Chapter Seven

The waiting area of the Desert Oasis Hospital was cool, clean and plainly furnished. There were two rows of chairs back to back down the middle of the room as well as single rows up against three of the four walls. The hospital was fairly quiet and secluded and there had been very little interruption to Amanda and Ron's anxious stay.

They both knew that there weren't the facilities here that would be available at a large teaching hospital such as Community General but neither of them could voice their worry that, without those facilities, the wait would be in vain.

Finally, when Ron had been with Amanda for a little over two hours, a tall, dark haired man in blood-stained scrubs came into the room.

"Doctor Bentley?"

"Yes, that's me." Amanda stood up.

There were three other people in the room waiting for news of loved ones who had looked up as the newcomer arrived, but now returned to their quiet introspection.

"How are they?" She put one hand behind her and, just as she'd known he would, Ron had taken it into his own.

"They? I'm sorry; I'm just here to tell you about Mark Sloan."

"No, I'm sorry, his son was brought in too ... I just thought … Please go on."

"Well, we got lucky." The man watched as the woman in front of him took in the news and for a moment seemed stunned.

"Oh, thank God."

"I know that he received first aid at the scene of his shooting, I'm assuming from you, plus the swiftness of his transfer here, both those things worked in our favour."

"There … there was another doctor as well … Thank you, Doctor," Amanda paused, "I'm sorry; I don't know your name."

"My name is Doctor Johnson. This won't be plain sailing, as you obviously know, Mr. Sloan isn't a young man and he came very close to death. We'll monitor his condition in the ICU for a day or two and if he remains stable then we can arrange his transfer to a local hospital. I understand he isn't from here."

"No, no, he's not. We're all from LA. Do you …" Again Amanda paused, almost afraid that asking would be pushing her luck too far. "Do you know how Steve Sloan is doing?"

Doctor Johnson was silent for a moment and then both Ron and Amanda saw him realise just who they were talking about.

"The man who was brought in out of the desert?" The doctor seemed to suddenly clam up.

"Yes, that's him, how is he?" Ron, who had stood up as the doctor introduced himself, joined in the conversation.

"I heard the nurses talking as I came out of the OR. Something about an outside doctor treating him and it being touch and go. I'm sorry; I don't know anything more than that."

"Thank you. Can we … can we go and see Mark?" Amanda tried a smile, it wasn't very successful but she had to be positive.

Doctor Johnson checked his watch. "He'll be in recovery for about another half hour I would have thought. I'll arrange for a nurse to come get you as soon as he's comfortable in our ICU. We'll need to restrict the number of visitors but as there are only the two of you that should be fine."

"Thank you, Doctor." Amanda sat back down, her head spinning with what she had heard and all her medical training worth nothing. She was just an extremely worried friend who wished she didn't know as much as she did.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Come on, Steve, work with me here." The chest tube was firmly in place as was the vacuum device to inflate his friend's lung. A broad spectrum anti-biotic was being pumped into a vein in his left arm while his right shoulder was being supported until it was possible to treat it. The reassuring beeps and shushes from the ventilator filled the silences when Jesse had nothing to say to anyone.

Steve was lying in a trauma suite his lacerated back supported on soft memory foam. There were three large fans aimed at his naked body and two nurses were gently spraying him with tepid water. He had an ice-pack around his neck, under his left arm and on his groin, but so far his body was not responding to treatment.

The search and rescue helicopter had been fully equipped and everything that could be done for Steve had been, but Jesse knew that unless he got him to a larger hospital it wouldn't be enough.

He had requested a medivac plane to take the two of them back to Community General, but he desperately wanted his friend's condition to stabilize before they left. The fact that Steve still hadn't regained consciousness was an additional worry, along with the fact that he had been bitten by a dog and would possibly need a set of rabies shots. Jesse was seriously considering leaving town and letting someone else tell him about those.

The trauma suite had an x-ray gantry which had been used to the full since Steve's arrival. The diagnosis of a dislocated shoulder had been easily confirmed and the other films had shown that although he had obviously received at least one severe beating he had no broken bones apart from five ribs on one side and two the other. The wound in his stomach had been cleaned and stitched but still looked red and angry as did the slices to his chest which Jesse was sure had been inflicted by a scalpel or thin blade of some kind.

"His temperature is steady at 107.9 degrees Fahrenheit, Doctor Travis." The voice was that of a man standing just to the right of Steve's head. Doctor Matthews was the main trauma doctor and had ceded his authority to Jesse grudgingly.

"Damn. Ok, let's try some cooling blankets as well. If that doesn't work then I'll start with the slush." As Jesse spoke Steve began to move and Jesse watched in horror as his friend suffered a seizure.

. . . . . . . . . .

Ron and Amanda had been collected by a very austere looking middle-aged woman in an excessively starched uniform. Despite the seriousness of the situation, or maybe because of it, Ron found himself wondering what Jesse or Steve would make of the lady as she waddled towards the elevator. He had a feeling that his friend, however ill he was feeling, would rather have no treatment than relinquish control to her.

The journey up to the third floor was undertaken in total silence with Amanda holding onto his hand tightly. He knew that she had been in the position before where she had sat in an ICU suite with Steve, but Mark was an even more important figure in her life, someone she respected and loved totally. He had a feeling that she was going to find this extremely hard.

The nurse stopped walking and turned towards them. As she did so her face broke into an encouraging smile and her entire demeanour changed. Instantly she was an efficient but caring individual and Ron found it impossible not to smile back at her.

"Mr. Sloan is still under heavy sedation; he has a vacuum device to re-inflate his lung which collapsed during surgery. He is also on a ventilator to reduce the stress on his body. I know that you're a doctor, Ma'am, but if you have any questions please just press the call button and I'll come and answer them for you."

"Thank you. Is it alright if we go in now?" Amanda felt suddenly very small. She was sure, or part of her was, that it would be fine to go right on in, and at Community General she would have done just that, but here, in this strange place, she had to ask first.

"Of course; is there anything I can get you, coffee maybe? I know that it is a long and traumatic process sitting with someone like this."

"We're fine right now, thank you. In fact I think we're both coffee'd out." Ron had let Amanda go into the room first so that she would be sitting closest to Mark. He smiled at the nurse, glad that she would never know how he had originally viewed her.

Mark was lying in a beautifully made bed, the blankets finishing just above his waist. There was a large bandage across the wound in his chest, as well as a drainage tube and vacuum pipe going in and out of his body. None of that mattered to Amanda, although she noticed it all in one expert glance, what did matter was that he was alive, he was still with them, he had survived.

"Oh, Mark, I am so pleased to see you." Her voice shook as she spoke and to cover up her distress she took his hand into her own and gently ran her thumb across the back of it.

"We found him, Mark. Jesse and Ron found him. Ron is here but Jesse is with Steve. He's in a bad way, but you know Jesse, that never stopped him before." Amanda found that she could smile as she talked about her friends, the men who made up the other parts of her support network. Without them, any of them, she was far less of a person than she was when they were all with her.

The room descended into silence; neither of them knowing what to say. Ron saw Amanda take a deep breath and let it out as an emotion-filled sigh. Ron watched for a moment before carefully moving his chair so he was a little nearer to her and he smiled as she leant into him and let him hold her close.

. . . . . . . . . .

The seizure, although it hadn't lasted very long, seemed endless to Jesse. He knew that he had to get his friend home or he would die. The decision hadn't been difficult to make. It would take just over an hour to fly to Los Angeles. The closest hospital by road with the necessary facilities was thirty minutes away. Jesse knew that Steve would respond far better if he realised he was home and he was prepared to take the risk of doubling the journey time for that to happen.

As Jesse got ready to try and work on Steve's shoulder he spared a thought for Mark. He had sent a nurse to find out how the surgery was going and had been heartened to discover that it was over and Mark was in recovery. He had a feeling that, by now, Ron and Amanda would be with him and at least one battle would be almost won.

"Ok. I know we're transporting this patient soon but I want the shoulder dealt with first. He's a cop, the longer the shoulder is out of place the longer he is out of work and trust me he is far nicer when he's working!" Jesse was smiling as he spoke and was pleased to see the other medical staff joining him. He knew he was an interloper, an outsider, who had come in and claimed the trauma suite as his own. But this was Steve and nobody else was going to do what he was about to do.

"Thankfully he is already in a supine position, I don't think we could actually move him if he was facing downwards. The anaesthesia for the vacuum device is still strong so I don't need any more of that. Right, Buddy, just try to relax and forget that you're a muscle bound beach bum for a moment, ok?" Carefully Jesse took Steve's large hand into his own smaller one and, keeping the arm straight, began drawing it towards his friend's midline lifting it slightly at the same time. The definition of Steve's chest made it easy to see where the vertical middle was and he used gentle traction to get it to the right position. There was already some resistance and once he was sure that everything was as it should be he knew that the real struggle was about to begin. Jesse started to move the humeral head in the direction of the front of Steve's body, grunting automatically as he put the effort required into moving against very strong, unrelenting muscles. Finally, he felt the reassuring sensation of everything falling back into its rightful place; he then bent the arm at the elbow and rested it across his friend's chest while he gathered himself back together.

"Next time I choose a best friend I'm gonna make him a wimp!" A nurse wiped his brow and he smiled at her. "Thanks." His own arms ached from the pressure he'd had to assert against muscles which didn't want to let him do what he was supposed to, muscles he knew his friend had worked on for a long time. Now all he needed to do was x-ray it again and protect it for the forthcoming journey.

The pain which must have accompanied his procedure even with the anaesthetic had caused a change in Steve and just for a moment he opened his eyes. The ventilator prevented him from speaking but Jesse saw him and moved so that his friend knew he was there.

"Hey, welcome back. Shhh, it's ok. You're safe; do you understand me? It's over, Steve, and you're safe again."

There didn't need to be any more words spoken. The relief and total trust that Jesse saw in his best friend's eyes were more than enough and as Steve drifted away again he kept his own eyes firmly focused on him knowing that the first half of the second battle was also almost won.

. . . . . . . . . .

Jesse collapsed onto the sofa in the doctor's lounge and ran a hand over his eyes. The emotion of the last week was trying to overwhelm him. He had tears which were too close to the surface and he knew that if anyone said a kind word to him they would escape and he may never be able to stop them.

Amanda had stayed with Steve, but he couldn't. The events had been so traumatic and draining for both of them and for the first time since they had found him Jesse felt that he had let his friend down. Rationally he knew that he couldn't have done any differently but still it didn't ease his pain or that which he suffered on Steve's behalf.

The scenes from the last few days wouldn't let him go, and as he closed his eyes they rose up in front of him again.

It had been five days since Steve had been transported back to Community GeneralHospital and in almost all that time it had never been more than 40% in favour of his survival. The heatstroke had nearly killed him the day they found him. Nothing they tried would bring his temperature down to a workable level, but during the journey on the medivac plane, when he had been packed in ice with fans on him the entire time finally, bit by bit, he had begun to respond.

His temperature had dropped but, as Jesse had known would happen, the infection ravaging his already weakened body stopped it falling below 103 degrees. Now though, almost a week after they had found him, that too was responding.

Jesse stopped thinking. He couldn't go there. He knew that Steve had been through an awful time, but that didn't mean that he hadn't too, or Amanda and Ron, or Mark … Mark, that was where the problems had begun, with Mark.

Slowly Steve opened his eyes and Jesse, taking down a note of his vitals at just the right time, had smiled and stopped what he was doing.

"Hey, Stranger. How's it going?" He knew that Steve couldn't reply but he also knew that he had to say something. "Give me a few minutes to check you over and I'll think about removing the ventilator ok?" Steve had just looked at him, but it was clear that his friend understood. There was confusion in his eyes, but not so much as to indicate that he didn't follow the words.

The removal of the ventilator, never a pleasant job, but even less so when the patient was in obvious pain, had been traumatic for both of them. As soon as it was over Steve had tried to speak.

"Dad?" The word had been faint and raspy; before he answered Jesse had carefully put some ice slivers on his friend's tongue. "Hot … Dad?"

"I know you are, but trust me you're not as hot as you were. Mark's not here, Steve. But he will be, in a couple of days." He had so not wanted to be the one to tell him that his father, an ever present force in his life, was still lying in a different hospital, in a different state, fighting the treatment he was receiving, just as Steve had been.

"No … Dad …" Steve had closed his eyes for a moment and Jesse had watched intently, making sure that he didn't miss anything. Slowly his friend's eyes opened again and Jesse could see the confusion and exhaustion there. "Where …? Jess, where's Dad?"

The figures on the machines around Steve's bed were nowhere near as stable as Jesse wanted them to be before he began telling him that his dad had been injured searching for him and so almost unbidden a lie came to his lips. "He had to stay a coupla days where we found you, he'll be back soon."

"Don't want to be … alone." The admission had almost broken Jesse's heart; he had never before heard his friend make such an admission of vulnerability. Steve's chest had begun to heave as the emotion of all that he had been through fought its way to the surface and Steve hadn't had the energy to fight it. The tears had started then, and even though Jesse could see the discomfort and pain that the weeping was causing he hadn't been able to do anything to stop it.

The crying had exhausted Steve and he had slipped back into his unconscious world. Jesse had sedated him, knowing that in his distressed state he would only worsen his condition otherwise.

That had been two days ago and things hadn't gotten any better. Steve had finally refused all medication and treatment until either he was taken to his father or his father was brought to him. It was then that Jesse had called and asked Amanda to come back from Vegas, leaving Ron to stay with Mark so that they could explain things together.

"What happened … I … I don't … Jess, where's Dad?" Steve had tried to raise himself up in the bed but the agony just that small movement had caused stopped him in his tracks. "Arghhh! Jess?"

"Steve, I want you to stay quiet, I will talk with you but you have to just listen. This … this isn't easy for me either so," Steve had interrupted him then.

"Why? What's wrong … Jesse?" The anguish that Jesse had accidentally caused by admitting his own problem had increased Steve's immediate anxiety and that had resulted in more pain. Jesse didn't want to make things any worse than they already were and so he ignored what his friend asked and continued as if Steve had said nothing.

"Please, Steve, just listen ok?" Steve had nodded his head and again pain had crossed his handsome features.

"Every … everything … hurts."

"Yeah, I know, Buddy, I know." Jesse was just about to begin his difficult job when he saw Amanda out of the corner of his eye coming down the hallway. The relief he felt at having the job halved was enormous, but he knew that even now it wasn't going to be easy.

So far all Jesse had told Steve had been what was wrong with him and that Mark wasn't with them. Steve had been in so much pain, and still slipping in and out of consciousness the entire time that, until early that morning, when he had finally rebelled, Jesse had gotten away with his evasiveness.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Jesse asked the question as he saw Amanda stop walking just out of view of her friend. They had agreed over the phone that he wouldn't tell Steve she was there. Somehow if he knew, then the absence of his father would seem, to them at least, all the more pronounced.

"No … yes … Melosa … Mando … Mando's sister … Jess! She … she's after Dad …! Where's Dad. Jesse … please!" The last words were torn from him and in one movement of incredible strength and speed, powered by adrenaline alone, Steve was almost out of the bed, pulling at the tubes which were still attached to him.

"Steve!" It was all that Jesse could do to catch his friend as he fell into his arms, the fears and sudden exertion sapping him of the little energy he had regained during his enforced rest.

Amanda had been unable to stay in the corridor; she had rushed to Jesse's aid and together they had managed to carefully manoeuvre Steve back into bed without causing any further damage.

Physically that had been possible, but mentally Jesse knew that more harm had been done than he could undo at a stroke and he had prepared himself for the task to come knowing he was about to make things even worse. Amanda had made her way around to the opposite side of the bed and then, as he was protected by friends, Jesse had begun to tell Steve what had happened.

The hunt, the realisation that Steve hadn't been where he was supposed to be, the discovery of the body and then the linking of that to one of Steve's old cases, that had been easy to relate, but Jesse had been able to tell that his friend wasn't really listening, didn't want to know any of it. He only wanted to know where his dad was.

"We didn't know that she was after Mark." Jesse had closed his eyes for a moment as the scene came back up in his mind. "She was waiting for us, Steve, at the house where you were held. When we came back out … when we came out she shot Mark."

"No! Jesse, oh, God ... Is he …? He's not here, Jess. Manda, please, tell me why my dad's not here … Is he dead?" His emotional state had been so unstable, so ragged that his eyes had filled with tears and tellingly he had been unable to stop two from falling. Amanda had carefully wiped her friend's face with a tissue from the box on the nightstand and then she had shaken her head.

"Honey, he's not dead, but he's just not well enough to be transferred here yet." Her eyes had been so full of love and emotion that Jesse had found himself swallowing hard as he waited for his turn to speak again.

"There … take me … there … I … go to him." This time there was no need for Steve to plead, the emotion in his face was evident to both of his friends. The strong and stoic man, who they had always relied on to be strong for them was, in his own way, begging for help, and they couldn't give it.

"He'll be up to being moved long before you are, Buddy, she did a real job on you."

"I know." Steve had turned his head downwards, it was the only place he could look and not see his friends' faces and Jesse had realised immediately that he was embarrassed.

"Steve, you need to rest. I'll get your medication changed so that the pain is bearable for you now you're conscious, and give you a mild sedative …"

"No! Nothing … I told you nothing … I need to see Dad. Jess, take me to him." The stubbornness which made Steve Sloan such an efficient and respected homicide detective came to the fore and Jesse had taken a mental step back.

"Steve, listen to me, just for a minute, ok?" Amanda had gently turned her friend's face with her finger so that he was looking directly at her. "We can't arrange to get you moved this late in the day. Let Jesse treat you overnight and then, in the morning, we can reassess the situation. Ron is with Mark, he's not alone, he hasn't been since he came out of the OR. Maybe by tomorrow we'll have some more positive news and we can discuss it again."

Steve had tried to shake his head but Amanda's hand had held him firm. "How do you think your dad will feel if we let you go up to see him in this state? Steve, you have to get stronger first."

"Dad." The one word had been wrenched from Steve before he had fallen back into the pillows defeated. He could be inflexible and obstinate but he also was man enough to know when he was beaten and so, without another word, he had closed his eyes, forcing another tear to slip down his cheek.

Jesse stood up and went to get himself a coffee. Amanda had effectively bought him eighteen hours of treatment. He had seen Steve take in the fact that it was a little after ten o'clock; but he had believed Amanda when she said it was night time and, with the blinds firmly closed, there had been nothing to prove their lie. So thanks to one friend the other was now sleeping until the following morning.

. . . . . . . . . .

The extra time that both the hospital in Las Vegas and Jesse had been given had been enough to ward off a major Steve Sloan explosion. That morning a plane had landed at LAX and then a helicopter had transferred Mark to Community General. Jesse had taken over Mark's care and had been pleasantly surprised by his condition.

The infection had definitely weakened him and it would be a while before he could even think about returning to work, but Steve had to get his hard-headedness from someone and Jesse knew that he may have to lock the doors of the beach house to keep them both at home.

Steve had been ready to leave the ICU by the time that Mark was being placed in an intermediate care room and so the two of them, both asleep when the changes had been made, awoke to a scene that had warmed the hearts of Jesse, Amanda and Ron all of whom had witnessed it.

"Jess?" Steve's voice was croaky again and he had carefully slipped a straw into his mouth and watched as he drank a small amount of iced water. Once he had done that, and Jesse had tried to hide his smile, Steve had begun to move.

"Hey, injured person, remember! Broken ribs, concussion, dislocated shoulder, sunburn. Need I go on?"

"I have to go; Jesse … please … let me go."

"I wouldn't … he'll sulk." The voice was quiet and soft but it had the effect of stopping time.

"Dad!" Finally, realising that all he wanted was right there beside him, Steve turned carefully in the bed to see his father, lying semi reclined, pale but alive, and his world was complete.

. . . . . . . . . .

It was hot and dusty in the car, Dimi had found her, she had hidden out in the national park driving at night, resting during the day and the evening she was considering making a break for it he had found her.

She had heard the news on the radio, she had failed in her task, but one day, one day soon she would return, and when she did then failure wouldn't be an option.

The End?