Storm Front part three

The corridor he found himself in was subtly different; only it took a moment for the alteration to sink in. Jesse was alerted to it by the waft of ocean breeze teasing his nose. The door at the end was ajar. Beyond the glaring whiteness was a sliver of blue and gold. He wasted no time on walking or jogging. He ran, as fast as he could, quickly nearing the doorway. And then the rug he hadn't noticed was yanked from under his feet and he fell hard to the floor. He lay there, winded, for what seemed like an age, but he didn't let his gaze waver from the beautiful sight of the beach just the other side of the door. The sun was shining, the sand freshly washed clean and the breakers were perfect for surfing. The whole scene was idyllic, and it was very nearly within reach, but not quite.

Jesse tried to get up, and promptly banged his head on the ceiling. Like before, the walls and ceiling had encroached. There was only enough room for him to crawl forward, and even that got harder the closer he got to the small opening. Soon, he was slithering on his belly; so frantic was he to get to that exit. However, by the time his fingers touched the door to push it open just a little bit further to relish the view, the hole was no bigger than his hand. He would never fit through.

Then he spotted the other open doorways, one on either side of him, although they also were too minute to be usable. On his left was the ER at CGH. He could see the doctors and nurses rushing to several gurneys as they came crashing through the doors. Over the PA system, he was being paged, 'Doctor Travis to the ER, Doctor Travis to the ER.' "I'm here!" he answered desperately, upset that he was needed and couldn't get there to help, but nobody paid him any attention.

Unable to watch any longer as the medical staff were trying, but failing, to save their patients, he turned to his right, only to be faced with another facet of his life. BBQ Bob's. It was packed with customers, but not one of them was being served with their food, and there was a general consensus of disgust about the quality of the coffee in their cups. On the counter, the account books were piled haphazardly, invoices and bills spilling from the covers, some floating to the floor only to be trampled by the feet of unsatisfied patrons leaving in droves.

He heard his name uttered again, but it hadn't emanated from any of the three doors closest to his head. Jesse tried twisting and turning, but there was no room for him to maneuver. He had to content himself with peering under his arm at the door beyond his feet. Mark, Steve and Amanda were in the living room of the beach house, deep in discussion. Jesse eavesdropped, unashamedly at the upside down world he had become privy to. Apparently, they were waiting for him to arrive with some information and were growing a little impatient. There was movement at the window, and a glint of metal that sent a chill down his spine and he yelled at them to take cover, but as with the other scenes, he could see and hear everything, while he remained invisible to them. The gunman opened fire, and all Jesse could do was observe impotently as his friends were cut down by a hail of bullets.

"No!" he cried.

A shrill whine of a heart monitor lanced through his ears, and his gaze was drawn back to the ER. Another flat-line followed, and another. The three gurneys were nonsensically lined up side by side in one trauma room, and then he saw the faces of the soon-to-be deceased. Mark, Steve and Amanda. The doctors had given up - already looking to the clock to pronounce the time.

"No!"

He wasn't there to save them.

"No! Mark, no!" he couldn't believe the man he considered a father more than his biological one, was gone. He had failed him. Failed all of them.

"Jesse, I'm here."

He fought the hands on his shoulders. He had to do something.

"Jess, please calm down."

"No!" the young doctor screamed again, but awake now, and aware of the hot tears running down his cheeks.

Then he felt his body being lifted, and he was gathered up in a kindly embrace. There was only one person he knew who would hold him quite like this, and the relief was immeasurable. "M-mark, y-you're here. Y-you're okay," he choked out between sobs, and dared to pull back a little and open his eyes to validate his premise.

"Yes, I am, my friend," Mark replied quietly, cupping the back of the tousled, blond head with one large hand. Allowing Jesse to drink in the sight of him. "It looks to me like that nightmare was pretty unpleasant."

Jesse gathered enough of his wits to impart the cause of his obvious distress. "I thought… I thought I'd lost you. A-and Steve, a-and Amanda. You were shot. I… I wasn't there. I couldn't save you… any of you," he muttered, bordering on hysteria despite the knowledge that the terrifying images were naught but visions in his sleep.

"Well, we're all fine," Mark assured him, drawing him close once more.

And as the comforting arms encircled him, Jesse wanted to believe the older doctor, but found he couldn't balance on the emotional precipice any longer. Crying again, helplessly, he tipped headlong into the waiting abyss.

~

Mark had hoped that after the surprising outcome of Steve's eventful visit with Jesse, the nightmares would begin to decline, but the latest one seemed to be the worst so far, and he wondered whether Elaine's arrival had disturbed her son more than he thought it would.

The aging doctor was all for getting things out into the open, but the extreme nature of Jesse's outpouring of his misery wasn't the best way to achieve inner peace. He had stayed with his young friend for a long time has he'd wept inconsolably, holding him carefully as great shuddering sobs wracked the tortured soul's slender and still healing frame. It broke Mark's heart to see the normally vehemently independent young man reduced to such a disconcerting display, and yet he had sensed something like that might happen with the way Jesse had been trying to keep his emotions in check.

Jesse had eventually cried himself to the point of exhaustion, and when his head which was resting on Mark's shoulder became heavy and his breathing evened out, Mark laid his sleeping form back down and gently arranged him into what he hoped would be a comfortable position for the rest of the night.

From the little he had managed to glean about the dreams, he logically concluded that Jesse's greatest fear was of losing his career, and by consequence, his friends. It was a sad testament to the basic insecurity dwelling deep in the young man's psyche, and the more Mark thought about it, the more he was convinced Elaine's unannounced appearance had brought this to the fore, albeit subconsciously.

He didn't really want Jesse to accept that he might be paralyzed for the remainder of his life, because that would mean giving up hope, but the longer his condition persisted he was going to have to consider the possibility. It was a cold, hard fact, but it couldn't be ignored. What his friends would have to ensure was that he maintained a positive attitude. Even if he couldn't actually return to his post in the ER, there were many other medical professions for which his training and personal qualities would be a bonus. It might not be what he really wanted from life, but then probably ninety percent of the population had to make do with what they could get, rather than achieve their ambitions.

Dawn had already given way to the day proper, and Mark had munched halfway through the plate of toast a candy-striper had brought into him, when the heart monitor's tune subtly altered. Jesse was waking up.

"Jess?"

"M-Mark?" Jesse answered, sleepily; his long-lashed eyelids blinking wildly in the morning sunlight and making him appear well short of his thirty-odd years.

"How're you feeling this morning, son?"

"Umm, okay, I think." Jesse's brow furrowed as he contemplated further. "Although my arm is aching, and my ribs… you've decreased the dosage…"

"You are correct, my friend," Mark replied, pleased at the deduction, but feeling a little guilty at causing his friend pain. It was necessary to try and wean him off the morphine though, and they had been dropping the measure of the potentially addictive drug bit by bit over the last few days. "Let me know if it gets too much, okay?"

Jesse nodded. "Hey, is that toast?"

"You want some? I'll get you some fresh," Mark said picking up the plate to take the leftovers away and replenish it.

Jesse, however, had other ideas, and grabbed it from him. "Nah, cold's fine - that's the way I usually get to eat it, anyway."

Mark knew what he meant. In the ER you had to dine between crises, and hot food rarely got consumed while it still conformed to the description. He smiled at the sight of Jesse tucking into his breakfast. It was the first time since the accident that he could recall seeing the younger doctor eating with anything approaching enthusiasm, and it brightened his mood considerably.

Voices sounded outside, and Mark went to investigate. He found Amanda and her sons checking in at the nurses' station.

"Oh, hi, Mark, is Jesse awake? And, more to the point, do you think he'll be up to some very eager visitors?" the pathologist asked quietly, indicating CJ and Dion who were amusing themselves in the waiting area by trying to tread on each others toes.

"I'd say 'yes' on both counts, but he'd probably like a few minutes to get spruced up. I'll let him know you're here," Mark answered. Yesterday, his reply might have been different, but he was sure there was a change in Jesse this morning. After the deluge of emotion during the night, he had slept peacefully for hours, and now he seemed to have regained his appetite; these were very good omens in the older doctor's view.

Going back to Jesse's room with a nurse in tow to help the younger man get ready to face his visitors, Mark told him, "Amanda's here to see you. She's brought the boys, is that okay?"

"Y-yeah, it's fine," responded Jesse, reservedly.

The hesitance in his voice told Mark it wasn't a completely truthful answer, and he started to fret that perhaps he'd been a little premature in thinking a corner had been turned. Maybe Jesse had simply found a new depth at which to anchor his feelings, and his earlier cheerfulness was a more cunning disguise than the uncommunicative front he'd adopted before. Either way, he didn't want to push too hard, too soon. "If you want me to tell Amanda now's not a good time…"

"No. No. It's okay, really. It's nice that they want to see me. I just…" Jesse shrugged, animatedly.

Inwardly, Mark breathed a sigh of relief as his insight came in to play, and he realized Jesse's reluctance was merely a case of cold feet. "You would rather they didn't have to see you like that."

"Yeah. I suppose. Dumb, huh?"

"Not at all, Jesse. But kids are very adaptive. They might notice something's not quite right, they might ask questions. Just be truthful and I think you'll find it won't be a big issue, they'll just accept it and move on," he said, wisely.

"I expect you're right," Jesse conceded.

Smugly, Mark retorted, "I usually am. And was I right about it being better to get your worries out in the open?"

"Yes. Guess I'm learning," the young doctor said with a smile that for the first time in many days came without being forced and put the characteristic sparkle his eyes.

"You're doing just fine, my friend," Mark said warmly.

~

Jesse breathed a sigh of relief when the nurse finally left. He hated being dependent on someone else for his ablutions. It would have been bad enough if he didn't actually know the women who were responsible for overseeing his body's most basic functions, but the fact that he'd worked alongside most of them at some time or another just made his embarrassment a hundred times worse.

However, he did feel much better washed, shaved and changed, and after a good few hours of really restful sleep and some breakfast, his head appeared a lot clearer - more like his usual self. Not having so much medication floating around his system was probably helping, too and although it meant he was in a bit more pain than previously, it had the strange effect of making him seem more alive.

The door barely had time to close before it was shoved open again.

"Hi, Jesse, are you up for some visitors?" Amanda chirped.

"Hey, Amanda! It's not my mom again is it?" he asked with a frown. He knew perfectly well it wasn't, of course, but he felt full of mischief this morning.

"No, it's us! Hiya, Jesse!" Excited, CJ bounded into the room and straight over to the bed.

"Hi, champ," Jesse replied, happily. "You've grown!" he added, reaching across to ruffle his hand over the boy's short hair.

CJ regarded him, incredulously. "Do you get to lie in every day?" he asked.

"Um, well, yeah, kinda," Jesse admitted, though it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

Dion's entrance was a little more staid, and Jesse sadly recalled the first time he'd encountered the older boy in the hospital, as he came in and placed the take-out bag on the nightstand. "Hey, Jesse, we brought you this."

The young doctor's stomach grumbled in anticipation. "Oh, wow. Thanks, guys! I was wondering what I was going to eat today - you know, Steve always steals my meatloaf." Not that he was particularly bothered about that, but he was beginning to feel disconcerted at how Dion was staring at him, or more precisely, at his legs.

"Dion, are you okay?" he asked, biting at the tip of what he was sure would become a particularly unpalatable iceberg.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the boy answered with a sigh.

"Are you sure? You seem awfully quiet." As soon as he said it, Jesse realized just how much of a hypocrite he must seem to Amanda. He had been shielding his friends from his despair, and in shutting them out they had been ready to assume the worst, as Steve had so vividly demonstrated. He felt very sorry for putting his best friend through that dreadful ordeal.

"I was just thinking… does it hurt?" Dion quizzed.

"What?"

"Being paralyzed."

"Dion!" Amanda exclaimed, clearly shocked that her son would dare to touch upon such a sensitive subject.

Jesse knew he only had himself to blame for everyone treating him as though he was made of glass, and that the least little tactless remark might shatter him completely. He was hurting everyone, himself included, but that wasn't as important as what his friends were being put through because they cared about him. He was deeply ashamed. He had promised Steve he would try to open up, and he had made a start in the right direction with Mark earlier, now Jesse determined it was time for some real candor. "No, it's okay, Amanda. It's a valid question, and I think Dion is old enough to understand," he declared, making deliberate eye contact with the boy.

Dion visibly puffed up at this faith in him.

"What did your mom tell you about what's wrong with me?" Jesse asked him, while Amanda settled CJ down on the chair in the corner and angled the TV round for him to watch.

"She didn't really. I overheard her talking with Steve, and she said something about you being paralyzed. I remembered the word from a TV show I saw once, where this guy couldn't walk and he was in a wheelchair, but I don't know what it really means," Dion related.

"Okay," Jesse drawled as he considered the best way to explain his condition. "You know you have a backbone, actually it's a whole lot of little bones all connected together, sometimes it's call the spine, right?"

Dion nodded at his Anatomy-for-Beginners description, so he carried on.

"Well, there's a cord that runs down with the spine, called the spinal cord and it relays messages between your brain and other parts of your body so you can move them or feel what they're touching. Now, if you have an accident and the cord gets damaged, sometimes those messages can't get through, and depending on the position of the injury the more limbs can be affected."

"And that's what's happened to you?"

"Yes, when I fell, my back got hurt somehow and I can't feel anything below my waist, and I can't move my legs or feet. So, even when my leg is fixed I won't be able to walk - just like that guy you saw on TV." His words sank into his own mind, making him nauseous, but he fought against it. "And in answer to your original question, no, it doesn't hurt." At least not physically, his mind supplied, sarcastically.

"How long will it take to get better?"

Oh God, did he really have to admit it?

His stomach lurched again and this time, he had to swallow the bitter bile that threatened to undo his steadfastness. Summoning a supreme amount of courage, Jesse declared, "I might stay like this forever."

Dion's eyes widened alarmingly and his mouth dropped open in shock. "But you're in hospital and…"

"There are still some things that doctor's can't mend and the spinal cord is one of them. At the moment, no one can tell how mine is damaged because the X-rays they've taken haven't come out clear enough. You remember when you sprained your ankle that time and it swelled up? That often happens when you injure something, and it's why they can't see exactly what's wrong yet, or if it can ever be put right."

"It's my fault…" Dion announced, guiltily.

"What? No. Dion, this was an accident," Jesse insisted, horrified at the boy's self-damning conclusion.

"But if I hadn't dared CJ to go down the cliff you wouldn't have had to rescue him and you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

All that was true, but Dion couldn't have known CJ would get stuck. He didn't realize there was a storm approaching or that the cliff was so unstable. Circumstances… that's all it was, after the initial challenge - unfortunate circumstances. Jesse had never once tried to pin culpability on anyone for the situation he found himself in, but he struggled to find the words to assure Dion of this. In a child's mind someone was always responsible - and in Dion's case, because of the abusive foster home he'd been in where he was made to feel like everything that went wrong was his liability, what he said now could be devastating to the boy.

"Dares are dangerous, Dion. You could have gotten CJ hurt, and I'm sure you wouldn't have wanted that. So, if you have to learn a lesson from that day, I hope you'll think twice about the consequences of your actions. But I don't blame you for what happened to me, okay?" Jesse said, kindly.

The boy half-heartedly nodded in agreement.

Jesse guessed he still had some convincing to do, but having trouble accepting the stark realities of how his life might change, it was even more difficult to find some way to put Dion's mind at rest. Inspiration hadn't quite deserted him though, and he came up with an idea which would hopefully illustrate his exoneration. "Tell you what… You can push me around in my wheelchair, when I get it. I won't be able to maneuver it myself until my arm is out of this cast."

"Okay," Dion replied, seeming a little happier at the request for his assistance.

"Me, too!" CJ piped up from the corner. He had obviously been eavesdropping on the conversation.

"Yeah, you, too," Jesse laughed.

Over the top of Dion's head, Amanda mouthed, "Thank you."

Jesse grinned lopsidedly at the pathologist. He was feeling tired after talking extensively, but he was enjoying the company. He had been hided away too long, from himself included. "Right, that's enough about me… what have you two been up to?"

CJ told Jesse all about the new girl in his class. The teacher had asked him to look after her, show her where everything was, run through the timetable etc. and much to the boy's disgust, she had to sit next to him. Although he made it sound like the worst indignity ever, Jesse got the impression CJ rather liked her. Dion's main news was about being picked for the soccer team. After a while, the boys started to get restless and began fooling around again. Amanda told them to sit quietly and watch TV together, so she and Jesse could chat.

"You seem brighter today," the pathologist commented.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he admitted, wryly, swallowing exaggeratedly as he gathered the courage for another disclosure. "I had another nightmare. It seemed so real, and I was so scared that I'd lost all of you. I guess it kind of brought things to a head… I don't think I could keep it all to myself anymore," he confessed.

"No one expected you to, honey," Amanda replied with fond exasperation, picking up his hand and squeezing it, affectionately. "That's probably what the change is in you. You've chased away the shadow that's been hanging over you."

Jesse snorted, disparagingly. "I made a right fool of myself in front of Mark," he said, grimly.

"He's won't hold that against you. He'll be glad it's made you feel better," she assured him. "And thank you for what you told Dion. I think he's been brooding since the accident, and nothing I said helped. I don't suppose you'd have been able to do that yesterday."

Jesse was actually quite sure of that, and had to confess, "It was hard today, too, but I've got to face up to this. No one else can do it for me."

CJ and Dion started to quarrel over what TV station they were going to watch, but even as Amanda told them to calm down and stop behaving so badly, CJ lunged over the bed to grab the remote, leaning heavily on Jesse's left side in the process.

"Ow!" Jesse yelled, making the boy shrink away, frightened.

"Jesse, are you okay?" Amanda inquired.

But Jesse hardly heard her, above the thunderous din filling his ears. He could feel the beads of sweat erupting on his forehead. It seemed like someone had lit a fire beneath his bed and the burning pain was so intense it almost became a living thing in its own right. His partially mended arm flared first, throbbing within its cast as if it were about to burst free, but then a smoldering ache lower down surpassed that agony with a power more fierce because it came completely out of the blue… from his leg.

"Jesse?"

He could hear again, but he couldn't speak. Torture gave way to shock, and then the two sensations vied in a weird equilibrium, leaving him stunned. He lay there, gasping like a landed fish, and his lack of voice apparently galvanized the pathologist into action. Amanda grabbed the phone off the wall and paged Mark.

"It'll be okay, Jesse. Mark will be here soon. He'll get you something for the pain," she soothed.

The torment was amazing, so severe it was intolerable, but with what it could mean for him, he didn't want it to end. Finally, Jesse managed to force a word out. "No," he groaned.

"What? Jesse, you can't be serious… you…"

He interrupted, knowing he wouldn't have long to tell her before he succumbed to his body's need to be free from suffering - and he reveled at how marvelous it was. "It's okay, 'manda. Ev'rything's gonna be…"

~

"Amanda, what happened?" Mark demanded as he strode through the doorway, his eyes instantly locating Jesse's unconscious form on the bed.

The pretty pathologist was pacing up and down in front of him, beside herself with worry. "Jesse passed out after CJ fell on him. He was in a lot of pain. I said I'd get you to give him something for it and he said 'no'. I think he was delirious."

Mark absorbed the information, and his quick mind made a rapid leap of intuition. "In what way did CJ fall?"

"Across his left side - CJ must have hit both his arm and his leg. Oh, Mark… do you think?" Amanda's face lit up as the same thought apparently crossed her mind.

"It's possible." Mark nodded, half smiling, but his gaze traveled with concern to the heart monitor and its racing beat. He got out his stethoscope and checked the young man's thoracic system the old fashioned way. He could hear a trace of persistent fluid in one lung, causing a slight rattle to the shallow breaths, but overall the infection seemed to have abated, even Jesse's lingering high temperature had decreased a little since first thing this morning. Gradually, Jesse's pulse returned to something more like a normal pace, and as it did he showed signs of stirring.

Jesse whimpered as he began to wake up, and Mark silently apologized to the young man for having to leave him in pain, but he didn't want to give him any more morphine until he had assessed him. If his theory was correct, it was probably due to the lowered dosage that the knock to his leg had registered in the first place. The older doctor wanted to get the evaluation performed as soon as possible, so that he could administer some relief, and then get another series of tests underway.

"Jesse, wake up now, son," he encouraged, gently massaging his friend's shoulder. "Come on, I know you can hear me."

"Mark!" Jesse almost bolted upright as he arose with a start. "Aaah," he cried, when the sudden movement obviously ignited the pain, and his back arched as he writhed with distress.

"Take it easy, Jess," Mark soothed, "I know it hurts, and I'll give you something to help in just a minute, but I need to check you over first, okay?"

Jesse slumped against the pillows, trembling and sweating profusely, his bottom lip clamped firmly between his teeth with the effort of trying to hold back another cry of agony.

Amanda ushered her boys from the room, but returned quickly to Jesse's side, taking his good hand in hers and softly caressing his forehead as she whispered comfortingly to him. She was focused on him alone, capturing his gaze entirely so he wouldn't see what Mark was doing.

Mark pulled a pen from his white coat's top pocket and lifted the covers at the end of the bed. He stroked the end of the ballpoint across the sole of Jesse's right foot. It twitched at the tickling.

"I felt that," Jesse called out, thrilled, but still in obvious pain, and Amanda kissed his hand in delight, maintaining his attention.

A warm glow spread through Mark at the confirmation. He ran the pen along the length of Jesse's right calf and an ecstatic "Yes!" gave him his answer. However, with Jesse's left leg almost totally obscured by plaster, he could only test a reaction at the toes. Even though the result wasn't as pronounced, Mark was fairly sure Jesse was regaining feeling in both his legs.

Mark cautioned his young friend about getting too excited at the revelation. Even if, as they hoped, the paralysis was receding, there was no guarantee of a full recovery, however the odds were looking a lot more promising than before. The fact that Jesse hadn't yet managed to move either limb himself was not entirely surprising, for the physical therapy he'd been receiving was just enough to prevent complete muscle wastage while he lay in bed, and the older doctor suspected the new X-rays would show a reduction in the swelling, but not sufficient for the nerves to yet reclaim full control after the injury. It was taking its time, but it seemed the healing process was now well underway.

The grin on Jesse's face was irrepressible, regardless of Mark's warning, and in spite of the newly awakened pain in his leg, which had to be approaching unbearable. So, satisfied with his observations for the time being, Mark administered a measure of morphine and went to order the X-rays.

Afterwards, he phoned Steve with the good news. There was an exclamation of utter relief and joy from the other end of the line, and Mark guessed that no matter what his son might currently be in the middle of, it probably wouldn't be long until his sturdy frame made an appearance at the hospital.

~

Sure enough, little more than half an hour later, the police lieutenant stepped spryly from the elevator and headed for Jesse's room. He hadn't exactly broken any speed records to get there, but it had taken all his resolve to keep to the traffic restrictions in his haste to see for himself that his best friend was truly on the road to recovery.

Jesse was tucking into the bag of take-out from Bob's, when Steve stepped through the doorway. "Steve!" he cried, elatedly, and in the process, nearly choked on the rib he was chewing. Licking his sauce-covered fingers clean, Jesse put the bag to one side.

Steve noted how it had been placed well out of any easy reach for him, but didn't comment. It was good to see his best friend enjoying his food with such relish again, and he didn't begrudge him so much as a single fry. Not today, anyway.

"I guess Mark's told you…" Jesse prompted.

Nodding, Steve clapped the young doctor on the shoulder. "It's great news. We're all really happy for you, Jess."

Jesse looked up at him shyly. "Thanks," he said, his lips curling slightly before they thinned and his expression became thoughtful. "I was so scared I'd be like that forever."

"I know." Steve had been, too - every bit as petrified as the younger man. From the moment of the accident, Steve had been existing on hope. In those first few desperate hours as he and Mark had struggled to get Jesse to the help he so badly needed, through the time on the MacGuyvered respirator, the operations to save his life and his leg, the ensuing period of unconsciousness, the horrific relapse and then the depression, there had been little else to cling to that he would get his friend back at all, let alone in someway that felt like normal.

"I'll still need months of physical therapy, but at least it feels like there's something to aim for now," Jesse told him.

"We'll all help, in any way we can," Steve replied, earnestly, and it won him one of the patented Jesse Travis smiles that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

Sincerely, Jesse replied, "I'd appreciate that."

"So, when are you gonna blow this joint and come stay at the beach house?"

Jesse looked puzzled, and Steve found it both amusing and poignant how the young doctor somehow didn't seem to believe he deserved their friendship, even after all the years he'd been such a big part of their lives.

"Well, you can hardly go home. You won't be able to manage a wheelchair or crutches with a broken arm," Steve commented, pragmatically.

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead. Are you sure? I mean, it could be weeks…"

"Months, I suspect, Jess. But it'd be our pleasure," Mark said as he came in, picking up on their conversation and Steve's generous offer. "Where better to recuperate than by the sea?"

"It would be great," Jesse agreed, gratefully.

"That's settled then, but I think we should wait a few more days. There are still some tests we need to do to make sure we're not jumping the gun here. In the meantime, we'll sort the spare room out so there'll be plenty of space to maneuver," Mark announced.

"I'll get started on it when I get home. But I should be getting back to work. See ya later, Jess. Just take it easy for now, huh, pal?" the detective called, cheerily, as he gave a brief wave and made for the door.

He knew his dad was still professing caution, and making his reservations known, but instinctively, Steve was sure everything was going to be all right. It probably wasn't going to be a cakewalk, especially for Jesse. However, as his business partner as well as his best friend, the detective was well aware of the young man's determined streak. With the possible exceptions of some superficial attempts to gain fame and fortune, when Jesse set his mind at achieving something, he rarely let himself down.

On the way to his car, Steve walked as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he doubted anything could dent his mood today, not even the worst that LA's seamier side of life might throw at him.

~

It was actually more than another week before Jesse got anywhere near the beach house. While Mark was satisfied with his general progress, and the paralysis had completely receded over the last few days, the orthopedic surgeon didn't want his handiwork unraveled by moving his patient too soon. He didn't want bumps or undue stress placed upon the scarcely healed fractures and the intricate metalwork pinning Jesse's leg bones together, even while still in its cast.

Initially, Jesse had been a little fractious over the delays, but he reminded himself how lucky he was to even be considering getting his life back, and after that he took the other doctor's advice with all the patience he could muster.

He was glad to finally be free of the confines of the hospital, but he was still going to be beholden to Mark or Steve for help for weeks to come. Jesse had sat quietly in the car on the drive to Mark's place, contemplating this and wondering how he deserved to have such fantastic friends. Ever since Steve had mentioned coming to stay, Jesse had been looking forward to it, but now, just a stone's throw from the house he considered home every bit as much as his own apartment, the doubts were beginning to creep in. He only hoped they weren't doing this out of pity.

"You okay, Jess?" Mark asked, as he pulled into the driveway.

"Fine," Jesse replied, but he could tell from the way Mark peered over his sunglasses at him that his response hadn't been very convincing, and he decided to come clean. "I was just thinking - are you sure you're okay with this? I mean I could always go…"

Stopping the car, the older man cut him off. "We want you to stay with us. You can't possibly go home yet, and you don't really need to be in the hospital now."

"But I have to go back every day for physio. I'm sure I could use one of the rooms we keep for long-distance visitors. It would save you a lot of trouble."

"You really want to live like that for months?" Mark queried, loaded with skepticism.

Of course Jesse didn't, but he knew he could be a difficult patient, especially if things weren't going right. There would be very little space for his friends to escape one of his darker moods if they needed to, without driving them from their own home. "No. But I don't want to put you and Steve out. You'll get sick of me being around."

"We won't. Besides, it isn't going to be one long holiday - as soon as you're able you're going to have to do your share around the house. Cooking, cleaning, that kind of thing. Think you'll be up to it?"

When Mark put the proposition like that, it didn't seem like he was going to be a burden and not much else. If there really were things he could manage to do to earn his keep, a protracted stay at the beach house sounded more acceptable. "Yeah, no problem."

"Right, let's get you inside," Mark said, finally opening his door.

The only problem with 3231 Beach Drive was the number of steps there were to negotiate, and Jesse wasn't anywhere near the condition to contemplate climbing them, even with Mark's support. Although he had been getting some gentle exercise, he was still weak from his ordeal and it hadn't taken his muscles long to get used to the enforced inactivity. There was only so much you could keep in reasonable working order from bed-based workouts.

Steve appeared at his side, and Jesse was embarrassed to realize how he was going to be moved. He'd been carried by Steve before, of course, but never when completely cognizant. He didn't have many options though, so he sucked in a breath and gave in to the inevitable. The detective carefully eased him from the car with one arm round his back and the other under his knees, while Mark took the wheelchair into the house and made it ready for him to sit in.

Once settled with his bad leg stretched out along the metal support, Jesse was more comfortable than he'd been in the car, and he yawned, contentedly.

"Perhaps we should have put you straight to bed," Steve observed.

"No way! I want to see the sea," Jesse retorted, petulantly.

"Steve, take Jesse out onto the verandah. The fresh air will do him good," Mark said. "I'll make a start on dinner."

~

As Steve wheeled Jesse through the French doors and into the sunshine, he noticed how pasty Jesse's complexion had become - different from the deathly pale while his injuries and their effects were threatening to take him from them, but no less unhealthy-looking. He had been deprived of the glorious Californian weather for too long. This was definitely the best place for his young friend to regain his vitality, although he was under no illusions that having the wheelchair-bound doctor at home was going to be all fun and laughter.

His normally easy-going friend could be remarkably irritating at the best of times, though Steve had learned to deal with the trait more easily than he had imagined, but Jesse was also prone to sulking when his physical therapy sessions hadn't gone according to plan. Each small set-back tended to be viewed as another mountain to scale. Steve knew the uncharacteristic displays of temper were because Jesse was inordinately hard on himself, as well as the not inconsiderable pain he was still in. It was their fault, really - they had encouraged Jesse to vent his emotions, but the occasional outburst, although much regretted later, overstepped the boundaries and was difficult to appease.

The orthopedic surgeon had left them in no doubt that the road ahead to full recovery was going to be long and tricky. Jesse's leg was going to be in its heavy cast for at least another two months and after that he would likely need a brace to support the weakened limb as he slowly regained the use of it. They shouldn't be surprised if the whole process to get completely back to normal took up to a year.

For the time being, Jesse would need a lot of assistance with just the day-to-day routine, and that in itself rang alarm bells in Steve's mind. Jesse was an independent soul, who liked to be master of his fate. He had noticed the way the young man had flinched as Steve bent to carry him from the car. Well, Jesse was going to have to get used to the odd few indignities pretty quick or he wouldn't be able to stay at the beach house.

"Juice?" he asked, holding up the jug of OJ.

"Yeah. Thanks, Steve."

The salty breeze drifting in off the calm sea was refreshing in the heat of the late afternoon sun. Any other day like this, Steve and Jesse would have changed into their wetsuits, grabbed their surfboards and headed for the water. As Steve watched his friend, he could see the longing in his expression telling of a desire to be doing that right now. And he remembered another time when that yearning had been evident.

In fact this whole scene seemed familiar, reminiscent of when Jesse had been infected with the engineered smallpox virus and they had come so close to losing him to the appalling illness. Steve had barely gotten the antigen in time to prevent the young man suffering any permanent organ damage, or worse. It had taken hours for the cure to make any difference to Jesse's grave condition, and during that time, Steve, along with Mark and Amanda had watched over him, terrified that he might succumb to the ravages of the disease. He had endured through two dreadful seizures brought on by the rocketing fever, and it was only when the antigen finally began to make inroads and his temperature decreased that they allowed themselves any real hope of his survival.

Steve shuddered at the memory. The accident had been another frighteningly close call. Without Jesse's supreme tenacity and Mark's ingenuity, they wouldn't be sharing this moment now.

"How did you get on today?" he asked, feeling awkward in the almost eerie silence that had descended between the two of them.

"Okay," Jesse answered, pouting slightly. "I would never have believed you could work so hard sitting down!"

"You'll soon be on your feet again," the detective declared, positively.

"Yeah, next week they're gonna let me try standing up on my own."

Considering what Jesse could have been facing after the accident, it should have been expressed as a miracle, instead it sounded as if he was being unnecessarily mollycoddled, and consequently the tone annoyed Steve.

"You know you can't rush this, Jess. You could do some real permanent damage to that leg and then what will you do?"

"I know, Steve, it's just so frustrating. I hate not being at work. I hate not being able to help out at Bob's. I hate being left out of everything!" Jesse snapped, illustrating his exasperation very eloquently.

"We knew that. That's why brought you here," Steve patiently remarked.

"Yeah, sorry. I really do appreciate this," Jesse replied, suitably chastised. "Maybe thing's will be easier when I get this off and I can ditch the chair," he added, indicating his plaster-laden arm. He grimaced. "Have you got a knitting needle anywhere?"

"Not since I took up quilting instead…" Steve answered, sarcastically. Did he look like he did knitting in his spare time? "Why do you ask? Do you need a new hobby until you can get back out on the surf?"

Eyeing him with matching contempt, Jesse revealed, "This thing itches like crazy," he admitted, trying to ram a finger down the inside of his arm cast.

"And what would Doctor Travis say to someone considering poking about inside their cast with a sharp object?" he asked, pointedly.

"He'd tell them not to."

"I'd say that would be good advice."

Jesse pouted, sulkily. It was at times like these when Steve really did wonder if the younger man's body clock had got stuck somewhere around the age of twelve. Many patients and their relatives still questioned Jesse's authority at the hospital, mistaking him for an eager intern, rather than the accomplished trauma surgeon and head of the ER that he was. Steve hoped his friend's boyish looks and manner would never fade, for if they did he would start to think of himself as old.

Mark came out with a huge bowl of salad and placed it on the table before disappearing back inside.

"What're we having? Jesse asked, leaning over to pick out a piece of lettuce as an appetizer.

"No idea," Steve admitted. "I was ordered out of the kitchen." He ignored the smug smile on Jesse's face at this revelation. Although they were partners in BBQ Bob's, Jesse never missed an opportunity to slate Steve's culinary prowess.

Mark returned with more food, and Jesse eyed the steaming pile of chicken with nothing short of lust.

"Just leave some for the rest of us…" Steve teased, grabbing a drumstick before he lost out. "Oh, and while I think about it, pay per view is gonna be a strictly fifty-fifty split from now on."

~

Despite the intense regime Jesse set himself to get fit enough to go back to work as quickly as possible, his leg apparently had other ideas. It was stubbornly refusing to be either bullied or coerced into regaining its strength with any speed it was not ready for. Ten weeks after the accident, the cast had been removed, but as predicted the wasted limb needed the extra support of a brace. And four weeks further on, he was able to walk without his crutches for short distances, but it took a great effort and was painful and slow.

It was mid afternoon. Jesse had finished his latest physical therapy session and was on his way back to the doctor's lounge to wait for Mark. There was at least an hour before the older doctor's shift ended, so Jesse took the scenic route - via the hospital gardens. A pang of sadness tweaked his heartstrings as he approached the bench in front of the rose-bed, remembering the times he and Susan had snuck out of the ER in the odd quiet moment for a quick kiss and a cuddle. The pretty nurse had been out of his life for nearly a year, but nothing had filled the gaping hole her leaving had gouged into his heart, and it still hurt.

He propped his crutches against the wooden seat and sat down carefully, easing the bend out of his braced knee, so that his left leg stuck out almost straight in front of him. It was the only position in which he could sit with any comfort. After several hours of concentrated exercise, he ached all over and he knew without any doubt he was due another painkiller. But he wanted to try and wean himself off the medication, so he'd deliberately left the bottle of pills in his locker. He was leaving longer and longer between doses, and gradually, minute-by-minute, he would beat what he saw as his addiction to them.

Determined to wait it out just a little bit more, he closed his eyes in the sunshine, and was just beginning to relish the warmth on his face, when someone cried out.

"Help! Oh, dear God, someone, please help me!"

Startled, Jesse's eyes snapped open and he scanned the vicinity for the source of the sound.

"Help! Someone, please!"

Across the perfectly mowed lawn, he spied a woman kneeling beside another person stretched out on the ground. For a second, Jesse, remained spellbound, unable to move. He frantically looked around, expecting to see people dashing to the woman's aid, but no one appeared.

"Help!" she called again, though her voice was virtually lost amid the sobs starting to wrack her frame.

Fumbling for his crutches, Jesse struggled to his feet and began to hobble over, but he couldn't get there fast enough with the awkwardness of his supports, so he ditched the metalwork and although he was limping badly, forged onward with a reasonable pace - for the first few steps. The force of every footfall jarred the barely healed bones, and by the time he reached the stricken pair, his left leg felt as if it was on fire.

"Oh, thank you! I think my father's having a heart attack," the woman blurted, looking up as Jesse neared, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The young doctor all-but collapsed onto the ground, wondering if he was about to suffer the same fate. The hammering of his own heart seemed to be reverberating off his ribs, and he was struggling to breathe above it. Jesse felt ill with the pain radiating from the abused limb. Fighting a wave of nausea, he managed to kneel, though he would never know how he'd achieved the position, and listened to what was going on within the stricken old man's chest. Which, incidentally, was not much. His heart had stopped.

"Go to the ER, the entrance is over there. Get some help. Tell them to bring a gurney!" Jesse barked at the daughter. Make that two… his mind added, sarcastically.

She trotted off in the direction he'd indicated, while Jesse began CPR on her father. He lost himself in the task at hand, blocking out the effects the strain on his bad leg was inducing in the rest of his body.

Once he'd achieved a rhythm, he kept his fingers on the elderly man's carotid artery in case it dropped out again, letting out a relieved sigh at the sight of several people running towards them, with a gurney in tow. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he relayed details of what he'd found and what he had done to counteract it to the blur of a white coat that hurried to his side.

"Jesse?"

He recognized the rich voice of his mentor, but his vision was fading in and out, lights seeming to flash sporadically across his eyes, darkness encroaching from the sides. "Mark?" he gasped.

"You've done well, son, he's alive. We'll take it from here," the older doctor said, proudly laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Jess?"

The tone turned anxious, but Jesse couldn't answer. The last thing he saw as the blackness finally closed in on his vision was the grass rushing up to meet his face.

~

Mark hovered by the bed, restlessly waiting for his patient to come round. It had frightened the life out of him to see Jesse keel over like he had. The young man's heart rate was bordering on tachycardic when they'd loaded him onto a second gurney. After he had stabilized in the ER, Mark ordered a new series of X-rays on his leg. Unfortunately, they showed a new stress fracture across the site of one of the original fibula breaks, and he had severely wrenched his knee. The combination would hinder his recovery by a few weeks, and he was probably going to be mortified to wake up and find his leg in a cast again; but Mark thought once the initial shock wore off, Jesse would probably regard the setback as worth it, for he had saved a man's life.

He only wished he had better news from that quarter, but the old man was suffering from a number of age-related conditions and it was unlikely he had much time left. His daughter, however, was immensely grateful to still have her father around, although it might prove to be for a relatively short time. She, too, had been shocked when Jesse crashed unconscious to the ground, and upset that in aiding her father, he'd put his own health at risk. Mark had retrieved the crutches from where they had been discarded, realizing how much Jesse had put his body through in order to do what he was best at. It was that kind of dedication that Mark had seen so early on in the young man's career and why he had such faith in him, even over others with more experience.

A wince, tugging at the edges of Jesse's mouth, and a deep frown, furrowing his forehead, were the first indications of his return to consciousness. With forty years in medicine, Mark wondered if he should be immune to seeing someone in pain, but he wasn't and it was especially hard when that person was one he loved. And there was no denying the Jesse had assumed a position in his heart. He wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, though he suspected the seed of his affection had sprouted very soon after he had first met the fervent, gifted intern. Jesse was, without any shadow of a doubt, a kindred spirit.

Mark sat down on the bed, confident that his protégé would soon be reentering the land of the living, and was almost immediately rewarded with a pair of bleary, blue eyes fluttering open.

"It's about time… You gave me quite a scare, young man," he chastised, fondly.

Jesse looked around the room in a daze, blinking wildly in the late afternoon sunshine streaming into the room.

"How do you feel?" Mark asked, going over to the window and dipping the blind to avert some of the glare.

Finally, Jesse managed to focus on his mentor. "Um, confused, I… what happened?"

"You gave CPR to an old man who was having a heart attack, and then nearly gave me one by promptly passing out at my feet!" Mark told him, only half-joking.

There was a moment of silence as Jesse absorbed the information. "Is he okay?"

"He's holding his own for the moment," he revealed, being honest, but not giving away any more than he had to. "His daughter can't sing your praises enough. She thinks you're quite the hero," Mark declared, grinning widely.

"I was just doing my job," Jesse shrugged, dismissively.

The older doctor constantly found himself amazed by his younger colleague's self-effacing attitude. However, he hadn't yet imparted the news about what Jesse's devotion to duty had cost him. Adopting a serious face for the task, he came straight out with the news. "I'm afraid you've fractured your leg again, and wrenched your knee."

"What?" Jesse exclaimed, lifting the sheet to confirm the presence of his new cast. At least this latest one made of lightweight fiberglass.

"Doctor Austerman reckons four weeks should do it," Mark announced.

"Great!" Jesse cried, slumping dejectedly into his pillows.

There was a knock at the door, and as it slowly opened, Mark turned to find out who was entering so hesitantly.

"Excuse me. I was told this is Doctor Travis's room," the old man's daughter said, as she came in.

"It is," Mark said, stepping aside so she could actually see Jesse.

The young woman walked over to the bed, saying, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I just wanted to thank you for what you did today, and I'm sorry you hurt yourself when you saved my father's life. I know he's very ill and he probably won't last much longer, but I can't bear the thought of losing him just yet. We hadn't really had much to do with each other since my parents divorced and mom moved us as far away as possible. It's only in the last few months that we've got back together again. And what you did - well, hopefully it'll mean that at least we'll get time enough to say goodbye properly."

There were tears in her eyes, as she ended her moving speech. Mark could feel his own becoming watery, and Jesse's were glinting suspiciously, too. Her story touched a nerve in both men.

Quite unexpectedly, the woman leaned over and gave Jesse a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. You were wonderful, and I'll never forget what you did for us," she said, and as she withdrew from the room, added, "I'll pray you get better soon."

Mark observed Jesse as he watched her go. The young doctor was quite clearly stunned into an uncharacteristic silence.

"That doesn't happen every day…" Mark commented, amused and touched by the young woman's display of gratitude.

"Well, not to you, maybe…" Jesse teased with a twinkle in his eye. As usual, downplaying the deserved praise with flippancy, and pasting over the emotions that had been surfacing.

Mark resisted the urge to swipe at the tousled head. It was simply too good to have Jesse back to normal.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jesse scratched his leg with vigor, watching the dry flakes of skin fly off, as the nurse threw the two halves of the newly removed cast into the waste-bin. It felt strange without the weight, and cold.

"Ready to go?" Steve asked, breezing into the room.

"Almost," Jesse assured. He strapped the brace back round his knee and eased himself from the bed; carefully making sure his leg could support him. The limb ached as he hobbled to retrieve his crutches, but not much more than he had grown accustomed to since ceasing his intake of painkillers.

"Are you alright, Doctor Travis?" the nurse queried, while appraising his progress.

"Yeah, thanks, Tracy, I'm fine," he replied, with a warm smile. "Bye."

She showed them out of the door, and Jesse swung into the rhythm to propel himself down the hall, letting Steve match his pace. "I'm going back to work in three weeks," he declared, as they reached the elevator, and waited for that particular bombshell to drop.

As they both stepped inside the car, Steve belatedly processed the statement and asked, incredulously, "Says who?"

"Says me."

Punching the button to take them to the parking lot, the detective stared at Jesse in disbelief. "I thought that brace had to be on for at least another three months."

"Yeah, so?" Jesse countered, unable to help sounding petulant. This was the first time in the months of his recovery that he could recall Steve taking a negative standpoint. Up till now he'd been more than supportive - every single step of the way. Maybe, this was just a stride too far. Okay, so, Jesse knew a lot of people would simply be glad to have an excuse to bum around for an indefinite period, and most others would accept their limitations, gracefully and wait until all their encumbrances were gone before getting back to normal. Jesse wasn't going to apologize for being different.

Steve's reproachful glare deepened, and he spluttered, "But… y-you're still on crutches!"

"I can get around with one now the cast is off, and I'll be able to work like that." In fact, he'd gotten around with just the one crutch for most of the last week. He'd only resorted to using both when one of his friends were with him, or if he tired. Today was an exception, he might have been pushing his luck while he'd had the cast, but with it only just removed, he wasn't going to be completely stupid. Not when he had goals to aim for.

"You can't be serious," the detective shook his head, grimly.

Jesse cringed at his best friend's denial, but it wouldn't change his decision. He was absolutely positive about this. "If Kerry Weaver can do it, then so can I," he announced, with a grin that he knew would wind Steve up even further.

"Kerry Wea… as in ER? It's a TV show, for god's sake! And one, by the way, you say you don't watch because it's not realistic!" Steve scathed.

"Yes, well, maybe I've changed my mind," Jesse retorted, looking away, nonchalantly.

Steve though, apparently wasn't going to let him off that lightly. "And what did my dad have to say about this lunatic idea of yours?"

They exited the elevator and began walking towards Steve's car, as Jesse answered, "We compromised. I wanted to make it two weeks, he said four, we settled midway."

"He agreed?" If possible, Steve sounded even more shocked than before.

"In principle."

Jesse recalled the argument he'd had with Mark. There had been some heated words from both sides, but they sympathized with each other's point of view. Mark was naturally concerned for his welfare, and while Jesse welcomed that, it also felt stifling. He had been dependent on other people for too long, and he had to start taking back control of his life. Locking horns with his mentor wasn't something he was particularly proud of, but it had been necessary. He was sure by the end of their discussion, Mark respected his wishes, and he had assured the older man he would be completely honest about how he was coping. "Anyway, I'm only going back part time, initially, until we're both sure everything's going okay, and I won't be operating at all. But there's a lot I can get around and do besides that. I could probably start helping out at Bob's, too. I tell you, Steve, if I have any more time off, I'm going to go crazy!"

Steve slid into the car, but Jesse didn't miss his friend's disparaging comment. "I'd say you already have!"

~

Driving back home, Steve was growing madder by the second. He couldn't believe what his friend was proposing. Further more, he couldn't understand why his father had approved the plan. It was ludicrous… insane! How on earth did Jesse think he'd be able to manage? Not only that, but if he was in a position to help someone, he wouldn't give second thought to his own fragile condition, as he'd shown with that old man - the result being an extra four weeks on top of his already long-drawn-out recovery from his original injuries. It would be even worse if he were confronted with situations like that on an everyday basis. Knowing Jesse as well as he did, Steve knew there would be no stopping the young man becoming involved in far more than Mark would have bargained for.

He intended to give Mark a piece of his mind - when Jesse was well out of earshot, but it wasn't until nearly midnight that he got his chance.

"You're late," he said, irritably, when his father finally strolled through the front door. Jesse had already gone to bed, and by all rights Steve should have been asleep by now, too. He had an early start in the morning to get to court.

"I am?" Mark asked, surprised at the accusation.

"Yes, were you hoping to avoid me?" Steve growled

His father insisted on playing the innocent. "Why would I be doing that?"

"Oh, I don't know… try because you didn't want to explain your part in the idiotic plan of Jesse's to go back to work in three weeks time."

"He told you about that?"

Steve gave his father a 'duh' expression. "Yes, he told me."

"It's going to be awkward, but he's determined - and you know how Jesse gets. We're going to keep the situation under review. If I don't think it's working out, I will put an end to it," Mark declared, as if that was going to belay Steve's concerns.

In Steve's mind though, it was like sweeping a pile of dust under a rug. "Well, that's just great. I know exactly how he gets, and so do you. He won't let on if he's struggling. Tell me, how are you going to feel when he collapses from overdoing it in the first week?" he raged.

"I've enlisted plenty of willing volunteers as spies. He's not going to get away with much!"

"So, I'm supposed to just stand by and watch him make this huge mistake?"

"Yes." Jesse appeared on the steps behind him, sleep-disheveled hair sticking out all over the place. "I appreciate your concern, Steve. Really, I do. And your dad's already thrown every argument against the idea at me - so don't blame him. I know what I want to do is unconventional but I have to at least try. As long as I'm not putting patients' lives at risk, I think the decision is up to me. It's my life."

Steve bit back a retort that he would have regretted, about Jesse only having a life because of all he and Mark had done to save him. Shrugging his shoulders in defeat, he marched past his friend and went to bed.

Incidentally, despite Jesse's defense of his father, he still blamed Mark for the younger doctor's resolve. Sloan senior had to be the undisputed champion of unorthodox, and Steve wouldn't have been surprised to learn that somewhere deep in the bowls of Community General there was a cloning laboratory where he was occasionally producing copies of himself as new interns, possibly with the sole purpose of driving Steve to distraction. Jesse possessed all the same qualities - the innate doctoring skills, the inquisitiveness bordering on downright nosiness, dogged determination and even a love of absurd food. The only thing Mark had failed to get right was the height!

~

Jesse had been hoping to manage without his crutch at all, but as his first day back in the fray of the hospital's ER wore on, his limp became more pronounced and his leg was aching badly. It wasn't often he found himself looking to the clock when he was at work, but he had glanced at his watch at least three times in the past half hour, wishing the minutes to two o'clock away. He seated himself at the nurses' station, half-sitting on the stool so he could keep his bad leg outstretched and began typing in the notes of the last person he'd seen, while trying to ignore the exhaustion-induced tremor in his hands.

One of Mark's stipulations for Jesse's early return to work was that his hours were in the usually relatively slack period of the middle of the day, covering lunchtime for the other staff. Today had been quite quiet. He'd only been given a few cases, and he suspected someone had been screening his patients thoroughly to ensure he only got the ones where he wouldn't need to ask for assistance. Jesse wanted to put his discomfort down to the near-boredom - it was almost like being an intern again. Except as a student everything was new and exciting, where flu symptoms might lead to an investigation into exotic pleural viruses, or a presenting gastroenteritis could mean an emergency appendectomy. Not that Jesse had ever really thought the patient secondary to the condition, it was just so hard seeing the odd casualty wheeled past him and not being asked for so much as a consult. However, it was probably as well, at the present moment he didn't think he could have put in a single cutaneous suture.

Perhaps Steve was justified in his misgivings about him going back to work too soon, but Jesse didn't want to give the detective the satisfaction of being right. He scrubbed a hand over his face in the hope of reanimating himself for the remainder of his outrageously short shift.

The doors opened, and a middle-aged, balding man in sportswear ushered in a youth in full football kit. Jesse slid off the nurses' station seat, steadied himself with his crutch and limped over to them. The man, who Jesse assumed to be a coach, eyed him suspiciously and looked about the ER as if trying to work out where all the real doctors had gone. The boy towered over the young doctor and seemed all the more intimidating because the amount of padding covering his body. Introducing himself, Jesse guided the pair to an empty examination room.

"So, what happened?" he asked, making a visual check for any lack of co-ordination as the boy climbed onto the table. He propped himself against it to free his crutch-hand and eased the helmet off the boy's head, silently congratulating the teacher for having the sense not to touch it.

"Ryan here got knocked out - I told him to go long, but does he ever listen to me? No! Of course not. Got himself steam-rollered by a quarterback twice his size!" the coach explained without a hint of sympathy.

Jesse involuntarily gulped, hoping he would never come across the giant just described - the kid in front of him was making him feel like a munchkin as it was. "Okay," he drawled, self-consciously. "Let's take a look. How long was he unconscious for?"

"About a minute."

"Any blurred vision? Nausea?" he asked, watching carefully as Ryan's pupils reacted to the beam from his penlight.

"You wouldn't be asking that if you'd seen the inside of my car!" the man exploded.

Jesse quelled the impulse to laugh, it was little wonder then that the coach was more than a little cantankerous. Moving awkwardly around the exam table, he ran all the standard tests and scans, and although he didn't find anything particularly wrong, decided to admit the youth overnight for observation. While he was filling out the paperwork, teetering on one leg, he realized he was being watched with amusement by his patient.

"Hey, you're just like that doctor on the TV," Ryan said, slurring his words slightly.

There were a lot to choose from, but Jesse knew immediately which one Ryan was referring to, he'd even used the analogy himself, with Steve. "Actually, I think she might be taller," he joked.

Showing Ryan and his coach the way to the elevator and giving them directions to the ward where the boy would be spending the night, Jesse caught sight of the clock. He'd worked almost an hour more than he should have and he seemed to have overcome his earlier exhaustion. He would probably pay for the indiscretion later on, but he contemplated picking another chart from the rack - maybe he could see one more patient before he left…

Without a second thought, his fingers had just plucked a new chart for perusal when Mark came around the corner, and the don't-even-think-about-it glare from the older man made him forget any fanciful intention he'd harbored at once.

"What are you still doing here, Jesse?" Mark inquired, hardly bothering to mask his irritation.

"I was admitting a patient," Jesse answered, clutching the board to his chest. Well, he had been.

"I don't see a patient," Mark replied, looking around, pointedly.

"He's gone up to the ward now."

Mark peered over his glasses while taking the chart from Jesse's hands he replaced it in the rack. "Then your shift is over, it's time for you to go home."

"I was just going," Jesse told his friend, sullenly.

"Jesse, you're on trial, remember. I don't want to have to reprimand you on your first day. I know this is hard for you, but you're not in charge round here at the moment. If you can't stick to our agreement then I will have to insist you stay away from work until you're completely fit."

The younger doctor gave his friend a wounded look for good measure but declined to say anything in his defense. It would only compound his guilt and probably make Mark dig his heels in further - better to accept the scolding and move on.

Mark's expression softened a little as he placed a hand on Jesse's arm in apparent understanding. "Know when to call it a day, okay? You can't possibly expect to put in the kind of hours you're used to, right now. I'm impressed you've made it through your shift, but I'll be happier still if you'd keep to your allotted times and are able to make it in again tomorrow, as well. If you overdo it you're only going to harm yourself, and I can't afford to have my head of ER out of commission for any longer than is absolutely necessary."

"You're right, Mark. I'm sorry. I'll do my best to get out of here on time from now on," Jesse declared, resolutely. And he really did mean it, too.

Right up until his shift was nearly over the following day…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two weeks after his return to work, Jesse had decided it was also time he moved back to his own apartment, and Mark was throwing a kind of a farewell party, though he, Steve and Amanda had secretly taken bets as to how many days it would be before Jesse stayed over again. As the three older friends congregated in the kitchen to discuss the menu for dinner, they realized their guest of honor was missing. Mark went to round him up, wandering out into his back yard, where the last of his gathering was still sitting on a lounger, soaking up every lingering ounce of sunshine. He watched the lone figure, reminiscing on how the young man had come into - and stayed - in their lives. The intern who had breezed into Community General's ER for his final rotation, who had graduated top of his class and could have had his pick of any place, virtually anywhere he desired, and yet he'd never strayed from them, even when his mother had offered him a partnership in her formidable practice. Mark had often wondered why, and his only conclusion was that Jesse had, probably subconsciously, been looking for more than just a career. It gladdened the older man's heart to think his own extended family had fulfilled that great need in some way.

As he approached, he could see Jesse was massaging his knee. "You okay, Jess?" he called, announcing his close proximity.

Almost guiltily, Jesse's hand dropped away from his leg. "Uh, yeah, fine," he said, looking back over his shoulder at the older doctor.

"I hope you're not overdoing things," Mark commented, anxiously, as he crouched down beside his young friend, noting the pale complexion and dark smudges under his eyes.

Jesse snorted lightly, his face alive with appreciation at the concerned tone. "Not really. I'm just a bit sore. I've been putting in an extra few hours at physical therapy this week."

"Are you sure that's wise on top of going back to work?" the older doctor questioned.

"You know what they say - no pain, no gain," Jesse declared, flippantly, but his levity cut no ice with Mark.

"I'm serious, Jesse, you shouldn't…"

"Try to run before I can walk? I've heard that before."

Mark laid a hand on his protégé's shoulder, sure that he'd had this conversation several times before, but it warranted another attempt to ram his point of view home. "Okay, I'm sure you're sick of advice, but as a doctor yourself - and a brilliant one at that - surely you know you're risking a complete recovery, or at least a relatively quick one, by trying to do too much, too soon."

The young man ignored the praise, as usual, and concentrated on trying to put his friend's mind at rest. "Please, Mark, believe me, I'm not going to jeopardize everything I've worked so hard for. I know when I'm pushing too much." He went to get up, but his leg locked and it dumped him, unceremoniously, on the ground.

"You were saying…" Mark teased, somewhat ruefully.

"Yeah, well, maybe today I have done a little bit too much," Jesse conceded, reluctantly, and then added quietly to himself, "Just a little."

"Where's your crutch?"

"I left it inside."

Mark tutted, a bit annoyed at the other doctor's carelessness, but all the same, he wrapped an arm around his young friend's waist, and supported him as he limped awkwardly across the soft sand and up the steps to the beach house. They went through the patio doors and into the living room, where Mark eased Jesse down onto the couch, and then left to get them some drinks.

Steve and Amanda were both still in the kitchen, chatting as they prepared the vegetables and meat for dinner.

"He's gone back to work too soon, hasn't he?" they chorused in almost perfect harmony and then looked at each other with wry amusement.

"It wouldn't be so bad if he kept to the twenty hours a week that we agreed. And now he tells me he's been doing more physical therapy, too," Mark announced, with fond exasperation.

"I'm sorry, Mark. If I hadn't been so busy myself this week, I might have noticed. I'll try to help you make sure he goes home on time, in future," Amanda said.

"Yeah, and maybe I'll come up with a few accounting emergencies at Bob's to keep him off his feet, too," Steve suggested.

Mark was grateful he was going to get some reliable help to keep his wayward charge in check. Jesse had outwitted him on that score by undermining his surveillance team - the battalion of nurses he'd lined up to keep an eye on the younger man had deserted him at the first delivery of donuts Jesse had arranged. He picked up the tray of drinks and beckoned the others into the living room for a rest before making a start on cooking the evening meal. Setting it down on the coffee table, he looked across at Jesse, about to ask if he was feeling any better, when he noticed the young man had laid down on the coach and was as curled up as his bad leg would allow, fast asleep, snoring softly.

He put a finger up to his mouth. "Sssh," he whispered, at the pair coming in from the kitchen. Retrieving a blanket from the chair by the window, he draped it over the slumbering form.

"Aww, he still looks so sweet when he's like that," Amanda affectionately observed.

"He's not an intern anymore, Amanda," Steve reminded her.

"I think a part of him always will be," Mark said.

And despite his previous remark, Steve added, "Yeah, I know, I've often found myself wondering if we couldn't find some way to bottle whatever it is that he has - we'd make a fortune!"

"And think what a lovely place the world would be…" Amanda sighed.

Steve raised his eyebrows in astonishment, but Mark knew exactly what she meant - a world full of fun and sunny smiles and people looking out for each other would be a wonderful place. It was a shame it wasn't ever likely to be that way. "You do know he'd be terribly embarrassed to wake up and find us all talking about him and ogling him like this," he commented.

"Yeah - kinda makes it worthwhile, don't it?" Steve answered, mischievously.

They all chuckled, but when Jesse started to stir at their noise, they tiptoed back to the kitchen with their drinks and got on with cooking dinner.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

EPILOGUE

The gloriously balmy weather was a bonus Amanda hadn't counted on so late in the year, and she found herself keen to slip into a swimsuit and make the most of it. Mark had suggested the gathering at the beach house for one of the rare full days the friends managed to get off together.

"Are you ready yet?" Jesse impatiently called up to the balcony from where he stood in the yard with Dion and CJ, his surfboard propped beside him in the sand.

"Yeah, come on, mom, or we'll miss the tide!" Dion added.

"Coming!" she replied, and grabbing a pile of towels to take down to the shore, because it was bound to be cold when they came out of the water, the pathologist made her way down the steps.

As Jesse picked up his board and began to lead the boys over the dune to the ocean, Amanda couldn't help but wince at the nasty scars on his left leg and the way he still walked awkwardly, trying to avoid putting much weight on it. When she caught up with him, she asked, concerned, "Shouldn't you have your brace on?"

"Can't get it wet," he explained. "I'll be okay once I'm in the water - the buoyancy helps."

"Are you sure you're up for this?" she asked, concerned. "We could always make it another day."

"I'm fine, Amanda, stop worrying!" Jesse retorted. He stopped suddenly and pinned her with an accusatory glare. "Are you trying to get out of this?"

"No, of course not," she protested, trying to sound sincere. "I've always wanted to learn how to surf."

Jesse ignored her. "Only, I can look after the boys if you'd rather be sunbathing…"

"Really?" Amanda couldn't hide the relief in her voice at the tempting offer. Despite the sun, the water looked cold, and she wasn't that bothered about whether she could surf or not. She just hadn't wanted to appear unwilling to try something new.

"Sure," Jesse smiled. "We'll be okay, won't we, kids?"

"Yeah, go on, mom, Jesse will look after us," Dion assured her.

"Well, okay, but you two had better behave, or Jesse will be sending you straight back, d'ya hear?"

"Yes, mom, we'll be good, we promise," CJ answered, enthusiastically. Amanda knew he liked nothing better than being with Jesse, partly because he would probably get away with far more fooling around than she would ever tolerate.

"Don't stand any nonsense from them, Jesse," she warned her young friend, as she handed Dion the towels to carry.

Jesse just grinned at her, indulgently, and then gave a wink to the boys, before using his head to get them to move off toward the ocean.

On her trek back to Mark's yard, Amanda stopped to watch the three playmates splashing happily into the waves. It was good to see Jesse's vitality brimming over again, and she was as pleased for him about it as she was for herself and her other friends. The summer had been fraught with many lows, but things were definitely on the up now, and she hoped Jesse's steady progress back to unencumbered mobility would soon be complete. As she continued walking, Amanda considered herself blessed by the all the men in her life, both young and old, and she simply couldn't wish for anything more.

~

Jesse lay along his surfboard paddling gently, waiting patiently for the perfect breaker to come his way. It was getting cold, and he'd sent the boys in to get dry and warmed up after their surfing lesson, but he was determined to have one good ride before he went in, it would probably be his last opportunity before winter set in. The swell rocked him as a potential wave lapped towards the shore. He was ready. He grabbed the board with his hands and levered himself up ready to spring his feet forward. His knee and thigh screamed in protest as he carried out the sharp maneuver, and he wobbled fleetingly as he strived to maintain the crouch. Over the last few months he had grown accustomed to the various twinges sudden movement could induce. They were gradually becoming less frequent and less intense as he returned to his normal routine, but he doubted he would ever be able to take completely pain-free exercise for granted again.

Carefully adjusting his weight, he regained a harmonious balance, feeling the breeze ruffling his hair as the wave's momentum increased, and he ripped along its leading edge. It was a fast one, and he had to concentrate all his energy into keeping his feet planted on the fiberglass and staying upright. All too soon though, as the breaker neared the beach, it ran out of steam and the crest fell over Jesse's board, threatening to dump him in the water. He fought it temporarily, but then decided to give in, cart-wheeling playfully into the ocean. He felt empowered - in control of his own destiny once more.

Shaking the water from his hair, he climbed back onto the surfboard and headed back to Mark's stretch of shore, giving his friends a cheery wave as he drew close. They'd obviously been watching him from the balcony, probably with some trepidation, but more importantly, with love and support. Jesse had an enormous reserve of independence, but he'd learnt a vital lesson during his battle back to health - sometimes it was easier to cope with what life threw at you if you trusted those around you to help. Of course, he was still going to be stubborn, but it was enough to know they cared what his choices might bring.

He could never hope to repay what Mark and Steve especially had done for him during his convalescence - given him a home, help with his bodily requirements and a wealth of encouragement. Sure, he'd paid his way with money towards his living costs and the pay-per-view bill, and had mucked-in with the daily chores once able, but those small offerings didn't come close to covering the debt Jesse felt he owed them. And yet, he knew they wouldn't see things that way. They had never expected he settle the invoice of their investment in him with anything. It was what friends - family - were supposed to do for each other. In their eyes he had already done as much for them in various ways over the years. For Mark, he had saved Steve's life; for Steve he had saved Mark's life, and for Amanda he had helped deliver both her sons to her.

There was an apartment with his name on it, but it was merely an address to store his things, somewhere he retreated at the end of a shift to sleep. He didn't live there. He wasn't attached to it. No. The one place he truly felt he belonged was where his heart dwelled, and that was at the beach house, with Mark, Steve and Amanda - the surrogate family he adored.

He shivered as he finally emerged from the ocean and gratefully flung the only remaining towel around his shoulders to ward off some of the chill. Limping toward the prospect of one of Mark's relish-laden burgers, Jesse carried his board… home.

The End

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