"So…" Mark intoned a moment later, still hedging his words carefully but determined to get back to business, "How long until the ambulance arrives?"

"They aren't." Despite his resolution to ignore the whisper in his head and the memory of the accusatory glare on his father's face Steve found his voice sounded unusual, most unlike his own. He glanced at Mark to see if he had noticed, but averted his eyes again quickly to avoid making contact, the action of which caused a shudder of dizziness to flush through his head.

"I mean," he started again quickly having taken in the alarmed expression on Mark's face, "They can't get up the road because of the flooding. They need us to take Jesse about 10k down the road then we'll have to find some way of getting him across the flooded area…" Steve glanced at his father again, half expecting some sign of relief that help was finally at hand, but was somewhat surprised to see a raised eyebrowed look of perturbation. 

"What? What is it?" Steve knew instantly that his father had identified a problem. Mark remained silent, his brow creased in thought, he responded slowly.

"I don't think we can move him… his condition is far too unstable…"

Steve felt like a heavy weight had sunk in his stomach.

"What?" his tone was incredulous, and yet he knew his father was right.

"Dad, we can't just sit here and do nothing! We nearly lost… we nearly lost Jesse" he spoke the last words slowly and with a heaviness to his voice; the implication almost soul destroying. "We can't wait for help to come to us – it'll probably be morning before the roads are cleared sufficiently."

"I know" Mark's voice was despondent, dully accepting in a way Steve had never heard before. It was almost as though he had given up.

"Dad, we're going to get Jesse out of here whether you think he's stable enough or not. Now, do whatever you have to to get him in the best condition possible before we leave, ok?"

Mark was slightly taken aback by Steve's forcefulness, and it was evident on his face. It did, however, have the desired effect of snapping him out his despairing musings. Staring down at Jesse, taking in his almost motionless body as he took in feeble breaths, a renewed sense of determination surged through his exhausted body. Taking a deep resolving breath Mark nodded his head in assent, and locked eyes with Steve. For the first time he took in his son's appearance and it shocked him.

"Steve! What happened? Are you alright?" Steve's face was streaked with mud that was drying crustily to his right cheek, and his clothing stuck wetly to his skin. An already bruising lump protruded from his forehead and he was holding his arm awkwardly, as though trying to protect it.

Steve looked upon his father for a minute, uncomprehending of the sudden concerned questioning. Coming across Jesse in such a dire state had temporarily numbed his mind from the pain in his wrist which was now starting to creep back through his anaesthetised senses. He glanced down briefly at his swollen arm trying to discern the sensations which were now pulsating gratingly at his nerves before the memory of the fall flashed back through his mind.

"Oh… it's nothing, just… I slipped…" He made a lame attempt to brush off his injuries but privately felt a rush of warmth towards his father as his arm was carefully examined.

"Ah!" Steve winced, the act of rotation catalysing a shockwave of pain which seemed even to penetrate his fingernails.

"This is definitely broken." Mark was back in full doctor-mode, but the caring-father face still shone through. "I'll have to put a splint on it to try and prevent further damage. Now, lets take a look at your head."

Despite his assertions that he was fine Steve was soon perched on the edge of the armchair, his wrist freshly bandaged, as his father shone the flashlight into his eyes whilst simultaneously trying to keep a watchful eye on Jesse, Amanda still having not returned to the room.

"Your pupils are reacting just fine – I doubt very much that there's a concussion. You probably just gave it a good knock."

Steve smiled wryly, "You call yourself a doctor? I could have told you that!"

Mark smiled in response, relieved that his son wasn't too badly injured.

Steve, having decided that he had played patient long enough stood from the chair and moved to Jesse's side, crouching down and placing one hand tentatively on his shoulder. He observed him for a moment, determined that he would do whatever it took to get him to the hospital and the care he so desperately needed, then stood again.

"Right then. Where's Amanda?" Steve squinted into the dark recesses of the room looking for Amanda's slender form but failed to spot her.

"She left a few minutes ago" Mark said with a sigh, "I think she needed a few minutes on her own."

"I'll go find her." Steve stood still for a moment, trying to observe the slight movement of Jesse's chest as he inhaled before being satisfied enough to leave his side.

Treading carefully through the dark Steve made his way through first to the kitchen – which he found empty, and then along the dark corridor listening for any sounds of life from within the gloom-filled rooms.

A faint saint alerted him to Amanda's presence. Pushing open the door to the bathroom he was just able to make out Amanda perched on the edge of the bathtub, her face cradled in her hands.

"Amanda?" Steve wasn't quite sure why, but he found himself whispering. Even so Amanda jerked her head up in surprise.

"Steve?" Oh… I, I didn't see you come in." She fumbled clumsily with a tissue that was screwed up in her palm, wiping at her face with it and distinctly avoiding Steve's gaze. She then spoke suddenly,

"What is it? Is Jesse ok?" She jumped to her feet but was restrained by Steve's outstretched arm.

"He's ok. Well, not ok but… You know what I mean."

"Oh" Amanda visibly sagged.

Steve stepped forwards and pulled Amanda into a hug, encircling his arms around her shoulders and pulling her head so it rested on her chest. She didn't resist and they stood this way for a moment before she drew back.

"What was that for?" She said, a small smile playing at her lips.

Steve shrugged one shoulder, slightly embarrassed at his physical demonstrativeness. "You looked like you needed it." Which is true, thought Steve, although he himself had appreciated the warmth and affection which had exuded from Amanda back to himself, boosting his lagging spirit and energy. Then,

"Come on we're going to need you help." Steve briefly explained the use of the radio and his plan to move Jesse, an intention which was swiftly followed by Amanda's concerns which echoed Mark's almost to the word.

"Jesse's condition is unstable at best Steve, I don't know if we can move him and…" She had been going to add 'expect him to survive', but her throat had dried at the words, preventing them from escaping her lips.

"Amanda, if we wait here it's the same as accepting that Jesse is going to die, and I'm not willing to do that, are you?"

Amanda looked like she had been slapped – the words stung and she opened her mouth wordlessly. Steve waited silently for a response.

"No. I didn't mean… it's just..." She sighed heavily and looked down at the floor as she spoke her next words. "I can't bear the thought of losing him Steve, and no matter how bad things are here… well, we don't know what's going to happen if we take him out there…" She lapsed into silence as Steve took in her words. It struck him as a measure of how bad Jesse's condition was that Amanda, and to think of it, his father, would prefer to remain in the darkened house than risk the journey outside. But we don't have a choice he thought, if we stay here he's as good as dead anyway.

They walked in silence back to the living room where they found Mark crouched over Jesse, listening attentively to his chest with his stethoscope.

"Dad?"

"The pneumothorax has deteriorated. His lung is filling up with fluid. Unless we do something about it he's going to drown in his own blood."

Steve stared at him. Jesse, floating face down into the blood, drowning.

"No"

Steve didn't realise he had spoken aloud until Mark turned his questioning gaze upon him.

"You have to do something."

"Steve, I don't have any of the equipment, nothing's sterile, I can't…"

"You can!" Steve interjected angrily. He refused to hear it. "Whatever you need to do, you can do it, and you will. Do you hear me?!"

Mark stared at Steve, almost jealous of his naivety of what exactly it was he was demanding should be done.

"Steve…"

"No Dad. No excuses… Please…" He was begging, pleading with his father to do what he could not. To save Jesse's life.

Mark stared at his son, then turned his eyes to Jesse. He knew that without the procedure Jesse would die, and soon. But the thought of trying to perform it with makeshift equipment in the current conditions was alarming.

"Ok, I'll try, but…"

"No buts Dad, let's just get it done."