During his absence Mark found that Jesse had been transferred to a stretcher, his body looking humble and pitiful as he was bound to the gurney by strips of wide acrylic tape.

Amanda stood to one side of the stretcher, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she overlooked the proceedings, the strain of worry showing on her face.

"We've stabilised his condition as much as we can, but we really need to get moving…" The stocky paramedic who had first attended Jesse spoke in a soft voice that was curiously mismatched with his heavyset appearance.

Mark recognised the man; he was quite certain that they had met before in the emergency room, but Mark could not bring a name to mind.

"Thank you…?"

"Robson," the paramedic replied with a reassuring smile. Surveying the older man, a much respected doctor he had had dealings with many times in the ER, he could see tension clearly etched into his face, his complexion grey and tired. Not only that but he had detected a telltale limp as the doctor had walked back from the side of the younger man.

"Dr. Sloan, are you injured?" Greg Robson appraised the doctor, his white hair gummed to his head, a slight shiver running through his body. He looked wretched.

Unable to hold back the exhaustion that unbeknown to him was obvious to all those who surveyed him, Mark smiled wearily.

"I'm fine." He replied, not intentionally lying but rather attempting to dismiss what he perceived as an unnecessary inquiry.

Accepting the response for what it was Robson did not pry further.

He turned instead back to the blonde doctor – another face familiar from Community General.

To say he was shocked when he had originally seen the state him would have been an understatement. The vibrancy of the red blood which saturated both his clothing and his body contrasted starkly to the sheer whiteness of his pallid face, and his respirations had been barely detectable.

The distinct crackle of radio static chinked its chorus into the racket of rain patter that his the murky highway, and Robson turned his attention back to his partner.

"Lets get moving – we've got another shout," Tom Meadowcroft called, his lithe frame appearing as he slid from the driver's seat of the ambulance. Jogging casually to join his colleague at the side of their charge, Tom motioned to Greg to prepare Jesse for the short transit to the waiting ambulance.

Amanda looked on as the paramedics lifted the stretcher-bound Jesse swiftly into the air, their motions perfectly in unison as they strode toward the yellow glare of the lit ambulance.

Leaving Steve and Amanda standing side by side Mark followed behind the two paramedics without a word, his mind occupied by a stream of thoughts.

Stopping at the open doors Mark watched as Jesse was lifted skilfully into the ambulance and his body strapped down. Despite knowing the severity of Jesse's injuries he could not help but be concerned by the total lack of awareness Jesse was showing of what was happening; showing no sign of discomfort through his unconsciousness even as a strap was tied across his bloodied abdomen.

Recognising this ominous sign did nothing to quell the unease he felt at what he next planned on saying.

"Greg?" Mark spoke hesitantly, half trying to convince himself not to go through with his decided course of action.

The thought of Jesse's urgent journey to the hospital being delayed in order to salvage what little life remained of his attacker was no less than nauseating, yet Mark knew he could not willingly walk away from an injured human – no matter what their crime.

Steve stood in the road besides Amanda, swaying slightly on his feet. He blinked repeatedly as he tried to force his eyes into focusing. Despite the haziness of his vision and the muggy disorientation that lingered in his head there was no doubt in his mind as to what his father was doing. With a rising tide of anger and disbelief he watched as Mark motioned toward the man in the road, his lips moving rapidly as he spoke.

Sure enough, the shorter of the two paramedics emerged from the back of the ambulance carrying a stretcher. He jogged over to the bloodied man and bent to him.

Steve turned away, disgusted that precious moments were being taken from Jesse and sickened that his father had been the one to orchestrate it to happen.

Turning his gaze instead to his father Steve found that he was being watched. Mark's eyes bored into his own but the link was broken almost at once; Mark turning his head away with an inscrutable expression on his face.

Steve, his gaze lingering on his father, felt some of his anger slip away. Mark, renowned for vigour and energy that belied his true age, looked worn and haggard.

Steve stepped forwards but stopped as the taller of the two paramedics dashed in front of him. Steve turned and watched his progress.

The paramedics worked swiftly but carefully on the man; tending his battered body with consideration that he did not deserve.

Steve felt a renewed wave of anger swell through his body. He wiped his sodden hair from his face and heaved a breath. His chest felt tight and hollow and he found it hard to take a breath deep enough to satisfy his constricted lungs. Dropping his slightly trembling arm he massaged his chest, trying to force some warmth into his chilled body.

The minutes passed slowly. Amanda glanced down at her watch as she hovered by the open ambulance door, glancing compulsively back and forth between Jesse and the paramedics.

Mark stood several feet away from the ambulance and Steve some distance beyond that. The void between them – both figurative and literal – was palpable.

Amanda tried to shake off the nagging discomfort that immediately registered in her mind at seeing the Steve and Mark separated as they were and turned her attention back to Jesse.

The stark whiteness of the ambulance's interior seemed garish to the stormy bleakness outside, and the ghostly pallor of Jesse's face seemed only to be heightened by the harsh light.

"Heads up!"

Amanda heard the shout from behind her and turned, stepping swiftly to one side when she saw the man who had attacked Jesse being carried toward the ambulance on a stretcher.

She watched as he was lifted into the back of the vehicle besides Jesse, and swallowed back the hard lump that had formed in her throat. She glanced furtively at Steve, the expression of utmost revulsion on his face apparent even through the driving rain.

Turning to look at Mark she started when she found he had approached her without her notice.

"Mark!" Amanda clapped a hand to her chest, "You scared me… what is it?"

Taking in the drawn greyness of Mark's face Amanda was troubled by what she saw.

"Mark?"

He merely smiled at her but remained silent, interlinking his arm with hers and squeezing slightly as if in reassurance. Mark turned his face back to the ambulance where the attacker was now being fitted with an oxygen mask and drips.

Amanda did not push for a response but returned the embrace. Whilst it was true that she was distressed by his apparent melancholy, she was relieved at his reluctance to voice his worries – she didn't think she could handle anything more quite yet.

Steve walked closer to the ambulance, stumbling slightly as he tripped over his own misplaced feet. Nearing the vehicle he saw his father and Amanda standing together facing the open doors. He faltered, torn between his desire to check on Jesse and his malcontent at seeing the attacker in such close proximity to his innocent and gravely ill friend.

The desire to check on Jesse won through, and putting his unease to one side Steve took the last few steps to bring the interior of the ambulance into view.

He stopped behind his father and Amanda, their shoulders framing his line of sight.

If possible, Steve found, Jesse looked paler. His usually animated features were sunken into his motionless face and he looked almost spectral in the artificial yellow light.

Steve swallowed back his rising concern, agitated by the dire appearance of his closest friend. He felt a surge of anger pitch through his consciousness once again, but said nothing.

The dilemma did not occur to any of the group until the moment it arose. With both Jesse and his attacker stretcher bound in the back of the ambulance and the two paramedics taking their places as driver and carer respectively, space for the remaining three was limited. Cold and aching with tiredness Mark recognised the situation as soon as Greg had climbed into the back of the ambulance. With a sinking feeling of disbelief Mark turned to Steve and Amanda, wondering if either had realised that it was only feasible for one of them to find a place in the ambulance.

Meeting Amanda's red, swollen eyes Mark considered for a moment what would be the best course of action, but found that no solution came easily to his exhausted mind. The extent of Steve's injuries were such that they certainly warranted him the available space, but Mark couldn't help but be concerned that if Jesse's condition should deteriorate further he may not receive the full attention of the attending paramedic torn between victim and attacker.

"Dr. Sloan?" Greg's face peered out from the back of the ambulance to the bedraggled huddle of the rain-soaked three.

"I've had Tom radio for a police car to come pick you up – they'll want to talk to you anyhow…

We can take one of you now?" Greg allowed the question to trail off. Much as he was loath to leave any of the stricken group on the deserted highway there was no way all would fit into the ambulance without severely hindering his ability to tend the two casualties, unorthodox as it already was.

Mark glanced again at Amanda, catching sight of Steve standing behind them, taking in the look of frustrated perturbation of Amanda's countenance and the glassy-eyed disorientation of Steve's pain-lined face.

"Steve, we'll see you at the hospital soon." Mark extricated his arm from Amanda and stepped to one side, clearing a path for Steve. Mark placed a hand on his son's shoulder and gently nudged him closer to the ambulance before turning his attention to the waiting paramedic.

"Don't pay any attention to his protests - make sure he sees a doctor." Mark forced a smile. He watched wordlessly as Steve hesitated by the ambulance, willing his all too-forthright son not to argue.

With a momentary glimpse back at his father Steve walked the few steps to the passenger door and climbed unsteadily in.

With a heavy heart Greg Robson leant out of the back of the ambulance and seized the doors. Glancing briefly at the aged doctor and the somewhat familiar face of his female companion Greg felt a stab of compassion. Pulling the doors closed, he heard a renewed crash of thunder splinter the steely sky, and as the doors met their stricken faces disappeared from view.

As the engine of the ambulance grumbled into life Steve turned his face to the window. The highway was slick with water; pools of grey reflecting the beam of headlights back up into the granite sky. Peering round as far as he could Steve caught a glimpse of his father, Amanda statue-like by his side. Neither moved as the ambulance forged onwards, their faces fixed on the retreating vehicle, and as a fork of lightening pierced the clouds, the heavens opened in a renewed deluge.

Mark and Amanda stood side by side watching the advancing ambulance until the last thread of the fading taillights were consumed by the eerie morning twilight. Seemingly oblivious to the driving rain, they made no effort to seek shelter, each instead absorbed with their own macabre thoughts. A further minute passed before Mark gently placed his hands on Amanda's arm.

"Come on, we'd better get back in the jeep."

Amanda, her head still trained on the empty vista nodded mutely, and together they turned and began the few steps back to the meagre shelter offered by the damaged jeep.

But for the incessant pounding of the rain against the tarmac, the highway was silent. An opalescent fog, washed up from the ocean, had insidiously crept up on them and now drifted lazily about their feet obscuring their path as they unknowingly stepped through the many rivulets of rain-diluted blood left as token of the attacker's presence.

Climbing into the back of the jeep, both Mark and Amanda took instinctively to the floor. The back seat, stained with Jesse's blood, met the eye-line of both; a grim reminder of the friends desperate state.

An unspoken tension resonated between the pair as they sat in silence, weighted by the burden of their absent friends and the trials that were yet to face them.

Without speaking Amanda rested her head onto Mark's shoulder, finding the solidity and warmth reassuring more than any words, and together they say, and waited.

The journey passed in a blur of lights and noise. Even at this early hour, the city streets were clogged with traffic as early morning commuters and late night stragglers took to their cars in an attempt to escape the deluge that continued to assault the LA.

Steve peered blearily out of the window of the ambulance as they hastened onwards, blinking back the graininess that lingered in his sore eyes. As tired and confused as he undeniably felt, he was grateful for the relative quiet that prevailed in the back of the ambulance. But for the occasional trickle of beeping monitors over the sound of the blazing sirens, the journey thus far had passed without incident.

Steve rolled his neck gently, trying to ease the stiffness that gripped his shoulders, but stopped as a wave of dizziness flushed through his head.

Steve squeezed his eyes closed as a bolt of nausea churned in his stomach, and he fought against the impulse to vomit.

Steve opened his eyes gingerly and took a long shuddering breath through his nose as his fathered had coached him on countless occasions as a travel-sick child. Gazing at the stream of oncoming traffic Steve swallowed back the acrid bile that burnt at his throat, thoughts of his father and Amanda swimming into his head.

They'll be OK, he insisted to himself taking in the halo of light that seemed to surround each and every beam that exuded from the numerous vehicles' headlamps.

A squad car will pick them up, they'll meet us at the hospital…

Despite his silent self-assurances Steve couldn't completely quell the disquiet that gnawed at him; his tormented mind wandering wilfully from petty reflections on the severed weather to wild fretting about unseen predators much akin to the man ensconced behind him.

The roaring of the siren drilled through the morning air, making itself heard even above the claps of thunder that repeatedly erupted in laden sky. With each rotation a haze of blue light streamed momentarily across the vista, casting a ghostly shadow across everything it touched.

Steve watched on groggily, barely aware of his surroundings. He was on the verge of injury induced sleep when a snowy white building caught his attention.

Community General had never appeared so majestic to Steve. Rising illustriously above the surrounding buildings, Steve was accustomed to the sight of the hospital, having cause to visit it for one reason or another on most days.

For Steve, a trip to Community General was usually borne out of the need to either consult or reprimand his father about a case, depending of course on the legitimacy of his involvement. On the occasion when he was injured, which, as far as Steve was concerned, was far too frequent for his liking, entering the hospital generally entailed pain, suffering and a fair degree of embarrassment.

But this was different.

Even through the sheets of driving rain, the hospital was a far more welcome sight than Steve could have imagined.

The tension easing in his shoulders a little, Steve turned his head and peered as best he could into the back of the ambulance.

His view of Jesse ended almost entirely at the mop of mud-streaked blonde hair that topped his head, but even from this vantage-point he could gauge the severity of his friend's condition, so still was his small frame.

As the ambulance turned into the grounds of the hospital, Steve felt a swell of dread.

Whatever would happen, it would happen now.

Note: I just wanted to say I'm sincerely sorry for the huge lapse between chapters being posted. I could offer a list of reasons (true I might add) as to why I haven't been able to write so often but it doesn't excuse such a wait. I hope there are still people out there willing to give my story time – it is finally complete (yay!) – so, barring nuclear disaster or something equally as catastrophic, I promise this story will be posted in its entirety within the next few days.

Thanks for your patience,

Sarah.