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MURDER BY PROXY
By Cass
"You know, Travis, people like you never think they're going to
get what's coming to them. Well, watch out, because one day, you will!"
Jesse cringed. Not so much from the words - being an ER doctor as well as
an amateur sleuth, working alongside Mark Sloan and his police Lieutenant
son Steve meant that he wasn't exactly new to threats - as from the vulnerable
position in which he found himself. The taller man loomed over him menacingly,
having managed to corner him in the storeroom. His hands were flat against
the wall on either side of Jesse's head - effectively trapping him - and
his face was mere inches from the other young man's - albeit slightly above
him.
Jesse had nowhere to go and he was sufficiently intimidated by the other
man's height and close proximity to instinctively freeze himself to the
wall. He hated violence - it was something he witnessed too frequently every
day both in his job and his adopted profession. He could not understand
why people should want to hurt others. Despite this, on some level, it fascinated
him, which was why he was so enthusiastic about helping Mark and Steve solve
the murders which seemed to occur with alarming regularity in LA. It wasn't
as if he could do anything for the victim at that point anyway, much as
he would like to; that need was satisfied by his job, which he took very
seriously. He believed being a doctor was a privilege - one which should
never be abused. Saving lives was something which came instinctively - and
he enjoyed doing it because he hated seeing people in pain. It wasn't some
vain quest for glory, more a deep-seated need to help people - which spilled
out sometimes in his endeavours to assist Mark and Steve with the various
murder cases in which they became embroiled.
Feeling the way he did about his chosen profession, it drove him nuts when
he saw a doctor abusing their power, or thinking more about themselves than
their patients. Danny Jerrold, one of the other residents under Mark's aegis,
was a good and competent doctor, but he was arrogant and careless. He treated
his patients with thinly disguised disdain and had a nasty habit of talking
over them instead of to them. Danny had once confided in Jesse that he intended
to become a surgeon as quickly as he could so he could begin 'raking in
the cash' as he had put it. This had appalled the other young resident.
And in his rush to reach his goal Danny had completely neglected the human
side of his profession. A good doctor should not simply have skilled hands
but a caring heart and the ability to listen. These were all things which
were second nature to Jesse.
Which was what had led him to his current predicament. Danny had caught
him just as he was about to leave a 40-hour shift for some well-earned sleep.
The other resident had practically begged him to speak to Mark and put in
a good word for him because he was convinced the older doctor, Head of Internal
Medicine at the hospital, was not going to sponsor his application for surgery
at Community General. Jesse, very uncomfortable at being put on the spot
and having his close friendship with Mark taken advantage of, had, nevertheless,
agreed, albeit reluctantly. That had seemed to placate the other man, although
it had not calmed him down much. He seemed hyper - energy rolling off him
in waves, and there was something slightly 'off' about his behaviour that
seeded the flowering of suspicion in Jesse's mind.
Ten minutes later, however, the resident had approached him again, this
time in a much more volatile state, his excess energy having now transformed
into fury. He had encountered Mark, who had told him that he would not be
recommending him and had then attempted to explain his reasons. Danny was
furious and, as he emerged from the office where Mark had been left hanging
mid explanation, had come across Jesse again. He had always envied the other
young man. Jesse's inherent skill as a doctor, his easy friendship with
Mark Sloan, plus his popularity amongst the staff at Community General were
all factors which did not exactly endear him to the likes of Danny Jerrold.
And now, having been turned down by Jesse's friend and mentor, Dr Mark Sloan,
Jesse thus became a target for Danny's rage. The other resident had tried
to deflect Danny's wrath, although inwardly, he seethed at the accusations
of unprofessionalism and favouritism which Danny had hurled in Mark's direction.
The young man not only considered Mark Sloan a second father, he also respected
him a great deal in his capacity as a doctor. He hadn't reached his important
position on staff by luck. He was brilliant and highly regarded by many
people; a doctor who embodied the word 'compassion'.
Jesse didn't think this would cut any ice with Danny, however, and wisely
refrained from any vehement defence of Mark, focusing instead on the other
man's flushed features, rapid breathing and hyperactive manner. His diagnosis
made, he had then practically dragged Danny into the empty storeroom - in
order to keep the ensuing conversation private - and had made patently clear
to him the real reason behind Mark Sloan's refusal of his application for
tenure - Danny's obvious use of stimulants.
Unfortunately, this accusation of drug use - albeit true - had only served
to enrage Danny further and before he even realised what was happening,
Jesse had been backed into the corner in which he was now cowering, being
subjected to blatant threats as Danny loomed over him menacingly .
"I can help you, Danny," Jesse had temporised, turning his head
aside as the taller man's face came even closer to his own. "There
are some excellent programs for this problem. You're not alone. You'd be
surprised …"
"Shut up!" hissed the other man, his brown eyes blazing. Despite
his vulnerable position, Jesse noticed that Danny's pupils were dilated,
his breathing more rapid than ever and he could swear that he could actually
see the quickened heartbeats thumping in the intern's chest. "You think
you'e so superior, don't you, Travis?" Danny demanded. "Mark Sloan's
little 'pet doctor', always trotting round after him like some over-eager
puppy. Well, he can't protect you forever. One day soon …" He
left the rest of the threat unspoken, jabbing his finger savagely into Jesse's
right shoulder.
Stung by the words, his shoulder throbbing from the unprovoked attack, Jesse
didn't move as the other man stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
A moment later, the young ER resident remembered to breathe again.
Mark Sloan was passing the storeroom when Jesse emerged from it and smiled
warmly at his young friend. "Hello, Jess," he said, by way of
greeting. "I thought you were on your way home?" Consulting his
watch, his smile turned into a slight frown as he noted the time. "You
know, you really should have gone by now," he continued, sternly. "You've
been here nearly 41 hours as it is. You've done an excellent day's work
- heck, you've done practically two of them. You deserve a rest. D'you think
you'll be all right to drive?"
Jesse, distracted by his recent encounter in the storeroom, had hardly noticed
Mark's sudden presence beside him. As the older man reached out to place
a concerned hand on his shoulder, he unwittingly flinched and then cursed
silently as he realised, belatedly, who it was. Mark was bound to realise
that something was wrong. He had the sharpest mind of anyone Jesse knew
- it was what made him such a good amateur detective - and part of what
sometimes drive Steve crazy.
"Jesse? Are you all right?" Mark's frown increased as he studied
his friend carefully. The sudden recoil when he had reached out to touch
him had him a little concerned and as the younger man turned to face him,
he frowned. The expression on Jesse's face was carefully neutral now but
Mark could have sworn he had seen a look of panic flash across those expressive
features before the younger man could prevent it.
" I'm fine, Mark," said his protégé with a smile
- which, the older doctor noticed with increasing concern, did not reach
his eyes. "I'm just a little tired."
Mark didn't believe him. Jesse was incapable of lying. Every emotion he
felt was evident on his face and in the large blue eyes which, he noted,
were looking everywhere but at him, a sure sign that the younger man was
trying to hide something. "Are you sure that's all it is?" he
pressed. Maybe he could get his young friend to talk to him, open up about
whatever it was that had got him so rattled. Because it was becoming patently
clear to Mark that something had.
"I'm sure," came the terse reply. "Look, Mark, I… I
gotta go. I .. um .. you're right, I should've gone home already. I'll see
you tomorrow."
Mark shook his head. "No, you won't," he said. "You're taking
the next two days off."
"Wha .." Jesse stared at him, open-mouthed. "B .. But I …"
"Jess, you just worked two double shifts. You're exhausted. I'm not
having my best doctor worked to death. We can manage without you .. just,"
he teased. "Go home, and I'll see you in two days."
Jesse felt warmth flood through him at Mark's words. 'My best doctor'
It was so typical of the older man. As a teacher he was always gently encouraging
and silently approving when someone did well, but verbal praise was hard
earned and never offered lightly. That it slipped out so easily now spoke
volumes about his mentor's opinion of him and the agitation he had been
feeling after his encounter with Danny was dispelled as he accepted both
the words and the caring behind them. "Okay," he acquiesced, smiling
shyly up at the other man. "Thanks, Mark."
"Don't mention it," came the brusque reply. Then a fatherly hand
was placed on his shoulder. "And Jess, if you ever want to talk - you
know where I am."
This time the smile reached the blue eyes as Jesse acknowledged and accepted
his concern. "I know. Thanks."
As the conversation ended and the two men took their leave of each other, a hidden observer scowled. Danny Jerrold hated Mark Sloan. The man had seriously dented his chances of becoming a surgeon like his father and grandfather, and without the prestige and money which that position could bring, his debts would continue to mount and would never be paid. The other doctor would pay for what he had done. Since their aborted conversation, Danny had been considering what he could do to hurt the old man and now, having witnessed the scene between Mark and Jesse, he had come up with an idea. What he had in mind would not only gain him revenge for his unfair treatment by Sloan, it would also be fun for him. Jesse Travis had had things his own way for far too long. Dr Sloan's blue-eyed boy was about to discover that no-one messed with Danny Jerrold and got away with it.
Jesse yawned copiously as he entered his apartment later that night. Despite his exhaustion, he had stopped off at the local all-night grocery store. His cupboards had been bare before his two-day stint at the hospital, helping to deal with the influx of patients from two fires, a bus crash and several random shootings. It had been a busy 40 hours and all he wanted was his bed. He had completely erased from his mind the unsettling conversation with Danny Jerrold.
Opening the door of his apartment, however, he froze in shock.
"It looks like they got in through the French windows," stated
the cop who had introduced himself as 'officer Benbow' as Jesse stared miserably
around his wrecked apartment.
"There've been a few break ins in this area," said his partner.
"We've been advising people to take extra precautions. Burglar alarms,
extra locks, that kind of thing."
Jesse smiled wanly. It was a little late to be thinking about extra security
now, he reflected. His apartment was in ruins. Furniture was overturned
and broken, crockery and ornaments smashed, paint daubed on the walls and
the carriage clock, a present from his now deceased grandparents and a few
other items - mostly of sentimental value only - gone.
"Do you have anywhere you can stay tonight, sir?" asked the second
officer, her tone gentle. The young man looked as though he was in shock.
His face was pale, his eyes slightly glazed. It was such a shame. He had
informed them that he was a doctor who had just arrived home after a gruelling
shift, only to discover that his home had been vandalised and precious items
had been stolen. Still, it could have been much worse, she ruminated. He
could have been home when the thieves had struck - like the man down the
block who was now lying in a coma in the local hospital. He was not expected
to recover. "Sir?"
Jesse, jolted out of his own melancholic thoughts, looked at her uncomprehendingly
for a moment. "What?"
"I asked if you have anywhere you can stay," she repeated, more
firmly. "We need to process the crime scene and it could take some
time. You look beat," she added as an afterthought.
Another sad little half-smile. "I am," he admitted. His eyes strayed
to his watch. 2:00am. It was far too late to disturb Mark and Steve. Besides,
this was his problem and he didn't need to bother his friends with it. "I
guess I could go back to the hospital," he said, tiredly. "There's
the on call room. I could sleep there. At least I'll be in plenty of time
for my next shift."
The lighthearted comment was anything but, although the female office smiled
at the attempt. Then she patted his arm. "That's a good idea. Why don't
you gather up some clean clothes and we'll drive you over there. The forensic
guys will be all over this place and they won't want us in the way."
Jesse frowned. "Forensics?" he echoed, curiously. "I thought
this was just a break in?"
"Oh it is, it is," she rushed to reassure him. "But it may
also be part of an ongoing investigation. We need to establish if that's
the case or if it's just a one-off."
"Oh," he said. "I … I guess I'll go get my stuff, then
…"
"You do that. Oh, and sir? Try not to disturb anything, okay?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I know," he said, ruefully. "I have a friend
who's a cop. I know the drill."
"Good."
One hour later he was back at the hospital. The on-call room was quiet
and, fortunately, deserted. He felt guilty about stealing the bed from the
doctor on duty but he needed his rest. And besides, he had every intention
of going back on duty as soon as he woke up, instead of taking the next
two days off as Mark had advised him. He might as well. He couldn't go home
any time soon.
As soon as his head touched the pillow, he drifted off to sleep. It was
an uneasy rest, however, punctuated by nightmare images which he couldn't
hold on to long enough to figure out what they were. He awoke with a start
when someone gripped his shoulder, practically falling off the bed in his
efforts to get away.
"Jesse!"
"Wha … wha …?? Oh … Mark!"
The older doctor was studying him with mingled concern and puzzlement. "Jesse,
what are you doing here?" he demanded. "Didn't I send you home
last night?"
"La .. last night?" he echoed, stupidly. Then his senses returned
and his mind cleared. "Oh, right. Last night."
"Well?" Mark was regarding him with considerable bewilderment.
"What are you doing back here?"
The younger doctor shrugged. "My apartment was broken into," he
explained, neutrally, trying to make the event sound less than it was. "The
police had it taped off as a crime scene and I had nowhere else to go."
Whoops. He hadn't intended to say it quite like that.
Sure enough, Mark's face darkened. "Nowhere to go?" he echoed.
"Jess, why didn't you call me? You know you're welcome at the beach
house at any time."
Jesse smiled weakly. "I … I … well, it was 2:00am in the
morning," he said. "I didn't want to disturb you so late. Besides,
I can handle it." He hadn't intended to say that, either.
"Handle what?" Mark demanded, his brows furrowing in confusion.
"Jesse, is there something you're not telling me? Why have the police
taped off your apartment? That's not standard procedure for a burglary."
"It … it's part of an ongoing investigation," stammered the
young man. "I mean .. it might be part of an ongoing investigation.
Then again, it's probably not," he temporised, as he saw the worry
flare in his mentor's eyes. "It's probably just a break in," he
finished, lamely.
"Well, whatever it is, I'm not having you sleeping here when there's
a perfectly good guest room - or two - at the beach house," said Mark,
firmly. "I won't have any arguments from you, young man. You're going
to stay with us until this investigation or whatever it is is finished."
Jesse nodded, too tired to put up any resistance. In truth, he was grateful
that Mark had made the offer. He really didn't feel up to completing another
shift and then crashing out in the hospital. As comfortable as the on-call
beds were, there was nothing to compare with the real thing in a nice room,
where the sounds and smells of the hospital could not intrude. "Okay,"
he murmured, around a yawn. "That sounds great …"
Mark scrutinised his young friend carefully. He looked done in. Exhaustion
hung around him like a shroud and the shock of arriving home to find his
home burglarised had obviously traumatised him. He normally put up more
of a fight than this. "Are you okay to drive?" he asked. "I'm
a little worried about you getting behind the wheel of a car in your state."
"I'll be fine," Jesse said, dismissively. Then he remembered how
he had got to the hospital. "Oh, I don't have my car," he went
on. "The police drove me here."
"Then I'll take you." Mark's tone brooked no argument and he wasn't
about to get one. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" wondered Jesse as Mark took him by the arm
and practically pulled him out of the oncall room.
"We're going to the canteen where you are going to have something to
eat and drink, because I doubt you had anything when you got home last night,"
said Mark, firmly, correctly assuming that Jesse had had no time to partake
of any food since he had left Community General the previous day. "Then
I'm going to get you to the beach house and you are going to go to bed."
Jesse smiled. Once Mark was in 'parent mode' it was nigh on impossible to
stop him. He had had experience with this particular facet of his mentor's
personality on several occasions. In fact, he reflected, as they made their
way toward the elevator, if he hadn't known any better he would have suspected
that it was something that the older man reserved just for him. But of course
he did know better. Of course, he hadn't noticed Mark behaving this way
toward Amanda lately and Steve would never stand for it. Still …
"Why didn't you call me?"
"Because you're a homicide detective, Steve, and this was a burglary."
Jesse believed his logic was perfectly reasonable, and that he was remaining
remarkably calm given the circumstances. Steve had started yelling at him
as soon as he had made his appearance at the dinner table after his much-needed
sleep in the guest room at the beach house. Mark had obviously related the
reasons for his unexpected presence in their home that day and Steve was
now full of righteous indignation at being kept out of the loop.
"You're my friend, Jesse," the detective pointed out, a little
less harshly. The young doctor was looking a little frayed round the edges
and he was beginning to feel slightly guilty for laying into him like he
had. "Don't you think I deserved to know?"
Jesse stared at him open-mouthed. "At 2:00am in the morning?"
he exclaimed. "C'mon, Steve, be honest. You can't tell me you would've
wanted me to wake you at that time just because my apartment was broken
into. Besides," he went on, "I called the cops and there was nothing
they could do except ask me questions and, before you ask, no, I don't know
who could've done it."
"You didn't see anyone suspicious around the complex?" Steve queried,
unable to prevent himself from slipping into 'interrogative mode'. "Is
there someone who holds a grudge against you, maybe? Or maybe …"
"Steve! Steve!" Jesse interjected hurriedly. "Will you stop?
I answered all these questions last night! No, I didn't see anyone suspicious
around the complex - I was exhausted last night. All I wanted to do was
get home and sleep. And no, there is no-one who holds a grudge. It was just
a simple break in. It was probably just kids. They daubed paint all over
the walls."
Damn. He was going to have to learn to keep his mouth shut. As he uttered
the last damning sentence, Steve's expression darkened and Mark frowned.
"There was paint on the walls?" said the older doctor, in a shocked
voice. "You didn't tell me about that this morning."
The young doctor smiled half-heartedly. "I ..I didn't?" he stammered,
nervously. "Uh … no, I … I guess I forgot about that. Uh
… well, you know, with being tired and all, I guess … um …
look, guys, it's probably nothing. There's no need to get all worked up
over it. Uh … hey, Mark, what's that great smell from the kitchen?"
Mark recognised a diversionary tactic when he saw it. Jesse was obviously
feeling besieged and was trying to both diffuse the situation - which was
fast spinning out of his control - and divert attention from a crime which
had left him more than a little shaken. "Okay, Jess," he said,
gently, winding a comforting arm around the slender shoulders and exchanging
significant glances with his son over the top of the blond head, "You're
probably right. It's probably some kids who broke in and decided to leave
their mark. And as for the great smell … that's pasta a la Sloan. I
made a big pot, so I hope you're hungry."
His words had the desired effect. Jesse visibly relaxed as the intense questioning
to which he was being subjected ceased. "I'm always hungry," he
said, with a brave smile.
"A truer word was never spoken," put in Steve wryly, as he followed
the two of them into the kitchen. "I sometimes wonder where you put
it all."
Jesse shot a grateful look up at his friend and Steve smiled back at him.
But privately he made a promise to himself. First thing tomorrow he was
going to take a look at the investigation into the burglary - just to satisfy
himself that that was all it was.
Two days later, Jesse was back on duty. Mark had convinced him to stay
at the beach house for the foreseeable future - his cause aided by the young
man's fondness for the older doctor's fancy cooking, which he had slyly
added as an incentive.
The ER was hectic. An outbreak of gastro enteritis at a school, food poisoning
at a wedding and several broken bones all served to create chaos. Jesse
thrived on the pressure and his good humour and expert diagnoses helped
diffuse a lot of potentially explosive situations. Mark, observing his protégé
when he had a spare minute inbetween cases, smiled proudly. The young man
was going to make a fine addition to the ER team. Of course, he couldn't
tell him yet that his fate had already been decided. It would be unfair
not only to Jesse - who still had to operate in his current capacity - but
also to the other residents. The older doctor was already planning the celebratory
party, however. It was something pleasant to concentrate on whilst he attended
to yet one more victim of the wedding party.
Several hours later, Jesse wandered into the locker room, trying hard
to stifle a yawn and not quite succeeding. His back ached, his head throbbed
and there was a nasty stain on his white coat which was making him feel
vaguely nauseous. His spare coat was in his locker, together with a can
of coke he'd managed to procure from the vending machine that morning just
prior to the rush of patients. Amanda had offered to put it away for him
until he had the time to drink it and he certainly felt the need for it
now - together with a couple of painkillers for his head.
The white coated tablets were on the top shelf and, reaching for them blindly,
he swallowed them both at once with a large gulp of the cola - his favourite
brand. His thirst wasn't entirely quenched by the time he finished it, but
he certainly felt a little more human. The change of clothing helped a little
too. His headache hadn't diminished any, however, and he leaned his forehead
against the locker door for a few moments, hoping the coolness of the metal
would help decrease some of the pain. It didn't. The throbbing behind his
eyes was intense and he knew he should really eat something in order to
give the pills the chance to work, but he hadn't been thinking about food
when he came in here. Scrabbling about in his locker produced a candy bar.
He didn't know how old it was but it was at least unopened and it would
do for now. He sank onto the bench by the window whilst he ate it and tried
to will his headache to go away. Eventually, something - either the pills,
the food or sheer willpower started to work and the throbbing decreased
to a more tolerable level. He yawned again, then glanced at his watch. Whoops.
He'd been in here 35 minutes. Mark would wonder where he was. Time to get
back into the fray. With a cat-like stretch, he rose to his feet, wobbling
unsteadily for a moment or two before stepping over to his locker again.
Looking longingly at his jacket for a moment or two - it would be hours
more before he could don it to go home - he closed the locker and started
for the door. He never reached it.
Without warning, the room started to widen and contract alarmingly. He could
no longer feel the floor and yet the ceiling seemed completely out of his
reach. He knew he should feel alarmed by this but strangely, he felt nothing
but a sense of innocent wonder and a small giggle escaped him. He swayed
from side to side, but even as he toppled to the floor, he felt no impact.
It was as though he were impervious to pain. This was rather confusing but
gave him a feeling of invulnerability - as if he could do anything without
feeling the consequences. For a while he remained where he was, feeling
strangely detached from everything around him. Voices echoed around his
head, seemingly originating from outside the room, but he didn't care to
call out and a little voice was telling him that if he did, he would frighten
them with his behaviour. He didn't want that so he stayed where he was.
"You're strong now," the little voice said. "You
can do anything." Indeed, he believed that he could. He rose to
his feet and an indeterminate amount of time later found himself in the
stairwell to the roof, completely unaware of how he had got there. "You
could probably fly if you wanted," the little voice said now. "Why
don't you try?" Jesse thought about this for about a second then
realised that the voice was right. He could do anything if he put his mind
to it. Flying was no big deal. All he had to do was launch himself into
the wind and let it do all the work … With a vacant grin, he started
up the stairs to the roof …
"Have you seen Jesse?"
Mark Sloan had been looking for his colleague and friend for some considerable
time. The young man had taken a brief respite from the action in the ER
- at Mark's behest - and had not been seen since. The older doctor's concern
over the burglary had not dissipated one iota since it had taken place,
although the investigation had turned up nothing out of the ordinary and
the police had concluded that it was simply a one-off. Even Steve had been
unable to find anything which might point toward suspicious circumstances.
Still, Mark hadn't been able to shake his feeling of impending doom and
Jesse's inexplicable disappearance whilst on shift was only serving to strengthen
this reaction.
The nurse to whom he had addressed the query shook her head, then watched
as Doctor Sloan wandered off in the direction of the locker room - where
Jesse had last been seen - to try to locate the errant young doctor. The
frown on his face was not one of anger, mused the nurse. More one of a deep
anxiety. She wondered what he could have to be worried about. Doctor Travis
had probably gone to see one of the patients he had tended - they were all
ensconced on different wards now and he took his work and his patients very
seriously, often doing follow up visits to ensure they were recovering.
With a sigh, she returned to writing up the chart she had been working on
when Doctor Sloan had interrupted her. Then a scream rent the air.
"Dr Sloan! Dr Sloan! Come quickly! It's Dr Travis!"
Jesse was contemplating the sidewalk with a kind of detached curiosity.
There were lots of ants milling around down there … no, those were
people. He giggled again. Wouldn't they get a surprise when he soared above
them, showing off his newfound prowess?
He stepped up onto the parapet and allowed the wind to whistle around him,
feeling his coat flapping wildly in the draft. It felt ten sizes too large
for him and his arms seemed to have grown longer and wider on his journey
to his current location. He glanced down again and smiled. This was going
to be so great. Everyone was going to be so impressed and he could tell
tales about this for years. Breathing into the wind, he prepared himself,
then …
"Jesse!"
The sound of his name whispered through the roaring gale which was assaulting
his ears and he frowned.
"Jess!"
There it was again. Curious, he turned, and saw a familiar figure approaching
him. It was odd and distorted, as if he was watching it through some kind
of fairground magic mirror, but it looked and sounded like Mark Sloan.
"Hey Mark," he drawled. "Look at me - gonna fly!"
Mark's face was fuzzy and seemed to be wavering but there was an expression
of fear on it. "Jess, why don't you come down from there?" he
said, calmly.
Jesse shook his head. "No," he replied, thoughtfully. "No,
I don't think I should. See, I'm gonna fly today, Mark. Gonna show everyone
how good I am."
"We already know how good you are," Mark said. His teeth seemed
to be gritted, Jesse noticed and he wondered how the man could manage to
speak so normally with gritted teeth. "You don't have to prove anything
to us."
"I know I don't have to, Mark," he replied, patronizingly.
"I want to."
There were other people on the roof now - fuzzy figures behind Mark, all
clamouring to get within reach of him. All trying to stop him from reaching
his goal. They were all jealous. They knew that once he flew, he would prove
he was just as good as any of them and they didn't want him to do that.
Well, he would show them. He would show them all! He turned away from them
all and breathed deeply, preparing himself.
"Jess." Mark's voice was closer now. It sounded like he was right
beside him. Jesse glanced down and discovered that his friend was standing
beside the parapet, within touching distance. He flinched and then caught
himself as he nearly fell off the wall. There was a distant scream, a simultaneous
indrawn breath from the onlookers on the roof and a whispered 'No!' from
Mark.
"It's okay," he assured the older man with a benign smile. "Everything's
okay. I'm just gonna do this then we can do what you want. Okay?"
Mark looked at him. He smiled back. "Jess, I know you want to fly,
and you're going to be great at it, but … do you really think here
is the best place for it?"
The young doctor scowled. What was he talking about? He couldn't understand.
The words were getting all jumbled up and he was fading in and out. He wondered
what that would feel like when he was flying. Would it ruin the experience
for him? "Wh… whaddya mean?" he mumbled.
"I mean, this roof isn't very high," Mark went on. "You're
not going to get the momentum you need for a really good flight. We should
go to a higher building, get a really good wind and you can really show
everyone how it's done."
That sounded pretty reasonable, actually. Hell, if Mark was gonna help him
find somewhere taller … "You … you're gonna come with me?"
he asked in a small voice. Suddenly, he didn't want to be alone any more.
He'd been alone a lot.
The older man nodded. "Of course I'll come with you," he promised.
"So, shall we go?"
Jesse flinched from the hand the other man was holding out - although he
wanted company and suddenly had a need to be held, the prospect of other
flesh touching his was totally abhorrent. Gingerly, he climbed down from
the parapet and, with Mark shadowing him, made his way across the roof.
He didn't see the silent signal between Mark and the other people who had
come to witness his flight, was never aware of the way the older man stuck
protectively close to him, but as they made their way down the stairs, he
thanked his luck in finding such a good friend.