This story is dedicated to Betty – with grateful thanks for all her help and support both in beta reading my stories and for being a friend. Thanks are also due to Betty for providing me with the medical information.

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Bad Blood

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5.45 AM

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??????????? He hadn’t planned to go for a run that morning, intending instead to relish an extra half an hour in bed before his alarm summoned him to the start of another day.?? The previous day had been hectic; the demands of his job, coupled with the pressures of running a busy, thriving, restaurant having resulted in him more or less collapsing into bed a little after 1 AM, too tired to even raise enough energy to brush his teeth.

??????????? Nevertheless, when the first shy fingers of dawn crept into his room, Steve Sloan rose, donned his running gear, and headed out on to the beach where he stood for a few moments drawing in huge lungfuls of crisp, clean air before setting off on his customary route, slowly at first and then gradually picking up speed until he’d settled into his familiar pace.

An hour later, completely invigorated and hungry as a horse, he returned to the beach house where - spurred on by thoughts of an enormous breakfast washed down with copious amounts of coffee - he bounded up the steps of the deck, his enthusiasm and progress swiftly checked as he tripped on the last but one and fell.?? The pain in his knees as he landed on them with the entirety of his body weight was as nothing compared to the searing pain that shot through his left arm as it scraped against the wooden banister.

Closer examination revealed a deep scratch, just above the elbow joint, caused by a large protruding nail, now copiously covered in his blood.

“I must remember to fix that,” Steve mumbled as he picked himself up and headed inside the house, where he quickly staunched the flow of blood with a paper towel before applying a Band Aid.?? That done, he set about fixing breakfast.

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7 AM

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The acrid smell of burning woke Mark Sloan, wrenching him from a deep and pleasant sleep.??? Throwing back the bedcovers he reached for his robe, shrugging it on and belting it tightly, before heading out to the kitchen where he discovered his son scraping the congealed and blackened remains of what might have been eggs and bacon into the waste disposal unit.??

“Oh, hi dad,” Steve greeted his father with a sheepish grin. “I was going to surprise you by cooking breakfast.”

“Well it was a nice thought,” said Mark as he deftly extracted the ruined pan from his son and threw it into the garbage bin.?? “But I think it would be a lot safer, and more conducive to our health, if I did the cooking and you stuck to making the coffee.?? What’s wrong with your arm?” he enquired, his gimlet eyes immediately zoning in on the Band Aid.

“It’s nothing, just a scratch,” Steve said reassuringly.

“Maybe I should...”

“Dad!” Steve levelled his father with a stern glare.??

“All right,” Mark threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender.?? “I get the message.? It’s just a scratch; stop fussing.”

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NOON - COMMUNITY GENERAL - TWO DAYS’ LATER

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??????????? It was the thought of the pigs in blankets on the menu in the hospital cafeteria that had drawn Steve to the hospital like a moth to a flame.???? The very thought of them had been causing him to salivate all morning.?? Thus, he’d rung his father a little after 11 AM and suggested that he “take” his dad to lunch.

??????????? “It’s Thursday isn’t it?” His father enquired, his voice laden with amusement.

??????????? “Yes,” Steve replied cautiously.?? “But I don’t see...”

??????????? “Thursday is pigs in blankets.??? And the only place you’re taking me is the hospital cafeteria.”

??????????? There wasn’t an awful lot he could say to that other than “Guilty as charged,” at which remark his father had laughed and said he would meet Steve in the cafeteria on one condition; that his son really did take him out either to lunch or dinner in the foreseeable future to compensate for the fact that Mark would be forced to endure the hospital food.

??????????? He was just stepping out of the elevator when Jesse Travis - thoroughly engrossed in reading a patient’s chart, stepped in.?? A collision was inevitable; Steve’s left arm taking the full brunt of it, whereupon a flash of white-hot pain shot through the limb, the intensity of which caused the entire colour to drain from the detective’s face.?? The world spun and for one horrible moment he wasn’t sure if he were going to faint or - worse still - vomit.???

??????????? “Are you all right?”? The young doctor enquired, alarmed at his friend’s ashen countenance.

??????????? “I... uh... sorry,” Steve mumbled.?? “I felt a little sick and dizzy there for a minute.?? It’s gone now,” he assured his anxious looking young friend.??? “I guess I must be coming down with the flu or something.?? Just in time for the weekend,” he added ruefully, the pain in his arm already forgotten as he hurried to the canteen to meet his father.

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*****

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To his abject disappointment Steve discovered that, despite his avid desire to indulge in the hospital fare, his appetite had deserted him and, while the food was, as always, up to its usual high he was only able to manage a few forkfuls before he was forced to admit defeat.

“Is there something wrong with your food?” Mark enquired, watching with astonishment as Steve pushed his plate away from him with a gesture of disgust.

Being only too well aware that - were he to admit to not feeling that good, his father would have him in a hospital bed so fast that his head would spin, Steve took the only option available.

“It’s uh… cold,” he lied and, before Mark could suggest that he return the food and request a replacement meal, he stood up abruptly and glanced at his watch before announcing,?? “I just remembered I have a meeting with Captain Newman.??? Gotta go dad.?? See you tonight.”

And with that he was gone, leaving Mark with two trays of rapidly congealing food and the growing suspicion that his son had just pulled a fast one on him!?? There was no meeting with Captain Newman, of that he was certain, so why Steve had chosen to leave in such a tearing hurry was a complete mystery; but it wouldn’t remain so for very long, of that Mark was certain.??

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THE BEACH HOUSE - 7 PM

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??????????? By the time he got home Steve was regretting not having admitted to his father that he wasn’t feeling well because then at least he could have spent the afternoon in bed being looked after, rather than having to struggle to remain upright at his desk at the precinct where, with every passing minute, he began to feel worse and worse.?? It was a relief when his shift finally ended and he was able to head for home and the blessed thought of a hot shower followed swiftly by bed.

??????????? He was already anticipating sliding beneath the cool covers as he crawled - quite literally - into the beach house, closing the door softly behind it and leaning against it gratefully for support, his legs suddenly feeling too weak to support him.

??????????? “Supper won’t be long,” his father called out from the kitchen.?? “I expect you’re hungry aren’t you, given that you didn’t eat lunch?”

??????????? He knew he should answer and, in fact, opened his mouth fully intending to do just that but a sudden wave of dizziness assailed him; his legs turned to jelly and he slid gracefully to the floor.

??????????? “Steve?”

??????????? Puzzled at receiving no answer to his enquiry and sure that Steve hadn’t headed down to his apartment, Mark went to investigate.?? The sight that greeted him was one that would haunt him for a long time to come; his tall, lean, son lying on the floor like a puppet whose strings had been abruptly severed.

??????????? “Oh, my God!” He breathed in horror as, kneeling down beside Steve’s semi-conscious form, he took in the distinct bluish tinge to his son’s lips, fingernails and skin, clear indications that Steve was going into shock.???? As he conducted a swift but thorough examination, all the while turning over the myriad possibilities that could have brought about his son’s perilous condition, his hand brushed against Steve’s left arm, which minimal contact caused the detective to emit an anguished groan.

??????????? “Hurts dad,” he mumbled.?? “Caught it on nail two days ago,” he managed to add before lapsing into unconsciousness.

??????????? Gently rolling up the shirt sleeve, Mark was able to see, even without removing the Band Aid, the telltale red streaks spreading from the wound, signs which quite clearly indicated blood poisoning.?? With the knowledge that his son was in the throes of septic shock - a condition that could be fatal - Mark knew there was no time to lose.?? He had to get Steve to the hospital and he didn’t have time to wait for an ambulance.?? Therefore...?

??????????? Taking a deep breath he slid his arms under Steve’s shoulders and, more by luck than judgement, succeeded in flipping his son over his shoulder.???? Straightening up slowly and carefully he crossed as swiftly as he was able over to his desk to retrieve his car keys before turning and heading out to his car.

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COMMUNITY GENERAL - 7.45 PM

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??????????? Jesse - having been alerted by Mark as to both Steve’s condition and their anticipated time of arrival - was waiting for them at the hospital entrance with a gurney, onto which the detective was swiftly bundled before being whisked into a treatment room in the ER where he was immediately hooked up to a heart monitor.???

“I want you to start an immediate IV push of Amoxicillin,” Jesse instructed Alison Thomas, the best nurse in the ER and one – the only one – he trusted to help him right now.??? “We have to hit this infection hard and fast.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the heart monitor flat lined.??? While Mark leapt forward to rip open Steve’s shirt, Jesse reached for the paddles.

“Charging to 180 joules,” he snapped as he adjusted the dials on the machine. “Clear,” he barked as he applied the paddles to Steve’s broad, muscular, chest; the force of the electric current plucking his friend’s body from the table like an invisible hand.

“Flat line,” Alison informed him.

“Charging to 300 joules.”?? Once again Jesse adjusted the dials, all too conscious of the heavy sweat that had broken out on his brow as he waged war against the infection that had stilled Steve’s heart and threatened to steal his best friend from him.???

Once again the paddles were applied, to no avail.

“Flat line.” Alison’s voice was laden with regret.

“350 joules.??? Come on Steve, you have to help us here buddy,” he muttered as Steve’s inert form once again jerked under the force of the current.

“400 joules.?? Damn you, Steve, don’t you DARE give up.?? FIGHT,” he yelled as, once again, he placed the paddles on his best friend’s rapidly cooling chest, glancing across at Mark as he did so. The older man stood, as white and still as a ghost, his unwavering gaze fixed on his son’s lifeless form, as though willing him back to life.

And then the electric charge once again coursed through the detective’s unresponsive form and to the intense relief of all those present the heart monitor resumed its gentle rhythmic pattern.

“Let’s get that IV drip in place and get Steve admitted to ICU - stat,” said Jesse, reaching up to wipe the moisture from his face.??? When he looked up again it was to discover Mark standing before him, tears of relief coursing freely down the older man’s face.

“Thank you,” Mark’s voice was ragged with emotion and the hand that reached out to squeeze Jesse’s arm, trembled.?? “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

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THE ICU UNIT - 10 PM

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The bed in the ICU had been adjusted, tilting backwards, so that Steve’s legs were higher than his head in order to increase the blood flow to his brain.? He was covered with blankets to keep him warm, hooked up to two IV tubes - one administering fluids, the other a heavy dose of antibiotics, to counteract the infection now raging throughout his body - as well as being surrounded by a veritable cornucopia of hi-tech equipment which was keeping as watchful an eye on his progress as was Mark.

And all this, Mark reflected, because his son had been too obdurate to allow him to examine the simple “scratch” on his arm.

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THE FOLLOWING MORNING

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??????????? Waking up was strange, given that he couldn’t actually recall having gone to bed in the first place.?? And since when had he slept at such a peculiar angle??? As he opened his eyes Steve was astonished to see his feet raised in the air.

??????????? And then, as he slowly became cognisant of his surroundings; became aware of the various IV’s and monitors to which he appeared to be linked, he recalled the final moments before oblivion claimed him; his slow, inexorable progress as he slithered bonelessly to the ground, his father’s anxious voice growing ever fainter until it disappeared altogether, the vague memory of Jesse shouting at him, although the words were indistinct, and the strangest feeling of some presence forcing itself into his body, dragging him from the dark in which he’d been immersed back into the light.??? That last puzzled him, for he felt quite sure that something momentous had happened, something involving both him and his dad.

??????????? His eyes slowly traversed the room, finally coming to rest on his father who was slumped in a chair at the side of his bed, fast asleep and snoring gently.??

“Dad?” He croaked, shocked at the weakness of his voice.?? Clearing his throat he tried again.??? “Dad?” Louder this time but still barely above a whisper; nonetheless it was enough to wake his father, who was at his side in an instant.

??????????? “Well, hello, it’s nice to have you back.”?? The words were full of warmth but the haunted look in his father’s eyes told Steve just how serious his condition - and his father’s concern - had been.

“What… happened to me?”

“You developed an infection from the scratch on your arm.” said Mark, settling himself on the edge of the bed.??? “The bacteria infiltrated your bloodstream, as a result of which you collapsed with septicaemia; that’s blood poisoning in layman’s terms,” he explained, noting his son’s puzzled frown.?? “So next time I ask you if I can check out an injury – no matter how minor it might appear to you - just humour me would you???? I don’t ever want to have to go through anything like this ever again,” he solemnly informed his humbled son.

“I’m sorry,” came the whispered response, followed swiftly by, “how long do I have to stay here dad?” Which question, thought Mark, was just typical of Steve who, despite the fact he had been on nodding terms with death, was already fretting about the length of time he was going to have to spend in the hospital.

“A week at least, if not a little longer,” he replied, ignoring Steve’s anguished groan at receiving that piece of information.?? “Now that we’ve got you stabilised you’ll be moved out of the ICU and into a room of your own.?? After that it’s just a matter of eliminating the infection and ensuring that you’re both fit and well enough to leave.??? Look on the bright side,” he continued, stifling a smile at the mutinous expression on his son’s face at that statement.

“What bright side?”

“Well,” Mark’s eyes twinkled with amusement, “you’re always saying how much you enjoy the food at Community General.? Now you’ll have a chance to take full advantage of the hospital cuisine.”

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EIGHT DAYS LATER - THE BEACH HOUSE

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“Now just where exactly was this nail?” Mark enquired as, having arrived back home, the first thing he insisted upon was Steve showing him where the offending object was so that it could be swiftly removed to prevent any further harm.

“It was…” Steve led the way out on to the deck, pausing at the top of the stairs where he’d tripped and fallen, thereby setting in motion the chain of events that had almost cost him his life, “right here - OUCH!” he exclaimed loudly, pulling back his hand.

“What?” Mark was at his son’s side in an instant, his face creased with concern. “Oh, Steve, son, please tell me that you haven’t...”

“Just kidding dad,” Steve replied, his face split in a wicked grin.

“Steven Sloan,” Mark fixed his recalcitrant son with a stern glare, “that is not in the least bit funny.”?

Both men stood regarding one another for a long, silent, moment before Mark began chuckling softly.?? Before long they were both laughing hard enough to bring tears to their eyes.???

“Come on.” Mark slipped an arm affectionately around Steve’s shoulders. “Let’s go have a beer.”

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The End
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