Chapter 10 Steve and Amanda part 5
Jesse did a quick visual scan of CJ as he approached. Steve's protective grip had released leaving him shocked and terrified but otherwise looking remarkably unscathed. Steve, however, was a different matter and despite paternal instincts that pushed him toward the crying child, Jesse knew that he needed to check on Steve first, clinical need outweighing all other considerations. He reached out his hand towards Steve's neck and there was the briefest of hesitations as his mind acknowledged the fear. There was a part of him that didn't want to complete the action, afraid of what he would or, more accurately, wouldn't find. Higher functions however were overridden by instinct and training, his hand moved again, expertly tracing the pulse point, relief flooding his system as he felt the slightly rapid but reassuring rhythm beneath his fingers. He checked the airway next, reassured himself that Steve was breathing and then spared a glance back to CJ as he raised the radio Steve had given him to his mouth and repeated the carefully rehearsed phrasing that Steve had given him to use in case of emergencies. He then dropped the radio to the ground, ignoring completely the explosion of chatter that his call had initiated. His mind focused once again on his patients.
"CJ?" The boy looked up at the use of his name. "CJ are you hurt? Did they hurt you?"
The boy blinked overly large, deep brown, tear-filled eyes at him. For a moment Jesse thought he was going to have to repeat himself, as there were no signs that CJ had understood or even followed what he was being asked. Not that Jesse was surprised, the trauma of the last few minutes on top of the stress of the last day would be difficult enough for an adult to deal with.
CJ blinked once more and let out a stifled sob. "Is Uncle Steve going to be all right?" he asked worriedly, looking down at the man who had scooped him up with strong arms only moments earlier and wrapped him in a protective embrace.
Jesse swallowed and almost lost his tenuous control on his emotions. He looked down at Steve himself. "I. . " he wasn't sure how to answer, he needed to do a closer examination, there were so many things he needed to check. He looked back into CJ's eyes and knew that 'I don't know' just wasn't good enough. "I'm sure he will." He stated, deciding to reply with hope, offering a short prayer that he wouldn't have to rescind that answer later. "He just needs some help right now."
"But he was hit by the car. I felt. . . ." CJ couldn't complete the sentence as the memory pushed streams of tears from his eyes. He reached out for comfort almost throwing himself forward in a desperate need for something, someone to hold him and take away the terror.
Jesse caught him and wrapped him in an embrace as small arms encircled his neck, locking themselves tightly in place; the still trembling body glued itself to his. "Shh it's OK everything's OK. You're safe now," He stated reassuringly as he rocked gently backwards and forwards. He knew that CJ needed this, the child was reacting to more than just the trauma of the last few minutes; his emotional need at least as strong as Steve's physical need. . . .maybe. . .possibly . . .and that was the problem. He still needed to examine Steve, to determine the extent of his injuries. There was every chance that his condition could deteriorate rapidly and he couldn't examine Steve with CJ clinging to his neck.
"CJ. . . CJ?"
The boy pulled his head away and once more blinked tears from his eyes. "Yeah?" the word was half formed through a sob.
"You have been so incredibly brave for the last two days," Jesse stated, finding and holding eye contact despite the awkward angle. "And I need for you to be brave for me for just a little bit longer." He looked down at Steve for a moment before turning to meet the boy's gaze again. "I have to examine Uncle Steve, so that I can see where he's hurt." He paused, reassuring himself that the boy was following what he was saying before continuing. So I need for you to sit here while I do that. Is that OK?"
CJ nodded, sparing his own concerned glance down at Steve. He could do that just for a little while. He could let go, could manage without the physical comfort of a hug for just a little longer.
"Good boy." Jesse said, placing his hands on his waist and attempting to ease him away. At first CJ seemed to cooperate allowing his clinging grip to ease but just before his arms had slipped completely from Jesse's neck, he was gripped by a sudden panic, desperately flinging himself forward again as his hands clamped back in place.
Jesse felt the fear, the small tremor that ran through CJ's small frame, and empathised with it. He could only imagine how terrified CJ had been through his ordeal and he wanted to provide comfort almost as much as CJ needed him to, but he had to check on Steve. He knew that he needed a little more of a distraction.
"S..s. . sorry," the sniffled word drifted up through clothing and hair.
"Hey, it's OK," Jesse said softly, his mind working rapidly, he needed to give the boy something other than his own fear to focus on. "I know you're scared, and you know what? Right now I think Uncle Steve is too. He's been real scared, just like you." Jesse waited for a moment for CJ to release his grip slightly and look down again at Steve.
"Really?" he asked uncertainly.
Jesse nodded. "Really," he confirmed. "So I need you to hold his hand for me. Do you think you can do that?"
Again CJ nodded
"That's my brave boy," Jesse stated as this time when he eased him away CJ let go, moving to encircle one of Steve's large hands with two of his small ones. His attention focused on Steve's face.
Jesse watched for a moment, waiting to make sure that CJ was really all right this time before switching his attention back to checking on Steve. He was concerned by the fact that Steve remained unconscious, calling his name elicited no response and he quickly found the still bleeding knot on the back of Steve's head that was responsible for the lack of reaction. He shook his head absently. Steve knew how to take a fall, knew how to protect his head from impact with the sidewalk, but his entire focus had been on protecting CJ and Jesse was in no doubt that the nasty looking head injury was a direct result of that selflessness. He quickly checked pupil response using the bright sunlight in the absence of a torch. Relieved to find the pupils equal, the reactions normal. He moved on to assess the rest of Steve's injuries. He was just finishing up when the ambulance arrived.
He held it together long enough to pass on his findings. It was then that one of the EMTs tried to get CJ to move.
"No," CJ said the volume of his young voice rising. "I have to hold his hand. I have to keep him from being scared."
Hearing the forced bravado in the tone, his own words echoed, was too much for Jesse. On top of the stress of the last 24 hours, the trauma of the last few minutes elicited emotions that were too strong for even his seasoned techniques to succeed in suppressing. Tears slid down his cheeks as he opened his arms to the small boy who hesitated only for a moment. "It's OK CJ, they'll take care of Uncle Steve." He nodded his head in the direction of the EMTs. The words were powerful, giving CJ tacit permission to let go of Steve's hand, to throw himself forward again into an embrace that he both needed and deserved. They also allowed Jesse mentally to surrender his best friend's care to those currently in a better position to deal with it. The stress of the last few hours coupled with the traumatic conclusion had left his system in shock, his emotions in a mess.
He felt the small arms encircle his neck once more and then all external sensations slipped away. His interactions with the world drifted out of his conscious control as his mind tried to sort through the myriad of emotions that demanded his attention, and his system tried to deal with stabilising the chemical cocktail evolutionary physiology had demanded his system put out to deal with crises. It was a system that undoubtedly worked, allowing the body to perform extraordinary feats in the most trying of situations. The problem was that the chemicals that allowed the body to be pushed to extremes, in nature's own version of checks and balances also came with a cost, and Jesse's system was now paying that price.
DMDMDM
Jesse stared at the opposite wall, holding loosely to the blanket that had been draped around his shoulders, his mind still numb.
He didn't remember much of the time to this point, just flashes, sensations. CJ clinging tightly to his neck, staring at the wall of the ambulance as it jolted over a bump in the road, blinking at the bright sunlight as the doors opened, holding CJ's small hand in his as the boy was transferred to a gurney, and then he was standing here, waiting, staring at the opposite wall and waiting. Dr. Taylor had given him something, a mild sedative, but he couldn't seem to remember which one. How could he not remember something as simple as that? He was supposed to be resting, but he'd insisted on coming out here to wait for Mark, to wait for Amanda, it was his job to keep them informed. He'd promised Steve, promised Mark.
The doors to the ER burst open and Mark and Amanda swept through. She was slightly ahead of him, somehow matching his long stride with her much shorter gait. "Jesse?" Amanda asked as she approached, the strain showing even in the single word.
"CJ's fine," Jesse stated, moving forward to take her hands in his. "A little bruised, a little dehydrated but otherwise fine." He nodded backwards. "He's waiting for you in Exam 2"
Amanda's eyes shone with tears, of relief, of gratitude. "Thank you," she said giving his hands a slight squeeze before hurrying past him.
He watched her until she pushed through the doors then turned his attention back to Mark.
Mark's reactions were a little slower, he moved as though in a daze, slowly turning his head back only after allowing his gaze to linger on the closed door, his thoughts momentarily with Amanda as he shared in her relief. His eyes drifted to Jesse's face but it took a moment before his young friend was fully in focus, a moment more before he could manage a coherent thought.
"How is he?" The question came out softly, a veil of emotional exhaustion masking his desire to scream the question. His thoughts had been a turbulent mess since he'd heard Jesse's radio call. The 'officer down' hitting him hard in the gut. The forced calm tone that could not hide the edge of panic as Jesse had requested immediate assistance had sent his thoughts reeling, but he'd had to deal with Amanda, her needs superceding his, even through the fear and the panic of the wait for information.
The insensitivity of the FBI agents had tore at him, he'd had to protect Amanda from their accusations, deal with the questions. Listen to agent Parnell tell Amanda that Steve's actions had nearly got her son killed.
Jesse shook his head. "They're still running tests and X-rays. Bill said he'd let me know as soon as they had anything."
"But you were there, you examined him. . ." Mark pressed, knowing that he was being unfair, pushing for answers that would be no more than experience guided guesses, but he had to know. As much as he could, he had to know. The stresses of the last twenty-four hours had taken their toll on him as much as Jesse. His empathy with Amanda and fear for CJ, who was the closest thing he had to a grandson, his fear for Steve and what this whole situation was doing to his son both physically and to his already fragile mental state, had kept him on edge for a full day even before the final dramatic conclusion, and all he knew was that Steve had been hit by a car. That was all that Parnell would tell him. 'Officer down,' 'he was hit by the kidnappers car,' ' they're running tests,' it wasn't enough information. Not by a long way. "How is he Jess?"
Jesse struggled with his fractured memory piecing together what he had discovered from the scene with what Dr Taylor had told him. "The car struck his right leg and hip, I couldn't detect any signs of a fracture but the X-rays will tell us more. He may escape with just some deep bruising. The main concern is that he hit his head on the sidewalk as he went down. He had CJ in his arms, protecting him from the fall. I'd say he had a concussion but I don't know how severe." He paused for a moment; trying to fit together anything else useful he could tell his friend. "He vomited twice in the ambulance. Bill said he was conscious but confused when they got him to the ER."
Mark nodded part of him thankful that the news wasn't worse, part of him disappointed that it wasn't better. Head injuries were always the most tricky as symptoms of the more severe injuries were not always immediate or obvious. He stared off into space, his eyes apparently focused at an object beyond Jesse's shoulder but he saw nothing, his mind running through all of the possible prognoses as he tried to relax some of the tension from his aching muscles.
"Dr Sloan, Dr Travis," Agent Parnell's sharp tones dragged both men from their contemplations and they turned to look at the approaching agent.
Agent Parnell radiated hostility and anger. Mark had seen it building over the last hour, from the moment that he realized that the loss of contact with Steve had been deliberate, through Jesse's radio call, to the drive to the hospital. The agent had tried to insist that Mark stay at the house to answer questions, but Mark had made it clear that short of arresting him that wasn't going to happen. The stand off had been tense, for a moment it had looked like Parnell might go for a 'hindering a federal investigation' charge but he had backed down, insisting instead that he drive Mark to the hospital, but making it clear that he would have questions for him when they arrived. So he had ended up as chauffeur for both Mark and Amanda, and, despite his anger, he hadn't been cruel enough to delay Amanda's reunion with her son by making her wait while he found a parking spot.
Mark bristled; he was developing his own hostility for the man, who had clearly judged Steve without waiting for his explanation. He had repeated as much to Amanda several times on the journey in. Mark had attempted to refute his interpretation but had been frustrated each time by radio calls as different Agents checked in with their findings. The feelings of impotency and frustration at not being able to come to Steve's defense only heightened by his already palpable anxiety, and by the effect that the agents words were having on his friend.
Mark turned to look at Amanda, during one of Parnell's more extended exchanges with his agents. She was staring out of the window at the passing buildings but Mark knew that she could not see them. "Amanda?" he questioned softly. She turned tear filled eyes slowly to look at him. "What he's saying, about Steve it's not.. ."
"I don't care Mark," Amanda interrupted, the look in her eyes betraying the lie. She did care; she cared deeply that the people she thought she could trust most in the world, Steve, Jesse, and even Mark himself may have betrayed that trust, may have put her son's life in danger, whatever their motives. From what Agent Parnell was telling her, they could have got CJ hurt, even killed. She cared deeply about that. What she could not do was bring herself to deal with it, not right now. Right now the only important thing was her son. Consideration of him consumed her whole consciousness to the exclusion of everything, even betrayal. "I just need to know how CJ is."
Mark nodded silently as she turned to resume her stare out the window.
Thus Mark's reaction bore its own hostility, a rare thing from him. "Agent Parnell," the tone of his greeting was enough to draw Jesse's attention as he looked between the two men, the tension thickening the air around them.
Parnell's eyes narrowed. "I have some questions that I need you both to answer. Is there somewhere we can talk?" His jaw twitched as he clenched it shut at the end of the question.
Mark looked at Jesse, then back at the agent. "Dr Travis is being treated for shock." He placed a hand protectively on Jesse's shoulder his eyes never leaving Parnell's. "We're just waiting for them to find him a room. You'll have to wait until he's been cleared by his physician before you can talk to him. As for myself," Mark paused, his expression challenging, "I made it clear that I will tell you everything as soon as I've had a chance to see my son."
He let go of Jesse for a moment moving forward slightly. "In the meantime you would do well to start questioning your own people. Someone in that house was leaking information to the kidnappers." He waited watching as the implications of his statement slowly altered the agent's expression then abruptly he turned, satisfied that his words had made the necessary impact. "Come on Jess," he said as he began to walk away.
"Dr Sloan?"
Mark paused mid- stride, drawing out the moment as if he was deciding whether to ignore or acknowledge the call. Slowly he turned.
"If what you say is true then the sooner I get a full statement from all of you including your son, the better chance we've got of identifying whoever is involved, and I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the kidnappers are still at large. If we don't catch them then they could do this again, to someone else."
Mark's shoulders sagged slightly as some of the fight drained out of him. "When I've seen. . ."
"Mark!" the cry was sharp. "Thank God you're here."
Mark turned to see Dr Bill Taylor hurrying towards him his heart instantly doubled in speed as the bottom fell out of his stomach. "Bill, What's wrong is it. . ."
"Steve's fine," Bill stated quickly before he had another patient to treat for shock, "At least he's not in any immediate danger," he elaborated. "But he's extremely confused and disoriented. The concussion seems to have caused some temporary amnesia." He swallowed, "He seems to be reliving the events of your recent attack, he thinks you're badly hurt and we won't let him see you."
The two doctors had unconsciously begun walking back towards the trauma room throughout the discussion. Jesse following a few feet behind them. They pushed through the door together, but Mark then moved forward more quickly as he saw Steve's agitated form on the gurney.
"Please," Steve's voice trembled slightly, as he tried and failed to lift himself forwards more than a few inches from the slightly raised head of the bed. "I just need to see him. How bad is he hurt? I need to. . ."
"Steve!"
Steve turned his head, not quite able to focus immediately on the white haired form, but he knew who it was. Mark was there, talking to him, approaching him rapidly. He tried to fit the evidence from his senses to the images in his mind. The incongruity almost too great. . . but he'd seen so much blood! He couldn't be. . He'd been hurt. . .Steve was sure. . .sure that he'd. . . . "Dad," the relief expressed in the single utterance was heart-wrenching. Suddenly he found the strength to move. Strength he just hadn't had moments earlier as he lifted himself forward enough to wrap his father in a protective embrace, almost throwing himself off the bed as his arms moved to encircle Mark. "Dad, thank God!"
Jesse couldn't help notice the parallels to CJs earlier quest for comfort as he watched the raw desperation of the act.
Mark was a little shocked by the movement, by the embrace. A hug from his son was a rare and private thing, usually a result of his undying affection. Discouraged from occurring too often by his own awkwardness, a byproduct of his upbringing in a generation, which encouraged suppression of such signs of emotion between adult males. Here he was aware of the scrutiny of others, even as he wanted to ignore it and focus on his son, and yet something about the desperation of the move allowed him to quell those repressive tendencies, and he returned the embrace after only a slight hesitation. "It's OK Steve I'm OK."
He held him for a moment, allowing the slight tremors to subside, allowing the physical contact to soothe the worst of his own fears, and then gently helped to rest him back onto the bed, studying him as Steve finally began to relax.
Steve tried hard to sort through his thoughts, to fit what he remembered to what he could see and hear and touch and smell. Mark was here and he was fine so what. . ? What had happened? Why couldn't he. . .?
"You were in an accident Steve," Mark stated quietly. "You hit your head. Can you tell me what you remember?"
Steve looked at him, fear clearly registering in his expression. "You were hurt," his tone was soft, "There was so much blood and. . .and it was my fault I. . They said I couldn't see you. . They said I hurt You I. ."
The words tore deeply at Mark's heart. He had suspected that Steve was still traumatized by what had happened, but under normal circumstances he would not see it so painfully expressed. He took a deep breath, cutting through the panic with a firm tone. "Steve, that all happened over a month ago and it wasn't your fault. I'm fine now, don't you remember."
Steve tried hard to sort through the jumbled mess of his thought processes, to trigger the memories, but there was nothing. "I don't. . . I'm sorry. . . I. ." He slammed his fist down by his side in frustration. "Why can't I remember? What did I do?"
Mark resisted the urge to give in to his own frustration. Steve didn't deserve this, not any of it. Seeing his son's distress caused a pain that was worse than any physical one could be. "It's OK Steve just relax." He forced a soothing calmness into his tone. " You hit your head and it's playing tricks with your memory but you'll be fine."
The nod of Steve's head was infinitesimal as he allowed himself to relax, the fear draining with the reassurances from the person he trusted above all else. If his father said everything was OK then it must be. He looked into Mark's eyes and the fear left him. "I'll be OK?" he asked plaintively.
Mark studied him for a moment, relieved that his responses were calming that he seemed less panicked. He had to decide how to answer. A moment ago reassurance had been necessary, massaging the truth a need rather than a choice, but now he needed to decide carefully how to answer. He couldn't guarantee that Steve would be fine, at least not for a while. "You need plenty of rest," he stated, "You've had some nasty knocks and you need to give yourself chance to recover."
Steve nodded again, again there was barely any movement; the pounding in his skull prevented any overt action. Rest, he could do that, especially since moving even the slightest amount sent tendrils of agony shooting up his side, not to mention draining his energy. Yes, rest seemed like a good idea.
DMDMDM
Mark scrubbed his hand over his face as he stood in the corridor, trying to compose himself. He had been in the hospital for twelve hours now. Dayshift had given over to night. He stifled a yawn. He hadn't had much sleep in the last 36 hours and he wasn't likely to be getting any anytime soon, not ideal when he hadn't fully recovered his strength from his own injury yet. Under normal circumstances he tired easily, and he knew it was only a combination of stress and adrenaline that was keeping him going now.
Steve had been moved to a room for observation. Jesse had been right about the lack of broken bones, but deep bruising covered Steve's leg from hip to thigh and he would be in need of some physio to get full movement and flexibility back. The head injury was still a cause for concern, and Steve had developed a fever, probably linked to the cut in his hand, which had become infected despite the dose of antibiotics that Jesse had given to Steve the night before. They were currently trying their third type in an attempt to get the infection under control before it caused further complications.
"Mark?"
He turned and looked into Jesse's concerned eyes as the young doctor approached. "How's he doing?"
"Temperature is still 102 but at least it's holding steady now." Mark said, trying to hide his weariness.
"Come on let me buy you a coffee." Jesse used the phrase figuratively as he had every intention of heading to the doctor's lounge. "You look like hell."
Mark hesitated, looking back at the door to Steve's room. He had only come out for a minute to get a breath of air, to bring his emotions under control. It was always hard seeing Steve so weak, so vulnerable. It was the pleading look on Jesse's face that swayed him as he looked back at the young doctor. He nodded his assent.
The two moved off down the corridor in step. "I checked in on Amanda," Jesse said, "CJ's doing fine all things considered, but they're keeping him in pediatrics overnight just to be on the safe side. Amanda's staying with him.
"That's good to hear." Mark said, genuinely relieved for her ,despite the continuing concern about Steve. He knew that Steve would be relieved too. Knew that Steve would have willingly given up his own life to save CJs. He hoped it didn't come to that.
Mark wearily sank into one of the seats as Jesse went to pour the coffees. He watched his young friend. "It's late, shouldn't you be at home?"
Jesse shook his head. "I've been asleep for most of the afternoon and evening. I've only just been released, so I checked on Amanda first and then came up here."
Mark nodded.
"Which reminds me, in the ER," Jesse asked, "you told Agent Parnell I was being treated for shock, how did you know?
"It was eighty degrees outside and you had a blanket round your shoulders and slightly glazed pupils," Mark stated.
Jesse grinned, that was Mark, no matter what the circumstances he never missed a detail. He took a sip of his coffee. "You should get some rest yourself. I'll stay with Steve, let you know if there's any change."
Mark knew that it made sense. He would do Steve no good if he was exhausted. He was just trying to decide where to go to get the much needed rest, when a familiar but unwelcome figure appeared in the door.
DMDMDM
This time he was annoyed. Porter could feel the eyes boring into him as he crossed the room and took his seat. Waves of negative energy engulfed him even through the plexiglass that separated him from his boss. Cold eyes met and drilled through his. The intensity of the stare seeming to grow with each passing second, and still the man did not speak.
Porter shifted nervously and licked his lips, glancing away for a moment as the fear caused his nerve to break. He forced himself to look back up, knowing that whatever he faced, it would be worse if he allowed his own weakness to show.
"The boy was supposed to die." Cold fury dripped from every word. "In front of him."
Porter licked lips that would just not moisten. "I know."
"She's supposed to hate him."
"She will, she does. I mean not as much as if. . . but she still thinks he betrayed her trust."
"Small comfort, if he dies."
"I know"
"And if he dies. . ." The threat was clear.
Porter swallowed again. "I know," and he did. He knew that if Steve died at this point in the game, then he would have very little time to get himself away before he met his own, probably extremely painful demise. He was being paid handsomely, and yet there were few who would take the risks of his position. The man he worked for was dangerously unstable.
"The instructions were very specific, he was not to be harmed."
"They knew that. They messed up and they're being taken care of." Porter stated, hoping fervently that that would be enough to appease his boss's anger.
The stare remained cold and otherwise unreadable. "You'll have to delay stage three a little while, give him chance to recover."
"But it's all set and. . ."
"I said delay it." The tone left no room for argument.
Porter nodded his assent. Delaying it was impossible, but he had to find a way. He was sure that another failure, even if it wasn't directly his fault would be one too many. "I'll delay it," he agreed.
DMDMDM
Agent Parnell waited until he reached the table before speaking. "Dr. Sloan, Dr Travis," he greeted as he had done earlier that day.
Mark bristled again, his anger towards the man had dissipated slightly although he could not fully forgive his verbal attacks on Steve; he had at least listened to his statement. He hadn't agreed that Steve had taken the only prudent course of action. Clearly believing that Steve should have come to him with his suspicions, and adamant that they could then have contained the leak and captured the kidnappers, as well as ensuring CJs safe return had Steve done so, but he had at least acknowledged that Steve had some justification for the course he had decided to follow.
Jesse had given his own statement before he'd gone to sleep, wanting to get it over with.
"Agent Parnell," Mark returned the greeting. "What brings you here at this time of night? Steve's still not fit to be interviewed, and even if he were he's asleep."
Parnell turned a chair round and sat straddling it, leaning on the back. "I'll admit that I am keen to interview the lieutenant," Parnell stated, "But that's not why I'm here." He paused looking between the two men. "I'm here to try to decide if your son lied to you or," he gestured between them with his fingers. "If you two lied to me."
Mark was taken aback by the comment. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
Jesse's "none of us lied," was blurted out.
Agent Parnell looked Mark directly in the eye, watching for a reaction to his next statement. "Then perhaps you can tell me how Steve answered two calls from the kidnappers on his cell, when no incoming calls were received to his number at all last night."
TO BE CONTINUED. . . .