Disclaimer: See Part One

VICTIMS

(PART NINE)

Steve broke just about every traffic violation imaginable, as he rushed towards Philip Morton's apartment. Even with the bubble light flashing on top of his car, his driving was nothing short of reckless.

He'd called ahead, asking for an ambulance to meet him a block away from his destination, not wanting them to race there with sirens blazing. Morton was unstable, bordering on the insane and now it was not only Jesse who was in danger, but his father too.

As he slewed the steering wheel again, to dodge past the impossibly slow drivers in his way, Steve grimly wondered if, maybe, he would end up needing the ambulance for himself. But not once did he even contemplate slowing down at all. Half an hour could feel like a lifetime, when people you loved were depending on you.

When he reached his rendezvous point, he was disgusted to find that there was no ambulance crew waiting for him. He removed the bubble light from his own car and was just about to call in and demand to know where the Hell it was, when it rounded the corner behind him.

Steve wasted no time in briefing them and was just about to start leading the way to Morton's apartment, when two police cruisers pulled in behind them. He hadn't asked for back-up, but Steve was immensely relieved to see them. After curtly ordering them not to use lights or sirens, the little convoy got underway.

He arrived just twenty-two minutes after talking to his father on the phone. As he got out of his car, Steve frowned as he saw two delinquents blocking the doorway of the building. This wasn't really all that bad an area and the kids were distinctly out of place.

Then two uniformed policemen got out of each cruiser. The two youths looked at one another, had a rapid conversation and then began to run. Steve was happy to let them go. He'd got a good look at both of them and could easily identify them again, if the need arose.

"Morton's apartment is on the first floor," Steve said, addressing the nearest of the two officers. "You two cover the fire escape, but don't move in unless I say so."

They nodded and moved off to carry out their orders.

"The rest of you are with me," he continued. He looked at the paramedics. "My dad seems to think that we'll need you pretty urgently, but wait in the corridor, until you get the all-clear."

Not willing to waste any more time, Steve strode into the apartment block, trusting them to follow him.

*****

Mark knelt between the two fallen men, a million thoughts racing through his head.

Who should he go to, Morton or Jesse? His enemy or his friend? His instincts screamed that it had to be Jesse, but Morton's words had clouded his mind.

Yes, he had often spoken of morals and ethics and had even cited the Hippocratic Oath. But what was he to do, with only one pair of hands, when two people so desperately needed his help?

He tried to look on it as a triage situation, to help the one in the most need. But Morton had been right about that, too. There was love and hate involved. How could any decision he made be impartial?

These thoughts passed through Mark's head in a matter of fleeting seconds and, even as his mind hovered in indecision, his hands were busy.

He tore open Morton's shirt collar, to try and ease his breathing, as his fingers quested for a pulse. He found it, beating unnaturally quickly beneath his touch.

Then a sudden thought struck him. There were two doctors in the room. Jesse had been drugged, but he had also been at least semi-aware. Maybe he didn't have to make this decision alone, after all.

"Do you know what was in the syringe?"

When there was no answer, he twisted around to look at his young colleague. What he saw stopped all of the conflict he'd previously suffered.

Jesse's eyes were, once again, closed and his head lolled against the wall. A thin trickle of green bile had wormed out of the corner of his mouth. To his consternation, Mark could no longer tell if he was breathing or not.

In his mind, Morton had ceased to exist. This was Jesse Travis, more like a son than a friend, and he had neglected him for long enough. He scooted over to where Jesse lay, the place he now knew he should have gone to first.

As his frantic fingers searched desperately for a pulse, he heard the door burst open behind him. He turned and saw Steve, gun in hand, frozen in the doorway by the tableau that had greeted him.

Jesse's flesh was cold beneath his touch.

"Help me, son," he pleaded.

*****

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Doctor Sloan?"

Amanda turned at the sound of a woman's voice and turned to find herself looking at Wendy Ho. Mark had introduced her the day before and, despite her worry, Amanda somehow found a smile.

"I'm sorry," she said, keeping her tone light, "but he's not here right now. Are you here to see Bethany?"

"Well, yes, but I really wanted to talk to Doctor Sloan," Wendy answered.

"Maybe I can help you. If you're worried about Bethany, I..."

"No, no. It's Kim I'm worried about. My grandson."

Amanda paused before answering. Of course, she knew all about Kim Ho but, with everything that had been going on, she'd never taken the time to analyse her own feelings about him.

He had shot one of her best friends and, as a result of that shooting, Jesse had been plunged into his own private Hell. But she was also a mother and knew what lengths a parent would go to, to protect their child. Philip Morton wasn't Kim Ho's fault and she wondered what Jesse would have done if none of those repercussions had followed.

Jesse! Amanda remembered Mark's phone call and the haste with which he'd left the hospital. Sudden dread churned her stomach.

"Excuse me?" Wendy said, seeing that she'd lost the other woman's attention.

At that precise moment, Amanda wanted nothing more than to scream at the Chinese woman, to tell her exactly what her precious grandson had started, but she saw the look on Wendy's face and compassion won out.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "You were saying about Kim?"

"Doctor Sloan explained everything to me," Mary continued, unperturbed by the younger woman's momentary distraction. Mark had explained a great many other things to her as well. "I know that Kim did wrong and is in a lot of trouble and I can't excuse him for that."

"It's in the past now and nobody can change that." Amanda only spoke because an answer seemed expected of her.

"No, but we can do something about the future." Amanda had to forgive Wendy's persistence, she knew nothing of Jesse's plight. "His father hates him and will have nothing to do with him. But what about me?"

Amanda looked at her, not sure what she was getting at.

"What if I give them all a home? Kim, Maria and the baby?" Wendy continued with growing enthusiasm. "I don't want my grandson to go to prison. I'll look after them and I'll take full responsibility for them."

Amanda admired the woman's spirit, but couldn't help feeling the slightest twinge of bitterness. Kim Ho might still be responsible for setting in motion the chain of events that killed Jesse Travis.

*****

Steve had imagined a thousand different scenarios as he'd raced towards Morton's apartment, but none of them matched the scene that had greeted him when he burst into the room.

He never thought he'd see a look like that on his father's face. Mark looked desperate, almost helpless. And when he'd spoke, his tone of voice had turned Steve's blood to ice.

"Help me, son."

"Get the paramedics in here! Now!" He barely spared a glance towards Morton as he raced to his father's side.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get those Damned ropes off him."

Mark carefully laid Jesse onto his side and slipped two fingers into his mouth, easing it more fully open. More of the disgusting bile spilled out.

Steve had pulled out his pocket-knife and was savagely sawing through the ropes that bound his friend, when the paramedics rushed into the room. Mark barely spared them a glance.

"He injected himself with something," he said curtly, jerking his head in Morton's direction. "I don't know what."

Then Jesse convulsed violently and he left them to get on with their job, no longer caring whether they succeeded or not.

"Dad?" Steve had completed severing the bonds and was looking to his dad for direction, when Jesse convulsed again. His arms thrashed weakly at the hands that were trying to help him.

"Just keep him still, son." Mark had to force those words out. Jesse had been restrained for too long. "I have to clear his air-way."

Hating himself for what he was doing, Steve pulled his friend's arms down and held them in a firm, but gentle grip. Mark pushed his fingers further into Jesse's mouth and they had to endure another sudden convulsion.

"Doctor Sloan?"

It was the voice of one of the paramedics and Mark completely ignored him. He didn't even care if he were about to tell him that Morton was dead. His fingers quested further and Jesse wretched, then gasped in a sudden breath of air.

Temporarily satisfied, Mark spared a brief glance towards Morton. The two paramedics who'd tended to him were looking back at him quizzically.

"He's going to be fine," one of them said. "As far as we can tell, he gave himself a shot of some kind of stimulant. My guess would be adrenalin. Nothing serious, but enough to cause him a lot of discomfort."

"Dad!"

Steve hadn't once taken his eyes off Jesse and so it was he who noticed that, after his friend had exhaled that gasped lungful of air, he didn't fight for another one.

Mark reacted without thought. Jesse had stopped breathing, so he did the only thing that he could. Rolling the young doctor onto his back, he began to perform CPR.

"Doctor Sloan." One of the paramedics stepped forward, confused by what he was seeing. "Why don't you let us?"

But Mark was beyond hearing them. He had caused this situation, so it was up to him to resolve it. Steve had to step in and physically pull Mark away from Jesse before the paramedics were able to get close to him.

"Dad, they've got him." Steve was almost shouting to get his father's attention. "Let them help him."

Mark looked at him and his eyes were filled with tears.

"I should have known he was lying," he whispered. "He's done nothing but lie, right from the start. God Dammit! I should have known."

"Known what?" Steve was starting to get worried and not just about Jesse. "Dad, what are you talking about?"

"He always meant to kill Jesse. Why couldn't I see that? But he made me choose, between my ethics and..."

"Dad, I don't understand."

"He made me leave Jesse to die." A tear trickled down Mark's cheek. "That was his revenge. I would have let him die and that would have driven me insane."

Concerned as he was by his father's behaviour, Steve threw a worried glance towards the corner where the two paramedics worked feverishly over his best friend.

One of them glanced back over his shoulder.

"We've got him stabilised, but I don't know for how long. Do you know what he took?"

"He didn't take anything!" Steve reacted with typical fury. "He..."

"Steve, we know it's not Jesse's fault." The altercation seemed to snap Mark out of his stupor and he stepped forward with calm authority. "Let's just get him to hospital."

"What about him?" One of the paramedics asked, glancing towards Morton's still unconscious form. "He really should go to the hospital, too."

"Just take care of Jesse," Steve snapped, fixing Morton with a venomous glare. "I'll take care of him."

*****

It was one of the longest nights of Mark's life, as he kept a constant vigil at Jesse's bedside. In spite of his son's and his friends' objections, he refused to go home. It was his fault that Jesse was lying there, fighting for his life. Staying with him was the least he could do.

The young doctor's tox-screen had come back reading like a stock-sheet from a pharmacy. His stomach had been pumped and he was hooked up to a multitude of tubes, as they tried to flush the deadly cocktail out of his system.

Steve stayed with him for as long as he could, but he had work to do, namely making sure that Philip Morton got exactly the punishment that he deserved.

Morton was kept in the hospital overnight, mainly for observation, but he had two armed guards on his door and Steve was there when the time came for him to be formally arrested.

Jesse's tormentor dressed, then sat on the edge of his bed, listening impassively as Steve read him his rights.

"What are you charging me with, Lieutenant?" he asked and Steve was surprised to see him smiling hopefully at him. "Murder?"

"Kidnapping, assault, attempted murder." Steve enjoyed watching the smile fade from the other man's lips. "He's alive, Morton. My dad saved his life."

Steve handed his prisoner over to the two uniformed cops, then hurried back to where his friend lay, praying that he had just told Morton the truth.

*****

Jesse had thought that regaining consciousness in Morton's apartment had been painful, but that was nothing compared to the agony that awaited him when he finally started to come around, some forty-eight hours after being rushed through the doors of Community General.

To begin with, he was only vaguely aware that something wasn't right. There was something in his throat and, remembering how Morton had forced drugs into him, he began to panic. Then the pain hit him all at once and he gasped, almost choking on the tube that had been helping him to breath. His eyes shot open suddenly, as full consciousness was rudely thrust upon him.

Mark had given in to the constant pressure of his colleagues and snatched a few hours sleep in the on-call room. He had returned just in time and almost fell off his chair in surprise when, without any prior warning, his patient woke up. He saw the panic that immediately followed and was on his feet in an instant, leaning over the bed so that Jesse could see him.

"It's okay, Jess," he soothed. "You're safe now. He's gone and you're at the hospital. You're safe now."

Jesse looked up at him with pleading eyes. He wanted to tell Mark just how much he was hurting, but the tube prevented him from speaking. Tears of pain and frustration welled in his eyes.

"I know you're hurting, Jess." Mark saw the tears and correctly interpreted at least part of their reason. "But I'm sorry, I can't give you anything for it. He put so many different drugs into your system, we have no idea what might trigger another reaction. I truly am sorry..."

He trailed off and just looked on helplessly as two tears trickled down his young friend's cheeks. He would have done anything to be able to take his pain away, but the risks were just too great. He reached out and laid a soothing hand on Jesse's cheek.

"I am so sorry," he whispered.

Jesse stared back at him, not fully understanding what he was being told. His head was still fuzzy and the pain was making it difficult for him to concentrate. All that he wanted was to stop hurting. More tears rushed to replace those that had already fallen.

Mark could do nothing more than continue stroking his cheek, making soothing noises and watching his friend cry. He didn't know how long he'd stood there, but eventually Jesse's eyelids dropped and he slipped into what Mark hoped was a peaceful, therapeutic sleep.

*****

Healing was a slow and pain-filled process. After Jesse's first return to consciousness, Mark had removed the throat tube, but it was still too soon for him to consider increasing his medication. Throughout the next two days he, Steve and Amanda could only be there for their friend as his nightmare continued.

There were a great many more tears, not all of them from Jesse's eyes and there was one horrific moment when Jesse completely lost all control and had begged Mark to give him something, anything to help him. Mark had cried along with his friend and just held him until the pain subsided to a more bearable level.

On the morning of the third day since Jesse had first awoken, Mark had run a battery of tests and was anxiously awaiting the results, when Amanda came into the room.

"Any change?" She asked quietly. Jesse was still sleeping.

Mark was just about to answer, when a nurse opened the door and handed him a file. Taking his glasses from his top pocket, he studied it in silence for, what felt to Amanda, the longest time.

"Well?" She pressed, unable to contain her curiosity.

"The foreign substances in Jesse's bloodstream have fallen almost by half," he explained. Then his face broke into a broad grin. "He's out of the woods, Amanda. He's going to be alright!"

Unable to help herself, Amanda threw her arms around the older doctor's neck and hugged him hard. She was laughing and crying at the same time.

"Hey, guys," a weak voice called out from the bed. "I'm starting to feel a little left out here."

The two of them turned towards him, still grinning like idiots.

"I'm guessing from your expressions that it's good news." Jesse shifted uncomfortably on the bed, a grimace flashing over his features. "So why don't I feel any better?"

"Where does it hurt, Jess?" Mark asked, as he began to prepare a syringe.

"Um, everywhere?" He gasped again, then said through gritted teeth: "Stomach, mostly."

"Let me give you something for that."

After what he had been through, Mark wouldn't have been surprised if Jesse had flinched away from the needle. But the young doctor just closed his eyes, then sighed with unmistakable relief as the painkiller was administered.

*****

Another two days and Jesse was getting back towards being his normal self. Mark had told him what Morton had done, as he found that he had very little memory of events inside the actual apartment. Then, he had gently explained about Wendy Ho and her offer to take care of Kim, Maria and Bethany.

Mark had been unsure as to what Jesse's reaction would be, but the compassionate young man had simply smiled and said he was happy that Bethany would have a proper home to grow up in. The baby's prognosis was reasonably good and she was responding well to the treatment.

Mark's only concern about his friend was that, throughout their conversation, Jesse never once asked after Kim Ho himself. He didn't press the issue, knowing that Jesse would have to face up to it sooner rather than later.

That afternoon, there was a light knock at the door and Steve poked his head round, his face lighting up when he saw how well Jesse was looking. As he entered the room, his smile faded somewhat. His wasn't a social visit.

"Jesse, Kim Ho was in court this morning," Steve began. "He pleaded guilty to all of the charges, but the DA did intervene. Once she found out about his grandmother's offer to..."

"Just tell me what he got, Steve." Jesse's voice was flat, his gaze impassive.

"A probationary order."

The doctor merely nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Steve looked at him worriedly, remembering how he had previously reacted at the mere mention of Kim Ho's name and afraid that the news might have caused a set-back in his recovery.

"Jess..."

"I'm okay." Jess looked at him and his eyes were bright with tears. "Maybe you're right, maybe being locked up would have destroyed him and maybe now he'll sort his life out. But it's not that easy, you know?"

"He wants to come and see you. To apologise to you in person."

Steve was only trying to make his friend see that Kim wasn't such a bad kid after all. But he was forced to regret the words as soon as he'd said them. Jesse sat frozen on the bed, a look of shock on his face. He was so completely and utterly still that, for a moment, Steve genuinely feared that he'd suffered a relapse. Then he blinked and the tension in his features relaxed, leaving behind only sadness.

"I'm sorry." His tearful gaze dropped down to the bedclothes. "I just don't think I'm ready for that yet."

THE END.

Author's notes: Well, that's it. I hope you all enjoyed it. Believe me, it was a lot of fun to write. The reviews throughout were greatly appreciated and a genuine inspiration. My muse is already whispering ideas for my next story, so hopefully I'll be posting something again soon. Thanks again, everyone. Guardian.