Chapter 14

Steve had a lot to digest, and Mark sat quietly, allowing him time to do that. So many pictures were passing through Steve's mind: the night he and Jaime had eloped...the time they spent recuperating together...their trip to the island...their sheer bliss at just being together...and Jaime in Michael's arms, kissing him in a way Steve had thought was reserved only for him. He had been pacing the floor, stopping to look longingly at Jaime's pillow and then gazing out the window, deep in thought...until the last memory hit him. Mark could see exactly when it happened; Steve's entire countenance changed and he winced in pain as his hands balled into fists.

''We need to get you down to the ortho man,'' Mark told him, ''and get that hand taken care of.''

''Not now. I'm alright; it can wait.''

''Jaime could be in surgery for hours. We need to get you taken care of; I know you're in pain.'' Steve's hand looked angry - inflamed - and Mark hoped he hadn't done further damage to it when he'd taken off his own cast.

''Scale of 1 - 10, it's only about...a 12,'' Steve admitted.

''I'm paging the ortho,'' Mark said firmly. ''Non-negotiable.'' When the phone rang a few minutes later, it was the orthopedic surgeon's nurse, returning the page. The doctor had been waiting to hear from him - and was ready. Mark made one more call, to the nurses' station, to order a pain shot. It arrived within minutes...and Steve didn't protest. He sank wearily into a chair as the shot took effect. The anger he'd begun to feel (again) as that image had flashed through his mind dissipated.

''I don't wanna lose her, Doc,'' he said, very quietly.

''Then you need to tell her that.''

''I don't know if she'll even see me...''

''She was willing to see you today,'' Mark reminded him.

''And look where it got her. She's in the operating room, fighting for her life! She took one look at me...and it almost killed her.''

''Wrong. What Kingsley did - combined with what happened to her in Washington - nearly killed her. I know that you know that; now you need to believe it.''

Steve nodded, beginning to doze off. Very shortly thereafter, he was wheeled into the operating room next to Jaime's. When he woke up (several hours later), there had still been no word from OR-1 or from Michael. As soon as he was able, Steve was up, out of bed - and pacing the hall just outside the operating room.

Inside the big double doors, the mood had been tense for hours. The clot had been small but in a delicate, threatening (difficult to reach) spot. Michael had been leaning in close with his magnifier, knowing that the tiniest slip-up could leave Jaime paralyzed...or worse. At first, Rudy had been eying him closely, watching for any signs of loss of his objectivity but his young protege was all business - the picture of professional expertise. When it counted most, Michael was still able to pull himself together. Finally, he reached the tiny clot, removed it with a careful, practiced hand and allowed himself to smile. There had been only minimal bleeding and no visible damage.

''Excellent work, Doctor,'' Rudy told him. Together, they closed the incision and readied Jaime to head back to the ICU – then exited through the big double doors to inform the tense vigil in the hallway that everything would be alright.

Steve stayed with Jaime while she slept off the effects of the anesthetic (and the trauma of the surgery)...and Mark stayed with Steve. He noted that Steve seemed more comfortable now, possibly due to the effects of accepting his pain meds regularly. But he was sitting across the room, looking longingly at his wife but not moving any closer. Rudy checked on her regularly but Michael was also in and out of the room...and Mark noticed that Steve stared down at the floor when the younger doctor was examining Jaime. Steve shook Michael's hand, looked him straight in the eyes and thanked him when he'd first come out of the OR; perhaps it was seeing the two of them in such close proximity (even in a completely professional capacity) that was troubling him. It wasn't the time to ask, but Mark filed the knowledge away in his mind for another time.

Steve turned down the offer of a bed of his own in the next room (even with the promise that they'd come and get him when Jaime woke up), preferring to stay in the chair across the room - never moving any closer but not willing to leave her either. Mark was still not certain if Steve planned to really leaveJaime once she was awake and truly alright; he thought Steve probably wasn't sure himself, one way or the other. The love he felt for his wife was evident when he looked at her, almost palpable and radiating across the room. He looked completely bereft and alone though when he was staring at the floor - and Mark remembered what he'd said a few hours earlier:

I've already lost her...