"Jesse!" Steve gasped and all but fell to his knees before the bloody doctor. "Thank God!"
Jesse looked up into concerned blue eyes as he felt strong hands on him. He blinked and noticed Steve's lips were moving. Jesse struggled to pay attention.
"...gonna be okay, the bullet went through." Steve smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Did you see him Jess?"
Jesse's mind struggled through the tangled infusion of adrenaline and endorphins. Part of him was still fearing the perceived approach of the killer while part of him wanted to simply surrender in the actual safe presence. "Steve?" was all he managed on this breath.
"Come on Jess, stay with me for a minute." Steve glanced up at the open bedroom window before returning his hard gaze to the doctor. "We gotta get outta here now. Think you can help me?"
A corner of Jesse's mouth curled. Sure, no problem Steve. In fact, I'll race you.
Before Jesse could open his mouth, Steve grabbed him by the good arm and around the waist then began struggled to get both bodies to their feet. As Jesse found himself being slid up the wall, he finally asked, "What's the hurry?"
Steve's face tightened as he fought against Jesse's sagging weight. "Darnell is most likely still around," he grunted, letting go of Jesse's hand to grab the wall for support. "If this shot was meant to kill you, you'd be dead."
Jesse swallowed thick and dry. "Way to cheer a guy up," he panted, cringing as he moved his right arm too quickly. His attention was torn between attempting to keep his arm still and trying to make his feet move. He was beginning to get worried, why wasn't the bleeding stopping? As a doctor, he could figure why but tried to stay away from such worrisome thoughts for now.
"You still with me?" Steve asked, shifting his weight and Jesse felt the detective's grip tighten around him.
"I'm here," Jesse smiled. His eyes were growing heavy and sweat was beginning to cover his body from the exertion.
The stairs were a blur for Jesse. He was only aware of taking three small steps but somehow, Steve was now guiding him to the front door. Jesse could see his Mustang outside, waiting faithfully. Beside it was Steve's car. The sight relieved Jesse and another smile broke out on his face. He hoped it wasn't deliria.
"Alright buddy, not much further," Steve's voice soothed. "When this is over, remind me to send you my dry cleaning bill. Blood is horrible to get out."
Jesse stood a little straighter in Steve's arms. "Peroxide," he mumbled as his mind finally began to dissipate the chemicals clogging his nervous system.
"What?" Steve asked as they took the final step towards the front door.
"Peroxide will get blood out," Jesse stated. "Everyone knows that."
Steve glanced down at Jesse. "Really?"
"Isn't this cute," a harsh voice interrupted just as the pair crossed the beach house's threshold.
Jesse felt Steve jerk then tense before he too turned towards the voice. A tall bald man with a thick torso pushed away from the exterior wall on which he had been casually leaning against. Jesse's attention was drawn to the glint of the deadly gun in the man's right hand as it was brought up and aimed at Steve.
"Give," the man commanded, reaching out with his open left hand.
Jesse felt the air grow colder as Steve remained still a moment longer before reaching for his side and handing over his weapon. Jesse watched the transfer as if all of their hope was in the police-issue gun that the bald man had just shoved in the waistband of his jeans. Jesse's gaze wandered up to the guys face and suddenly Jesse remembered him from last night. The first customer. Jesse had waited on this guy less than twenty four hours ago.
His realization went unnoticed as the man's face relaxed, as if this was a common occurrence for him. "All right fags, get in the car."
Jesse looked behind the man and noticed a black sedan parked with it's nose to the highway, so that it was prepared for a quick departure. A lump of dread dropped in his stomach with the grace of an overweight cat.
"Let him go Darnell," Steve tried, not moving towards the black car. "He's injured."
The barrel of the gun remained locked on the detective. "I'm well aware of his physical state," Darnell shot back. "Now get in the car," he ordered once more, "or I'll shoot him now." The gun swung to face Jesse as Darnell locked dangerous brown eyes with Steve.
Steve took a deep breath. "Alright, we're moving," he complied.
Jesse felt Steve begin walking forward and was forced to follow. His mind was swirling with possible outcomes of this situation, none of which were pretty. The ground crunched under their feet as he and Steve were herded towards the ominous black car. Why hadn't he just stayed in bed this morning?
"You got quiet all of a sudden," Steve mumbled in his ear.
"Being kidnapped does that to me," he replied, struggling to keep the fear out of his voice.
Steve stumbled forward a few steps as Darnell barked out, "Shut up!"
Jesse caught sight of the gun pressed into the small of Steve's back. The throbbing in his shoulder was becoming secondary to his fear of the near future. Jesse didn't want to end up like the mutilated bodies on Amanda's autopsy table last week. She had shared the details with him while he had been watching a Baywatch rerun during a lunch break. All he could remember was that the perpetrator knew what he was doing and how to make his victim endure as much pain as possible before meeting a unjust death.
Darnell moved in front of them and opened the car's back door. "Get in."
Jesse glanced at Steve, hoping to catch a signal from the detective that he had a plan, but all Jesse could see was Steve's sick smile of defeat. It reminded Jesse of the smile a dog gives before it pukes at your feet. Jesse let his eyes drop to the sand before Steve's firm hand guided him into the Cadillac.
o0O0o
"Jesse!"
Mark thundered up the steps with enthusiasm he thought he had lost years ago. He had been en route to the beach house when he lost contact with the young doctor. Mark's heart beat a little faster and his foot fell upon the car's accelerator a little heavier as horrible images ghosted into his mind. He couldn't remember exactly when Jesse had crossed the line from good friend to second son but it didn't matter. The younger man needed a family and Mark wanted a bigger one. Things felt good.
Mark reached the top of the steps and entered the spare bedroom. A jolt of worry coursed through him at the sight and smell of blood. A still-wet smear ran down the wall about five feet before pooling in the tan carpet fibers below. One of Jesse's laundry sacks lay beside the doorway, bulging with clothes. A small silver cell phone lay open on the floor as a screen-saver innocently danced across the display.
Jesse was no where in sight. Mark slipped into observer mode and moved away from the warm red stain and towards the window. A small bullet hole marred the window pane, the edges of the hole to spider-webbing outwards. Mark gazed out the window at the small dune where now the only movement was that of the tall beach grass swaying in the breeze. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, demanding the answers come to him.
Mark turned around to face the blood stain again. There was a good deal of blood there. Probably enough to make the wounded man unsteady on his feet. Mark hoped an artery hadn't been severed.
"Oh Jesse," Mark sighed to himself, returning downstairs. "Why do you always get yourself into these things?" Mark remembered with bitterness the day the hospital psychiatrist suggested that Jesse's subconscious was seeking attention from the people around him to substitute for the lack thereof during his childhood. Mark never referred any of his patients there again.
Mark noticed the plate was gone from the microwave and he took comfort in knowing that at least Jesse had eaten breakfast. The young doctor's digestive tract was still set to 'college student' and would eat just about anything, especially when it was free. Mark remembered the days when he could eat macaroni and cheese for breakfast.
The doctor stopped in the doorway of the front entrance and visually swept the area outside. That's when he realized that Steve's car was in the driveway, parked innocently behind Jesse's sports car. Mark walked the length of the driveway and began searching the cars for any sign of disturbance. There were no slashed tires, no body damage, no broken windows. Mark walked around Steve's car once before something on the passenger seat caught his attention.
Mark stopped and cocked his head before raising a hand to block the sun's glare off the window. A small, laptop sized unit sat on the seat, beeping and flashing a small red light steadily across it's screen. Mark watched for a moment before understanding what he was looking at. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number for the police station with a new theory on what had happened to his sons.