Disclaimer: Yup. Oh wait, I mean no.
A/N: Ha! Awesome. At first there was no reviews for this, and I was okay with that… it's not a popular fandom, but I was still having fun. Then I got one, then another, and another… and soon eight. Thanks guys! Apparently the world of Diagnosis Murder is not totally lost… which is brilliant! So here is chapter two. And at this point I think I should note something. I am not a doctor. Nor do I play one on tv. I am a biologist, and a world-renowned bull-sh!ter, and thus I can make it sound like I know what I am talking about, but for your sake and as well as mine, don't go looking to verify any of the medical stuff in this story… haha, it won't be true. I am making stuff up as I go, and I apologize to any of you genuine medical personal out there reading this. However, as with most stories I write, it's not the nitty-gritty technical stuff that's important, it's what's happening with the characters. And I've attempted to write in a clear way so you know what's going on. Anyways, after that small warning… I hope y'all will continue to read and enjoy this story! Thanks!
"I found it," Jesse ran into Steve's room where Mark was currently adjusting his IV.
"The son?" Mark eagerly asked, his eyes wide.
"Yes," Jesse handed a folder to Mark and spoke what he'd memorized, "His name is Casey Harding and he's thirty-one. He's in room 243 down the hall and has been there since admittance two and a half weeks ago. Casey started out with the same symptoms as Steve minus the blow to the head. Uncontrollable BP, high heart rate, the potassium and nitrogen in the blood work and the blisters."
"What happened to him next?" Mark was scared to hear the answer and refused to open the file to look.
Jesse swallowed hard, "On day two he had a massive stroke. He went into a coma after that and hasn't woken since. But his condition has continually gone down; just in the past three days his blood pressure and heart rate have gone in the opposite direction, and they've been trying to keep it up because it keeps dropping. They don't think he's going to last through the weekend."
Mark closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "We need to stop this Jesse. I won't let Steve die."
"He won't Mark," Jesse placed a comforting hand on his arm, "We'll figure this out."
Mark now looked at the file, "It says the father is Aaron Harding…"
"The police are already on the way to his house," Jesse confirmed then turned his attention to Steve, "How's he doing?"
"He's sleeping right now," Mark looked down at the red face of his son, "I gave him some sedatives as well a full dose of clopidogrel to bring down his BP. It's sitting at 130/92 right now and holding so I-I think that he'll be alright for now. But we can't push it too much or he could go the opposite direction and bleed out from the sores. It's a fine line we're walking Jess."
"You're right," Jesse moved over and looked at Steve's chest; the blisters had opened up to nasty, oozing wounds, "Do you have him on anything for the pain?"
"Morphine," Mark looked sad, "But I don't think it's helping much. He's still in pain even while sleeping."
"How can you tell?"
Mark laughed softly, "I'm his father. He hides his fear and pain well, but when he's sleeping I can read it as clear on his face as if he were telling me."
Almost as if on que, Steve shifted in his sleep, moaned out in pain, and opened his eyes up.
"Steve," Mark took one large step forwards so that he was standing directly beside Steve's head, "Just take it easy."
The monitors began to beep as Steve's heart rate and blood pressure elevated into the danger zone.
"Dad," Steve moved the oxygen mask from his mouth, "What's happening?"
"Steve, keep that on!" Jesse was the one who spoke and made sure the mask was in place and then went about increasing the medication dripping into the IV, "You need to take deep breaths and relax."
"Jesse's right son," Mark brushed his hand over Steve's head, "You're very sick right now, and the more stressed you get the worse it'll become."
"This wasn't just a hit on the head, was it?" even while sick, Steve's cop instincts began to take over.
Mark internally let out a sigh of relief as the extra medication started to work, "No it's not."
There was a long pause in which Mark and Jesse shared a look and wordless conversation. On one hand they could tell Steve exactly what was happening and that someone had intentionally poisoned him. But that could dramatically increase his stress. On the other hand, Mark knew his son, and knew that simply not knowing what was happening wouldn't be good for him either.
"Dad, tell me," Steve was breathing hard, and felt his head spinning.
"Someone injected you with a virus," Mark carefully explained, "His son was infected by the same thing, and so wants me to find a cure by making you sick as well."
At this Steve attempted to sit up more, and suddenly four hands were holding him down.
"I'm fine," Steve grunted struggling against them, "Did you get the guy?"
Mark nodded, "We got him, don't worry. I just need you to concentrate on getting better."
A weary smile crossed Steve's lips, "I thought that was your job."
Mark gave a forced laugh.
"Dad, I'll be fine," Steve reassured.
Mark cleared his throat of emotions, "I know you will son. In the mean time I want you to rest and not worry about anything."
"I'm a cop, that's hard to do," Steve's voice was growing weaker by the minute, "And Dad… I need you to leave the investigating up to the police. I don't want you getting caught in this."
Mark swallowed hard and spoke in a voice he wasn't even sure Steve heard, "I already am."
~DM~
Mark slowly pushed open the door to room 243. Immediately the soft humming of monitors and the slow beeping of Casey Harding's heart entered the doctor's ears. Almost involuntarily Mark then looked over at the patient, and let out a quiet gasp. The thirty-four year old lay deathly still covered to his waste by a white sheet. The soars which had previously covered his chest had turned into crusted scabs; several of which looked to be currently infected. Mark took a further step into the room to get a closer look at the monitor readings.
Pulse 51.
Blood pressure 91/47.
"God no…" Mark swallowed as he then took the chart and read through things quickly.
Jesse had been right; Casey wasn't going to last through the weekend. Casey's doctor, one Dr. Higgins, was giving him the highest dosage possible to control his vitals but nevertheless they were dropping. Fast.
Mark felt tears prickle curiously at his eyes; this was going to be Steve soon.
Placing the chart back, Mark half stumbled out of the room. A sudden nauseous feeling enveloped the doctor and he was forced to make a quick beeline to the doctor's lounge less than fifty feet away. Once in he went to the bathroom and promptly got sick. Now the tears did fall down his face.
"Mark?"
The soft voice was followed by the door opening.
"Mark, it's alright," Amanda walked into the room and gently crouched down and put an arm around him.
Mark's body trembled slightly as he closed his eyes and spoke close to a whisper, "Casey is going to die Amanda. And there's nothing that can be done to stop it."
"Casey is not Steve," Amanda emphasized.
"But he is," Mark looked desperately at his friend, "Aaron Harding injected the same thing into Steve and…" Mark was forced to clear his throat, "And I don't know how to help him."
Mark got onto wobbly legs, and Amanda helped him over to one of the seats. She sat across from him and looked at him in the eyes.
"Mark, he will be okay," she assured, "I've been looking at Casey's file, and there's at least a half dozen treatments that can still be tried that haven't. And if we can figure out exactly what kind of virus it was that he was infected with we can look for the right antibodies that way. I will do anything I can to help."
"Thank you sweetie," Mark spoke at a near whisper, silent tears still marking their way down his suddenly aged face.
"In the meantime, you need to get some sleep," Amanda instructed, "You are no good to Steve in your state right now."
"I can't leave him," Mark impulsively and aggressively stated.
"You need sleep," Amanda used her sternest Mom voice, "Now just go to your office where it's quiet, and I promise to wake you up if anything happens with Steve, or if we hear anything more on how Casey is doing." She paused. "Please Mark."
"You promise you'll come get me at the first sign of anything?"
Amanda smiled, "Yes."
Mark reluctantly nodded and got out of the chair. Maybe a few hours rest would help.
~DM~
Jesse ran his hand over his face and let out a breath as he leaned against the hospital wall. This was bad. He knew it from the second he saw Steve when they'd first walked into his room after getting the call at Mark's beach house. Steve was good at hiding his ailments and injuries, but Jesse was better. As time had progressed, Steve's condition had exponentially gotten worse and Jesse felt the same helplessness as Mark.
"C'mon Casey," Jesse now spoke softly to himself as he walked into room 243, "Give me something to help Steve."
The man lay ashen and quiet, and for a moment Jesse saw Steve laying there. A quick squeeze of the eyes shut later, and the man was once again Casey. As had Mark only an hour earlier, Jesse went around and looked at all the monitors and the readings.
"This is bad," Jesse whispered, "Really bad."
At the stage the patient was at, Jesse knew, they'd be telling the family that his time was at the end. To say their last goodbyes, give him the last rites, and to simply be there. Casey Harding had no family here. His father was, with any luck, currently in police custody, and his mother had died when Casey was twelve. This man was going to die alone, and Jesse feared this more than anything. Not only because he hated seeing someone die with no one there to comfort them in their last moments, but he also knew that if Casey died, then Steve's chances of pulling out of this dropped substantially.
"Just try and hold on a little longer," Jesse placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Casey's arm, "We're trying to figure this out."
But life was cruel and unfair. Jesse had learned that at a young age; his prom date dumping him a week before the prom. His parents finally letting him get a dog, only to have to give it away when his Dad became allergic. His Grandma going into remission from cancer, only to die in a car crash the next day. Life wasn't fair, and no matter how much Jesse tried to remind himself of that, it always caught him off guard.
Casey Harding was dead seven minutes after Jesse walked into the room.
…to be continued…