Disclaimer: I do not own any of the main characters Jesse Travis Mark Sloan etc.
Author's note: This is my first fanfic please go easy! any advice would be appreciated
Preview: Steve and Jesse get into trouble when a diamond smuggling leads to a murder and an investigation.
Diamonds Are Forever
It was one of the quiet days in the ER of Community General Hospital. Dr Jesse Travis was standing idly at the nurses' station. All of a sudden the door crashed open and a gurney came charging through. Reacting instinctively Jesse ran over to greet the paramedics. "What have we got?" demanded Jesse as soon as he was in earshot.
"Gun shot wound to the lower left quadrant, pulse is rapid and thready," one of the paramedics summed up the patients condition.
"Alright let's get him into Trauma Room 1," Jesse instructed. "Mark! I need a hand over here," he shouted as soon as he saw the grey haired doctor round the corner.
Mark Sloan, head of Internal Medicine, his mentor and practically a surrogate father to him, rushed to his side as they guided the gurney into the trauma room.
"What do you need, Jess?" the older doctor asked, amid the cacophony of noise.
"Get me 8 cc's of adrenaline, he's going into tachychardic arrest," said the blonde haired doctor as he started CPR.
Mark quickly injected the fluid into the man's arm, glancing slightly sideways as the defibrillator rolled through the door.
Grabbing the panels, while Jesse tries to revive their patient, Mark moved over to his side. "Charging 360, clear". The bloody body lying on the bed jerked into the air once, and then fell still. Pressing two fingers on the carotid artery, Jesse sighed with relief, "he's back".
Looking across at Mark he said, "We need to get him to the OR". Mark nodded and began to move the patient, when suddenly the man's hand shot up and grasped at Jesse's arm.
Shocked, both doctors turned to look at him and saw his eyes were cracked open. Turning his bleary and pain filled gaze to Jesse, he started to mutter something. "What was that?" Jess asked, leaning forward to better catch what was being said.
"They…mustn't…find them," the man sighed, his hold on Jesse slipping.
"We need to move now," Jesse shouted to the nurses. No sooner had they gotten out of the door and heading towards the elevator, the man started to speak again.
"You…you have to…find them," he said, breathlessly, "you…must go to the…Kings Cross. Locker number…535". Then his hand went limp and he lay still.
"We have to hurry, Jess," Mark Sloan said, startling him from his shocked stupor.
"Right," he said, and together they moved the gurney into the elevator.
Dr Amanda Bentley sat alone in the doctor's lounge, nursing a cup of coffee. She'd been at the hospital since early evening the previous day, and this was the first break she'd had. A fire had broken out in a block of flats and as a pathologist for the Coroner's Office it had been down to her to do the autopsies.
Amanda looked up as the door opened and in came Detective Steve Sloan, Mark's son. "Hi, Steve," she murmured, turning back to her coffee.
"Hey, Amanda," Steve said, "Jesse around?"
"He's in surgery with your father," she responded, turning to look at him again.
"The gunshot victim?" he asked casually.
Amanda stared at him, her tired features showing a look of incredulity. "How did you…?"
"His name's Gregory McCalson," answered Steve. "Apparently he was the victim of a drive-by shooting this morning".
"Do we know why?" she asked carefully.
"No. Not at the moment," then Steve narrowed his eyes and looked at Amanda suspiciously. "Wait a minute. What's this 'we' business?"
Amanda shrugged and stared into her coffee, but gave no indication that she was going to answer. Sighing Steve sat down beside Amanda. "Do you know when they'll be out?" he asked, deciding to change the subject.
She turned to him, "I dunno, Steve. They've been in there for hours, but it was pretty bad". Staring him in the eye, she continued, "you know how it can be".
Steve sighed again, "yeah. I know". They sat together in silence, until the door to the lounge opened again.
Mark and Jesse trudged wearily into the doctor's lounge, Jesse immediately slumping in to the couch opposite Amanda and Steve. Mark fixed them both some coffee and took a seat next to Jesse.
"Well?" demanded Steve.
Mark frowned, "well what?" he asked.
"The gunshot victim, did he live?" Steve was struggling to control his impatience.
Mark sighed and Jesse looked more miserable than before, if that was possible, thought Steve. He glanced between the two of them, waiting for an answer.
After a pause, Jesse finally spoke up. "He didn't make it," he said, quietly, "there was massive internal bleeding and he crashed again".
"We couldn't bring him back," finished Mark. He frowned as he watched Jesse sway slightly before controlling himself.
Jesse was the first to break the strained silence. "Why did you want to see him anyway, Steve?"
Steve looked at him and then his father. He knew he wasn't going to be able to keep them off the case. "His name's Gregory McCalson. Several witnesses say he was the victim of a drive-by shooting this morning".
Mark looked at his son as he contemplated his statement. "The only problem is," Steve continued, "we don't know why and there's no evidence to suggest…" He trailed off as he saw a look of realisation pass across Jesse's expressive features. "What?" he prompted.
"I think I might know why," Jesse answered, slowly.
"Go on, Jess," Mark encouraged him with a slight nod of the head.
"Well, you remember what he said to me, Mark? Before we went into the OR?" Mark nodded. At the twin looks of confusion on Steve's and Amanda's faces, he elaborated. "He told me 'they mustn't find them' and that I had to go to the Kings Cross and get them. Whatever 'them' is," he finished.
Steve looked at him with a mixture of surprise and determination. "Did he say where to find them?"
"Yeah," said Jesse, thoughtfully, "he said they were in locker 535".
"Right," said Steve, as he got up to leave, "Kings Cross is a pub about 12 blocks away". Immediately he made for the door.
Jesse jumped up and followed. "Steve, wait". He turned to look at his friend, noted his enthusiasm, and instantly rebuked. "No, Jess. Not this time," he said as sternly as he could.
Stunned, Jesse stopped abruptly. "Ah, Steve," whined the petulant little voice.
"No, Jess". Steve fixed a steely glare on his best friend. Jesse nodded his agreement, albeit reluctantly. Satisfied, Steve turned and left the room.
Turning around, Jesse made to move back to his seat, when all of a sudden the world spun alarmingly. Staggering forward, he was barely aware of hands grasping him before he fell to the floor.