the situation. Using the bag he usually used to take the takings to the night safe in, Joe handed over the contents of each of the cash machines, his face pale and palms sweaty. He dropped a bag of change that split open as it hit the floor, sending quarters in all directions. The shorter of the two armed robbers waved the gun impatiently, urging the bartender to move faster.

The two customers at the end of the bar continued to drink their respective drinks oblivious to the events happening right under their noses.

With the cash all bagged up, the thieves left the bar totally pleased with their evenings haul. They jumped back into the beige sedan, but the vehicle wouldn't start. Both men began to get more and more frantic at the lack of 'quick escape' they were making and after several turns of the ignition key with no response from the engine and the wail of distant sirens, the pair decided to make a run for it on foot. What they failed to notice was a lone figure watching them from a nearby alley...

They had not gone far before they realised that there was someone behind them – running. The street lamps were too dim and far apart to identify their pursuer, and carrying the weighty takings from Texas Joe's was slowing them down. The taller robber ducked into the next alleyway, closely followed by his partner. When the person who was chasing reached the alley everything was still, not silent, but still.

Loose newspapers wafted in the evening breeze and empty takeaway cartons were littered next to over-flowing dumpster bins.

A man in green lycra stood at the entrance of the alleyway taking in the whole scene of filth and general complacency toward hygiene and refuse control. His determination to catch the criminals as strong as ever, he drew a gun from a holster near his right ankle and cautiously moved into an almost certain ambush.

Sweat streaked down the fugitives faces as the pair of them crouched behind an abandoned red Chevy that had had most of it's contents removed and instead of a wheel at each corner, the vehicle stood, rather shakily, upon a stack of bricks.

The 'masked crusader' took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his adrenalin-saturated heart rate. It was futile; the thumping still resounded in his head and competed against the occasional crack of thunder. Raindrops trickled down his mask onto his bare cheeks. The bodysuit, which ordinarily was quite figure hugging, became more defined and left little to anyone's imagination. Moving away from the centre of the alleyway, he used the cover of the alley walls to make his approach upon the fugitives. A rat bolted from between two trashcans making him jump. Then he noticed the wrecked Chevy and the shadows dodging around beyond it. With his weapon raised he moved closer. Suddenly, one of the men rose from his hiding place and began shooting wildly. Green lycra won't stop a speeding bullet, so he took his chance and fired back wounding the thief in the right shoulder. As he fell the ground, his partner made a run for it. Another bullet rang out, hitting the fleeing man in the leg. He dropped the bag with the takings and made it to the end of the alley, blood oozing from his bullet wound. He had evaded capture by the green clad vigilante, but he knew he would need medical help. The problem was, gunshot wounds had to be reported to the police and having escaped capture once, he was not about to hand himself in just like that...

Within five minutes, police officers, illuminated by the flashing red and blue stroboscopic lights, were taking stock of the situation in the alley. In the midst of all the chaos was Lt Steve Sloan, shaking his head in disbelief that the 'Green Crusader' had struck again – only thing was this time it had been more violent and now Steve was getting earache from his boss, Chief Masters, to catch this guy before someone gets killed, or the press want to put the 'Green Crusader' into office!

Using a payphone a couple of blocks away, the fugitive dialled a number. "Mikey, it's Ray. I need your help. Meet me out the front of Community General in five minutes."

It had been a long shift for Dr Jesse Travis. The emergency rooms had been stretched to almost breaking point after a massive RTA on the PCH that had left four people dead and twenty six injured, several of them seriously. Jesse completed his timesheet and made his way into the parking lot, eager to get home and see the end of the game on TV. He had not noticed the figures closing in behind him, one limping heavily on his injured leg. Just as Jesse reached and unlocked his blue beetle it happened – the unmistakable 'click' of a handgun being cocked resounded in his left ear, the cool metal barrel touched his cheek and Jesse froze on the spot expecting to have to hand over his wallet and car keys. His assailant instructed him to quietly get in the car and drive them both to the doctor's apartment. Jesse momentarily thought of making a run for it, but decided against aggravating the situation further. Slowly, he complied. Blood smeared across the doctor's cream leatherette seats as one of the men slid into the passenger seat.

"You're bleeding," remarked Jesse horrified.

"I know, and you are going to fix me up, doc..."

"C'mon then. Let's get you into the ER."

"NO!" Mikey replied forcefully. "No hospital – you..."

Jess gulped. He could see the wound needed surgery, but his captors were adamant. He turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened. Again Jess turned the key, still nothing. His passenger was becoming agitated "Doesn't any car in LA start first time?" At last the beetle's engine spluttered to life. It's throaty exhaust spewing clouds of blue/grey smoke and fumes into the air. "I hope you are a better doctor that you are a mechanic!" muttered the man sat beside the pale and sweaty doctor who had subconsciously heaved a sigh of relief when his car had finally started.

Jesse could tell the man was experiencing a great deal of pain, and it was only the adrenalin in his system was all that was preventing him from passing out. Finally, the beetle pulled up in Jesse's parking bay beneath the apartment block where he lived.

"Get out," instructed the armed man before sliding out of the drivers door himself. His partner wobbled as his injured leg crumpled under the weight of his body. Jesse reached out instinctively to steady him, and his injured captor finally relented allowing Jesse to put his arm around the doctor's shoulder. Moving was awkward, partly because Jesse was at least six inches shorter that the man he was supporting and also the gun was never held very far away from the young doctor, often digging into his rib cage from behind.

Jesse, true to his Hippocratic oath, examined his patient. "You need to be in hospital, that wound needs surgery."

"No," came the blunt reply. "You're a doctor, you can fix me up."

"But I don't..." The gun was again pointed directly at Jesse's head, stopping him from completing his sentence. "OK," Jess resigned himself to the fact he'd have to perform home surgery. "I need to get my bag and the first aid box from the bathroom." The gun lowered and waved him in the direction of the bathroom.

Jesse Travis' patient was bleeding profusely, the bullet remained lodged in his upper thigh. "I've got to remove the bullet," he explained. Ray's colour had drained dramatically through the amount of blood he had lost over the past hour or so.

Mikey paced anxiously as Ray slipped into a sedated unconsciousness allowing the young physician to perform the impromptu surgery using the limited equipment at hand. "Will Ray be alright?" asked Mikey as Jesse bandaged a gauze pad to the wound. Blood stained Jesse's pale blue shirt and had soaked right through to the white t-shirt he wore beneath.

"I've done all I can for him. You've got to understand that he should be in hospital right now," frustration evident in his voice.

Time had little meaning that night, it seemed all the clocks in Dr Travis' apartment had developed a fault making them run much slower, minutes seemed like hours. Especially as he had missed the game – his team losing by one basket according to the highlights repeated on the sports channel.

Ray murmured incoherently as a fresh dressing was applied to his wound. His brother was becoming twitchier with each indistinct ramble. Suddenly, Jesse's phone rang. Before he could answer, his captor ripped the wire from the socket, casting the room back into relative silence.

Susan Hilliard, Jesse's fiancée, sat on her parent's sofa waiting for him to answer the phone. It had been a long time since she had visited her folks in Utah, but since she arrived, two days earlier, she had rung Jesse both before and after his shift at CGH. It had taken the two of them ages to become a couple, as on many occasions fate had plotted against them especially when they tried to book a weekend away to the coastal town of Carmen. Now they were a couple, neither of them passed up the opportunity to wish each other goodnight. It was this bonding that surprised the off duty ER nurse as she heard Jesse's phone ring three times before the line went dead. Absent mindedly, she stared into the handset and shrugged her shoulders dismissively saying, to no one in particular, "Well Jess, I told you to get that phone fixed. That's what you get for buying it cheap off of your cousin Chico!" Jesse had a vast number of 'cousins', many of which had an unusual line in business...

Next morning Dr Amanda Bentley caught up with Mark. "Have you seen Jesse this morning? I have looked all over and he said he wanted these test results first thing..."

"No, I haven't. Why don't you leave them with me, I'm due to go on my rounds with him a little later on. I expect that dodgy VW has broken down on him again. I don't know why he doesn't trade it in for something more reliable..."

Amanda smiled sideways at her mentor, for she knew that he was just as bad. For years Mark had kept a white Jaguar convertible despite it's reliability. The only thing that was reliable about it was that you could guarantee it wouldn't start! Still, he had kept his local mechanic in business and was on first name terms with the tow truck driver, Ernie.

Morning soon turned to afternoon, still with no word from Jesse. Mark was becoming concerned about Jesse's absence. It wasn't like him to not tend his patients or phone in if he was experiencing a problem. In fact, Jesse had been known to come into work on his days off simply because of his conscientious nature and love of his job. He thrived on being under pressure, and had often taken on extra shifts and duties, which is why Mark took it upon himself to call around to the young physician's apartment on the way home. Just before he left the hospital he tried Jesse's home phone number again – it was dead, and his cell was turned off. Whatever he was up to, Mark mused, Jess certainly didn't want to be disturbed.

Mark's MG pulled up outside Dr Travis' apartment, its raucous engine made a reverberating echo between the blocks of houses lining the street. Mark was amazed that there weren't people twitching at their curtains trying to find out what all the noise was about. Before climbing out of his vintage sports car, Mark rang Steve to let him know he was going to be late home, but his son's phone was switched to voicemail. As Mark didn't much care for answering services, his message was brief. "Steve, it's dad. I've stopped by Jesse's on the way home, so I'll be home late. See you later. Bye." It was concise and to the point he thought as he flipped shut his cell phone and climbed from the low bucket seat. It took a moment for the senior doctor to straighten himself after sitting in the cramped driving position. He leaned against the wall partitioning the sidewalk from the apartment grounds and stared upwards in the direction of Jesse's place.

Jesse's apartment was on the second floor. As Mark climbed the stairs his hand rested upon a tacky patch on the stair rail. Peeling his hand away, he noticed it was blood; his thumb and finger squeezed and pulled apart the red congealing liquid. His senses heightened, Mark moved slowly towards apartment 3C. Another smear of blood was on the right hand side of Jesse's doorframe. Could he be so badly hurt that that was why he had not been to work or answered the phone? Anxiously Mark rapped on the door and called out, "Jesse...Jesse are you alright?...Jess let me in..." Mark heard shuffled movement and hushed voices from within. Assuming this meant Jess was incapable of coming to the door, Mark used the spare key Jesse had given him to mind the place when he had gone away with Susan, and let himself in. The scene before him had not been what he had expected...

Jesse's apartment now felt a little overcrowded. Ray's semiconscious body took up the sofa; Jesse knelt at his patient's side trying to quell the fever that had developed upon Ray's brow. Mikey perched himself on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, facing Jess and his brother, the gun held tightly in his hand but lowered to his side. However, when Mark let himself into Jesse's apartment Mikey came very close to pulling the trigger. Only Jesse's quick reactions, darting over to Mikey to allow Mark's entrance as not a threat, together with Mark's sudden assessment of the situation, prevented another casualty from a firearm. Mark held his hands in the air, only lowering them to close the door behind him. "Jess, are you OK?"

He nodded his response, relieved that he hadn't another patient to treat. Mikey instructed Mark to sit in the lone armchair alongside the sofa.

Mark sat patiently for a minute or two, but his inquisitive nature won out. "What happened here?"

Mikey fidgeted uncomfortably on the stool before standing. The gun waving around as an extension of his own arm, "There was an accident..."

"What kind of accident?"

Jesse's attention was caught by another groan from Ray, and he placed a cold face cloth on his patient's forehead. "He was shot!" blurted Jess defiantly.

"Did you shoot him? Is that why he's here and not at the hospital?"

"NO!" exclaimed Mikey suddenly defensive. "No, it was that green suited superman – what's his name..."

"The Green Crusader."

"Yeah, he shot my brother."

"How's he doing Jess?"

"Not so good. I've removed the bullet, but he's still bleeding, and I think there is a secondary infection as well. His temperature is rising. If we don't get him to a hospital soon..."

Jesse didn't get the opportunity to finish his sentence as Mikey spun around and aimed the gun directly at the young doctor's chest. "I said no hospital, OK? Now shut up!"

Jesse raised his hands in defeat and submitted to his captors' request.

Later that night, Mark requested to use the bathroom. Reluctantly, Mikey agreed. Whilst in the privacy of the bathroom, Mark attempted to raise the alarm by trying to call Steve again. Unfortunately, Jesse's apartment seemed to be in a transmission dead spot. He cursed loudly, perhaps too loudly as Mikey called out "Hey, what are you doing in there?"

"Oh nothing..." Thinking on his feet, Mark responded, "I just knocked my knee on the bathroom cupboard."

"Well hurry up in there."

Mark flushed the toilet and washed his hands, shaking them dry as he exited the bathroom limping slightly and returned to the armchair. As he sat he noticed that Jesse was beginning to show signs of severe exhaustion. Snatching fleeting moments of sleep as his head rested upon his supporting hand.

"Jesse, you are exhausted. You've got to get some proper sleep."

"Shut up old man," instructed Mikey dangerously.

"Look, I'm a doctor. If you'll just let me take a look..." pleaded Mark.

"I said shut up. Ray has already got one doctor taking care of him, he doesn't need you! And if you don't shut up, you'll be having to treat yourself – if you know what I mean..."

Steve had had it up to his forehead with the Green Crusader. Why had he been lumbered with tracking down this 'fruit loop'? He was supposed to be a homicide detective, and so far this lunatic hadn't yet killed anyone, although he had come quiet close with Chad Pryor. Chad had been shot by the masked menace after holding up Texas Joes. His partner, on the other hand, had escaped with some unknown injury. Although Chad maintained he worked alone, blood splatters were found near the far end of the alley – A rhesus negative, a different blood group to Chad, who was O rhesus positive!

Steve took a swig from the freshly opened bottle of chilled larger and sat with his feet up in front of the TV. The sports channel was running a special on dirt biking.

It was well past midnight when Steve realised he must have fallen asleep watching TV. Figuring his dad had already retired to bed, he decided it was about time he did the same.

The six o'clock alarm disturbed Steve from a weird dream in which he was baring down upon the Green Crusader on his dirt bike. The superhero dodging in and out of alleyways as he sped along avoiding thrash cans and jumping dumpsters leaving sheets of newspapers with articles on the Green Crusader billowing to the ground in his wake. He had almost captured this semi-superhero when his alarm had sounded. Steve tried to shake the thought from his mind as he dressed in his jogging suit, ready for his morning run along the seafront.

Half an hour later, he returned, showered, dressed for work and went upstairs to greet his father and maybe scrounge a freshly made cup of coffee and some toast. But there was nothing. No coffee, no eggs and bacon sizzling away in a pan, no jovial singing – only silence. The house was unnervingly silent. Steve checked his father's room on the off chance he had over laid, but Mark's bed had not been slept in all night. Switching his cell phone on to ring his father, in case the hospital had called him in early, he noticed he had a message waiting for him. He listened to his father's short call before trying to ring him back. 'He should have been back from Jesse's by now,' the detective thought to himself, a shiver of panic racing down his spine. The automated response that no signal was available on the desired number sounded in his ear. Steve grabbed his keys and headed out the door determined to find out if Jesse knew where his dad had gone.

Steve drove his black ford towards Jesse's apartment, not noticing where he was until he had reached the final turn into the street where his best friend lived, his mind full of questions. Instantly, he noticed his father's car parked out the front. Steve parked his car behind his father's. As he walked around the MG he touched the hood with his hand, it was cold and still had the early morning dew clinging to the paintwork. The car had been here all night. The detective, now more cautious, went to check the garage below the apartment block, where he found Jesse's bloodstained beetle. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as horrible images flashed in his mind's eye. He had to remain professional and focused; he could not afford to become emotional, otherwise he would not be any good at his job, and he knew he was a good detective. Questions began to flood his mind – whose blood was it? Was it Jesse's? Perhaps that's why his father was still here, but surely they would have gone to the hospital...

Moving clear of the scene, Steve grabbed the radio from his glove compartment and called dispatch to send backup. Within minutes three squad cars and an armed response unit arrived blocking the open end of the no-through street. Steve had requested that they not use sirens, so as to maintain the upper hand with regards surprise.

Steve became more and more concerned about his best friend and father's safety and well-being. Again he tried the hospital and spoke to Amanda.

"No, I haven't seen Mark since his shift ended yesterday, and Jesse has been absent for the last 24 hours or so."

"Thanks Amanda."

"Hey, what's going on? First Jesse goes missing, and now you are looking for Mark."

"Ohh nothing," Steve lied he hoped convincingly. "It's just that Dad said he'd go fishing with me if he could get the time off work..."

Amanda wasn't sure if Steve was being straight with her but she accepted his explanation and said goodbye. It had not been the response Steve had hoped for as he snapped his cell phone shut, but he didn't want to convey his fears to his friend, whom he knew would only worry.

From behind a series of parked cars a single onlooker took in the scene, his green suit subtly camouflaged against a green dumpster at the end of the block. Whilst the police were co-ordinating their approach the Green Crusader made his move and entered the building through the service entrance. He had heard the details of the hostage/kidnapping over the scanner radio he kept in his car, so he knew to climb the stairs to apartment 3C. Listening at the door he could hear someone pacing back and forth and another man trying to get him to sit down.

Then it happened. The door flew open with such force it took everyone by surprise. The green suited incomer leapt at Mikey causing the handgun to fire indiscriminately.

Outside Steve spun around, horror struck at the sound of the gunshot. He dashed inside the building with four other officers close behind him. Whoever had given the command to begin the assault on the property, it certainly wasn't him. Steve ran up the stairs two at a time leaving younger officers in his wake. The picture that greeted him when he reached Jesse's apartment was one that he had dreaded. Bloodstains on the walls and furniture gave the impression there had been a massacre rather than a single shot fired. Worst still, was that Jesse Travis was laying face down on the floor with fresh blood seeping through his white t-shirt; Mark was struggling to stave off the blood flow and save his friend's life. Meanwhile, the Green Crusader had bound Mikey's hands behind his back with a length of bandage.

Without hesitation Steve instructed the officers following him to arrest Mikey and the masked menace and call for two ambulances.

"Steve, quick, Jesse has gone into shock and stopped breathing! Begin CPR."

Dropping to his knees, Steve and his father rolled Jesse over. The detective was breathing for his friend, whilst Mark bared Jesse's chest and began compressions until his heart began beating for itself.

In the few moments that had passed, both Sloans seemed to have aged ten years, each of them desperate to prevent their friend from dying needlessly. Finally, Jesse began to breath for himself, if only shallowly. Mark had stopped the bleeding externally, but knew Jesse still needed surgery to stop any internal bleeding.

Jesse was immediately rushed straight into the OR on arrival at CGH. Ray Jenkins was admitted overnight for observation with a course of antibiotics to stave off the infection. All in all, Jesse had done a fine bit of surgery, even if the conditions hadn't been ideal.

Mikey Jenkins and the 'Green Crusader' aka Marvin Chedgrave, were both arrested and being held at LAPD headquarters for a list of offences longer than your arm.

Jesse's recuperation would take a while, besides which his apartment required redecoration and a shed load of new furniture to replace that which Ray Jenkins' and his own blood had damaged irreparably. This gave him the perfect opportunity to stay at the beach house with Mark and Steve and watch the rerun of the Lakers and Knicks game. Jesse also had a hankering to use Mark's pay-per-view too! At half time, Mark pulled his houseguest to one side to make sure he was coping mentally as well as physically from his ordeal. "Jess, you know the other night..."

Jesse looked up at him, his large blue eyes refreshingly understanding, with the sparkle that made his bedside manner one of his better traits. "It's OK Mark. If it wasn't for you, I could have ended up dead. You saved my life..."

"I almost cost you your life..." guilt was waging war with Mark's larynx preventing him from continuing with his sentence.

"It's OK, I mean it. We each did our jobs at the end of the day. I saved Ray's life, and I hear he left hospital three days ago; Steve arrested the Green Crusader, that must have earned him some brownie points with his chief; and you, you saved my life..."

Neither man spoke, the silence seemed to say it all – it was all in a day's work!

The End

19th August, 2004.

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