Chapter Eight

Jaime spent the next day and a half drifting in and out of consciousness, in too much pain when she was awake to ask any questions. Oscar refused to leave her side, except for a few minutes at a time, when he checked on Steve. His heroic friend had survived the initial surgery – barely – and had been lying in a deep, unresponsive coma ever since. Oscar had plenty of time to sit at Jaime's side with nothing to do but think – and grow angrier.

Finally, just before the second sunrise that Oscar had spent at her bedside, Jaime opened her eyes and was actually there. "You should go home," she insisted, very softly.

"Jaime?" Tears formed in Oscar's weary eyes. "It's so good to hear your voice, Babe." He leaned in to kiss her – very carefully, but still brimming with love and relief.

"My boss...wouldn't do that," Jaime pointed out, still extremely weak but very much present.

"I don't care," her husband retorted. "I love you, and I've been so worried about you." He kissed her once more before leaning back in his chair and assuming a more 'professional' demeanor. He smiled when Jaime reached over to take his hand.

I love you, too, she mouthed silently, basking in the warmth of Oscar's love. For a precious few minutes, they were able to forget about everything and everyone – except each other.

Rudy's entrance snapped them both instantly back into their roles. "It's good to see one of my patients looking so chipper," the doctor exclaimed. Oscar cringed inside, knowing this would trigger the question.

It did. "Rudy, how's Steve?" Jaime asked, still holding Oscar's hand. Oscar subtly held on a little tighter, to support her as she listened.

Rudy glanced at Oscar, and they both knew it was time for the full truth. "Jaime," Rudy began, as gently as possible, "he's still in very bad shape." Oscar watched Jaime closely as she absorbed the grim news, and the tears that streamed down her face brought his inner turmoil to its flash point. He knew what he had to do – for Jaime and Steve, as well as for himself – and the time had come to do it.

- - - - - -

Oscar waited until the following day, when Jaime was completely out of danger and had been transferred out of the ICU, to start making phone calls. By early that afternoon, he was ready. Jack Hansen looked up from the thin, metal cot he sat on in the OSI equivalent of The Hole to see Oscar walking into his cell and closing the door behind him. Oscar locked the solid metal door himself, and placed the key in his pocket. Jack knew that meant there was no guard on the other side of the door to let Oscar out again. The air was thick with the malice of an unspoken threat, and they were completely alone.

- - - - - -

Jaime, meanwhile, had finally convinced the doctors to let her see Steve. Michael pushed her down to Steve's cubicle in a wheelchair – it was still too painful for her to walk – and then made himself scarce.

"Hey, Austin," Jaime began, trying for humor to keep herself from sobbing, "remember when we were kids, how we always tried to 'one-up' each other?" She brushed away a lone tear that had intruded in spite of her efforts. "Well, I'm awake and I'm up and around – sort of. You gonna let me win...or are you gonna try and keep up?" There was no answer from Steve, and Jaime continued her effort to urge him back to life by egging on his competitive side. "This isn't like you, Steve, letting a woman beat you to the good part. Especially letting me..." Jaime couldn't go on in joking mode. "Steve..." she pleaded, "you saved me, but...I need you to be ok, too. Please, Steve..." Jaime's tears overtook her, and she had no more words.

The slight stirring from the bed took her tears (and her breath) away. The beloved voice was weak, but was one she'd thought she might never hear again. "I...haven't given...up...yet."

- - - - - -

Oscar stood silently, glaring at the man who had set him up to lose everything: his wife, his best friend and his career. His actual motive wasn't important. Oscar had trusted him; hell, they'd worked side-by-side on the same cases, more often than he could count. Jaime had nearly died, Steve's survival was still in serious doubt and Oscar stood unimpeded in front of the man responsible.

"Well, Goldman," Jack said with a sarcastic smirk, "imagine the two of us, meeting here."

That did it. Forgive me, God, Oscar thought to himself. I love you, Jaime. Without uttering a single word, Oscar advanced on his nemesis, his eyes and his fists blazing.

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