A sense of Family by Cass

Part two

His new position as head of the transplant team kept him fully occupied for the next few days as he oversaw not only several operations, but found himself getting involved in a lot of administrative paperwork. Consequently, he missed any opportunity that might have arisen to come face to face with the man he was rapidly coming to consider his rival for the Sloans' affections.
Jesse, much to his relief, was released after a further two days. Steve volunteered to drive him to the beach house - under protest from the younger man, who insisted that he didn't need a babysitter, thank you very much.
"Firstly, you do," Steve told him crisply as they headed out to where the older man had parked his truck. "Secondly, your car is still at your apartment so you have no way of getting back to the beach house without me - and you're staying at the beach house. Dad's orders. Thirdly - yes you do and fourthly … yes you do."
"I'm not twelve, you know!" retorted Jesse, somewhat petulantly, as he slumped in the passenger seat of the truck, his arms folded across his chest whilst he shot a glower at his friend.
"Then stop acting like it," came the even-toned rejoinder.
That took the wind out of the young doctor's sails for a moment as he stared at the other man in shock. "I … you …! " he spluttered.
"Jesse, you've been very sick," the detective reminded him. "Just - give yourself time to recover. Okay?"
Jesse heard the worry behind the words rather than the words themselves and immediately regretted his somewhat childish behaviour. "I'm sorry, Steve." He quirked an apologetic half-smile at the other man. "It's just so frustrating not being able to do anything, you know?"
Steve relented - partly because of the apology but also partly due to the expression on Jesse's face. He looked utterly mortified and Steve felt like a heel for upsetting him when he still wasn't well. "It's okay, pal," he said, gently. "I know. Look, you'll soon be back to full strength. Just … don't push it, okay?"
Jesse had slowly come to realise, in the days following his initial return to awareness, just how frightened all his friends had been for him. It wasn't so much what they had said as in the way they had treated him - like porcelain. And, whilst any overt show of concern made him slightly uncomfortable and he chafed against the restrictions they had placed on him, he couldn't deny the warm feeling that stole over him at those same expressions of their obvious affection.
He had become so accustomed since childhood to taking care of himself that it was still hard, even after all these years, to accept the help these dear friends so freely and so often offered. He had got better at it, but he was still more at ease offering assistance rather than receiving it.
This, however, was one of those times when he knew he had to bite the bullet and allow them to make a fuss of him. So he nodded his agreement to Steve's words and tried not to resent his own current limitations - even after Steve had to wake him up when he fell asleep in the truck on the way home.

Jack was asked to dinner at the beach house a day later. He had been unable to quash the rather uncharitable thought that it was about damned time. He had been expecting the invitation since his arrival and it had rankled somewhat that it had been so long in coming. Doubtless this was also due to the Sloans' pre-occupation with Jesse Travis. One more item to add to his growing list of grievances against the guy.
His heart had sunk though when Mark had informed him that he would be meeting the other man that night, as Jesse was staying with them whilst he recuperated from his illness. Jack had been envisioning a pleasant gathering - just Mark, Steve, Amanda and himself. He hadn't expected a fifth wheel.
"You'll like Jesse, Jack," Mark had told him, unable to quite conceal the pride in his voice when he uttered his young protégé's name. "He's a fine young man."
What Mark had wanted to add but had wisely kept himself from doing so was that there was no finer doctor or surgeon at Community General and that Jesse was very special.
He didn't think that would go down too well with his first protégé, whose happy smile at receiving the invitation to dinner had been tempered by a flash of anger in the hazel eyes at the news that Jesse would be present.
"So we'll see you at eight?" he prompted, when Jack remained stubbornly close-mouthed about the prospect of finally meeting Jesse - refusing to give credence to the older man's words of tribute in the process.
Jack had painted a smile on his face. "Yeah, sure. I'll see you at eight, Mark."
Then he had turned on his heel, leaving the befuddled Mark standing in the corridor.
Mark had gazed after him for the longest time, a deep unease settling in his stomach and, despite all the arguments he had come up with to assure himself that everything would be fine once Jack and Jesse had met - that they might even become fast friends - he remained entirely unconvinced.

Eight o'clock rolled around swiftly, which was just as well.
Having been deprived of what he termed 'decent food' during his stay in hospital, Jesse's appetite had returned with a vengeance. In all truth he hadn't felt much like eating for the first couple of days after he had regained consciousness. His stomach had felt very unsettled and the very thought of food - particularly the glop they served at Community General - had made him even more queasy.
Mark had assured him that this was perfectly normal, moved to do so by the plaintive expression on the younger man's face when Jesse had realised that he couldn't face the dinner he had been brought. The young doctor had shot him a grateful look and sighed with relief. The relief had been shortlived however, when the next day had brought similar reaction.
He had actually begun to suspect that his need for food had not been affected by his illness, but by the unappetising menu. Mark had been forced to stifle a chuckle at that particular theory - knowing how little Jesse cared for hospital fare, but also knowing that he would eat anything if he was hungry enough, including Community General's infamous meatloaf.
During his stay with Mark and Steve, however, Jesse had found his taste buds being stimulated by the delicious aromas wafting out of the kitchen as Mark prepared good, wholesome meals designed especially for delicate stomachs.
Now he was ravenous, not having eaten since lunch, which had consisted of a couple of sandwiches, three doughnuts and some orange juice.
There had also been the large bag of chips, snuck from the cupboard when Mark hadn't been looking and devoured quickly whilst Jesse watched some old comedy show, and a dozen cookies he had found when he had been 'investigating a noise in the kitchen'.
Mark had caught him consuming the latter and had fixed him with a stern expression. To very little avail. Wide, innocent blue eyes had risen from the magazine he had been reading whilst he had mindlessly polished off his little snack and they had met Mark's glower head on.
The older man hadn't been able to stay exasperated for long. With an affectionate exclamation of 'Kids!' he had turned back to the kitchen where he was in the midst of preparing the meal.
He wasn't worried that Jesse wouldn't partake of it. He was more concerned whether his young friend would leave any for anyone else!

When the doorbell rang, he started to make his way out of the kitchen, then he heard the cry of "I'll get it!" from his young houseguest.
"Jesse …" He hurried toward the living room, hoping to stop his friend before he reached the door.
For some reason he couldn't quite fathom - maybe it was the waves of resentment he had felt from Jack earlier on when he had spoken to him about Jesse - Mark didn't want his two friends coming face to face at the door. It would just emphasise the fact that Jesse practically lived there - had done so since the day he had arrived at Community General - and that would only fuel Jack's growing antipathy toward the man he had never met.
He was too late.
He heard the door being opened, heard the chirpy greeting of "Hi! You must be Jack! I'm Jesse!" then winced at the stunned and awkward silence which then ensued.

Jack simply stared at the young man who flung the door open almost as soon as he had removed his finger from the doorbell. He was short - a lot shorter than him. He was thin - although the startlingly youthful face was flushed and brimming with health - and he was irritatingly cheerful. Beneath a tousled mop of blond hair, bright blue eyes blinked beguilingly at him, waiting for his response and the bright smile faded a little as the seconds ticked by and he didn't offer one.
Then he noticed three other pairs of eyes, studying him anxiously from the living room doorway. They had unconsciously formed a protective semi-circle around the diminutive young man although he seemed totally unaware of it, his attention focussed solely on Jack.
Jesse had heard a lot about the other man - mainly from Amanda, although that had been in the first days of his internship. He had been impressed then by Jack's seeming prowess with the ladies - not that he had a lot of difficulty in that department, but his busy life didn't leave a lot of time for relationships and he was not a 'one-night stand' kind of guy.
Inexplicably, since Jack's return, Amanda had mentioned him only in passing and even then she had seemed slightly uncomfortable about something. Jesse hadn't been able to pinpoint exactly what it was, but he had been working on figuring it out. There was nothing he liked better than a mystery - a trait he shared with his mentor. Steve had been of no assistance. He either didn't know or he wasn't telling and Jesse suspected the former.
He had been looking forward to meeting Jack, though. This man had, after all, been Mark's first protégé; practically a surrogate son. And although Jesse knew that the others cared about him - had he needed any more proof then he had certainly received it in spades during this particular illness - he wasn't so arrogant as to assume that his place within this group was as anything but a friend.
But he was secure with his own status and he had been eager to swap 'war stories' with the Jack. After all, Mark, Amanda and Steve hadn't just started embarking on solving crimes when he had first appeared on the scene. They had been doing it for some considerable time - and Jack had been a part of that.
He had heard only snippets of their many adventures together and, addicted as he had become to the thrill of the chase, the excitement of piecing together the clues to find the identity of the various murderers they had caught over the years, he wanted to know more - to learn of those escapades in which he had played no part.
But the other man was studying him with narrowed eyes and an expression on his face that Jesse found somewhat disturbing. It looked almost like - loathing. Stepping back unconsciously, he found himself brought up short as he almost trod on Steve, who had snuck up behind him.
A large, powerful hand descended to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently in reassurance as Steve extended the other one to the newcomer. "Jack," the detective greeted him in a friendly voice, although even Jesse heard the warning tone behind it. 'Don't mess with me' it said. 'And don't mess with my friend'. Relaxing slightly and feeling a lot less vulnerable with the older man at his back, Jesse's smile returned in full force.
"You gonna come in?" he asked lightly. "Mark's made Italian tonight. I think it's in honour of you."
If Jack noticed the concession to his birthright and the fresh attempt at friendliness, he didn't comment. He just nodded mutely and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
"Jack, glad you could make it," said Mark, with forced joviality as he descended the steps into the hallway.
"Mark, Steve, Amanda," Jack addressed each one in turn, bestowing a smile on all of them. Then he turned back to Jesse. "Jesse Travis, I presume," he said, slowly offering his hand.
The bright smile widened into a delighted grin and Jesse pumped his hand eagerly. "Yeah, that's me," he responded. "Jesse Travis. Jesse to my friends. And I kinda hope we'll be friends. I'm sorry we haven't met yet but I've been kinda sick. Nasty virus going around and I got it. How's it going in your new job? You enjoying the challenge? Or isn't it a challenge after what you were doing in Colorado? Oh, you know, I heard about you dating a woman's ice hockey team up there. That was kinda awesome - I mean, it musta been kinda awesome and …"
"Jesse … Jesse … Jesse!"
The nervous babbling halted at Mark's somewhat exasperated interruption and Jesse's smile became somewhat sheepish. "Uh … sorry," he apologised. "I … I was just interested and … uh … shall we go eat? I'm starving."
"You're always starving, Jesse," Amanda teased him, even as she linked an arm through Jack's to lead him toward the living room. "I don't know where you put it all."
The friendly banter aggravated Jack, despite his best intentions. He had decided on his way to the beach house that he would try to be pleasant toward the interloper in his family, although that hadn't gone terribly well when he had been welcomed at the door by the very man, almost as though he belonged there. Then, after the introductions had been made, the seemingly unstoppable stream of words had started to amuse him.
Now his antagonism toward him was being fuelled all over again.

Dinner was an awkward, somewhat stilted affair. Jesse, ever the optimist and with his unshakeable faith in people despite the occasional cynicism he periodically demonstrated, continued with his endeavours to form a friendly relationship with Jack. For his part, Jack made a valiant attempt to conceal his hostility, but knew that he hadn't been entirely successful by the troubled looks that were being sporadically but discreetly exchanged between his three friends.
Jesse, of course, was oblivious to this. He was in full flow, chatting away about all the cases they had worked on together, asking Jack's opinion on the murderers' methods and trying to gauge whether he would have done anything differently.
His seemingly unstoppable monologue didn't appear to have much effect on his eating, Jack noticed. The younger man dug into his food as enthusiastically as he made conversation. More so, in fact. The older doctor didn't miss the amused and indulgent smiles shared between the other three as the animated young doctor helped himself to seconds, then thirds and declared himself 'still hungry' even at the end of dessert.
"Does he always eat like this?" he demanded of Mark as Amanda and Steve helped clear away the dishes at the end of the meal - which, he had to admit, had been truly delicious.
Mark grinned affectionately at the startled Jesse before answering. "I'm afraid so," he replied. "We're pretty sure he's wholly responsible for the upsurge in profits of our local supermarket."
"Hey!" Jesse protested indignantly.
"Well, Jess, you know it's true," quipped Steve as he returned to the table with five glasses and a bottle of Italian wine - an expensive one, Jack idly noted. "I just can't figure out how we manage to keep 'Bob's in the black, because I know you eat there."
As Jesse turned a look of wounded betrayal on his friend, Jack frowned. "'Bob's?" he queried.
"Oh yeah - 'BBQ Bob's'," Jesse informed him breezily, turning back to the other man as Steve sniggered behind him. "Steve, Mark and I bought a BBQ joint about three years ago. It was famous for its BBQ sauce. It still is," he added with an unmistakeable note of pride in his voice.
Jack looked from Mark to Steve in startled disbelief. "You own a restaurant together?" he demanded - there was no mistaking the bitterness in his tone.
"Uh, yeah," Steve said, a little defensively, his eyes narrowing in mute warning at the other man. "The place was closing down because Bob himself was moving. Jesse and I discovered our mutual desire to own a little BBQ joint and we loved the place. We used to go there all the time. So we decided to pool our resources and buy it together."
"And I chipped in a little cash and became a 'silent partner'," added Mark, his own pale blue eyes casting a troubled look at his ex-protégé.
Recovering quickly, Jack raised his eyebrows and adopted a grin. "Well, that's just … great," he enthused, not very convincingly.
"Yeah, isn't it?" chipped in Jesse, relieved that the sudden and inexplicably tense atmosphere had dissipated and again completely ignorant of the undertones in the air. "Course, Mark isn't always the 'silent partner' he claims to be. And he eats just as much there as I do," he added, as a sly dig at both his friends.
Mark immediately affected an air of innocence. "Me? I don't know what you mean. And may I remind you both how you tried to pull one over on me when you first mooted the idea of buying the place?" He turned back to Jack to elaborate as Steve and Jesse looked suitably chastened at the reminder. "These two pretended that the place wasn't entirely to their taste," he explained. "I couldn't understand their reluctance, especially when they told me that 'Bob's' should be burned to the ground because it didn't live up to their image of it. They looked so disappointed. So I offered a substantial investment in the place in order that they could fulfil their dream and change it as they wanted. Then I found out from the realtor that they actually loved the place and had come up with that devious plan in order to persuade me to invest without making it seem like their idea and so they wouldn't have to be beholden." He chuckled at the twin expressions of embarrassment on the faces of the two guilty parties. "But I got my revenge."
"Yeah, you eat your own weight in ribs," moaned Steve.
"I resent that remark," Mark said, evenly. "Haven't I always made sure to bring my friends round?"
"You mean the ones who haven't committed a murder?" quipped Jesse, with an impish grin.
Swatting him lightly on the head, then ignoring his young friend's startled exclamation and the look of irritation that was levelled at him, Steve regarded his father with a scornful smile. "Oh yeah and then you tell them they can eat for free because you're a partner!"
"Hey, I have to get something out of the deal!" protested Mark, his eyes twinkling with merriment.
"You do!" stated Jesse. "You get us as co-partners!" The withering looks the other two turned on him at that particular remark didn't seem to faze him. "What? Well, I'm right!"
"Sure you are, Jess," said Steve, condescendingly. "It's what dad lives for - right dad?"
"Are you three fighting over 'Bob's again?" demanded Amanda, emerging from the kitchen to find the three protagonists directing mock glares at each other.
"Well, he started it!" emerged as a chorus from all of them.
It was too much for the pathologist. She broke into a peal of hearty laughter and before long the other three had joined in.
Jack, though, seemed curiously unmoved and Mark, shooting him a cautious glance, felt his heart sink as he understood the reason why.
"So, Jack, tell us all a bit about your time in Colorado," he said, shooting a warning glance toward his son and Amanda and hoping they understood. Amanda's eyes widened immediately in stunned dismay as she grasped what Mark was silently conveying to them. Steve, however, remained happily ignorant, still chortling over their shared joke.
Jack, on the other hand, was slightly taken aback by Mark's question, but as the kindly blue eyes bored into his, he smiled in appreciation of the other man's sensitivity and insightfulness. He had started to feel very much like an outsider whilst Mark, Steve and Jesse reminisced about the restaurant they had purchased together. Had he really ever been close to these people? Certainly, neither Mark nor Steve had ever proposed going into business with him and he had practically grown up at the beach house. Sure, he had worked with Mark at Community General; had even been his first real protégé. But Jesse was his protégé too - and the paternal pride which Mark unconsciously bestowed on the other doctor whenever he uttered his name spoke volumes about their relationship - much more than Mark probably ever suspected he displayed.
And they had bought into a restaurant together - a business proposition, certainly, but it was obvious - at least to him - that the three of them were much more than mere business partners. They were family. A real family - and he was beginning to feel like a stranger in a house he had previously regarded as his only home.
"Well, I … er .." he stammered, trying to bring to mind something that would interest them, something that would re-forge the bonds that had so obviously unravelled during his time away.
"I … er … if you'll excuse me, everyone … I think I should go to bed," interrupted Jesse, at this point, yawning widely as if to illustrate his words.
Mark's attention turned immediately to his younger friend, leaving Jack feeling bereft of their attention once more and further fuelling his resentment toward Jesse.
But unbeknownst to him - indeed, even to Mark, Steve and Amanda, Jesse had slowly become aware of the undercurrent of tension. He had also caught the uneasy glances exchanged between Mark and Amanda and had guessed correctly at their cause.
He was easily able to put himself into Jack's position. It hadn't been so long ago since he had been the stranger here, thrust into a new world of medicine and crime fighting. He had taken to it like a duck to water - or like a guy from Elgin, Illinois, to surfing - and had become - he hoped - a valued member of the team. Of course, he had blundered in unthinkingly during his first few months here, entering people's houses looking for clues only to disturb Mark, who had been searching for the same thing; probing through storage units and almost being arrested by Steve … It was a wonder to him now that they had allowed him to continue helping them when he may have unwittingly tainted evidence and goofed so many times. But they had, and, more, they had offered their friendship - unconditionally. He would be forever grateful to them - for keeping their patience with his various mistakes and wild accusations and for being there whenever he had needed them.
It didn't occur to him that friendship was a two-way street and that he had more than reciprocated by his unswerving loyalty, his refusal to believe the worst of any of them and his obvious love for them - even if it had never been stated aloud. It was in his every action in defence of his friends, his teasing comments, the way he treated them - as though they were special to him.
Which, of course, they were.
But even so, he wondered how different things might have been for him had Jack stayed. Would he have been destined never to fulfil the role he had so easily carved for himself - or had carved for him by these three special people? Wouldn't he have felt like an outsider - an interloper into something that would never truly be his?
In retrospect, he realised that Jack had begun to look hurt and betrayed when they had started talking about 'Bob's' and he couldn't help but wonder why he had been chosen for the honour of becoming a business partner as well as a friend when Jack, who must have been much closer to Mark, Steve and Amanda, had not. Timing had a lot to do with it, of course, he knew, but even so, he felt sick at the thought that Jack had been wounded by his own disregard for the man's feelings. Throwing it in his face like that … Jesse felt so ashamed.
So - although he was a little tired, he was feigning pure exhaustion in order to leave the four friends alone to catch up. Something he realised he should have done much, much earlier. Maybe he had been wrong to stay at the beach house with Mark and Steve in the first place. Maybe Jack saw that as yet another indication that he was no longer welcome here.
But he was. Jesse knew that. Mark and Steve had been so excited about his arrival and Amanda had been thrilled. So thrilled in fact that she had literally floated on air since the first phone call - or so he had heard after he had started recovering from his illness.
If anyone was the intruder here, it was him. It was best for him to depart now, so that Jack could be told how pleased they were that he was here, so he could bask once more in the extraordinary friendship with which Jesse had been so blessed over the last eight years.
"Are you all right, Jess?" asked Amanda, laying a hand solicitously on his arm as he rose from his chair.
He nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm fine," he assured her. "I'm just tired."
"Well, you are still convalescing," Mark pointed out, although the frown on his face told Jesse he suspected that something was not right with this sudden claim of fatigue.
The younger man decided to make his retreat before those keen observation skills could be put to use. Simulating another yawn, he wished them all good night and ambled off toward the guest room, leaving behind three slightly concerned friends.

Jack couldn't help the feeling of relief that swamped him at Jesse's abrupt departure, although a modicum of guilt accompanied it at the thought that he may be responsible for it.
Still, it did mean that now he could relax with his old friends as he had always hoped to do, without an outsider being present.
Smiling, he poured himself a glass of wine and held out the bottle to Mark with a questioning look. "Mark?"
The older man seemed distracted, still staring in the direction in which Jesse had disappeared. It took a second or two for him to realise that Jack had spoken. "Sorry … what?"
"Wine?" prompted the other doctor, jiggling the bottle to illustrate the question.
"Oh … yes, thank you." Mark picked up his glass, let Jack fill it and then put it to his lips, although his thoughtful expression didn't disappear.
Steve and Amanda were similarly attended to and Jack then placed the almost empty bottle back on the table, holding out his glass to the others in order to make a toast. "To old friends," he said.
Exchanging glances, the others picked up their own glasses, clinking them to Jack's and each others' in turn. "To old friends," echoed Amanda, sipping the alcohol carefully. "Oh, this is wonderful, Mark," she continued. "Where did you get it?"
"A little store down the PCH," he replied. "They sell rare vintages and I thought this was appropriate for the occasion."
"And what occasion would that be, Mark?" asked Jack, pretty sure he already knew the answer.
He wasn't disappointed. "The return of the 'prodigal' of course," came the response. "Welcome back, Jack."
"Yes, it's good to have you here again," agreed Amanda.
Jack nodded his appreciation for the sentiments, then turned to Steve. "And what about you, Steve? Aren't you glad to see your old friend again?"
The detective regarded him silently for a moment or two, then a slow smile found it way onto his face. "Yeah," he replied. "Yeah. It's good to see you, Jack."
Inhaling deeply and finally letting go of the tension that had gripped him since his arrival at the beach house, Jack relaxed back into his chair, savouring both the wine and the company.
This was what he had been waiting for - what he had been anticipating since his decision to up sticks and return to LA. He was back in the place he belonged, with the people he cared about and no-one was going to take his place again.

Jesse lay on his bed, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. He longed to be with his friends. Muted conversation and the occasional burst of laughter wafted up the stairs from the living room. It sounded like they were having a great time.
But he didn't belong there. Not tonight. Tonight had been a homecoming party for Jack and he had really had no right to intrude. He regretted now impulsively running to open the door to the other man, his impatience to meet him overcoming his common sense. Common sense that should have told him that the very last person Jack would wish to see greeting him would be the man who had taken his place.
He wondered what they were talking about - probably Jack's adventures in Colorado. He wished he could hear about them. He had so wanted to become friends with the dark-haired man. They had so much in common. But he had ended up alienating him instead. He hadn't missed the relief in Jack's eyes when he had made his excuses and although it had hurt it hadn't entirely surprised him.
Maybe they were destined never to be friends. Maybe that was too much to ask. But they should try to get on - for the sake of Mark, Steve and Amanda. It would be unfair to drag them into the middle of some feud - not that Jesse intended there to be any bad blood between them, although he couldn't help feeling a little unhappy with Jack's hostility toward him, even if he did understand it to a certain degree.
He supposed he was being very uncharitable. But it was becoming harder and harder to remain good-humoured about it when he could hear the others having such a good time and he wasn't included - albeit because of his self-imposed absence.
Turning over onto his side, he curled up in a fetal position, closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn't actually tired now and his over-active mind was determined to keep him awake.
A few moments later, sighing heavily, he finally gave up on his endeavour and heaved himself up on the bed to stack the pillows behind him and lean against them.
Maybe he should just leave.
He wasn't ill any more, after all.
He didn't need anyone to take care of him.
Maybe he should just go home.
That would give everyone time to become re-acquainted with each other and maybe Jack would become more amenable toward him.
The decision made and deciding there was no time like the present, he clambered off the bed and pulled his overnight bag down from the wardrobe.
Steve and Amanda had raided his closet and drawers and seemed to have brought the entire contents to the beach house. He wasn't at all sure how they had fit them all into the bag but if they could do it, so could he.
A few minutes later, he had all but succeeded in packing, although it had all been done rather haphazardly and he would probably end up wearing creased clothes for the next few days.
Then he realised that he had no transport home.
Dammit.
He couldn't even phone for a cab. The phone was in the hallway. He would have to sneak past the living room to get to it. And he didn't think he was capable of doing that - not when one of the individuals outside was a cop and another was famous for his keen observational skills.
Sinking back down on the bed, he resolved to wait until the dinner party had finished and everyone had gone to bed. Then he would call a cab and go home.

"Jesse … Jesse?"
Slowly, he became aware that he was being shaken awake. Dazed and somewhat disoriented, he blinked open his eyes and tried to focus on the blurry figure in front of him. "Hmmm?" he mumbled. "Huh?"
The fuzzy face smiled - or at least that was what it looked like. Jesse blinked again, peering muzzily at the figure.
"Jess, what were you doing?" came the gentle enquiry.
"Do … doing?" he managed, around a yawn - a genuine one this time. "Sl … sleepin …'
Bushy white eyebrows rose upward. "And what is your bag doing packed and lying on the floor?"
Jesse suddenly felt sick. "Um …" he stammered. "I …."
"Jess, were you leaving?"
The young doctor was mortified. Here Mark had offered him his hospitality, asking for nothing in return and he was about to sneak off into the night without even a by-your-leave. Correction - would have snuck off had he not fallen asleep.
Dammit.
"I'm … I'm sorry, Mark," he murmured. "I didn't mean … I was just gonna … I thought it would be best … I …"
"Jesse … Jesse, calm down. It's all right," soothed Mark, as the younger doctor tried without success to stammer out an explanation for his actions. "You're not well enough to stay on your own yet, son. I would prefer it if you stayed here for a little while longer so I can keep an eye on you."
"But I don't want to impose," said Jesse, so quietly that Mark barely heard the words.
He shook his head in fond exasperation. "Oh Jess," he sighed. "You're not imposing. It's entirely my pleasure to have you here. You know that. Is this … is this something to do with Jack?" Jesse could only stare at him as he voiced the question. The guilt in the wide blue eyes gave Mark his answer though. "It is, isn't it? Jesse, I don't want you feeling responsible for someone else's … hurt feelings. It's not your fault."
"But it is." The younger man averted his eyes from his mentor's all-too perceptive gaze. "If I hadn't been here … if I hadn't answered the door …"
"I won't pretend that it might not have been a good idea for you to greet him," agreed Mark, softly. "But, Jesse, you're as welcome here as Jack is and I'm not having you feeling like you have to disappear just because he's back."
"I took his place, Mark," Jesse whispered. "I knew that, but I guess I didn't truly appreciate it till I saw how hurt he was by the fact that we'd all bought 'Bob's' together."
There was nothing the older man could say to refute that statement - not without lying anyway. He sighed deeply in sheer frustration. "You're two entirely different people. Jess," he pointed out, instead. "Jack is a friend, yes, but you're a friend, too. More, you have a business acumen which Jack doesn't have and the patience to deal with Steve as a partner. Not that we ever mooted the idea of going into business together because it simply never came up but if we had, those two would have killed each other within a week!"
Jesse smiled at this. But he was still deeply troubled by what he saw as his inadvertent interference in the relationship the others had shared. "Still …"
"Still nothing," the older doctor interjected firmly. "We've all changed over the years - even you. But the fact is, that we've changed together. Jack hasn't had that luxury. We have to get to know each other all over again so of course things are going to be a little awkward to begin with. But that's not your fault. It's no-one's fault. It's just the way things are."
"I guess," admitted the young man. "It's just …"
"You thought if you got out of the way then everything between the rest of us could just slip into place and Jack wouldn't be so … distrustful toward you?"
'Distrustful'. That was an interesting - and polite - way of putting it. "Uh - yeah."
"Well, only time can accomplish that," said Mark. "And speaking of time - it's 3:00 am and time you should be getting some sleep."
"I was asleep!" protested Jesse. "You woke me up!"
A chuckle greeted that statement. "I guess I did at that," the other man conceded. "I'm sorry. Look, why don't you get in the bed rather than sleep on it?"
Jesse narrowed his eyes at the suggestion. "You're not gonna tuck me in, are you?" he demanded, suspiciously.
Mark looked the picture of innocence. "What, me? Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Oh, maybe because I know you."
"Then I guess I'll have to disappoint you," came the blithe response.
Still, as Jesse complied with his friend's advice and slithered beneath the covers, Mark was hard put to suppress his urge to do just what the younger man had been afraid of, instead, standing with his hands firmly clasped behind him watching as Jesse snuggled into the mattress.
"You don't need to watch me," Jesse told him, softly, as he didn't seem inclined to move from his spot. "I promise I won't leave till you tell me I can."
"Good."
Despite the younger man's words, however, Mark remained where he was until Jesse's eyes closed - despite his best intentions - and he fell asleep. Then he moved around the bed, unpacked the abandoned overnight bag and hung all the clothes back in the closet.

A week later, Jesse returned to work. During this time, Jack had made a couple more visits to the beach house, the younger doctor having diplomatically made himself scarce on both occasions, much to the disquiet of both Mark and Steve.
They understood his motives and applauded him for his sensitivity, but both of them hated that he felt it necessary - that in fact, it was necessary in order to help Jack regain his place in their affections.
In truth it was not a place he had ever truly lost. He would always be a part of their lives. But not at the cost of their other dear friend. And Jack should understand that.
Mark made a point of mentioning Jesse on Jack's third visit, speaking candidly about his young protégé and the escapades in which he had frequently found himself involved.
He wanted Jack to understand the other doctor, get to know him the way they had. He told his friend about Jesse's father and how he had been forced to face the fact that the man was a Government agent. He chuckled as he related how his young friend had inveigled him into giving a home to 'Bob', his friend's dog, who, it transpired, had a taste for chewing things - shoes, telephone wires, bikinis … Then things turned more serious when he recounted the time when Jesse had been falsely accused of murder and jailed; of his disappearance when he had been kidnapped by Paris Pharmaceuticals and had been beaten then left for dead in the desert; his inadvertent killing of a man when he had been stalked by a crazy woman and when he had been shot by the duplicitous sister of an ex-girlfriend who had deceived Jesse by convincing him that he was the father of her baby.
All of these incidents had left their scars on the young man's soul and each new wound had also hurt his friends as they witnessed the toll each one took on his bright, effervescent spirit.
Jesse's life had not been so charmed as his outward demeanour suggested and Mark wanted Jack to understand that. He wanted Jack to come to terms with the fact that Jesse needed them just as much as he did - possibly more so, although he didn't say so aloud. The diminutive young doctor had been starved of affection in his early life with a father in absentia and a mother who was too busy building her lucrative medical practice to take much notice of the increasingly lonely young boy. It was little wonder that he craved friendship and yet, conversely, didn't give much of his true self away until he was really comfortable with someone - and even then he balked at sharing his deepest feelings.
"He's a brilliant doctor, Jack," Mark told him, with a gentle smile. "One of the most truly gifted I've ever known - present company excluded, of course," he added tactfully. "But then, I'm a little biased. He's my protégé and he saved Steve's life."
Jack was shocked at that revelation. He had listened in silence to Mark's descriptions of the other man, even wincing in sympathy at some of the ordeals he had been forced to endure and had sensed that both the false imprisonment and the kidnapping had been a great deal more traumatic for Jesse than Mark had been willing to let on.
But the fact that Steve had been injured and he hadn't even known about it …
"What happened, Mark?" he asked, quietly, taking another sip of the coffee that the older doctor had poured for them.
A shudder ran through the other man. The memory still had the power to leave him visibly shaken. "It was Malcolm Trainor," he said, in a strangled voice. "I'd testified against him in the murder of his wife. The weapon he used was a binary poison. Invisible to anyone but the untrained eye …"
"And you spotted it?" prompted Jack.
Mark nodded. "He conspired with his brother to commit a crime that would … well, let's just say that when Steve was shot - almost fatally wounded - I vowed revenge on the man I believed to have done it." He smiled humourlessly into his own rapidly cooling coffee. "Then that man was killed and a young woman was brutally murdered and I was arrested for that. I .. I was sentenced to death."
Jack gasped in utter shock. "You were what?"
"It was all a ploy, of course," Mark went on, almost as though he hadn't heard the other man's exclamation. "But thanks to Steve, who made a full recovery whilst I was in prison - and because I knew that Trainor had something to do with it all, we uncovered it and I was exonerated. He was executed a couple of years ago for the original crime he committed. After all, you can only be put to death once, even if he did conspire to kill others whilst he was on death row."
"My god!"
"I know. Hardly seems believable, does it?"
"Mark, why didn't someone tell me?"
The older man glanced up. His friend was regarding him with wounded betrayal. "Jack, there was nothing you could have done," he said.
"Nothing …! Mark!" The other man sounded thoroughly exasperated. "I could have come back! I could have made contact with some of my old friends! I could have …"
"No, Jack, you couldn't." Mark interrupted, firmly. "Everything had to be done legally. There was no room for anything illicit - I tried to go that route and look where I ended up. This had to be done by the book … although I'm not entirely convinced that Steve didn't bend the rules just ever so slightly."
"Well, you're his father," Jack pointed out. "There's nothing he wouldn't do for you."
A genuine smile illuminated Mark's face at that declaration. "And there is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for him. But … I couldn't operate on him when he was rushed into the ER. I wanted to … god knows, I wanted to, but … Amanda was right. I was too close. I was emotionally involved. I could've … I could've killed him …"
The agony in his friend's voice tore at Jack's heart and instinctively he reached out a hand to place it on Mark's arm. "Mark …"
"No, no … it's fine," said the older man, making a monumental effort to haul himself out of the bleak memories that had descended upon him. "Jesse was there. Thank god, Jesse was there. He was Chief resident at the time and I had to entrust Steve's life to him. I'll never forget the waiting, nor the words Jess said to me when he finally emerged from surgery - that he didn't know if they had saved Steve or merely prolonged his life … but … he pulled through. Thank god. He pulled through. And I have Jesse to thank. I don't think anyone else could have worked the miracle he did that night. And - you have to remember, Jack, this was his best friend. By rights, he should have been discounted from operating too, but there was no-one else available, no one else as good and I thank god every day for that fact. If it hadn't been for Jess, Steve probably wouldn't be here today. I owe him my son's life. I owe him everything."
"So … you feel grateful to him?"
Mark frowned as he raised his head to meet the other man's hazel eyes. "I do," he admitted. "But he's also a dear friend and … "
"He's like a son to you?" guessed Jack, resignedly.
Mark's mute shrug was more eloquent than words could ever be.

At that point, Steve walked into the living room, entering through the patio doors. He had taken off after Jesse, concerned that his friend was feeling left out with the arrival of Jack.
Jesse had tried to convince him that he was fine but Steve had seen the sadness he couldn't quite disguise in the young man's vivid blue eyes and it had stirred up fresh anger against the man who had caused it.
Steve and Jesse might bicker and occasionally even disagree strongly over something; they also teased each other mercilessly, but the older man was possessed of a strong protective streak for his friend. He couldn't help it. Jesse had a knack for getting into trouble and Steve had grown accustomed to being around to extricate him from it - even if the young doctor didn't appreciate the help at the time. Besides, Steve figured his friend had been through enough trauma over the last few years. He deserved a peaceful, tranquil life.
Or as peaceful and tranquil as it ever could be for someone as irrepressible as Jesse Travis.
And Jack was not making things easy for him.

So when he entered the beach house it was with a thunderous expression darkening his rugged features. He was going to have words with Jack Stewart - harsh words about the value of friendship and his unwarranted behaviour toward one particular Jesse Travis.
He was pulled up short by the expression of distress on his father's face. "Dad, what is it?" he demanded, harshly, his heart skipping a beat as he ran through a list of possibilities in his mind. "What's happened?"
"He … just told me about when you were shot," Jack told him, in a low, strained voice. "And how he got put on death row for a woman's murder. I still can't believe that you didn't call me - either of you."
"Because there was nothing you could have done, Jack," said Mark, wearily. It sounded to Steve as if this wasn't the first time he had made this point.
"But I'm your friend, Mark!" protested the other doctor. "Yours too, Steve! I should have known …"
"It made the news," Steve coldly observed. He too still suffered the occasional nightmare about that time. The moment when he had been wheeled into court by Jesse and Amanda and had heard his father condemned to death had been one of the worst in his life. He didn't need Jack reminding him of it. "I'm surprised you didn't see it."
"I doubt it reached Colorado," his father pointed out, gently. "And even if it did, it was probably a news item buried on a back page somewhere."
Steve had to concede this point, but he wasn't willing to let go of the irrational anger he was feeling toward Jack at dredging up the subject matter in the first place. "Yeah, well, if you'd kept in touch, then maybe you would have known," he snarled at his erstwhile friend.
The dark-haired man's face blanched at the condemnation, even whilst he recognised the truth of the words.
"Steve!" His father's one-word admonishment elicited a wave of shame in the younger Sloan.
"Sorry," he offered, with a wry smile. "It's just … that time …"
"Yeah, I get it," interjected Jack, in a rough, painfilled voice. "And I'm sorry too, okay? You're right. I should have kept in touch. It was wrong of me to just … abandon you all once I moved."
"You had your career, Jack," Mark observed, reasonably. "You had a new life."
"But I shouldn't have been so quick to forget my old one. Not with everything we all went through together."
The older man smiled, sadly. "Perhaps not," he conceded. "But none of us are perfect. God knows, I'm not."
"Mark?" Jack's brows furrowed into a frown at the statement and the barely concealed bitterness in the words.
"You heard the story of Carter and Caitlin Sweeney?" asked Mark.
Jack nodded, his expression grim. "That was all over the news, even in Colorado. LA was hit by a series of bombings and Community General was one of the last targets."
The older doctor nodded, his eyes bleak at the memory. It still felt like only yesterday when he had been trapped in the decimated remains of his hospital, beset by hallucinations, Amanda on the brink of death beside him and not knowing the whereabouts of his son and other friend - or even if they were still alive. He shared a look with Steve. It still haunted his son, too. "A lot of innocent people died," he mused, very quietly. "A lot of innocent people paid the price for my arrogance."
"But you were proved right, dad," Steve pointed out.
The other man nodded. "That doesn't alter the fact that it was a personal vendetta against me that took the lives of others - particularly the people at the hospital. I know I didn't kill them. The Sweeneys did. But I bear some of the responsibility for their deaths, nevertheless, for goading them into it."
"Dad …"
"No Steve," he interjected, wearily. "It's true and … it's all right. I've learned to live with it. Unlike the people who died. All I can do in their memory is to keep putting murderers away for their crimes - and try to save as many more innocent people as possible. It's the only thing that gives their deaths any meaning."
For a long moment, no-one spoke, weighed down with the gravity of Mark's statement and the memories of a nightmare time.
It was Jack who finally broke the silence, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere and try to lift the other two out of their uncharacteristic despondency. "The hospital looks great now," he said, lightly. "They did a good job rebuilding. The ER works better in the new configuration."
"Ah yes, Jesse's domain," mused Mark, with a fond smile. He chuckled. "One day that young man is going to be doing my job - and doing it superbly and much better than me, I might add."
Jack swallowed. He had never heard Mark pay tribute to him in this way - then again, Jesse wasn't there to hear the older man's praise. Maybe the older man had passed on his admiration for his first protégé's work to others behind his back as he was doing with Jesse now. "He's really that good?"
"The best," replied Mark, firmly. "Community General is lucky to have him."

Jack left the beach house that day having gained a new insight into his young colleague, Mark's cautionary tales about his friend convincing the Italian man that life for Jesse had been far from easy.
Of course, there was usually a price to be paid somewhere along the line once you became involved with Mark Sloan and his investigations. Still. It appeared that most of the major, traumatic events in Jesse's life had been unrelated to his relationship with the older man and his son. Indeed, Jack suspected that had it not been for the Sloans and their abilities to crack cases and find the real killers, it was doubtful that Jesse would still be around to tell the tale.
As he clambered into his car, he spotted the solitary figure making its way across the sand dunes toward the house. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should go and speak to him; in the spirit of his fresh appreciation of what the younger man had been through, bury the hatchet and make peace.
But a tiny modicum of resentment still smouldered away deep inside. He couldn't yet quite forgive Jesse for taking his place so completely - even though he recognised that it had never been the younger man's intention and it wasn't actually his fault if the Sloans liked him so much.
Perhaps he would wait until they were at the hospital.
There, on common ground, perhaps they would find more mutual areas to breach the chasm between them.
Their relations, for one.
Jesse, it seemed, had been estranged from his father for years only to discover that he was not what he had seemed to be - who he had been pretending to be for years. The dark-haired man knew how that felt. His relationship with his own godfather had been strained at best; his distaste for what he did and who he was only exacerbating that situation.
He wondered if Jesse felt the same.
Government agents quite often had to kill people.
That probably didn't sit well with such a consummate doctor as Travis.

As it happened, he didn't get the opportunity to interact with the other doctor for several more days.
A veritable flood of patients both to ER and to his department kept both of them so busy that the first time they did run into each other was at a departmental meeting. Mark as Chief of Internal Medicine was chairing it and he had some good news to announce.
"As you know," he said, beaming brightly on the assembled throng, but at one bright face in particular. "The ER has been the subject of the news recently …"
Jack frowned. He hadn't heard this. Then again, the constraints on his time had been so demanding that he had barely had the opportunity to go on any dates, let alone read the newspapers.
Simone had been fun, though. He smiled as he remembered the night they had spent together in her room. He hadn't even had to leave his hotel - his room was just down the hall.
He hadn't realised his thoughts had drifted until he became aware of the applause from around him, and the doctor seated next to him - a man he had seen around but whose name he didn't know - nudging his arm with his elbow
"Wh … what?"
"Stand up!" the man hissed at him, even as he put his own hands together and smiled.
"Huh?"
"Dr Sloan just called out your name!"
"He … he did?" Jack cast a perplexed glance toward his mentor, who was motioning to him to rise, even whilst he was clapping enthusiastically. "Oh … right, okay.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, nodding his puzzled appreciation at the polite applause.
"Dr Jack Stewart, everyone," proclaimed Mark, gesturing to him with one hand. "Our new head of transplant surgery. He's come to us via Colorado, where he built up a very reputable practice of his own. We're honoured to have him back here."
Jack's bewilderment gave way to slow pleasure as the other man's words sank in and he flashed a grin at him even as he sank into his seat once more. Basking in the glow of the compliment he'd just received, it took him a moment to realise that Mark had moved on.
" … and now onto the subject of the ER, which, as I know you're all aware - probably because I told you at the beginning of this little presentation - has been the subject of the news recently. One of our doctors is to be the lucky recipient of the Hendrich Award. As some of you know, this is not given every year, but only conferred on those who have made significant contributions toward not only the efficiency and professionalism of their department but also have shown a dedication and devotion to the saving of lives that is unequalled by their peers.
This year, I am absolutely delighted to announce that the Hendrich Award is to be presented to someone whose commitment to his craft is unequalled, whose good humour remains intact despite every obstacle thrown in his path, who is a consummate doctor, an inspired surgeon and an excellent teacher; who is popular with the staff and inspires the best from those around him. This year, the Hendrich Award is to be given to our ER head, Dr Jesse Travis!"
The room erupted into rapturous applause at this announcement. The recipient of it, however, slunk further down in his seat.
Jack had spotted Jesse when he had entered the room - seated at the other end of it. Now he couldn't see him at all. This was hardly surprising as the news had brought everyone to their feet in a spontaneous show of appreciation for the young doctor. Even Jack found himself standing, adding his own appreciation to those of the others, some of whom were whooping with glee. Jesse was well-liked at Community General and was a popular choice for this award.
Unfortunately, Jesse himself was completely mystified as to why he should be getting it. He wasn't worthy of it. That was for sure. His staff were all hard-working, dedicated professionals, devoted to their jobs and to the patients who came into their care. They were all equally deserving of the honour. So he slid further down in his chair, covering his face with one hand, almost as though he was trying to disappear.
He ignored the gentle nudges on the shoulders from those behind him, who were trying to encourage him to stand and take some kind of bow. He ignored the man on the podium in front of him, who was shaking his head in fond indulgence and he also ignored the voice from beside him as Amanda tried to persuade him to accept the tribute he was being paid.
"Jesse …. Jesse!" she hissed. "Stand up!"
"No," he muttered, not sure if she would hear him through the deafening applause.
"Jesse!"
"Go away!" he hissed. "Leave me alone!"
"But …"
"It's all a mistake," he moaned, lowering his head into his hands. He still couldn't quite take it in, despite having received notification in the mail two days before. He had been keeping the news from everyone - even his closest friends. He hadn't wanted anyone to know about it - especially if it was some terrible error on the behalf of an administrative assistant somewhere. He had been half-expecting to receive another letter informing him of the same. That one hadn't arrived yet - but it would.
He should have known that Mark would have been notified separately. As Chief of Internal Medicine and Board member, he would have to make the announcement - which he just had.
And what would happen when it was discovered to be a blunder? That he hadn't received this award? He would look so stupid in the eyes of his colleagues. Worse, Mark would be bitterly disappointed. He didn't think he could take that.
Of course it would be wonderful if it were true. It would be an honour for the whole department and he would accept - not for himself, but on behalf of the whole ER team. Because they were an exceptional group of people who had truly earned it.
But it wasn't true.
It couldn't be.
Could it?
"Jesse."
The voice at his side almost made him jump out of his skin and he giggled somewhat hysterically at the image that presented.
Peering through his fingers he was disconcerted but somehow not overly surprised to discover that his mentor had descended from his podium and was now squatting beside him, regarding him with an expression of mingled concern and amusement.
"Uh … hi, Mark?" he offered.
"People are waiting," the older man pointed out, gently. "Aren't you going to stand up?"
"What do I do then?" he demanded, feebly "Wave?"
Mark chuckled. "No," he replied. "But you could at least give them a smile. They're pleased for you, Jess. Can't you hear them?"
"Oh yeah, I can hear them all right," he muttered. "But what if it all turns out to be some huge mistake? What then? How am I gonna face everyone?" Implicit in his words but not stated aloud was 'How am I going to face you?'
"Oh, Jesse …" Mark sighed, the amusement fast being replaced by exasperation. "Jesse, it's not a mistake. The Hendrich Committee don't make mistakes. At least not of this magnitude. They don't vote on this every year you know."
"Yeah, but what if it's the wrong 'Jesse Travis'?" demanded Jesse in a hushed voice, aware that the applause was dying away and that people were resuming their seats. His face and neck were suffused with a warm flush of embarrassment. "What if it's not 'Jesse' Travis at all, but some other guy named 'Travis'?"
"How many Travises are there who are in charge of an ER at Community General?" Mark pointed out.
"Uh … " The young doctor bit his lip and smiled weakly. "Uh …. One?"
"One," his mentor confirmed. "And that, my friend, is you. Now don't you think you should get to your feet and at least try to show a little appreciation for all the applause you were getting?"
The weak smile wavered a bit. "But, Mark …"
"'But Mark' nothing," interjected the other man, sternly, rising to his feet and grasping the younger man by the elbow as he did so, pulling him up from his chair. "Smile, Jesse. Just nod, and smile."
And Jesse did so, his flush deepening as he faced his grinning colleagues.

Half an hour later, Jesse ambled out of the room, intent on finding somewhere quiet where he could reflect silently on what had happened.
He wasn't going to get the chance.
As he emerged into the corridor, a hand fell onto his shoulder.
"Jesse."
The young doctor spun around, a hesitant smile appearing on his face as he looked up at the man who had stopped him. "Uh … Jack?" he floundered. "I … uh … "
"I just wanted to say congratulations," The taller doctor offered his other hand to the bemused Jesse.
"Uh … you did? I mean thanks. Thanks very much!" The younger man gushed. "I … uh, and everyone's really pleased you're here. Your … your staff speak very highly of you."
Dark eyebrows rose up into black hair at the unexpected and entirely unsolicited compliment. "Thanks," he said. "You … er .. you going to the doctor's lounge?"
Jesse's nervous smile became a full-fledged grin as he sensed the walls between them start to topple. "Yeah. You coming?"
Mark, who had been right behind Jesse, but had quickly concealed himself behind the door when he saw Jack waiting for his young friend smiled in deep satisfaction as he watched the two of them wander off down the corridor.
The chasm had been breached.

Over the ensuring weeks the two younger doctors became fast friends, sharing coffee breaks, discussing new and experimental surgical procedures and exchanging stories of their various escapades.
Jack found Jesse's accounts very amusing whilst, in turn, Jesse listened, wide eyed and rapt with fascination, as Jack recounted the many scams he had pulled.
Mark was thrilled to see his two friends getting on so well together although he had some reservations about them working together on a murder investigation. Jack was renowned for his recklessness; Jesse, too. Unfortunately, whilst the former had always escaped relatively unscathed, the latter had not always been quite so lucky.
Jack's ideas of helping also differed greatly from Jesse's. The scams he had pulled over the years had been meticulously well planned, elaborate and sometimes even fairly dangerous. But he was an expert at what he did. The older man reflected that he would have made a great undercover cop had he not become a doctor.
Or a highly successful confidence trickster.
Jesse, on the other hand, with his open, honest face, upon which every emotion was broadcast, whilst adept at portraying the occasional 'character', was not capable of putting together the kind of sting operation at which Jack was so extraordinarily gifted. Whilst he could be exceedingly sneaky when he wanted to be - as Mark knew to his cost - he was not by nature duplicitous nor dishonest. When he had been part of a confidence trick, he had always had backup nearby or Amanda had been in charge and Mark trusted her implicitly to take care of him.
She had learned from the best - Jack - although she had a few talents of her own and her prowess in manipulating others was nothing short of amazing. She was incredibly crafty and had an astonishing ability to think on her feet, which had come in handy more than a time or two in the past. There was nothing she enjoyed more than pulling a fast one on the bad guys - especially when it procured proof of their guilt.
Still, the two young men were on good terms and that was important. Mark would worry about the ramifications of letting them work a murder together later. Meanwhile, he was privately feeling very smug as he told himself he had always known that it would be only a matter of time before Jesse's irrepressible good humour and generosity of spirit broke through Jack's defences.
That he hadn't actually been at all sure of this was never even acknowledged.

During this time, Jack and Jesse were also afforded the opportunity to catch each other in action in their respective OR's; Jesse marvelling at the dark-haired man's expertise when the younger doctor assisted his friend in a liver transplant and, just days later, Jack finally appreciating just why Jesse had won the Hendrich award.
"My god, he really is brilliant," he murmured to Mark as they stood in the observation gallery, watching as Jesse performed emergency surgery on a car crash victim.
The man was a mess. He had sustained extensive internal injuries and a compound fracture of his left tibia. They had nearly lost him twice in the trauma room before stabilising him sufficiently for surgery.
Jesse worked diligently, deft fingers skilfully wielding scalpel, knife and clamps whilst the areas in which he was toiling were constantly irrigated. Whole blood hung at one end of the table, replenishing what the victim had lost and was still losing during the procedure.
Whilst the young surgeon and his team toiled meticulously and seamlessly together, determined to preserve the man's life, he never lost sight of the fact that beneath all the gore was a father, husband and son.
The man survived surgery. Jack was more than impressed. He was awed by his new friend's abilities.

As Jesse trudged wearily out of the OR, letting his assistant close for him, he found his two colleagues and friends awaiting him.
"Oh, hey, guys," he greeted them, tearing off his mask and gloves and disposing of them in the sterile bin. "Man, that was a hard one."
"And you made it look so easy," quipped Jack.
"You were excellent in there, Jess." Mark smiled warmly at his young friend, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "I was never in any doubt that you'd save him."
Jesse cast his mentor a bashful smile. "Thanks, Mark," he replied, quietly. "I just hope he makes it. He has a family."
"On your way to speak to them?" asked Jack.
His friend nodded. "Yeah. And after that I'm gonna go home. That's if I can stay awake long enough to drive."
The other two traded glances over the blond head.
"I'll drive you," offered the dark-haired doctor. "And I can swing by and pick you up in the morning."
Jesse frowned, shaking his head. "That's a nice offer, Jack, but I can't put you out like that."
"Hey, what are friends for?" came the instant rejoinder. "You look really wiped, man. It's no big deal."
"Well, if you're sure …"
"I'm sure."
Jesse flashed him a grateful smile. "Thanks," he said. "Now I really have to go talk to the family and let them know he pulled through."
And with that he was gone.
The other two watched his retreating form through the glass doors and then Mark turned to his colleague.
"That was very nice of you, Jack," he said.
The other man shrugged nonchalantly. "Hey, it's like I said, Mark. No big deal. He'd do the same for me."
"Yes, he would," agreed Mark softly. "In a heartbeat."

When Jack wandered into the hospital the next morning the first person he encountered was Mark.
"Hello there," came the cheery greeting from his mentor. Then he frowned and peered behind the younger man. "Where's Jesse? You didn't forget him, did you?"
Jack smiled wryly. "No, I didn't forget him," he retorted. "He called me early this morning to tell me he was taking a cab to work. Said there was an emergency."
"An emergency?" Mark's frown deepened. "What kind of emergency?"
"Well, I assumed he meant here at the hospital," Jack said. "What - you mean there wasn't?"
"No." Mark's frown had turned into an expression of concern. "I hope he's all right. What exactly did he say to you?"
The dark-haired man shrugged. "Just what I told you. Mark, whaddya think's going on?"
"I don't know." The older man shook his head in complete bewilderment. "Why don't we go find Amanda - maybe she knows something."
"You know, that's a good idea. They seem pretty close. He could've told her what's going on."
As they strolled down the corridor, Jack was so absorbed in the mystery of Jesse's behaviour that he didn't even realise they weren't actually headed toward the path lab. It was with some surprise when he found that they had arrived at the doctors' lounge.
"Isn't it a bit early for a coffee break?" he queried, glancing down at his watch.
Mark shrugged off the question. "Oh you know Amanda - she's been in since dawn."
"She has?"
"Oh, yes. In fact, we all have." Even as he uttered these words, Mark flung open the door to the doctor's lounge. Jack had been so distracted that he hadn't even noticed that the lights were out - until Mark flicked a switch and he found himself confronted by three grinning faces and a huge cake on top of which were over thirty lit candles.
"Happy birthday, Jack!" chorused the assembled group.
"Wh ….!" he exclaimed, lost for words for once.
"He didn't guess!" Jesse declared, somewhat gleefully. "See? I told you he wouldn't!"
"No you didn't," Amanda disagreed. "You've been sitting here for hours saying 'he's gonna know. He's gonna know!'"
"Yeah, well … I was just … I didn't want you to worry!" he blustered.
"Me?" she snorted. "I was never worried. I knew that Mark's plan was going to work."
"Although it nearly didn't," the man himself pointed out, with a wry smile. "Not after you agreed to let Jack take you home last night. You had all the gifts at your apartment, Jesse. How were you going to conceal them when he was bringing you in this morning?"
"Hey, I would've found a way!" protested the beleaguered young doctor.
"Right," chipped in Steve, snidely. "You would've just explained away all those brightly coloured bags as your lunch, maybe?"
"We can only be grateful that Mark stored the cake at the beach house," reflected Amanda, with a heavy sigh, although her mouth was twitching with laughter. "Just think if Jesse had volunteered to keep it at his place …"
"There'd be no cake," concluded Steve, fighting to keep his own mirth under control.
"Hey!" came the indignant response to this slur on his character.
"Now, now, children," Mark admonished them, his own eyes twinkling with merriment at the banter. "Now, Jess, you have to admit that they have a point. After all, you do enjoy your food."
"I … you …!" Jesse spluttered, glancing from one to the other in high dudgeon. "Hey! What is this? 'Pick on Jesse' day?"
"No, it's Jack's birthday," responded Amanda. "Picking on you is just a bonus."
That did it. The room erupted in a huge round of laughter, even Jesse's miffed expression giving way to amusement.

Steve sat at his desk, reading the forensic report he had just received.
Marcia White and David Cross had been the perfect couple. He was tall, classically handsome, with deep blue eyes and a shock of white-blond hair whilst she was petite and slender, her stunning features framed by waves of rich auburn hair.
They had been dressed for a night on the town - he was garbed from head to foot in Ralph Lauren, she was wearing Vera Wang.
They had obviously had money to burn.
They had been well-matched in every way.
Even down to the twin bullet holes in the back of their oh-so-perfect heads.

They had been found in David's Mercedes early that morning by a man walking his dog. The blood spattered interior had yielded no clues. No fingerprints other than theirs, no DNA; not even a shell casing had been found.
It had been a thoroughly professional job.
It had also been an execution-style killing

Steve was stumped.
He pored over the report, reading it over and over, in the vain hope that something that he had missed on a previous occasion would leap out and hit him between the eyes.
Nothing did.
Cheryl found him scowling over it when she breezed into the precinct a little later.
"Hi," she greeted him, cheerfully.
"Hey," he responded, barely raising a smile.
"The double murder?"
He nodded. "Forensics couldn't find anything," he told her, morosely. "All we've got is two dead bodies and a whole lot of questions."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that."
The smug tone of her voice prompted him to raise his head from the file. "What've you found out?" he demanded.
"Seems like our perfect couple weren't so perfect," she replied, sinking into the chair opposite him and folding her hands in her lap. "Marcia was married."
This piqued his interest. "Oh? To whom?"
"Andrew Carr. CEO of one of LA's biggest wine importers."
"I thought his wife's name was Suzette?"
"It was," she told him. "But she was also known as Marcia White - back when she was a croupier in Las Vegas."
"She changed her name?" he queried. "Why?"
"Because she wasn't just a croupier, if you know what I mean," Cheryl confided.
Enlightenment appeared on his rugged features. "Ah."
"'Ah' is right. Seems Marcia liked the good life and led another life on the side. When she met Mr Carr, she changed her name and when she married him, she became Suzette Carr, trophy wife."
"But she kept up her secret lifestyle?" he guessed.
"No. She just got bored easily and David Cross was her latest affair."
He nodded, a slow grin appearing on his face. "So we're looking at the husband."
"Maybe," she hedged. "But he has an alibi for last night. He was in Vegas on business."
"Witnesses?"
"Plenty. It was a 'Business man of the Year dinner. A few dozen people saw him. He was a keynote speaker."
"Well, time of death was put at around 11:00pm," mused Steve. "He couldn't have got back here in time. Maybe we're looking at a contract killing. He found out about the affair. Didn't like it. Had her and her lover killed."
She shrugged. "That's a good theory," she said. "Now we have to prove it."
"We also need to check into Mr Cross's background," Steve pointed out. "It could be that Mr Carr isn't guilty of murder or conspiracy to commit murder after all. Maybe it was someone else."
She grinned at him. "So, what are we waiting for?" she demanded. "Let's do what we do best - investigate!"
"So, any clues so far in the murder case?" was Mark's opening salvo as all five friends met for dinner at the beach house later that night.
Steve groaned inwardly. He had suspected that the question would come up at some stage - although he hadn't been expecting it quite so soon. The truth was, he didn't want any of his friends involved this time. The murder was beginning to look increasingly like a mob hit - the execution-style killing, the connections he and Cheryl had already uncovered and the distinct lack of evidence. And if the Mafia were involved, he wanted those he cared about well away from any investigation.
Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen. His father's seemingly offhand question had already piqued the interest of the others. Amanda, of course, had autopsied the bodies, citing their deaths as being due to the two slugs she had found embedded in both brains. The two victims had died almost immediately as the projectiles sliced through arteries and nerves, causing massive trauma and internal bleeding, but that was as far as her participation had thus far gone.
Jack and Jesse, on the other hand, had been kept out of the loop by virtue of their hectic schedules. Now, however, as Jack's keen eyes bored into him impatient for information and Jesse grinned, fidgeting in his chair, literally burning with curiosity, Steve knew there was no way he was going to be able to keep them out of it.
Not that he wasn't going to try his best to do so, anyway.
"We … have a few leads," he hedged, in answer to his dad's question. "Nothing concrete. It's still early days yet."
"Well." Mark grinned at him. "Tell us what you do have. Maybe we can put our heads together and come up with something."
"Dad!" The attempted protest was ineffectual as three pairs of eyes swivelled back in his direction, all of them eagerly anticipating whatever he had to say. "Guys, look," he went on. "I appreciate you wanting to help, but, really, this time, I think Cheryl and I can handle it alone."
"Nonsense!" declared Mark, good naturedly. "I mean, let us help, son," he temporised as Steve shot him a wounded look. "You know, six heads are better than two."
"Only if you're some kind of mythical beast," Steve muttered, sullenly. Then he cleared his throat and mustered a smile. "Look, it's not that I have anything against you guys getting involved but …"
"Then why don't you want us to, Steve?" demanded Jesse. "Is there something about the case that you're keeping from us?"
Steve silently cursed his best friend's keen perceptiveness, even whilst grudgingly acknowledging that he and his father had helped cultivate it over the years. "No, there's nothing I'm keeping from you," he ground out, with a forced smile, although he couldn't quite meet the younger man's eyes as he uttered the lie. "It's just that you guys don't have to help on every murder case we have, you know?"
Hurt flashed across the expressive face and Steve immediately felt a wave of guilt assail him. "Oh." Jesse said, quietly. "Uh - well, I mean, if that's how you feel … uh, I guess maybe we shouldn't interfere. You are the cop, after all. We're just doctors. I .. " The words tailed off and he fell silent, staring fixedly at the table.
"I didn't mean it like that," Steve said, hastily, desperate to breach the gulf that he had felt opening between them at his uncharacteristic and somewhat harsh refusal of their assistance. He turned to his father for help, only to find that the older man was regarding him with much the same injured expression as his friend. "Dad?"
"Do we really interfere, Steve?" he asked. "I mean, if you want us to take a back seat, then you only have to say so. I thought you enjoyed us working together."
"Your father is a police consultant, after all," pointed out Amanda, coolly, obviously bewildered by Steve's attitude. "And after all the cases he's helped out on - which we've all helped on …"
The detective wasn't quite sure how he had suddenly become enemy number one. He only knew how wretched he felt at having hurt the others. Only Jack hadn't spoken, and he was regarding him with a bemused expression, obviously trying to figure out what was going on in Steve's mind. "Look, guys," he said, in a heavy voice. "It's not that I don't appreciate everything you do. I do - really. You've been invaluable over the years and I know I can count on you - we can count on you whenever there's a homicide that's proving difficult to solve. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"But you don't need us this time?" prompted Jesse, tentatively.
Steve shrugged. "Honestly? No." It wasn't exactly a lie. He didn't need them to be in danger. He did, however, need their insight into the case. And that was the one thing he was being forced to deny himself on this occasion. There was no other choice. Not if he wanted to keep them safe. "We can do this one alone. Hey, we have to crack a few murders on our own at some point, you know," he quipped. "Keeps us from getting rusty."
Jesse nodded, smiling with grudging acceptance, whilst Amanda and Jack shrugged resignedly. Steve couldn't look at his father. He didn't need to. He knew what he would see. Mark Sloan couldn't comprehend how his own son didn't need him. And he would be puzzling it out in his own mind.
Steve only hoped that they could solve the crime before his dad managed to figure out what was really going on.

Forward to part three

Return to Part one

Return to Diagnosis Murder page

Return to Mainpage