Disclaimer: The
characters in the following fan fiction do not belong to me. They belong to CBS and Viacom
and other powers that be. I am only using them for the purpose ofwriting this story. No
money is being made from this writing it is for entertainment purposes only. And now on
with the show...
"I told you we should have taken my car. I can't believe this day," Steve
grumbled as he shifted in the car, trying to get comfortable. "Remind me not to take
any road trips with you again anytime soon."
Mark sighed in exasperation as he looked at his watch, muttering silently, "Not
again."
Ignoring his Dad's sigh and continuing his tirade, "First, the car won't start so we
are a day late in getting started. Then we run into the first snowstorm of the season
before we even get an hour outside of Portland, we get stuck in a snowdrift, and now to
top it off we are lost," he continued grousing.
"We're not lost," Mark countered optimistically, "we're just taking the
scenic route," trying to avoid gritting his teeth as he smiled.
"Yeah, sure," Steve mumbled under his breath.
"What was that?" Mark asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing over at his
obviously uncomfortable and grouchy son. "Why don't you try and get some sleep,"
adding under his breath, "and give me some peace and quiet."
Steve glanced sharply over at his dad, "Did you say something?"
Mark looked innocently over at him, shrugging his shoulders, "Who me? I said why
don't we turn the radio off so that you can have some peace and quiet," in an effort
to avoid any further grumbling from that side of the car.
After suggesting this and unaware that Steve was now focused on listening to the news
bulletin, Mark reached down and switched off the radio as the announcer started to
broadcast, "In local news, checkpoints are in place as police have widened the
manhunt for escaped convict..."
"Hey, I was listening that," Steve fumbled for the radio controls, turning it
back on.
The announcer's voice continued, "...should be considered armed and dangerous. And in
other news, scientists think they may have identified the gene..."
Steve disgustedly punched off the radio again just as Mark's attention was caught by the
medical breakthrough. He started to protest, "I was listening..." but thought
better of it at the glare directed his way from the far side of the car.
Coughing, Steve shifted again in the cramped passenger seat. Mark glanced with concern
toward him, taking in his flushed appearance. "Are you sure you don't want to find
somewhere to stop for the night?" he questioned.
With an exasperated glance toward his father, "No, I told you Dad, they need me back
at the station first thing in the morning. I had a hard enough time convincing the Captain
to let me off as long as he did. There's no way he is going to let me off another
day," he finished just as he was overcome with another coughing fit.
In an effort to get Steve's mind on other things besides his discomfort, Mark said,
"Well, I have good news at least. We passed the turn-off for the route to Carmel so
at least we know where we are."
"Great," Steve muttered. "I told you we shouldn't have taken that last exit
outside San Francisco. What's another 6 or 7 hours of this torture?"
Mark grimaced at his son's description and wondered briefly to himself who was being
tortured more on this trip. Determined not to let Steve's attitude affect his mood,
laughing, he continued his efforts to get Steve distracted, "Do you remember how
Jesse and Susan were afraid to come to Carmel so many times and then when they finally
did, they ended up in Searidge being framed for murder?"
Not getting an answer and hearing what sounded like a soft snore from the other side of
the car, Mark looked up toward the heavens, "Thank goodness," he whispered,
"I didn't think he would ever fall asleep." He gave a sigh of relief, quickly
followed by a worried frown as he listened to the raspy sound of his son's breathing from
the other side of the car.
Mumbling under his breath, "I heard that," Steve shifted again as he leaned up
against the doorframe, never opening his eyes as he tried to ignore the increasing
discomfort in his chest.
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
After a few hours of welcomed quiet, a harsh cough broke the silence from the other side
of the car. Mark glanced over with mounting concern, "Steve, you're not sounding too
good..." he began.
"No...tell me something I didn't know," he croaked in response.
Mark shook his head and decided it might be safer just to stay quiet for the remainder of
the trip. However, one look at the greenish tint coloring his son's face quickly changed
his mind. "And you dont look so good either," he finished as he pulled over to
the side of the road, barely making it in time as Steve practically threw himself out the
door, emptying the contents of his stomach along the roadside.
Mark rounded the car after a few minutes. Placing a fatherly hand on his son's shoulder,
he felt the heat radiating off him. "Do you think you can make it a little further?
There should be a rest area about a half mile ahead."
Too tired and sick to even bother responding, Steve nodded slightly and rose unsteadily to
his feet.
Getting in the car, "Dad, you remember that time I got food poisoning from the
caterer fiasco?"
"Yes," Mark answered cautiously.
"Well, I think I felt better then." Steve moaned as he eased himself back into
the car.
Shaking his head and trying to hide a smile, Mark slipped back behind the wheel and headed
toward the rest area.
Not quite allowing time for the car to completely stop, Steve jumped out and disappeared
into the restroom of the rest area. Mark got out and glanced at his watch, grimacing as he
realized they still had another hour or so to go. He waited a few minutes to give Steve
some privacy before deciding to head toward the restroom to check on him. As he was
passing the women's area, the door opened and a young woman stepped out.
"Excuse me," Mark automatically apologized after nearly running into her, before
frowning as he took in her aggressive stance as she approached him.
Immediately feeling a sense of unease and in a split second realizing there was no valid
reason for her to be in this rest area in the middle of the night with no other cars
present in the parking lot, he started moving toward the men's restroom. He contined,
"I'm sorry I didn't see you there," backing up as she continued to advance
toward him.
Grabbing his arm, "Take one more step and it'll be your last," reinforcing her
words by pulling a gun out of her jacket and jamming it none too gently into his ribs.
Wincing, "Listen, you don't want to do this," Mark tried to reason with her,
glancing toward the door, hoping that Steve would not come out and startle the woman into
doing something stupid.
"Oh, but I do," the woman calmly replied as she shoved him back toward the
parking lot.
"Here's my wallet and my keys," he tried again.
"Sorry. I need you. I cant take the chance of running into a roadblock by myself and
I certainly cant leave you here to call the police," she finished as she continued to
half push, half drag Mark toward his vehicle.
"Get in," she ordered.
Deciding to play along and hoping Steve would remain in the restroom and more importantly
that she would remain unaware of his presence, Mark got in vehicle. Putting his son's
welfare above his own and trying to rush her along before Steve came out, "Okay. I'm
in. Let's go."
Just as the woman started to enter the vehicle, she stopped, leaning against the vehicle
and lit a cigarette, "I just have one more detail to take care of. You don't mind do
you?" Running her hands almost lovingly along the cold metal of her gun, not really
intending for him to answer, "No, I suppose not," she smiled coolly.
Just then Steve walked around the corner and Mark's eyes widened in disbelief as he
realized what she intended. Time seemed to freeze as he saw the end of the revolver raised
and aimed.
Yelling, "NO!" he lunged toward the other side of the vehicle, grasping the door
handle.
Within a split second the sound of the gunshot echoed in the stillness of the night. Time
continued to a crawl as he watched Steve crumple to the ground.
Casually flicking down her cigarette, "There. That's all taken care of. Now we can
go," she calmly stated.
Staring in disbelief, "Why? Why?" Mark muttered before raising his voice to a
shout, "WHY?" he shouted as he tried to push his way past her to aid his son.
Aiming her gun at him, "Get back in the car. Now. Besides which, maybe he is still
alive. You never know and you'll never know if you don't get in the car now."
"You need me," Mark glared at her. Bravely or perhaps foolishly continuing on,
"You need me to get past any roadblocks. I'm not going anywhere until I check on my
son," he said staring her down.
"Oh really. Is that a fact? Well then perhaps I should check on your son for
you." She said effectively calling his bluff. "This way you'll know for sure
that he is dead." Saying this, she again turned and aimed her gun at the motionless
form lying in the rapidly spreading pool of blood in the deserted parking lot.
"Stop! All right, you win," muttering almost under his breath, "for
now". Raising his voice and glaring with defiance, "Just let me stop somewhere
along the way so I can call an ambulance for him," still unwilling to go without
making one last ditch effort toward saving his son.
"We'll see," shrugging her shoulders as she entered the passenger side of the
vehicle, forcing Mark to move back into the driver's seat.
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
Steve woke up to pain all over his body. Everywhere ached especially his shoulder and
chest. He sat up and wave after wave of dizziness encompassed his body and he felt the all
too familiar sticky wetness of his shoulder. Less concerned with his own welfare, he
swallowed convulsively as he tried to regain control of his stomach as he dealt with the
dizziness and pain.
He reached for his cell phone instinctively. "Damn!" he swore under his breath
as he remembered placing it into the car charger earlier in the evening.
Focusing on his father, and taking a deep breath, he summoned the energy and staggered to
his feet, determined to find a phone and call for back up. Looking around, he immediately
noted and discarded the rest areas payphone as a possibility seeing the receiver-less
phone cord swinging gently in the wind. Shaking his head in resignation, "Nothing is
ever easy..." as he stumbled to the road.
Muttering again to himself as he noted the absence of traffic on the deserted stretch of
road, "Why should my luck change now?" He began the slow painful walk to find
help.
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
Seeing the flashing lights up ahead, the woman tightened her grip on Marks arm.
"Listen up. Don't try anything stupid. You do and that cop is dead and then youre
next. Just remember...the quicker we get through this roadblock, the sooner you can get
help for your son back there."
Grinning to herself, she mentally added, "assuming he's not dead already..." She
coughed to cover her laugh as she wanted to keep her ticket to freedom focused on that
slim hope until she no longer needed his services.
Glancing with disgust toward his 'passenger', "Don't worry," he said as they
pulled to a stop and the officer approached the vehicle, "I'll do my part."
Giving her a warning glance, "Let's just hope you do too," he said in a stern
voice, not intending to give her the satisfaction of glimpsing the extent of his fear, not
only for his son and his own life but for the innocent officer approaching his window.
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
After walking about a mile or more, a police car pulled up beside him. "Little too
much celebrating, fella?" the deputy sheriff casually started to say, initially not
even bothering to get out of the car.
Fighting for breath and struggling to remain standing upright, "I am Lieutenant Steve
Sloan, homicide department, LAPD. I need to call for back up. I have to report...,"
unable to finish as a wave of nausea washed over him, he grabbed onto the side of the
police car for support.
Almost as soon as the earlier words were out of the officer's mouth, he noted the blood
soaked shirt and he instinctively reached for his gun, aiming it at Steve. "Sure you
are, fella, all our homicide detectives go wandering around at this time of night covered
in blood. Back away from the car. Now!" he ordered.
Trying again to gain assistance, "You have to..." he began as he leaned forward,
using his remaining strength to try to convince the over zealous officer. Not thinking
clearly, he reached into his pocket to pull out his I.D.
Reacting instinctively, the officer shot across the passenger seat of the car and slammed
the passenger door open, knocking Steve to the ground.
"Hold it right there!" he ordered as he rolled Steve to his stomach, placing a
knee in his back as he reached for his cuffs.
Gasping from the pain, Steve struggled to remain conscious. "Listen. You're making a
mistake."
Snapping the cuffs into place, "I think you're the one who made a mistake," the
officer stated as he none-too-gently hauled Steve to his feet and slammed him onto the
hood of the car and proceeded to pat him down for weapons.
Grimacing in both pain and frustration, Steve took a deep breath and began speaking slowly
as if talking to a two year old, hanging onto what little patience he had left, "Take
a look at my I.D. That will prove who I am. I don't have time for this."
Seeing the officer's swift change in attitude after reading his I.D., Steve started
snapping off orders, "My father has been kidnapped at gunpoint. I need you to call it
in." Recalling the earlier radio report about checkpoints being set up, he continued
on, "And alert the officers at the roadblocks to be on the lookout for his
vehicle." He only remained standing through sheer force of will as he watched the
officer scramble to follow his orders as he rattled off the make, model and license number
for the officer to relay to the dispatcher.
Eager now to make up for his earlier miss-assumptions and anxious to redeem himself in the
LAPD homicide detectives eyes, the officer glanced up from the radio, "Get in,
Lieutenant, and Ill get you to the hospital. Don't worry about your father. We'll find
him." Seeing Steve remain standing outside the door, he questioned, "Was there
something else, Sir?"
Sighing in exasperation, "Yeah," Steve looked over at the officers badge,
"Officer Newman, there is one more thing. Get these things off of me!" turning
around to show his cuffed hands.
Turning red, Officer Newman jumped up to remove the cuffs, "Sorry about that. I was
just doing my job," he continued to explain as he fumbled with the key and finally
released the restraints from Steve's wrists.
Settling into the passenger seat, Steve laid his head back, trying to settle his stomach.
He didn't have time to be sick at this precise moment and definitely not in front of a
fellow officer. As the adrenaline that fueled him began to wane, he fought a losing battle
to give in to the darkness.
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
As he fought his way back to consciousness through sheer willpower, he cringed inwardly as
he thought back to his behavior over the past several hours. He moaned as he fought the
bile rising in his throat, thinking, "Oh God, what if that woman killed his father?
What if he never saw him alive again? How would he cope with that?"
Hearing the moan, Officer Newman, reached over and gently shook his arm. "Lieutenant.
Lieutenant Sloan, are you alright? Stay with me," he continued as he urged his
vehicle slightly faster.
Steve jerked, fully alert, his pale face illuminated by the flashing lights as the police
vehicle sped through the dark night, the lights of L.A. barely visible in the distance
now. Shaking his head slightly, almost inaudibly he whispered, "I won't be all right
until I know my father is safe."
Nodding his understanding, Officer Newman swallowed nervously as he proceeded to fill him
in on what transpired during his brief lapse of consciousness. "I checked with
dispatch. A car matching the description of your father's car vehicle already passed
through a roadblock we had set up before the alert came through."
Stammering slightly at the glare directed his way at this news, "But they've already
located the vehicle via helicopter and we have a chopper following the vehicle but they
are maintaining their distance until we can get another roadblock set up. Dispatch has
notified your precinct and your partner will be coordinating the efforts at the next
roadblock." That said, he continued, "There's an emergency clinic close by and I
can have you there in about 5-10 minutes," he finished.
With deadly calm and in a voice that dared the officer to argue, "I am not going
anywhere until my father is out of danger." Steve said.
Not used to backing down either, Officer Newman dared to rise to the challenge, "You
are not going to be any use to anyone if youre dead," he said bluntly. "Frankly,
I've seen healthier corpses."
Ignoring the officer's concern and admiring his backbone, Steve conceded the point,
grinning slightly "You're probably right but that doesn't change my mind."
Grinning back at him, "Somehow, I thought you'd say that. We passed the turnoff for
the clinic a mile back. Since our helicopter is following your father's vehicle, we're
meeting a news chopper in the field up ahead. They've agreed to give us a hand getting to
the next staging area." Pressing down on the accelerator, they headed toward the
field and waiting helicopter.
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
Successfully passing through the checkpoint, Mark drove the woman along. As the broken
white lines of the road flashed by, his mind replayed the shooting over and over. His
hands tightened on the steering wheel as he sent silent prayers for his son's safety. His
thoughts kept returning to the last time Steve had been shot and was lying unconscious in
ICU, hanging somewhere between life and death. Shaking, he realized that the fear he felt
for his son then was nothing compared to what he felt right now, knowing he was hurt,
alone and nothing he could do to help him.
Glancing at the woman responsible, he broke the heavy silence in the vehicle, repeating
once again the question drumming in his mind, "Why? Why did you have to shoot
him?"
The woman looked over at him, sighing loudly in exasperation and irritated by the same
question. Deciding it was better to answer him than to have to repeatedly listen to the
same question every mile or so, "Because I wanted to."
Sounding bored, she continued, "I didnt need him. I needed you," pausing to
emphasize the past tense of her words before continuing, "to get through the
roadblock." Her hand tightened on the gun as she pointed it at him and said with
deadly calm, "Does that answer your question?"
Satisfied that she had effectively discouraged further attempts at conversation, she
turned her attention back to the road as she scanned for potential signs of pursuit and
more importantly a remote place to permanently leave her reluctant travel companion now
that they had made it through the roadblock.
She almost laughed out loud as she recalled how ridiculously easy it had been to make
their way past those incompetent fools. Mark swallowed the flash of anger at her callous
words and the remaining smirk on her face.
Shaking his head slightly, a part of him was dying as he continued to drive, each mile
further and further away from his injured son, not knowing if Steve was alive or dead.
Angered at the helplessness he felt, his knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering
wheel even tighter as he tried to rein in his emotions.
Regretting so many lost opportunities, he thought back to the many times he could have
made sure Steve knew how important he was to him but didn't. Memories slammed into him,
one after the otherthe unfinished note and then taking the easy way out Steve provided for
him by pretending the note was just a reminder for fortune cookies.
Over and over, the memories continued taunting him as the tires hummed along the pavement.
Grimacing in regret he remembered answering simply "Me too," to his son's
statement "I love you, Dad."
"Damn..." he swore under his breath. All he wanted to do was go back and make
sure Steve was okay. Mark agonized over the pain of losing Steve this way, but especially
with so many things left unsaid. It was not a matter of 'if' this woman killed him, he
realized now, just a matter of 'when'. Despair quickly became replaced with determination,
"I'm not going without a fight," as he swerved back into his lane, having
drifted over the center line.
"Watch out! Look if you are deliberately trying to draw attention to us with reckless
driving, it won't work. I don't need you bad enough now to let us both get killed."
The woman cocked the gun.
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
"Chopper One to News Chopper Two" the static-surrounded voice came over the
radio.
"Go ahead, Chopper One," the news helicopter pilot responded.
"What is your e.t.a. at the landing zone?"
"We're setting her down now," the pilot responded as he maneuvered the craft to
the roadway.
Steve leaned forward, having been monitoring the radio transmissions over the spare
headset, shouting to be heard over the rotor blades, "Is there a problem?"
"Chopper One, what is the location of our suspect vehicle?"
"It is approximately 20 miles from your location" the police pilot responded.
"It appears there may be some sort of altercation occurring in the vehicle. Suspect
vehicle has been observed swerving across the center line."
Forgetting his injuries and jumping out of the helicopter, Steve nearly collapsed from the
pain. "Thanks," he mouthed to Officer Newman, who quickly steadied him, as the
news helicopter pilot immediately resumed the flight to cover the story from the air.
Straightening up, he was glad for the jacket provided by the chopper pilot, hoping to
camouflage the extent of his injuries to the assembled officers and more importantly, from
his partner, as Cheryl approached.
Having already been briefed via dispatch and Officer Newman, it was a wasted effort at
concealment. "Steve. Are you alright?" she questioned, gently linking her arm
through his, noting the pallor and clamminess of his skin.
Shrugging off her concern, "I'm fine. Is everything in place here?" he asked as
he automatically scanned the area, intent on taking charge of the situation.
"Not so fast," Cheryl stated bluntly. "I have everything in control here.
The first thing we are going do is get you checked out."
"Forget it," Steve replied flatly. "I'm not going anywhere until Dad's
safe," he finished attempting to move past her.
"Exactly what I told her you would say," a voice from behind him stated.
"Jesse...what are you doing here?" Steve turned too quickly, almost losing his
balance, the blood loss combined with the flu symptoms he had been experiencing all
evening causing another bout of vertigo.
"Whoa," Jesse jumped to his side.
The medical part of Jesse's mind clicked into high gear as he noted Steve's skin color or
lack thereof. Having been informed by the dispatch relay courtesy of Officer Newman that
Steve had been shot, it was apparent that from the looks of it he had lost a great deal of
blood. He also mentally noted the greenish cast to his skin and the efforts he appeared to
be making at keeping down the contents of his stomach.
"Let me help." Jesse wrapped his arm around Steve careful to avoid the side that
was obviously injured as evidenced by the way Steve was holding his arm on that side. He
gently guided him toward the waiting paramedic squad, his concern growing with each step
as he realized that he was almost fully supporting Steves weight. Steve sat down at the
edge of the stretcher pushed into place behind him by the EMT more by reflex than because
he even noticed it was there.
Jesse instructed the paramedic, "Set up an IV, ringer's lactate," as he
immediately began examining his friend.
As he removed the stethoscope from his ears, he finally took time to answer Steve's
earlier question, "Cheryl was at the hospital to obtain a statement from a suspect
when the call came in and we thought I better come along just in case. And it looks like
it was a good thing I did."
Jumping in, Cheryl stated slightly sarcastically, raising her eyebrow, "'we' thought?
Did I have a choice?" Looking toward Steve with a grin, she finished, "I didn't
think it would look appropriate to arrive via a LAPD helicopter with a doctor hanging onto
the runners."
"Very funny," Jesse glared over at her. Then grinning sheepishly, he laughed
thinking she was probably right, "Okay...but I know you," he finished with a
no-nonsense look at Steve as he attempted to remove the jacket.
"Jesse," Steve shook his head to clear it, fully realizing now that he was
sitting on a stretcher. He nearly shouted in frustration, "I don't have time for
this," pushing him aside and standing back up, before falling to his knees, gasping
in pain as a fit of coughing overcame him.
The lines of care and exhaustion were evident on Steve's face, clearly revealing his worry
about his father. Grabbing him and gently easing him to a sitting position once again,
"Steve, listen to me. I know you're worried about your Dad. I am too," his voice
cracking slightly with barely concealed emotion. "Let me take a quick look at
you," he finished as he quickly removed the concealing jacket, wincing slightly as he
got his first good look at the amount of blood loss.
Nodding his head slightly, Steve resigned himself to Jesse's first aid treatment.
"But I'm not leaving," he said stubbornly, with a warning glance at both Cheryl
and his friend. "Not until I know he's safe."
Jesse just nodded slightly, not ready to concede the point until he knew exactly what the
extent of Steve's injuries really were. Jesse finished his exam, sighing grimly, as he
knew he had a significant battle ahead in getting Steve to agree to treatment now.
Taking a deep breath, he plunged right in "Steve, we have to get some blood into you.
You can't stand on your feet as it is. Your lungs are filling up with fluid. You're
dehydrated, and that's just what I can tell right now. We need to get you into a hospital
where we can start treatment."
"You don't understand, Jesse, I can't. Not until I have a chance to talk to my Dad. I
need to be here."
"You know Mark, he's probably already convinced her to give herself up," Jesse
first tried to reason with Steve. Seeing the stubborn set of his jaw, he waved an arm in
frustration at the assembled officers, "Besides that, these people are trained to do
this. Cheryl is here. If there is any way to prevent it, she won't let anything happen to
your Dad and neither will the rest of these officers."
"Jesse's right," Cheryl finally re-joined them, having been monitoring the
helicopter transmissions and preparing for the upcoming rescue operation.
Shaking his head, "You don't understand," he said almost too soft for them to
hear. "I need to let him know I'm sorry. I was being," he struggled for the
right word, "I guess you'd say 'difficult' and said some things earlier I wish I
could take back."
"You have disagreed, or should I say," raising his eyebrows and smiling
slightly, "been 'difficult' before. You and Mark are always able to work things
out," Jesse rushed to assure him.
Steve's voice cracked slightly and he swallowed hard, looking down at the ground, before
continuing "But what if this time, we don't get a chance."
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
Coming around the curve in the road, Mark's heart raced as he observed the flashing lights
in the distance and realized this may be his last chance.
"Damn," the woman muttered, noticing the obstacle ahead in the same moment.
Scanning the roadside for a turnoff, she swore again as she realized there were none to be
seen, which was exactly why the police had chosen this location for the roadblock.
"Turn around," she demanded.
Mark looked over at her, "I think you better look behind us first."
Twisting around in the seat, she glanced out the rear window, seeing two darkened police
cruisers following the vehicle at a distance.
Turning back around, she pointed her gun at Mark, "I'm not going back to jail. No
matter what," she shouted in frustration, her earlier cockiness rapidly descending
into full-fledged panic.
"Listen, you are only going to make it worse on yourself. You don't want to die. I
don't want to die. If you cooperate..." Mark began to try to reason with her,
grasping at whatever chance there might be to end this without anyone else getting killed.
"Wrong," she replied. "I'd rather die than go back to that hellhole they
call a prison."
As she was weighing the chances of barreling through the police cars blocking the road
ahead, she suddenly became aware of the sound of the police helicopter overhead.
"This is the police. Pull the vehicle over," a disembodied voice sounded over
the chopper's loudspeaker.
At that precise second, the news helicopter's spotlight washed over the assembled police
at the waiting roadblock.
Sighing in almost silent prayer, "Thank God," Mark whispered as moisture sprang
to his eyes as the brief illumination reflected his son's face, at the side of roadway.
Having finally made a decision, the woman put the gun to Mark's head, and ordered,
"Keep driving. If you slow down, Ill kill you."
"This is crazy. If you shoot me, you'll only end up killing yourself too." He
eased his foot off the gas pedal, and began to apply the brakes as they approached the
line of vehicles ahead.
Just before his foot could actually hit the brake, the woman scooted closer and jammed her
foot down on top of his, pushing the accelerator to the floor. With a maniacal gleam in
her eyes, "Either way I'm going to die. I might as well take a few others with
me," as the car sped like a guided missile toward the assembled officers.
Yanking the wheel out of his hands with superhuman strength, she aimed the vehicle
straight off the edge of the roadway in a last ditch attempt to go around.
Steve turned to jump out of the way but it was one movement too many and he collapsed to
the ground, his body finally giving up the fight.
"Steve," Jesse and Cheryl shouted out nearly simultaneously as they rushed to
drag him out of the way of the speeding vehicle.
Seeing Steve collapse, Mark fought harder as he grasped the wheel in a desperate attempt
to regain control of the wheel, realizing the car was careening straight toward the three
of them. With one final yank on the wheel, he managed to wrestle it away from her.
Unfortunately for Mark, this desperate action resulted in the car spinning out of control.
The assembled officers rushed to respond as the vehicle left the roadway, rolling down an
incline before coming to a rest in a cluster of trees.
***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***DM***
The police scrambled to secure the scene, which for the unfortunate convict was relatively
easy, as she had been thrown from the vehicle, dying upon impact as the vehicle rolled
over her.
"Mark! Mark! Are you okay?" a note of barely controlled panic evident in his
voice as Jesse left Steve in the care of the paramedics and brushed past the officers
standing in his way. He pushed his way frantically toward the vehicle and immediately
began examining and accessing him for injuries.
"Other than the elephants tap dancing in my head," Mark responded with a grimace
of pain, "I think Im fine."
Jesse continued his examination, "Let me just make sure," he said, ignoring yet
another Sloan's claim to be 'just fine'.
Cheryl approached the vehicle, "Hows he doing? I've got an anxious police lieutenant
ready to charge down this hill. I promised him I'd find out and let him know."
Becoming fully alert, Mark pushed Jesse aside, "Jesse. Stop. Cheryl, like I've tried
to tell my associate here, I said I'm fine. How's Steve? Where is he? Is he okay?" He
continued to rapidly fire questions at them.
Leaving Jesse to answer Mark's questions, Cheryl laid a brief comforting hand on Mark's
shoulder before rushing back to fill her partner and her friend in on the good news.
Confident that Mark was not suffering from more than a few bruises and a minor concussion
thanks to the saving grace of the seatbelt and airbag, Mark paused long enough in his
questioning for Jesse to finally answer him, "Mark. Steve's going to be fine. He's
suffered some blood loss from the bullet wound but probably nothing too serious there. I
think it is the combination of the flu and the fluid loss that is actually the problem
right now."
"Jesse, I saw him." Mark said, not quite convinced, with a worried frown as they
made their way back up the hillside. "Are you sure he's okay?"
"Mark, Relax. He's going to be fine," Jesse said placing a hand on his shoulder.
"In fact, they are getting ready to transport him to Community General right
now," he finished pointing at the ambulance just preparing to head out.
"He should have been at the hospital by now," Mark observed with a glance in
Jesse's direction.
"Yeah. Right. You try telling him that," Jesse countered, with an exasperated
shrug of his shoulders.
Approaching the ambulance, Mark shook off Jesse's assisting hand and rushed forward,
"Wait," He yelled out and motioned to the paramedic in back.
Approaching the ambulance door, a weight lifted from his heart as he could hear for
himself the croaking voice of his son as he continued to use what little voice he had left
to argue with Cheryl and the paramedics. "Let me out of here. I'm not going anywhere
until I see for myself that my father is okay."
Cheryl tried to reason with him but he interrupted her, "You don't understand. I need
to see for myself that he is okay," adding in a voice barely above a whisper, "I
need to tell him Im sorry," he finished as his eyes closed in exhaustion.
The paramedic placed the oxygen mask back over Steve's face as Mark climbed into the
ambulance. Frowning in concern at the paleness of Steve's face and his labored breathing,
Mark leaned over the stretcher, the doctor in him reacting automatically as he grabbed
Steve's wrist, feeling the rapid pulse.
Instinctively knowing his father's touch, Steve immediately opened his eyes. Smiling in
relief, he reached up to grab the mask off his face, whispering, "I'm..."
Mark shook his head softly, "Don't. Just rest." He said swaying slightly as the
ambulance started moving at Jesse's signal as he climbed aboard.
Steve grinned, closing his eyes confident in the knowledge that everything was okay.
As the ambulance sped toward Community General, Mark leaned over his sleeping son,
whispering quietly, "I love you, son," before sitting down in exhaustion as the
events of the night took their toll.
Without missing a beat and not opening his eyes, Steve smiled and said, "Me
too."
*The End*
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