Chapter Five

Steve poked his head back into the ICU on his way to the phone, and felt more and more like he'd fallen into the Twilight Zone. Oscar remained undisturbed in his glass cubicle, but Sam and Michael were both gone, and there was no sign of Rudy. The entire hospital was far too quiet. The intercom was silent, there were no rubber-soled footsteps hurrying through the hallways and Steve hadn't seen even a single nurse. For that matter, where were Chris and Russ? Judging from the fact that no reinforcements seemed to be arriving, he guessed they'd never made it as far as the phone.

He came to Rudy's office and didn't bother knocking; something told him Rudy wasn't there, either. When the door proved to be locked, with no hesitation, Steve planted a solid kick on the doorknob and sent the piece of hardwood flying off its hinges. His sole aim was now in view: Rudy's telephone. He picked up the receiver and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the dial tone.

"Put the phone down, Steve," a flat, ominous voice instructed from behind him. Steve turned quickly and was met with a choking spray of mist, directly in his face. He knew his assailant well, but his mind didn't even have a chance to register his identity before his legs went out from under him and consciousness faded to pitch-black nothingness.

The man with the spray canister laughed contemptuously. "Time for you to learn no one takes Jaime from me without feeling the harsh reality of my own personal justice. She's mine now, Steve, just as soon as I take you to your final resting place."

- - - - - -

Jaime had done what Steve asked; she'd locked the door. Now, she paced on the other side of that door, feeling more trapped than a caged animal. No matter how closely she tried to tune in with her ear, she heard no voices, no footsteps. She moved to the window, pulled it open and stuck her head outside, straining to hear approaching cars, operatives...anything! But no one seemed to be coming. Frustrated as well as frightened, she reached over to open the door, stopping herself as she remembered her promise to Steve. Sighing, she sat back down on the bed and closed her eyes, trying to make sense out of everything that was happening. She heard a dull, dragging noise and a door that opened and closed, and it nearly sent her flying into the hallway, but she reasoned that when Steve came back for her, if she wasn't in this room, looking for her would put him in even more danger. Fear settled in a heavy lump in the pit of her stomach as she sat there, feeling like a prisoner.

Ten minutes later, the pit of her stomach – Oscar called it gut instinct - was screaming: find Steve! She couldn't wait helplessly any longer, and, her decision made, she unlocked the door.

As Jaime turned the knob, she felt resistance, like someone was also turning it from the other side of the door. "Steve?" she called out, pulling the door open. It wasn't Steve.

Michael stood dead-center in the doorway, blocking her exit. His smile was warm and loving, but his eyes had a strange glint Jaime had never seen there before. "Hi there, Sunshine," he said softly. "I was just coming to get you. I guess great minds think alike, huh?"

Jaime shivered. "Where's Steve?"

"You don't need him anymore, Jaime," Michael crooned happily. "We've got each other now; we don't need anyone else."

Jaime was stunned into silence. This was obviously not the same Michael Marchetti she'd fallen in almost-love with, during her bout with amnesia. Something was horribly – dangerously - wrong with him. The warm, compassionate doctor was no longer in the building, possibly no longer on the planet; a madman had taken his place. Jaime took a deep, steadying breath, suddenly realizing that several other lives, including Steve's, depended at least in part on how she handled the next few minutes.

"Michael?" she began hesitantly, "what's going on here? What are you doing?"

Michael shook his head in disbelief. "Don't you see? There's no one left to stop us. We can be together now, just like we were always meant to be." He took her left arm with a gentle touch. "Let's go, Sunshine. We've got a plane to catch."

Jaime's mind reeled. No one left to stop us...had Michael...killed everyone? "Michael, thank you," she said slowly, nearly choking on the words. "I know you've worked hard for this. But with Oscar in the hospital, I don't think it's a good time to -"

Michael's grip on her arm tightened to the point of pain, but Jaime forced herself not to cry out. "You don't have a choice, Jaime." He smiled in a sick, twisted version of a tender gaze. "It's not your fault; Steve has you so confused you don't know what's right anymore." His other arm snaked around her waist as he started to pull her closer. "This is right," he whispered, leaning in to try and kiss her.

Jaime's arm in its sling put her slightly off balance, and she nearly fell as she twisted out of his grasp.

"Now that was a mistake," Michael said, his voice growing sharp and threatening. Jaime stared at him as she regained solid footing, and found she was now staring directly down the barrel of a gun.

- - - - - -