Disclaimer: If these guys were actually mine, they'd be dead by now from me now updating

A/N: Have you ever gotten to the end of a chapter, looked at that little review button, and wondered: 'Does it really make a difference if I review or not?'… well here's me telling you it DOES make a difference. I wanted to finish this story, but simply didn't have the gumption to work on it. But after looking at the reviews I got, and even some personal messages, I decided to pick it back up! So ta-da!... here's a new chapter! I am going to continue working on it because I'm excited with the storyline I have planned out. So please… keep reading and keep pressing that review button. It does help!

10:23AM.

It was five hours after Casey had been officially pronounced dead. Almost exactly five hours. Though if someone had asked any of the three people that were in Steve Sloan's room what the time was, they'd have no idea; just the vague notion that it was sometime in the midmorning. Steve had begun to steadily get worse through the early morning. His fever spiked at 104.3, his heart rate levelled out at 128 and his blood pressure refused to go below 140/100.

Mark began to panic at just after ten when Steve stopped responding to their questions.

"Steve," it was Jesse who spoke loudly to his friend, "Buddy, can you hear me?"

"I… I…" Steve struggled to open his eyes, "No…"

"We need to cool him," Mark's voice shook, "We need to get his temperature down. That might help the rest."

They already had Steve stripped right down to his boxers as he lay in the hospital bed. Immediately and seemingly out of nowhere Amanda had several cooling bags which she quickly crushed to release the chemicals inside. She placed the cold bags against Steve's armpits and groin and started to rinse his body with cold water they had sitting nearby. Jesse worked feverishly to adjust the medications, all the while Mark looked on numbly.

"Mark?" Jesse gave a quick glance sideways, "Hey… are you okay?"

No! Of course he wasn't okay! His son was dying before his eyes! His son…

"Just help him," Mark swallowed.

Jesse wordlessly turned back to his patient. He chastised himself briefly for referring to the man in front of him as simply 'his patient'; he was more than that. He was his best friend, and someone he cared for about more than himself. But he had to remove himself from any personal relationships with his patients, or else he couldn't be objective.

"Steve?" Mark tried again to get a response, "It's Dad… can you hear me?"

Steve's eyes were small slits, and though his chapped lips tried to form words, nothing came out. Mark placed a hand on his arm, and felt the warmth that was killing him; his temperature remained steady at 104.3.

It was 10:23AM.

Steve's body gave a slight tremble at first. Just enough to set off the alarm bells of all three doctors. There was no time for any kind of reaction before the cop's back arched up in an unnatural and ridged stance, and his whole body began to convulse. The monitors began to sound in alarm.

"He's seizing!" Jesse shouted, stating the obvious.

All three quickly jumped into action.

~DM~

"Temperature?" Mark's voice was soft, tired and so quiet that it was barely audible as he sat in the less than comfortable doctor's lounge chair.

"100.5," Jesse supplied just as unenthusiastically and somber.

"What about blood pressure and pulse?"

"Pulse is 54 and his blood pressure is 90/40," Jesse ran a hand over his unshaven face.

Mark nodded; he'd known these answers when he asked them, but needed the confirmation. The time was 11:40AM, though it seemed like just an instant since Steve Sloan had the first of three consecutive seizures, and then fell into a coma.

"This is going too fast," Mark looked up properly now to his friend, "With Casey it took him nearly two weeks before he got to this stage. Steve was infected not even two days ago."

"I know," Jesse shook his head, "Amanda is working on Casey's autaupsy right now, so hopefully she'll find something that can help us."

Mark shook his head; a sudden determined look flashing through his eyes, "If we want something to help us, we need to go straight to the source."

Jesse frowned, "The cops have Aaron, and now that Casey died, he's not saying a word. He won't even talk about what happened to his son, or why he was infected in the first place."

"Which is why we need to figure out exactly where he was when he got sick," Mark walked out the door with Jesse in tow, "My son is not going to die."

~DM~

19 Days Earlier…

Casey Harding sighed as he looked back down the empty hall. He was in his early thirties; his memory shouldn't be going yet! But alas he had forgotten his notebook in the classroom on the other end of the University and knew it was best to get it—there was usually a pop quiz on Fridays and he should look through his notes. Casey had doubted going back to school at such a 'mature' age, but found the atmosphere had helped to keep him young. That is until times like now when he'd forget his pants if he didn't have a belt attaching it to him.

"Grab supper on the way home, study, and may even have time to get to the batting cages this evening," Casey mused as he walked down the hallway.

His feet hitting against the floor was the only sound that echoed through the halls until the soft murmur of voices caused him to stop in his tracks. It wasn't unusual for people to be there during the early evening; sometimes people would be studying, visiting with friends, or even like himself have a later class. But as he got closer, it was apparent that the voices were neither friendly nor casual.

"Damn it Frank, I need it tomorrow! Not Saturday, not Sunday… tomorrow. Now if that's so hard, you know what the hell—"

"Okay, okay!" the Frank person sounded anxious, "I'm sorry. I just… I want to make sure it's right."

Casey frowned as he slowly walked closer. The voices were coming from a partially closed classroom and Casey could swear the initial voice sounded like that of his chemistry professor Mark Dzuba. He had always been a quiet teacher who didn't stand out either negatively or positively from the rest of the teachers and so to hear his voice raised and anxious caused a small alarm to ring in Casey's head.

"That's something you should have thought about before," Mark's voice had gone more quiet, though no less angry.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Casey heard some thumping from the room, "I… I just… lemme find someone. I'll give it to them and if it works the way it should you'll have it by tomorrow night."

"If I use it on you we can know even sooner…" Mark reasoned.

"Hey!"

Casey jumped and gasped as the voice came from behind him and suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder harshly.

"Wadda we got here?" the man was tall and easily in his early forties; Casey didn't recognize him.

"I-I umm," Casey swallowed as the grip tightened on his shoulder, "I forgot a book."

"Lemme help you find it," the man smiled and forced him into the room.

"What the hell John!" Frank cried out in surprise, "Who's this?"

Before John could reply, Mark's spoke slyly, "Casey Harding. I always thought you were too smart for your own good."

Casey just trembled as he looked around the classroom. Atop the desk, a large case had its contents strewn haphazardly around; several bottles of liquid, papers, needles and other things that Casey didn't have to know what they were to know was illegal.

"Well Frank," Mark looked over at Casey and smiled, "It looks like we have someone to test this stuff on tonight after all."

Casey could only watch in terror as the three went about filling a needle with the liquid and injecting it into his arm.

…to be continued…