Disclaimer - The bad guys and a couple of others are the property of the author - the rest are not. No profir is being made from this endeavour.

Prey

By Guardian

Three weeks into his new job - his new career - at Community General Hospital and Jesse Travis was beginning to wonder just what he'd let himself in for. While he had been thrilled - and inordinately proud - to have been accepted for his internship, he was now realising just what hard work it entailed. The hours were long, but he'd got used to that throughout medical school. It was the extra-curricular activities that were causing him the most bemusement.
His boss and mentor, Doctor Mark Sloan was - it turned out - a consultant to the LAPD. He worked closely with his son, Steve, a Lieutenant in that police force and even at the outset of his fledgling career, Jesse found himself learning almost as much about crime as he did medicine. In between lectures and studying, Mark regaled him with tales of his son's exploits that sounded almost outrageous. He had a sneaky suspicion that some of the stories were more than a little embellished, but he lapped them up all the same - ever seeking satisfaction for his insatiable curiosity.
As they sipped coffee in the doctor's lounge one morning, Mark was entertaining him with the story of an implausible body-snatching case, when the door opened and Amanda Livingstone walked in. Jesse smiled at her a little tentatively. While he genuinely liked Amanda, he couldn't shake the feeling that he irritated her somewhat. He knew that he could be irritating - he had the tendency to talk too much and was prone to babbling. And he could get over-excited, a habit that had caused the medical examiner to shoot a withering look in his direction on more than one occasion.
But, for the most part, they got on okay. In spite of her apparent youth, Amanda was very good at what she did - her skill had put seasoned pathologists to shame. And her feminine exterior hid a core of pure steel. Jesse had seen her lose her temper once and it had been terrifying to behold. He had felt acutely sorry for the lab tech who'd been on the receiving end of her tongue-lashing - even if the man had carelessly contaminated vital samples - and had no desire to have her wrath turned on him.
So he tended to try and fade into the background whenever Amanda was in the vicinity - and he was always unfailingly polite. The only problem on this occasion was that it was hard to remain unnoticed when there were only two other people in the room.
"Hi Mark, Jesse." Amanda grinned in their direction as she headed towards the coffee pot. Her shift was ending, whereas her two colleagues had barely even begun theirs. "You guys want coffee?"
When both men answered with a definite affirmative, she fixed two more cups and Jesse was surprised to note that she remembered how he took his, even though he was sure she'd only ever heard him mention it once before.
"Oh, Amanda?" Mark called over. "You'd better get one for Steve as well. He should be here any minute. I think he said something about wanting you to…"
"Stop!" Amanda interrupted before he could tell her the reason for the Lieutenant's visit. She made a great show of looking at her watch. "As of six minutes ago, I am off duty. In fact, I'm not even here any more."
Jesse barely heard her good-natured grumbling. His ears had pricked up at the news that Steve was going to be joining them. Somehow, even though Steve spent almost as much time at the hospital as his father did, Jesse had yet to meet him. A protracted undercover assignment, followed by simple bad timing, had conspired to prevent their paths from crossing. He found that he was suddenly nervous - almost desperate to make a good impression.
Mark and Steve shared a closeness that he could only regard with envy - his own father having been a stranger since he was in high-school - and he wanted to be accepted by them, to carry on this adventure that he'd been thrust into the middle of.

*****

"Hey, dad. Amanda." Steve timed his arrival in the lounge with Amanda placing the coffee mugs on the table. He opened his mouth to greet the other person in the room, but then realised that he had no idea who it was.
"Steve, I'd like you to meet Jesse Travis." Mark stepped in to cover the awkward moment. "I told you about him, he's about a month into his internship."
"Oh yeah, right." A friendly smile lit the detective's features and he held his hand out in greeting. "Nice to meet you."
"Um, likewise…" Jesse shook the proffered hand somewhat tentatively, hoping against hope that he wasn't blushing too deeply. He could hardly tear his eyes off the man in front of him as he felt the thrill of instant physical attraction. He'd told nobody that he was gay and he wasn't about to start now. Bitter experience had taught him that he'd lose fewer friends if he confessed to being a serial killer than to being attracted to his own sex.
But his own feelings were deemed a moot point as Steve, after his initial polite greeting, effectively dismissed his father's newest charge. He was there on pressing business and so completely missed the look of disappointment that flashed across the younger man's face when his hand was released after only the briefest touch.
"Amanda, did you put a rush on the..?"
"Yes and the results are on my desk." Amanda managed to sound long-suffering, even though genuine warmth sparkled in her eyes. "I'd have brought them here, but I didn't know you were coming."
"And was it..?"
"Asphyxiation, yes, just like you suspected." She grinned at him. "And if you have all of the answers, why do you keep asking questions?"
Jesse watched the banter between them with more than a little envy, wishing that he had the courage - or rather, the confidence - to join in. Their friendship was so obvious, so natural and it was something that he could only hope to ever aspire to. And, as his eyes were once again drawn to the detective's chiselled features, he allowed himself a brief, illicit hope that he might even achieve something more.
He was dragged out of his reverie when Steve scraped his chair noisily back across the linoleum and he reluctantly returned his attention to the conversation.
"…wondered if you'd take a look." Steve was addressing his father and Mark nodded thoughtfully as he, too, got to his feet.
Jesse looked up at them expectantly, hoping to be included in the invitation. He felt a brief surge of hope when Mark looked towards him.
"I shouldn't be too long." His mentor's words swiftly dashed that hope. "And aren't you due to accompany Doctor French on his rounds in a few minutes?"
Jesse could only nod in response and try not to let his disappointment show. Steve offered him a quick "nice to meet you" and then the two of them were gone.
Jesse, suddenly realising that that left him alone with Amanda, took a long swallow of his coffee - intending to beat a hasty retreat. Then the young pathologist spoke.
"So, you liked what you saw, huh?"
Jesse spluttered, almost choked and sprayed coffee all over the table. He felt heat suffusing his cheeks even before he plucked up the courage to look at her. When he did, he found her regarding him appraisingly.
"I…" The young man's eyes darted wildly around the room as he sought some escape that wouldn't seem rude - and wouldn't see him simply bolting away from her.
"Relax, Jesse." Amusement sparkled in Amanda's eyes. "I'm just kidding."
"Oh," Jesse murmured in a small voice, feeling his blush deepen. "I, um… I have to… Um…" His eyes flittered towards the door. "Doctor French…"
"Oh no you don't." Amanda's voice stopped him before he had even half risen out of his chair. "You know as well as I do that Jim French starts all of his rounds right here. So you don't even have to go looking for him."
Jesse sank back down miserably, knowing that she was right. Like most doctors, French relied a great deal on caffeine to help him through his day. He stared sightlessly at his empty mug, wondering what on Earth he could say. Amanda was showing no sign of leaving and the silence was beginning to stretch.
"Jesse, is something wrong?" Amanda's voice no longer held even the slightest note of teasing. "Have I done something to offend you?"
His head snapped up at that remark and he looked at her in utter confusion: "O… offend me?"
"You've never seemed particularly… comfortable around me," she explained. "And I like to think that I'm quite a likable person."
"You are!" The young man hurried to assure her. "It's not you… I mean I… It's me, isn't it? I thought you didn't… like me."
"Like you?" His colleague's response was incredulous. "For one thing, I hardly even know you - which might be because you do a pretty good job of avoiding me - and, for another, I'm not the type of person to make a judgement on someone until I do know them."
"Oh, sorry." His response was dejected, as he was suddenly convinced that he had managed to upset her.
"You're very shy, aren't you?" Amanda's eyes narrowed as the blush returned to the young man's cheeks. "It must be difficult - being in a new city, starting a new job."
"I'm okay." But the dejection still hadn't left his voice.
"You're worried, aren't you?" Naturally perceptive, she found the root of the problem at the first attempt. "Worried that other people might see what I saw and might ostracise you for it. Is that why you distance yourself from the other interns? From pretty much everyone?"
"Wh… what you saw?" Jesse managed to stammer, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
"The way that you looked at Steve." She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but was unsure how that would be received. "The fact that you're homosexual."
"Don't tell anyone." His voice was no more than a whisper and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden threat of tears. "Please."
"Oh, Jesse…"
Anything else she might have said was lost as the door opened and Jim French walked in, heading straight for the coffee pot.
"Ah, young Doctor Travis," French said, smiling in his general direction. "Eager as ever, I see. Doctor Livingstone." He nodded towards Amanda. "Either of you want a refill?"
"I really have to be going." Amanda got to her feet. She wanted to say something to Jesse - to assure him that everything would be alright - but she didn't want to draw attention to the conversation that their colleague had interrupted, so she settled for merely squeezing his slender shoulder.
He didn't even raise his head in response.

*****

Jesse had never found it so difficult to concentrate in his life before. Not even the complete exhaustion he'd frequently suffered throughout medical school was as much of a distraction as the memory of his talk with Amanda.
It left him feeling horrified, ashamed and more than a little afraid. Only three weeks into his new life and his secret was already out. He tried to interpret the look on Amanda's face when she'd pronounced him a homosexual, but found that it was impossible. The only word he could come up with was neutral - and that was hardly reassuring. At least she hadn't condemned him as a faggot or a queer and that, in itself, was something. It was small comfort, but the only hope he had to hold on to.
He wondered if she would tell Mark or, even worse, Steve and felt sick at the very thought. He'd worked fairly closely with Mark and didn't think he would turn out to be a bigot - but he'd wrongly thought that about a lot of people in the past. As for Steve - he had no idea as to how the detective might react. But if he learnt that Jesse was attracted to him, then he was afraid that it wouldn't be pretty.
Even as these thoughts crossed Jesse's mind, he strove to listen to what Doctor French was saying. It wasn't easy. The man was positively boring compared to Mark and that didn't make learning any easier.
But then, he supposed, not everyone could be like Mark Sloan - in fact, very few people were. Just because French's teaching methods were different - and more traditional - didn't mean that they were worse. And Jesse did so want to learn.
Forcibly pushing all thoughts of Mark, Amanda and - most importantly - Steve out of his mind, he turned his attention back to the patient he was supposed to be helping to attend.

*****

When Doctor French had completed his rounds, Jesse was dismayed to find himself at something of a loose end. He knew that he really should seek out Mark and yet was reluctant to do so. He was worried about bumping into Steve again, of his accursedly open features betraying him once more. But nor could he simply wander aimlessly around the hospital corridors.
Salvation, surprisingly, came in the form of Amanda. Although her shift had ended more than an hour previously, she had since found herself unable to go home. For some reason, her earlier conversation with Jesse was playing on her mind and when she saw him standing at the nurses' station, looking small and lost - almost like a little boy playing at being a doctor - something inside her melted.
"Jesse, there's something I need you to help me with." Her tone brooked no argument. She took hold of his elbow and had led him into an empty room before he could even begin to protest.
"Amanda?" When Jesse finally did find his voice it was filled with confusion. "I thought you'd gone home."
"One thing you'll learn working here," she answered ruefully. "Is that it's a lot easier to walk in the doors than it is out of them."
"So, umm…" He suddenly seemed to notice his surroundings - the totally deserted room - and a frown marred his features. "What did you want help with?"
"Okay, so maybe I lied." The young pathologist smiled at him. "But if I'd said I wanted to talk to you, then you might not have come so quietly."
"I…" Jesse looked away, even though he'd thought he'd seen genuine warmth in her smile. "I don't really think…"
"Jesse, you can't spend your entire career - your entire life - too afraid to make a friend because they might object to your sexuality."
"It's not like that," the young intern hurriedly protested. "I'm just really busy and the hours are long and… you must remember what it's like." Then his shoulders slumped as her expression clearly told him that she wasn't buying that for a second. "It… it's not easy sometimes." He eventually admitted.
"I know it isn't, honey." His eyes widened in surprise at the endearment. "But I also know that it's worth the effort. There are some very good people working here - some very good friends."
"But I've had good friends before." The difficult subject now broached, Jesse found himself opening up to her. "It changes, Amanda. They change, when they… When they find out…" He shot her an almost desperate glance. "And I really like Mark and I respect him… And I think he likes me, too… I just… I don't want that to change."
"I won't lie to you, Jesse," she answered sincerely. "Yes, there are people in this hospital who are prejudiced - there are people like that everywhere you go - but they are the minority and I can assure you that Mark Sloan is not one of them."
"But…" Jesse tried to intercede and failed miserably.
"And," Amanda over-rode him. "If you want to know how I can be so sure… Well, do you think he looked like he was prejudiced against his own son?"
"His own…" Jesse's stomach flipped over and the room span alarmingly as the implications of her words sank in. "Steve?" He whispered, disbelievingly.
"Yes, Steve." She smiled broadly at him. "And, while I don't normally make a habit of interfering in my friends' private lives, if you want I could make a few discreet inquiries."
"No!" Jesse's face was suddenly beet-red and his eyes were wide with horror. But, in response to Amanda's speculative gaze, he was forced to add: "I mean… not yet. Maybe… At least let me get to know him first."
"Well, if you really want to waste time." She shrugged, nonchalantly. "But trust me on this, Jesse, you'll love him."
I think I already do, he mused. But he couldn't find the courage to say the words aloud.

*****

Later that afternoon, Jesse stumbled towards the elevator. It was barely five o'clock but he'd been at the hospital for over twelve hours and was utterly exhausted. He'd worked as hard as ever, continually driving himself and trying to take in as much information as was humanly possible, in order to fulfil his dream and become a resident at Community General.
But his own punishing schedule had not been helped by the emotional anguish he'd suffered on the realisation that Amanda knew he was gay. Though the pathologist - his friend, he amended - had quelled his fears following their talk and had given him her solemn promise that she would not tell anyone about his secret, the events of the day had caught up with him with a vengeance.
And it just summed up his day perfectly when the elevator doors slid serenely shut even as he approached them.
"Dammit," he muttered half to himself as he stabbed at the call button, too tired to even consider using the stairs.
"Well now," a smooth voice spoke up from behind him. "It wouldn't do for our patients or visitors to hear one of our doctors using such language."
Jesse whirled, utterly mortified that he'd been overheard and his horror only grew as he recognised the man who stood glaring at him. It was Peter Shackleton - a member of the hospital's Board of Directors.
"It's Jesse Travis, isn't it?" Shackleton went on, giving him no time to respond. "I remember seeing your application. But I don't remember seeing profanities listed on your résumé."
"I, um…" Jesse wanted to protest that he'd hardly been cursing like a proverbial trooper, but he was too intimidated by the man. "I'm sorry."
"And what if it had been a mother, with her young child, standing behind you? Do you think that sorry would suffice?"
Jesse could only hang his head, trying to hide the shame that coloured his cheeks. Shackleton was talking to him as though he were a naughty schoolboy and he - in turn - responded the same. A part of him couldn't help but feel that the whole thing had been blown completely out of proportion, but it was not an opinion that he dared voice.
"So tell me, Travis." Shackleton took a step closer, deliberately invading the younger man's body space. "Do you really think that you have what it takes to become a permanent member of the team here?"
Jesse's head shot up at that remark, even as he tried to back away from the man who towered over him - only to find his progress halted by the elevator doors.
"If something as innocuous as a missed elevator is enough to make you curse," the director continued, again not giving him the chance to answer. "How, I wonder, are you going to react in a real crisis?"
The young intern could only stare up at him, completely lost for words. He was forced to admit that the other man had a point, but he had no idea what he could say in his defence.
"I'm wondering if maybe I should mention this to Doctor Sloan." Shackleton fixed him with an icy glare. "Should I, do you think?"
"I…" Jesse briefly wondered if Mark would actually care that he'd uttered a mild profanity at the elevator doors, but that was not a reply he could voice. "If you think it's necessary, sir," he said opting for what he thought was a safe answer. He was wrong.
"This isn't about what I think," Shackleton snapped and Jesse couldn't help but flinch. "I asked what you think I should do. Part of being a doctor is being able to take responsibility for your own actions. So, I'll ask you again, Travis: do you think I should inform Doctor Sloan of this incident?"
"You…" Jesse swallowed as his voice threatened to fail him. "You should do whatever you believe is right for the good of the hospital, sir."
The answer seemed to please the older man because he gave a curt nod and took a step backwards. Right on cue, the elevator doors opened and Jesse almost fell inside. His last sight, as the doors slid shut, was of Shackleton still watching him with a cruel smile playing about his lips.

*****

Peter Shackleton didn't move until the elevator had long since taken Jesse from his sight. He was well pleased with the way things had turned out. His smile deepened as he recalled how the terrified intern had cowered before him and knew that he had chosen the right target for his game.
Phase one complete, he thought, turning on his heel and heading back towards his office. Tomorrow we'll begin phase two.
He idly wondered how strong Travis would turn out to be. His first impression told him that he would be weak, easily intimidated and a natural victim. But he'd learnt from past experience that such impressions could be deceptive. The next stage of his plan would give him more of an idea.
Phase two, as he so grandiosely referred to it, consisted of nothing more than watching the young intern - of being there every time he turned around. In the past, such behaviour had turned grown men into quivering wrecks as they came to realise that they were constantly being watched, their every misdemeanour taken note of. And Shackleton did take notes. It was amusing to see the fear and confusion on his prey's face as he'd blatantly observe them before writing something down.
It was just a game to him and it was a game that he was particularly adept at. Travis wouldn't stand a chance. After their recent encounter at the elevator, the intern would be constantly on edge, waiting for - and fearing - a repeat of the dressing down he'd received. And his terror would only be enhanced by the knowledge that Shackleton held his career - his very future - firmly in his hands.
Phase two served the purpose of wearing his victim down completely. In the past, it had driven some of his previous targets to quit and - on one occasion - even attempt suicide. He had been particularly pleased with the outcome of that contest. He had never before felt such power, such control and it had driven him to try even harder when the next unsuspecting intern had come along.
Settling back behind his desk, he lost himself in administration - passing the time until the next day dawned and the game could continue. And he worked with a permanent smile on his face. Playing the game was almost as much fun as winning.

*****

Two days later, Jesse thought that he was about to go insane. Peter Shackleton was haunting him. Whenever he turned around, the director was there and if he made a mistake - however slight - he would always look up to see Shackleton watching him. The man would shake his head almost imperceptibly and then write something in his little notebook.
And it was starting to put Jesse on edge. He remembered the contemptuous way that Shackleton had spoken to him at the elevators and genuinely feared a repeat performance. More than anything, he didn't want to be subjected to another of the director's lectures when there was even the remotest chance that Mark might bear witness to it.
The knowledge that he was being watched only served to cause Jesse to make more errors than he normally ever would. His usually dextrous hands suddenly became all thumbs and he quickly lost count of the times that files and charts went tumbling to the floor - usually to end up at Shackleton's feet.
Jesse didn't know why he had been singled out in such a way. Surely his minor slip of the tongue at the elevator didn't warrant such persecution. But nor could he see any way of changing the situation.
Shackleton had targeted him and all he could do was try not to give him any reason to get angry with him again. But that was a lot easier said than done. He was just an intern and was still learning his chosen career - and he was only human. Errors were bound to slip in.
And each time something went wrong Jesse tensed, waiting to hear that sardonic voice from behind him. But for the entire two days, Shackleton said nothing. He just watched - and made his notes.

*****

On the evening of the second day, Jesse sat in the doctors' lounge nursing a cup of coffee and wondering if he should mention to Mark that he had been singled out for such unfair treatment by one of the hospital's directors. But, even as he considered it, he knew that he wouldn't. He was a grown man and his own actions had led to his current predicament. It was up to him to find a way out of it.
He could only hope that Shackleton would get bored. Surely the man had better things to do than follow one intern around, waiting for him to screw up.
His musings were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Glancing up, Jesse's heart skipped a beat when he saw Steve lounging there. The young intern felt a sudden thrill of acute lust as he took in the detective's appearance. Dressed in tight black jeans and grey tee-shirt, his jacket slung casually over one shoulder, he looked - to Jesse - sinfully hot.
"Um…" Jesse had to look quickly away before his expression betrayed him. Already he could feel himself blushing and could only hope that the other man would put it down to shyness. "If you're looking for Mark… I, uh… I think he's around someplace."
"Yeah, I just spoke to him." Steve straightened up and stepped into the room. "He should be done soon. You wouldn't mind if I waited here would you, Jesse?"
Jesse knew that it was ridiculous. It was more than ridiculous - it was downright pathetic - but his heart leapt when he heard Steve say his name. The very fact that he'd even remembered it was enough to send his hormones racing out of control.
"No… um…" he stammered. "No, of course not."
Steve helped himself to coffee and Jesse took a long swallow of his own, trying to find some way to slow his wildly racing heart. He silently prayed that Mark wouldn't be too long. While he had no objections to being alone with Steve, he didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his feelings hidden.
To make matters worse, as Steve sat down at the table opposite him, Jesse found that he didn't have a clue what to say.
"So, dad tells me you're from Illinois." Steve instigated the conversation, having also been told that the intern was somewhat shy.
"Yeah, I…" He wanted to talk, to get to know the detective better, but his mind was suddenly blank. "Yeah, that's right."
"So how do you like it in LA?"
"It's great…" I love it. I love the beach, I want to learn how to surf. Say, do you surf, Steve? Maybe you could teach me. But the words remained locked in his throat. "Yeah, it's nice."
Steve bit back a sigh of frustration. He was trying really hard to get to know the young man - to make him feel welcome - but it was damned hard work. Getting blood out of a stone would have been easier.
He had been secretly delighted to chance upon the intern, alone in the doctors' lounge and while his excuse was genuine - he really was waiting for his dad - he saw the opportunity to find out some more about Jesse Travis. Not that he was kidding himself for one moment. Someone as young and cute as the blonde would never even look twice at him, but he thought that it wouldn't hurt to check out the lie of the land, to maybe learn what his hobbies were and find some basis for building - at the very least - a friendship.
But, so far, Jesse had given a whole new meaning to the word 'reticence'. Steve took another swallow of his coffee, seeking some new conversation opener - one that might actually work this time.
"Isn't your mom a doctor, too?" he asked, thinking that most people would be comfortable talking about their family.
"That's right." The reply was guarded, but Steve could see that he'd struck a nerve. It was the first hint of emotion that the other man had shown.
"She must be pretty proud," he probed, gently.
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" The muttered response had escaped before Jesse could stop it and Steve instantly picked up on the bitterness in his tone.
"She isn't?" His surprise was genuine. Surely any parent would be proud to see their child qualify as a doctor. "I mean, what with you following in her footsteps…"
"That isn't why I do this, you know!" Jesse's temper suddenly flared as Steve touched on a subject that was infinitely painful for him. "I didn't get into medicine just to keep her happy. I didn't become a doctor just to make her proud."
"Jesse, I'm sorry." Steve was horrified that his attempt to make polite conversation had provoked such a reaction. "I didn't mean…"
"I'm doing this for me." Jesse continued, not even hearing the apology. "I'm doing this because I want to be a doctor. I want to help people - to heal them. Not just because it's what my mom does."
The eruption subsided as quickly as it had flared and Jesse bit down hard on his lip - desperate to keep his emotions in check. Don't let me cry in front of him. Please, God, don't let me cry in front of him. Then he felt a gentle hand on his arm and he almost lost the tentative grip that he was striving to maintain.
"I'm sorry," Steve said, sincerely. "I really am."
"It's okay." Jesse clamped down hard on his emotions and forced a smile onto his lips. He turned towards the detective. "Honestly, it's no big deal."
Steve wanted to protest - to say that it obviously was a big deal and to apologise again for inadvertently hurting him when he had only been trying to make friends. But before he could voice any of this, Mark strode in. He instantly picked up on the somewhat strained atmosphere but, before he could begin to investigate its cause, Jesse took the opportunity to flee.

*****

Jesse didn't stop until he'd reached his locker. If anyone had spoken to him along the way, then he had no recollection. And he certainly hadn't offered any response. He'd just felt a pressing need to get away from both Mark and Steve - and their concern that his fragile emotions simply could not handle.
The locker room was blessedly empty and, before retrieving his jacket, he took a number of calming deep breaths, resting his forehead against the cool metal of his locker and trying to regain some semblance of control.
"Well, now. Wasn't that a moving little speech?"
Jesse tensed as Shackleton's voice sounded from the doorway. Slowly he turned around. The director calmly closed the door behind him as he entered the room and Jesse - totally unconsciously - took a step back.
"So mommy dearest doesn't approve. How sad." Shackleton's voice dripped scorn. "But you never did mention dear daddy. What does he think about your chosen career?"
"You... you were listening?" Jesse's mouth was dry with fear. He knew - without a shadow of a doubt - that this man was dangerous. And, for some reason, he had made an enemy of him. That did not bode well for his current situation. Unlike the hospital corridor that had been the scene of their last confrontation, the locker room was deserted and quite likely to stay that way.
"Of course I was listening." Shackleton approached him with slow, deliberate steps. "Poor mommy doesn't appreciate you."
"I… it doesn't matter." Jesse inwardly cursed himself for stuttering, but was completely unable to help himself. The man terrified him. "I don't care what she thinks," he added with false bravado.
"No. You made that abundantly clear." The director didn't stop until he was within touching distance of the clearly frightened intern - and again ensured that he had no easy escape. "Now I have to ask myself: do you belong in this hospital when you can portray such blatant selfishness?"
"What?" The response was incredulous but almost inaudible. He might have been a lot of things, but selfish certainly wasn't amongst them.
"I told you I was listening." Shackleton leant in over his victim, using his height to add to his intimidation. "I'm doing this for me," he mimicked cruelly. "I want. I want. Do you really think that's a good attribute for a doctor?"
"I…" Jesse could hardly find his voice. "That… that's not fair… I…"
"And there you go again." The director overrode him. "You. Well here's a lesson for you, Travis. If you're going to be a doctor, then the last person you think about is you."
Jesse wanted to protest, but fear had finally won out and rendered him totally speechless. Shackleton leaned in closer still.
"There's one thing that you need to remember, Travis," he hissed, emphasising his words by stabbing his finger sharply into the young man's chest. "I could have you out on your ear by morning." When no response was forthcoming from the terrified intern, he continued: "I am on the Board of Directors of this hospital. I have a great deal of influence as to who is hired and fired. And if I say you won't make the grade, then you're out."
"Why… why are you doing this to me?" Jesse managed to force the words past the sudden constriction in his throat.
The director fixed him with a superior smile: "Because I can."

*****

Sleep was out of the question. Every time Jesse closed his eyes, he could see Shackleton glaring cruelly down at him. After the shocking revelation that his hate campaign was being conducted on little more than a whim, the director had blessedly left him alone. But it had been a long time before Jesse had been able to leave the locker room and he had eventually driven home with hands that were still shaking.
Lying in his bed that night, he thought back to the day that this had first started. How such a mild curse could cause things to spiral so completely out of control was beyond his ability to understand. He had done nothing wrong, he had harmed no-one and yet his very career was being threatened. If it hadn't been so damned frightening, it would have been laughable.
And he was left with the almost impossible question as to what he should do about it. His first instinct was to ask for help - to tell somebody about what Shackleton had said. He had made a direct threat, after all. Then he tried to imagine what a reaction such a complaint would bring. He wanted to be a doctor - to work in the ER at Community General - and that would mean being under almost constant pressure. And if he couldn't handle a little mild bullying, then he might as well give up on that dream right now. If you can't stand the heat…
Sighing heavily, Jesse rolled over in a futile attempt to get comfortable. All he could do was try even harder - make sure that Shackleton had no further excuse to persecute him. It would be difficult, of that there was no doubt. He'd have to watch what he said, even when he thought he was having a private conversation. And he would have to do his job to utter perfection.
But he also knew that the effort would be worth it. He could put up with anything if it meant fulfilling his heart's desire.
Eventually, his exhaustion got the better of him and his eyes drifted shut. He only dozed fitfully and even those slight moments of rest were haunted by nightmares. When his alarm sounded at six am, he felt as though he hadn't slept at all.
Hauling his weary body out of bed, Jesse headed for the shower. And his thoughts continued almost uninterruptedly from the night before. For the first time since starting his internship, he was dreading what the day might have in store.

*****

"Jesse, you have the afternoon off on Sunday, don't you?" Mark had noticed that his newest protégé was looking somewhat frayed around the edges and - thinking that he was simply working too hard - instantly sought a solution.
"Um…" Jesse could only stare at him in complete confusion for a while, his normally agile mind - suffering from lack of sleep - taking the longest time to process the question and then formulate an answer. "Yeah, that's right. I'm supposed to finish at two."
"Excellent." Mark beamed at him. "Then you'll come to my barbeque at the beach house?"
Jesse blinked at him, surprised by the invitation. He glanced rapidly around the reception area but could see no sign of Shackleton. Besides, the director had shown no inclination to interfere with his social life and what he did in his own time was purely his own business.
"You've been with us for almost a month now, Jess," Mark continued, completely misunderstanding the reason for his hesitation. "It will do you good to socialise - to get to know us all better. And I'm sure you must like barbeque."
"Okay." Jesse smiled shyly in response. He wanted to ask if Steve was going to be there, but couldn't pluck up the courage. "What time should I come?"
"Oh, any time around four." He frowned slightly. "Come to think of it, why don't I ask Steve if he'll pick you up? That way there's no danger of you getting lost and it wouldn't hurt if you had a beer or two."
"I, um…" The young intern wanted to eagerly accept the invitation and the thought of being alone in a car with Steve made him almost dizzy with anticipation. But again, his shyness made him hesitant. "I don't really drink."
"And I wouldn't normally encourage you to." Mark slipped a fatherly arm around his shoulder. "But you need to relax every now and then, Jesse. You're working very hard and I don't want you to think of me as a slave driver. Being a doctor can be fun, as well as hard work, you know."
"Mark, I am having fun." Well, mostly… But he kept that thought to himself, still not able to find the courage to mention Peter Shackleton. "I mean, of course it's hard work and… not that I'm complaining… I mean…"
"Jesse," Mark smiled fondly at him. "Just say that you'll come to the beach house on Sunday."
Jesse accepted the invitation with a nod and a smile. Suddenly, his day wasn't looking so grim, after all.

*****

"So, you're thinking of attending Doctor Sloan's little soiree on Sunday."
Jesse whirled as Shackleton's voice again startled him when he'd thought that he was alone. The location had changed - Jesse was preparing one of the trauma rooms for the arrival of the next emergency, which could happen at any moment - but the downright evil look on his tormentor's face was exactly the same.
"Wh… what?" he eventually managed to stammer.
"Doctor Sloan's barbeque on Sunday." There was utter contempt in his voice. "My, my, that must be the highlight of your social calendar."
"I… I don't know what you mean…" Jesse could hardly believe what was happening. He had been convinced that the director had been nowhere in the vicinity when Mark had made his invitation. How had he learned of it so quickly?
"I know everything about you, Travis." Shackleton sneered. "You never go out, never mix with the other interns and yet you instantly accept an invitation from Doctor Sloan. Why is that, I wonder?"
There was no answer that Jesse could give. Just a few days previously, Amanda had made the same observation and it had preceded her revelation that she knew about his sexual orientation. He bit his lip and held his silence - praying that Shackleton hadn't reached the same conclusion.
"Do you really think that you belong in such esteemed company? Look at you." His grey eyes raked up and down the young man and his expression made it clear that he was not at all impressed with what he saw. "You're just an intern and not even a very good one at that. What do you think you'll find to talk about with all those real doctors?"
Still Jesse couldn't find his voice. Shackleton's words from a few moments ago were preying on his mind: I know everything about you. Could he? Could he know his most closely guarded secret - the one that, to his knowledge, only Amanda was aware of in the entire hospital? Or had the seemingly sympathetic young pathologist started to gossip already? Jesse didn't think so, she had seemed completely sincere when they'd last spoken but - as with so many other things in his life - he knew better than to take such a thing for granted.
He was forced suddenly, shockingly, out of his musings by a loud crash that almost caused him to jump out of his skin. His disbelieving eyes fell on the trolley of sterilized equipment that he had carefully laid out. It now lay on its side on the floor, the instruments a jumbled mess.
"Your lack of concentration concerns me." Shackleton's eyes bored into him. "If you intend to be a doctor, you need an attention span of more than a few seconds."
Jesse looked at the mess, at the extra work that the director had deliberately caused him and something inside him snapped.
"Just tell me why you're doing this!" He demanded, knowing that he should have spoken up long before now. "I've never done anything to hurt you. What do you want from me? What do I have to do to make you leave me alone?"
Shackleton smiled slowly, inordinately pleased by the outburst. A little defiance made the game much more interesting. Now it was time to up the stakes - to begin phase three: "You have to quit, Travis. You have to resign."
"No!" Jesse's protest was instant and horrified.
"Yes." Shackleton's hand snaked out and closed around his victim's throat, forcing his head up and terrified blue eyes to look at him. "You will. Because, if I have to fire you, then I won't just take your job - I'll take your licence. If you don't quit, you'll never practise medicine in this State again."

*****

The smile remained fixed on Shackleton's face as he strode back down the corridor. Part of playing any game was knowing when to bluff and Travis had fallen for his ploy hook, line and sinker.
He had never fired one of his targets - had never had their licence revoked. In fact, he wasn't even sure whether he could do such a thing. But then, that was never his intention. His game had rules and it wouldn't be any fun if there wasn't the chance - however small - that he might lose. If Travis could ride out the storm, could carry on working no matter what was thrown at him, then he would be victorious. It was as simple as that.
But, up to now, nobody had even come close. That threat, along with the other elements of phase three of his game, had always been enough to vanquish every single one of his previous targets.
He wondered if Travis might turn out to be more worthy opposition than he'd first thought. His defiance had been unexpected, but welcome nonetheless. And, although his eyes had filled with tears when he'd played his trump card - even if it was a complete lie - the young man had tried to hold on to that resistance.
"You… you can't do that," he'd whispered.
"Do you really believe that?" Shackleton's own response had been deliberately vague. "Can you afford to believe that?"
He'd left him alone then, staring at him with horrified eyes. When he had glanced back, it was to see Travis crouched on the floor and tidying up the mess with hands that he could see - even from a distance - trembled almost uncontrollably.
So the bluff hadn't been enough to send him running for the door - at least not yet. Well, that was just fine by him. There was a lot more fun to be had at the intern's expense, a lot of chances to test just how strong the young blonde really was.
Phase three of the game required a much more hands-on approach and he was eagerly anticipating what was yet to come.

*****

"So, Jesse, what time do you want me to..?" Steve trailed off as Jesse whirled to face him, a panicked look on his face. Then he seemed to realise who was talking to him and relaxed - albeit marginally.
"Steve. You… you startled me."
"No kidding." The detective's reply was sardonic. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Not a ghost… Jesse glanced around, but could see no sign of Shackleton. Not that that meant anything. The man obviously had his spies. He'd learned about the barbeque from someone, after all. Trying to keep his expression neutral, he muttered a quiet: "I'm fine," in response to Steve's concerned enquiry.
"If you're sure." Steve wasn't at all convinced but was unwilling to pry further, remembering only too well what had happened the last time he'd tried to get the intern to open up to him. "I was just wondering what time you wanted me to pick you up on Sunday."
"Um…" Jesse's eyes widened and his heart began to pound. It sounded almost as though they were arranging a date. Steve was going to 'pick him up'. Heat suffused his cheeks.
"Jesse?" The older man prompted, when it became clear that no reply was forthcoming. "Would three-thirty be okay?"
"What?" Jesse was horrified to realise that he'd lost himself in the detective's handsome features - had, in fact, been staring at him like a love-struck adolescent, trying to picture those mobile lips descending on his… He hurriedly averted his gaze. "Yeah, that… that would be fine."
Jesse was gone before Steve could even ask him his address, but the detective just shrugged to himself. His dad would know where the young man lived.
He was more concerned about Jesse's most recent behaviour. The blonde had seemed to zone out on him for a while - staring at him, but with his eyes unfocussed - almost as though he were some place else. And there was the way that he had flinched so violently when he'd first approached him.
Staring after his hurriedly departing figure, Steve began to wonder if there was more going on with the young intern than first met the eye.

*****

Well now, that's a turn up for the books, Shackleton mused to himself, having witnessed every moment of the exchange. Stepping out of his hiding place, he stared speculatively at Steve Sloan, whose attention was fixed very firmly on Travis's retreating back.
Unlike Steve, the director had read the young intern's expression only too easily. If his mind hadn't been clouded by a thousand other worries, then the detective would have been unable to help but notice it too. Travis was in love with him. Shackleton had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing out loud.
So Travis is a faggot, he thought, smiling to himself. That takes the game to a whole new level. And it will mean a whole lot more fun.
He resisted the urge to go hurrying after the fleeing intern - of goading him further. This was a revelation that had to be used wisely. A plan already formulating in his twisted mind, his smile deepened.
Any thought that Travis might actually be strong enough - might even be the one to finally beat him - was forgotten in light of this latest development. The intern no longer stood even the remotest of chances.
In fact, Shackleton doubted that he would even last another week. Allowing a brief chuckle to escape his lips, he pocketed the small device that had been previously secreted in the palm of his hand and unobtrusively removed its accompanying earpiece. He knew that he wouldn't be needing it any more. At least, not for this particular game. There would always be others and the gadget really did come in useful. He'd purchased the small UHF transmitter off the internet and had subsequently been amazed by its effectiveness. He'd been able to eavesdrop on Travis whilst remaining completely out of sight. And his other internet purchase of a high-gain microphone had allowed him to - literally - listen through walls.
But there was no longer any need to eavesdrop. He had all the information he needed. And Travis would be left to wonder how he came about that information - which would only add to his growing paranoia as he wondered who he could trust. It was all too easy and the game was as good as won.
Smiling as he sensed his imminent victory, he headed across the reception. He even nodded politely at Steve when the detective stood to one side to let him pass.

*****

"He's just not been himself for the last couple of days." Mark shook his head, his concern evident. "I don't know. I thought it was just because he's been working too hard, but now… He's nervous and jumpy. He's not concentrating well and he obviously isn't sleeping…"
"I think it might be just because he is working so hard," Amanda argued. They were discussing Jesse and she was quick to leap to his defence. She had her own theories as to why their new friend had recently become so edgy - but she could not share them with Mark. Not yet. "You know what he's like. He so wants to succeed here - he's really pushing himself."
"I wish I could believe it were that simple, Amanda. But he's a young man and he's just moved to LA." He sighed and shook his head again. "He wouldn't be the first intern who's tried to live burning the candle at both ends."
"This is Jesse we're talking about," Amanda retorted with incredulity. "He's not some kind of a party animal! He's probably staying up late at night, studying as hard as he can, worrying…" about someone else finding out what I did, she silently added.
"I suppose you're right." In spite of his words, Mark didn't sound overly convinced. Though Amanda had made perfect sense, his instincts told him that she was wrong. Steve had also expressed some concerns to him and the intern's recent behavioural change wasn't brought about merely by the fear of letting his colleagues down.
Anything else they might have said had to remain unspoken - as the object of their concern wandered into the room. He smiled vaguely in their direction before heading to the coffee pot and helping himself to what would be the first of a great many cups that day.
Mark met Amanda's eyes and he raised an eyebrow questioningly. Jesse looked like hell and they both knew it. Her theory of it being simple over-work crumbled into dust. But they had no time to discuss it further and each of them inwardly vowed to find out what was wrong with their young friend.

*****

Though Jesse didn't know that he was the cause of increasing concern amongst his colleagues, he did know that he couldn't carry on the way he was. His inability to sleep was becoming a real problem and - though he tried hard not to let it - it was beginning to affect his work.
He no longer needed Shackleton breathing down his neck to cause the little errors to creep in - his exhaustion was taking care of that for him.
The threat of having his medical licence revoked filled him with utter terror. If that were to happen, he would be forced to go home with his tail between his legs - and to endure his mother's formidable scorn at his failure. And it was something he would have to live with for the rest of his life.
He couldn't just try again in another state. Leaving Community General - for whatever reasons - would destroy what little confidence he had. After all, Shackleton wouldn't have targeted him for nothing. Maybe he'd seen just how hopeless his dream of being a doctor really was.
But he didn't know what he would do if he couldn't be a doctor. He had worked incredibly hard to get where he was - and he couldn't believe that it might all turn out to be for nothing. All those years at college and then medical school. All that studying and pushing himself as hard as he possibly could. He wasn't about to throw it all away.
But to save his career, he'd have to leave and that thought hurt him more deeply than he'd have ever thought possible. He felt as though he belonged there. He'd made friends in Mark and Amanda more easily than he ever had anywhere else - and then there was Steve.
To leave the hospital, to leave LA - because he knew he couldn't stay in that city if he did resign - would mean never seeing the detective again. And, for one who never gave his heart easily, he'd already realised that he was in love with Steve and his tattered heart wouldn't be able to withstand the pain of being broken.
There had to be another way. Even as his shift continued, Jesse sought the alternative solution that he knew had to exist. He thought ahead to Mark's barbeque the following afternoon. If he could just survive this day - and his shift the following morning - then there was at least something to look forward to. He could finally relax and forget about work and - more importantly - forget about Shackleton.
Thinking about Mark, about his work with the LAPD, about his ingenious methods for solving crimes, an idea began to form in Jesse's mind. He would go to the barbeque with the sole intention of having fun - as Mark had instructed him to. But maybe he would have those couple of beers that his mentor had mentioned. And maybe then he would find the courage to tell somebody about his problem.

*****

His shift on the Sunday ran from six am until two pm and, after another mostly sleepless night, Jesse rose before the sun. Though anxious about going into work, that anxiety had eased somewhat with his anticipation of going to the beach house that afternoon.
And Shackleton had left him completely alone the previous day. In fact, Jesse had seen neither hair nor hide of his tormentor. He nurtured the slight hope that, maybe, the director took weekends off - spent them with his family, instead of persecuting innocent interns - but he wasn't about to take that hope for granted. He still had an eight hour shift to survive.
It started off well enough. Even though Mark and Amanda both had the day off, he was happy in the knowledge that he would catch up with them later - and in more relaxed surroundings. And Steve had called him - via the hospital switchboard - to make sure that three-thirty was still "okay with him". That alone had kept the young intern on a high right through the morning.
He grabbed a quick sandwich on his break but skipped lunch altogether, thinking only of the barbeque that afternoon. Mark's culinary skills were legendary throughout the hospital and he was eager to sample them firsthand. His only worry - as far as the get together was concerned - was that he'd embarrass himself by appearing too greedy. Even though he was only small and there was barely an ounce of fat on him, his appetite could only be described as voracious.
He allowed himself a slight smile as he wondered how his new found friends would react when they saw just how much food he could put away. Glancing at his watch, his spirits lifted even higher as he realised that he had just ten more minutes to go before he could sign out. He dared not try to slip away early. Even though he'd seen no sign of Shackleton that day, he knew that - somehow - the director would find out if he did. And, after all, it was only ten minutes. Then he could go home, get changed and wait for Steve.
Lost in his thoughts, it took him a moment to register that his name had just been called over the tannoy. As the call was repeated, summoning him to the fifth floor, he sighed in irritation. It was just his luck that this would happen now - and he hoped that whatever it was wouldn't delay him for too long.
As he rode the elevator, a slight frown marred his features as he took the time to wonder just why he was needed on the fifth floor. He had no connection with any of the patients up there. Before he could even think of any possible reason, he reached his destination. He was the only person to alight there and as the door swished shut behind him, he found that he was suddenly, inexplicably, apprehensive.
The summons had been to the nurses' station, but he never made it that far. As he rounded the first corner, his heart almost stopped when he saw Shackleton leaning casually against the wall.

*****

Jesse stopped dead in his tracks. His every instinct was screaming at him to turn and run - but he remained frozen in place. Shackleton fixed him with an icy glare.
"You took your time getting here, Travis," he snarled. "A doctor is required to respond instantly to any situation. It could mean the difference between life and death."
A dozen responses sprang to Jesse's mind. For one thing, he couldn't have got there any quicker than he had - given that he'd been at the other end of the hospital when he'd been paged. For another, the call hadn't been deemed urgent and the director's own attitude suggested that this wasn't an emergency. But he said none of these things aloud. His shift was only minutes from being over and he was determined to escape without giving Shackleton any excuse to reprimand him further.
"Well, now that you're finally here." Shackleton's eyes narrowed and held a cruelty that made Jesse's apprehension increase a thousandfold. "Follow me."
The director stalked away - leaving Jesse no option but to follow. He could have turned tail and ran, got back into the elevator, signed out and gone home. By the time he reached the front desk his shift would have been officially over. But he knew that, if he did, he would pay for it dearly at some other time.
So, against his every instinct, he hurried after Shackleton. His tormentor's plans soon became abundantly clear when, rounding a corner, Jesse finally caught up with him. He was standing next to an overturned food trolley. The remnants of a dozen lunches were spilled over the floor.
"Tell me, Travis." Shackleton folded his arms and looked at the intern as though the mess were his fault alone. "Is this an acceptable sight to see in the corridors of this hospital?"
"No, sir." It had obviously been a rhetorical question, but Jesse felt the need to say something.
"So what do you intend to do about it?"
Jesse's heart sank as he saw all too clearly what was about to happen. Shackleton wasn't going to let him get away with fetching a janitor to clear up the mess. He was going to make him do the demeaning task himself. He just hoped that he wouldn't make him do it with his bare hands. Well, he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of issuing the order.
"I'll clear it up, sir," he murmured.
Don't let him get the upper hand, he thought, as his eyes alighted on the janitor's closet a little further down the hall. Don't let him take the initiative. Just get what you need, clean up and get the hell away.
He was moving even as these thoughts crossed his mind. More than anything, he didn't want to have to endure the utter humiliation of having to pick the waste up with his hands. As he opened the closet door, he didn't see the cruel smile that appeared on Shackleton's face, nor the evil intent in his eyes.
The next moment he was sent staggering forwards, as he was pushed violently from behind. Stumbling over a bucket, he crashed into a shelf and almost fell. Before he could recover completely, his world went dark as the door was slammed behind him. Then he heard the ominous sound of a key being turned in the lock.

*****

"Hey! Hey! What are you doing? You can't leave me here!" Jesse, his heart pounding, frantically hammered on the door. "Hey!"
Pausing to catch his breath, he could hear muted sounds from outside. Shackleton was still out there, probably revelling in the complete success of his twisted plan. Jesse cursed himself for playing so readily into his hands - even though a part of him knew that he'd had no chance of escaping this fate. He hadn't even needed directing to the closet.
"Please!" He banged the door again. "Let me out! Please!"
He listened hard, praying that the director wasn't as truly evil as he appeared and that he didn't plan on leaving him locked up for any great length of time. What he heard filled him with dismay. There was the muffled clatter of metal trays, the squeak of rubber wheels on linoleum. Shackleton had cleaned up the mess - which he had obviously caused - himself. There was no chance of anyone coming across it and unlocking the door behind which he was trapped.
His only hope was that he could coincide his calls for help with someone walking down the corridor. He certainly couldn't rely on Shackleton showing him any mercy.
"Hey!" He couldn't stop shouting - couldn't give up - it helped to keep his fear at bay. "Please! Let me out!"
When he next listened, only silence greeted him. Shackleton had gone. He'd left him there and wouldn't return for God knew how long and Jesse bit his lip as a sob threatened to escape him.
It had only been a few minutes and, surely, the entire purpose of this episode was just to scare him. He'd be back before too long. But, even though Jesse kept telling himself that, it did little to reassure him.
The darkness was absolute and didn't help his already tattered nerves. Fumbling blindly, his hands groped the walls on either side of the door and his heart leapt when he encountered a switch. He flicked it on, half-closing his eyes in anticipation of the sudden illumination. Nothing happened.
"No…" he moaned, flicking repeatedly at the switch, even though he knew that it was futile. Shackleton must have removed the bulb.
He hammered on the door with his fist and called for help again. Real fear was beginning to creep up on him now. Shackleton was an evil, twisted man and there was no telling when - or even if - he was planning to release him. That thought alone spurred Jesse into a prolonged bout of frantic knocking. He didn't even care about his embarrassment should somebody come across him there. He just wanted to get the hell out.
Eventually, he was forced to stop. His hand ached and his throat was raw. His cries had descended into desperate sobs and his cheeks were wet with tears.
Sliding down the wall and hugging his knees to his chest, his terror threatened to overwhelm his as he realised that, since his arrival on the fifth floor, the only other soul he'd seen had been Shackleton.

*****

"Dad, are you sure you gave me the right address?" Steve's irritation was evident in his voice, even down the phone line.
"Of course I'm sure." Mark repeated it back to him anyway, but that only confirmed that Steve was, in fact, standing outside the right apartment.
"Well, he's not answering," the detective growled.
He'd stood knocking on the door for a good ten minutes before conceding that there would be no answer. Then he'd called the hospital, only to be told that, although Jesse hadn't signed out, his shift had ended almost two hours ago and he hadn't been seen since. They had paged him anyway, but had met with no response. Finally, he'd called his dad, just to ensure that he wasn't making a complete fool of himself by knocking on the wrong door.
"Steve, have you tried the hospital? Maybe he got delayed."
"Already done it, dad and he's not there." Steve didn't think to mention the fact that Jesse hadn't signed out. He saw nothing unusual in that. In fact, he was hardly surprised that the intern had forgotten such a minor detail, if he was looking forward to the barbeque.
"What about his cellphone?" Mark made another suggestion that Steve had already come up with.
"I don't have the number." His reply was more than a little terse. He was hungry and knew that the cooking would be well underway. He just wanted to get home before all that remained was bones.
"I think I have it somewhere. I'll try from this end." The concern in Mark's voice unsettled Steve and he began to forget about his grumbling stomach and worry about his friend. "Steve, can you break into his apartment?"
"What?!" He demanded, certain that he must have misheard the question.
"Steve, you need to get inside," he stressed, with even more urgency. "Jesse wouldn't just let us down like this. He might be lying hurt or ill - and can't answer the door. When I've tried his cellphone, I'll make a few calls - find out if there have been any accidents."
Steve hung up, feeling a cold pit of icy dread settling in his stomach. His dad knew Jesse far better than he did - and Mark was seriously worried. This no longer seemed to be a case of the young intern simply forgetting about their arrangement - and Steve was forced to admit that that was highly unlikely in any case - but something was wrong.
With surprisingly steady hands, he withdrew his Swiss army knife from his pocket and carefully began working on the door lock.

*****

Jesse had no way of tracking the passage of time. The cheap analogue watch that he wore for work - not wanting to risk losing or damaging the timepiece that his father had given him, one of the few gifts that he'd ever received from the man - did not glow in the dark. Nor did it have any fancy buttons to light up the dial. The feeble light that seeped under the door barely enabled him to see his wrist - much less make out the hands on the watch's face.
He sat huddled on the floor for what felt like hours when, in reality, it may have been only minutes that passed. Periodically, he'd bang on the door as hard as he could, all the while shouting for help in a voice that was growing gradually weaker. On more than one occasion, he'd been convinced he'd heard footsteps and redoubled his efforts. But, on each occasion, no rescue had been forthcoming and he was forced to admit that his mind was playing tricks on him. Either that, or Shackleton kept returning to make sure that he was still imprisoned.
More worrying even than the darkness was the fact that he was uncomfortably warm. He'd quickly shed his white coat, but sweat still soaked his shirt and he was growing desperately thirsty. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought down the urge to panic completely. Shackleton didn't want him dead - he just wanted him to resign. He wouldn't leave him locked up long enough to come to any real harm. And surely the corridor couldn't always be totally deserted. Somebody had to pass by at some time.
That thought reminded him that he really should try knocking and shouting again, but he just didn't have the energy. He was hot and dehydrated - and his stomach was adding to his misery by reminding him he'd only eaten a sandwich that day. He thought longingly of the barbeque that he should have been present at - and wondered what his friends had made of his absence. More than anything, he regretted letting Mark down - even though the reason had been totally beyond his control - and not having been there when Steve had gone to fetch him.
Fresh tears seeped down his cheeks as hunger, once again, cramped his stomach. He wondered how long he'd been in there and, more importantly, how long this torture was going to last. Surely Shackleton wasn't a murderer. Surely he wouldn't leave him to die.
The director could have blocked off the corridor, could have found any number of reasons to prevent anyone from bypassing the closet while he waited for the inexorable passage of time to finish off his victim…
He cut that thought off abruptly. Shackleton would return. He'd come back at any moment and release him. He would laugh at him and taunt him and soon the story would be all over the hospital. How had been locked in a closet for a short while and - on his release - had been crying like a baby. It would be embarrassing. More than that, it would be humiliating. But Jesse didn't care. He was more than willing to endure the jokes at his expense - if he could only get out.

*****

Steve had eventually gone home. He'd forced his way into Jesse's apartment with an ease that had him making a mental note to have serious words with the young intern about his security, only to find it empty.
Then he'd called his dad again, but the older Sloan had also had no luck in tracking down their errant friend. There had been no accidents in which anyone of Jesse's description had been involved and he hadn't been arrested.
It was as though the young man had vanished off the face of the Earth. And Steve didn't know where else to look. It was way too soon to even consider reporting Jesse as a missing person and he didn't know enough about his background to check out his regular haunts - if, indeed, he had any. His dad had told him that Jesse's life seemed to consist exclusively of working and sleeping.
That was the whole point of inviting him to the beach house: to encourage him to slow down and relax. And to get to know him better - though Steve had reserved that particular task for himself.
But now he was nowhere to be found and Steve's worry was tempered by annoyance by the time he finally arrived home.
If he's just forgotten… he thought, even though a part of him prayed that the answer was something so innocuous. If he's just got the time wrong and is sitting having a beer somewhere…
He never got to complete the silent threat as Amanda appeared at his side, her own concern evident on her features.
"Nothing?" She demanded, before he'd even closed the door.
"I don't know where else to look." Steve let his frustration creep into his voice. The barbeque was in full swing, but he was no longer concerned about food. He didn't know why he was so worried - only two hours had passed since he was supposed to pick Jesse up - but his every instinct told him that the intern was in trouble. "Where's dad?"
"On the deck doing the cooking." Amanda glanced back in that direction. "You know Mark - he won't let his guests down." She gave Steve a sad little smile. "But his heart's not in it."
Steve merely scowled in response.

*****

In spite of his predicament, Jesse's exhaustion stole up on him and he drifted into a fitful doze. His hunger and thirst never allowed him to rest completely and the oppressive heat had him shifting uncomfortably.
Even as he slept, his ordeal continued as his mind tortured him with thoughts of what he was missing out on. He could picture Mark standing over the barbeque, easily flipping burgers and ribs as he chatted and laughed with Steve and Amanda. He could smell the tantalising aromas, could almost taste the tender meat.
He awoke with a start as his stomach cramped painfully and momentarily panicked when he couldn't understand where he was - and he couldn't see anything at all. His mouth felt like sandpaper and he struggled to swallow, to try and take the edge off his raging thirst. Gradually his memory returned to him and panic flared in his chest as he realised that he was still locked up.
He had never suffered from claustrophobia before, but he could feel it creeping up on him - clutching at his heart and threatening to send him plummeting into hysteria.
"Let me out!" He banged on the door again - even though he knew that both his actions and his words were feeble. "Please... Help me…" The words descended into a sob.
His eyes closed again as desperation swept over him.
"Help me…" He tried to find the energy to shout some more, but he was no longer even sure if he had spoken the words aloud.

*****

The barbeque was long over and the guests had all gone home. All except one. Amanda sat on the couch sipping at her coffee and wondering if the knowledge that she alone had about their missing friend would be helpful in tracking him down.
She didn't want to say anything - didn't want to break the confidence - even though she knew that both Mark and Steve would easily accept the fact that Jesse was gay. She wanted to talk to him about it first, to convince him to confide in them himself. What she wanted after that was to gently guide Steve and Jesse into each others arms - God knew, they both deserved some happiness in their lives - but that could wait.
Right now, their only priority was finding him. Midnight had come and gone and they had long since run out of ideas. But could the fact that he was homosexual give them a clue to his whereabouts? Amanda asked herself the same question for the thousandth time. She supposed that it could have suggested to them that he was safe in the arms of a lover - although she seriously doubted that. Jesse had struck her as a very lonely young man.
Other than that, she didn't know how it could help. And she'd made a promise to a friend who desperately needed someone he felt he could trust. She couldn't betray him. Her internal battle won, Amanda held her silence.
"It's been almost twelve hours." Mark's concern had been steadily growing and now it was plain on his face. "There must be something we could be doing."
"He's a grown man, dad," Steve answered, feeling utterly useless himself. "Even if I were to report him as missing, nothing would be done. There's any number of places he could be."
"But he should have been here! I know that we haven't known him for very long, but I also know that he takes his commitments very seriously. He just wouldn't let us down like this. If for some reason he couldn't make it then, at the very least, he would have called."
"Mark's right, Steve," Amanda spoke up. "He's not home, he's not answering his cell. Something's wrong."
"What do you want me to do? Set up a search party?" The detective's frustration made him terse. "We wouldn't even know where to start looking. We know nothing about his background, nothing about his hobbies, or his friends…" He trailed off, his anger quickly dissipating. He ran a weary hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, I just…"
"It's okay." Amanda leant over and gave him a friendly pat on the knee. "You're just worried. We all are."
"And it's getting very late." Mark stretched and got to his feet. "We really should get some rest - there's not a lot else we can do tonight. Amanda, honey, why don't you take the guest room?"
"Thanks, Mark. I really don't feel like driving." She too stood up.
Steve wanted to argue - to protest that they couldn't simply give up and go to bed when Jesse was still missing - but he reluctantly admitted to himself that they could do nothing more. And sitting around talking wasn't going to help find him. Maybe in the morning, with a clear head, they would find the answers they sought.

*****

"I'm going to the hospital." Mark's simple announcement didn't take either Steve or Amanda by surprise. All three of them had slept badly and they had risen with the dawn - making even more phone calls to try and find out if there had been any news on their errant friend.
"I'll go with you," Steve responded instantly. "It wouldn't hurt to ask a few questions, find out when Jesse was last seen. It'll give us a head start if…"
If he stays missing long enough for me to start an official investigation. He didn't say the words aloud, but he didn't have to. Jesse had been missing all night and the implications were starting to take a sinister turn.
"I'll go in, too," Amanda added - glad that, with the morning, they were finally able to start doing something. "Is Jesse supposed to be working today?"
"Not until this afternoon," Mark answered. "And if he doesn't show up for his shift…"
"Let's not think the worst, dad," Steve interrupted - even though his own grim tone suggested that he himself was doing exactly that. "There still could be a perfectly innocent explanation for this."
"I suppose you're right." But there was no conviction in the older man's voice. "Maybe we'll learn more when we get to the hospital."
Steve drove his dad into work, with Amanda following closely behind. He didn't utilise his sirens - a missing intern hardly constituted an emergency - but he did drive to the very edge of the speed limits.
"Is there anybody still working who would have been on shift with Jesse yesterday?" Steve asked, as they entered the hospital. He knew that a lot of the staff worked long hours, so it was a distinct possibility.
"Yes, I'm sure we'll be able to find someone." Mark headed straight for the front desk. "But first, I want to check the timesheet - see what time he signed out."
"Oh, he didn't," his son belatedly informed him. "When I called yesterday they told me that…"
"What?" Mark stopped dead in his tracks as he absorbed what he had just been told. "Steve, why didn't you mention that sooner?"
"I…" The detective couldn't understand the reason for the shocked expression on his father's face. "I didn't think it was important."
"There are very strict rules in place, son." He strove to keep his voice calm - it wasn't Steve's fault that he hadn't known about the hospital's procedures. "If Jesse didn't sign out, that means that he's still here." He glanced around the reception. "Somewhere."

*****

Jesse was so lost in his own misery that, at first, he barely registered a sound that wasn't in keeping within the confines of his prison. He thought his mind was playing tricks again when he heard the faint whistling.
Then he heard something else, something that sounded like the rattle of keys. Jesse leapt to his feet, then cried out as cramped muscles protested at the sudden movement. He raised his fist determined that, this time, he would make someone hear him. But before he could even bring his hand into contact with the wood, he heard the unmistakable sound of the lock being turned.
It was over. It was finally over. Giving no thought as to who might be on the other side, Jesse wrenched the handle down and flung the door open. His eyes instinctively closed as sudden light assaulted them and he heard a cry of shock as he pushed past whoever his saviour had been. He didn't stay around long enough to find out who it was - not even caring if it was Shackleton. He needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and the closet, so that he wouldn't find himself trapped in there again.
He heard a voice call out after him - not Shackleton, he distantly realised - but he couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to. He stumbled blindly down the corridor with absolutely no destination in mind, gasping in clean, pure air - grateful to finally be free.
But the surge of adrenalin that had sent him fleeing from his prison quickly passed and soon reaction set in. He collapsed against the wall, his legs barely able to support him and he realised that he was shaking violently. And his thirst returned to assail him. Somehow, unconsciously, he had made his way to one of the water fountains that were situated along the corridors and he staggered the final few yards towards it. He drank greedily, spilling as much as he swallowed. Even tainted by chemicals, the water had never tasted so beautiful.
"Hey!" The voice called out again and Jesse reluctantly straightened up. A man in a boiler suit was approaching him. In one hand he clutched his white coat which, Jesse realised, he'd left on the floor of the closet. "Man, you nearly gave me a heart attack." The janitor regarded him with concern. "Are you okay? What the hell were you doing in there?"
Jesse stared at him helplessly for a moment, realising that that was a question he'd be asked a lot. And he could hardly tell the truth about what had happened.
"I…" His voice was hoarse and he swallowed dryly before trying again. "It was an accident."
Snatching his coat from the startled man's hand, Jesse hurried away before he could question him further.

*****

It wasn't until he got to the staircase that Jesse thought to check his watch. He had shied away from the elevator - knowing that it was unreasonable, but unwilling to have to endure another confined space. He wondered how long the fear would stay with him. Surely his imprisonment hadn't lasted long enough to induce permanent claustrophobia.
That thought, inescapably, led to him wondering just how long he'd been locked up for. When he did look at his watch, he saw that it was close to seven o'clock.
Five hours, he thought to himself. God, it felt like so much longer…
Then something penetrated the confusion in his mind. The light that had shone through the windows hadn't looked like dusk. And why would a janitor be starting work at that time in the evening?
Jesse stumbled out of the stairwell at the next door he found and his eyes were immediately drawn to the clock on the wall. It gave him the same message as his watch - seven o'clock. Shaking his head slightly, he wandered down the corridor. There was a food trolley outside one of the doors.
Ignoring the strange looks that were being aimed in his direction at his dishevelled appearance, he lifted the lid of one of the meals. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast… Obviously somebody's breakfast…
He dropped the lid as though he had been burnt as his horrified mind processed what he was seeing. It was morning. No wonder his captivity had felt so torturously long. He hadn't been trapped for five hours. It had been almost seventeen.
Shock assailed his already weakened system and he found himself back in the stairwell with no conscious memory as to how he'd got there. He sank down to sit on one of the steps, not trusting his legs to carry him any further, and put his head in his hands.
Seventeen hours. Almost three-quarters of a day. The knowledge left him feeling sick to his stomach. Shackleton had left him locked up, with no food or water - and no intention of releasing him. The director must have known that someone would happen upon him eventually, but he can't have known when that would be. And he hadn't cared.
Jesse began to tremble violently as he realised just what a dangerous enemy he had inadvertently made - and he couldn't help but wonder just how far Shackleton would go to drive him out of Community General.

Forward to part two

Return to Diagnosis Murder adult page

Return to Diagnosis Murder page

Return to Mainpage