Steve stumbled into the house shivering and shaking. The door seemed to weigh a ton as he closed it. He cupped his hands together and blew into them trying get rid of the frigid cold he felt. Although he was shivering, his skin felt hot to the touch. He clumsily made his way down the stairs to his own little apartment. He fumbled with the doorknob to his room. After pushing it open, he staggered to his bed. Slowly, he sat down. He felt like the room was beginning to spin. He closed his eyes and covered them with his hand as he rested his head on his pillow. When the dizziness passed, he sat up and pulled the covers over his shaking body. Somehow, he managed to fall asleep.

Mark wandered into the doctors’ lounge. His friend, Jesse Travis, was already there gulping down a cup of coffee. Jesse smiled as he saw his older friend sit down on the couch.

"Tough day?" Jesse asked.

Mark smiled. "What day isn’t?" Jesse shrugged and went back to his coffee. "Have you heard or seen Steve, today?"

"Not yet, why?"

"Oh, nothing, he was just gone when I left this morning. I was just curious."

Jesse smiled at how Mark worried about Steve. He’d always envied their close relationship. Jesse got up to pour himself another cup of coffee, when he and Mark were both paged to the ER. Jesse was first and saw a woman being brought in on a gurney. "What have we got?" he asked on of the paramedics who had brought her in.

"Common flu symptoms, but there’s something more that no one has ever seen before."

"What do you mean?" Jesse asked as they rolled her down the hallway.

"Her husband said it hit her within a matter of an hour or two. She was shaking like a leaf when we got to her, but her skin was burning hot. She had a temperature of one-hundred-three degrees, but she still insisted that she was cold."

"What’s her name?" Jesse demanded.

"Lucie Thomas."

"Okay, Lucie?" Jesse asked the woman lying on the gurney. "Lucie? Are you still cold?" His answer was a slight nod of the head. "Where were you today?"

"School," Lucie answered, between chattering teeth.

Mark suddenly rushed to Jesse’s side. "Need any help?" he asked.

"Always," Jesse answered. "Okay, take her to three, and get her some blankets to see if we can stop her from shaking," he barked at the nurses. "Temperature of one-hundred-three degrees, but she has a really bad case of the shakes. The paramedics say the onset was within an hour or two. They’ve never seen anything like it, and neither have I."

"Did you ask her where she’d been today?"

"All she said was school. I was going to talk to her husband. Would you like to come?"

"Absolutely."

Jesse found Mr. Thomas in the waiting area. "How bad is she?" he asked.

"We can’t tell yet. We just need to get some information about where she was today."

"I’ll tell you anything," he complied.

"Mr. Thomas," Mark began. "What kind of job does your wife have?"

"She works at one of the high schools, Davison, as a secretary. Do you think she could have caught it there?" he asked.

"It’s very likely. Has she said anything about a flu or cold going around the high school?" Jesse asked.

"No, not that I can remember. Do you think it’s serious?"

"Not really. These are just a few questions we needed to ask. You can relax. Your wife is in the very best of hands." Mr. Thomas nodded and sat back down as Mark and Jesse walked away from him. Both doctors were still completely puzzled.

Mark slid into his car at the end of his shift. He was still thinking about Lucie Thomas. The symptoms were so common, yet they didn’t want to give her something that might make her condition worse. He put his keys into the ignition and began to leave the parking lot. He turned his radio up slightly as he drove. A local newsbreak caught his attention.

"Doctors in the Los Angeles area are stumped today as fifteen patients came into their ERs with a combination of symptoms ranging from the chills to hallucinations." Mark turned the radio up a little more. "Not much can be done to treat these patients since so little is known about the illness itself. Keep your dials tuned to WFDM for more on this breaking story."

Mark slammed the heel of his hand into the steering wheel in frustration. At least now he knew that there was more than one case of the mysterious illness.

Mark pulled slowly into the driveway of the house that he and his son, Steve, had been sharing for the past few years. He saw Steve’s familiar truck and smiled. He got out of his car and took the steps leading to the front door two at a time. He got to the top and was surprised to find that the door was slightly open. Worry swept over him as he stepped inside. "Steve?" he called. "Steve!" he called again and still got no answer.

Mark took the steps downstairs and called Steve’s name again; still no answer. Mark opened to door to Steve’s small bedroom. He let out a sigh of relief to see his son asleep in the bed. He crossed to the side of the bed and looked at his sleeping son. He brushed a stray hair away from Steve’s face. Then, he turned and left the room, unaware of Steve’s illness.

Mark sat on the couch watching the late news. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard anything from Steve since he’d been home. Something nagged at him about his son’s condition, but he pushed it out of his mind, writing it off as mindless and senseless worry. Mark concentrated on the news hoping to hear something about the disease at the hospital.

Fifteen minutes later, he was about to give up and go to bed. "Coming up after commercial: a strange illness sweeps across the LA area. Stay tuned for more details."

Mark leaned closer and turned the volume up. He didn’t want to wake Steve, so he turned it back down again. He saw the KCDM logo come back up on the screen, and he leaned up again until he was sitting on the edge of the couch. His face fell and he relaxed when the weatherman came on the screen with the week’s forecast. "Looks like another dry out there, tomorrow. There may not be rain for another week, possibly."

Mark scratched the back of his head and yawned. He looked at the clock on the VCR. It read almost midnight. After what seemed like an eternity, the weatherman stopped. Mark leaned in again and waited.

"In our last story of the night," the anchor began.

"That figures," Mark mumbled.

"The LA area hospitals were hit hard today with a virus that is spreading rapidly across the country." Mark leaned in even closer. "Doctors and nurses have begun to refer to this virus as the Millennium Bug."

"Cute," Mark thought, sarcastically.

"It is believed that within the next thirty-six to forty-eight hours the "Millennium Bug" could start spreading into Canada and Mexico. If you are experiencing any of these symptoms," the screen changed into a long list of varying symptoms, "please get to the nearest hospital for an examination as soon as possible."

"Wonderful," Mark said as he flipped the television off. "They’ll have everyone in the state of California going to the ER tomorrow," he grumbled. "Just perfect."

Mark woke the next morning to find it gray and overcast, much like his present mood. He already knew it wouldn’t be a good day at work. He trudged, sleepily, into the kitchen to make breakfast for Steve and himself. He turned the coffee maker on and pulled the toaster out from a cabinet. As he did, an avalanche of plates and assorted utensils showered down on him. He looked toward the stairs to see if the noise had awakened Steve. He heard and saw nothing, so he figured he was safe. He knew how much Steve hated to be awake earlier than he had to be. That was one of the few things that hadn’t changed about Steve since he was a kid. Mark smiled. It was the first thing he had found to smile about that morning.

He finished setting up everything for breakfast. He crossed to the large glass balcony doors. He looked at the people who were beginning to gather on the beach for their morning walks or jogs. He studied the people closely. He was almost positive that he saw Steve starting his jog a little farther down the beach. He shrugged and went back to the kitchen, putting his son’s breakfast in the refrigerator for when he got back. Mark sat at the counter and quickly ate. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and piled the dirty dishes in the sink. He checked his watch and retreated to his room to get ready for work.

Steve tossed and turned in his bed. Something from upstairs had startled him awake. He lay there quietly for a second. He was still cold. He felt horrible. His head pounded, and his whole body ached. He lifted his hand to feel his forehead. It didn’t do any good; his hands were still ice cold. He knew his father had to be home. He began to get up, but a wave of dizziness and nausea forced his back to his bed. He covered his eyes and gulped, trying to swallow the feelings that had overcome him. He opened his mouth to call out to his father, but no sound came out. A fresh wave of nausea hit him hard. He slowly laid flat on his bed, praying that he wouldn’t vomit. He took a few deep breaths before losing consciousness.

Mark walked into the emergency room. He’d prepared himself for the swarm of people who would be worried that they, their children, or their spouses had caught the Millennium Bug. To his surprise, the ER was almost empty. He looked around, astonished. Jesse came up behind him.

"Slow day, huh?"

"Slow?" Mark asked. "Has it been like this all morning?"

"Sure, why shouldn’t it be?"

"Haven’t you heard anything about the bug?" Mark asked.

"I’ve been here all night. What’s the matter? You look awful," Jesse chuckled.

"Nothing, I’m just surprised that’s all. Last night, I saw on the news about the virus that Lucie Thomas has. They listed all sorts of symptoms. I thought for sure that there would be mobs of people here."

"Why would Lucie Thomas’s virus be on the news?" Jesse asked.

"Well," Mark began; he motioned Jesse to sit down next to him on the chairs. "It turns out that the virus is spreading across the United States. There were fifteen reports of it yesterday alone. Doctors still don’t know how to treat it, though."

"If it’s spreading so fast, why haven’t we caught it?"

"Good question."

Steve opened his eyes. He was looking straight up into the ceiling. He knew he had to try and get up. He propped himself up, slowly, on his elbows. Dizziness overcame him, but he pushed it back. He had to get to work. He sat the rest of the way up. For the first time, that morning, he was able to keep his eyes open and look straight ahead. He decided to push himself a little farther. He began to stand. He was able to do that without too much trouble. "A little farther," he chanted to himself. He began to take a step. It was wobbly, but he made it. Slowly, he walked to his bathroom. He looked up into the mirror. He looked worse than he felt. His hair was matted to his ghostly pale face. He opened up the medicine chest and took out the thermometer. He placed it under his tongue and waited. He leaned against the wall; he could feel his energy being drained.

After a minute, he took the thermometer out of his mouth and held it up to the light. His eyes had a hard time focusing on the tiny numbers. Finally, after a few frustrating moments, he was able to read it. "One-hundred-and-two," he said, his voice barely able to reach a whisper. He sighed and pushed himself away from the wall. He had to go upstairs and find his dad. He hadn’t heard him leave for the hospital yet. Slowly, at first, he began to cross the bedroom. Now that he was up and moving around, he felt slightly better. He took his robe off of the door and headed for the stairs.

He reached the top and stood listening. He couldn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean that Mark wasn’t there. He quickened his pace, slightly, as he searched the house for his father. His voice was no good to him. He looked onto the beach, hoping Mark was out there thinking. He wasn’t. Steve began to pout in frustration. He hated being sick.

Mark strode into the ER. The hectic pace of the day was finally catching up to him. The slow ER was a welcomed change of pace, as strange as it may sound. He checked his watch. He grinned that he only had an hour left to his shift. Dr. Amanda Bentley joined Mark where he was standing.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi, honey," Mark said and put his arm around her. "Tough day?" he asked as they walked down the hall.

"Not really," she answered. "How many MB patients came in today?"

"MB?" Mark asked.

"Millennium Bug," she answered.

"Oh! I think seven."

"We’re slow compared to some of the other hospitals in the area," Amanda stated.

"Have you heard anything new about it?"

"No, just things the nurses have been talking about."

"I just don’t understand how this can possibly spread so fast."

"It has to be airborne," Amanda commented. "Look, Mark, I have to get back. I’ll see you later."

"Yeah," Mark said. He watched as Amanda walked back to her Pathology lab.

"Ready to go home?" Jesse asked Mark as he was pulling things out of his locker.

"More than you know. Have you heard from Steve today?" he asked Jesse.

"No," Jesse said, he looked at Mark. "Haven’t you heard from him since yesterday?"

"He was home last night, but he was asleep when I looked in on him," Mark said. His pager vibrated against his hip. He looked at it and smiled. "Here he is now." Jesse smiled as Mark pulled his cell phone from his jacket. He dialed Steve’s number, quickly. He frowned when someone picked up on the other line.

"Steve Sloan’s desk," the voice answered.

"Hello?" Mark asked, not sure of what else to say.

"Dr. Sloan?" the other voice asked.

"Yes," Mark answered. "Why were you paging me from my son’s desk?"

"I’m sorry, we were just looking for him, he never came in to work today. Have you heard anything from him?"

"No, I’m just getting off of my shift at the hospital, now. I’m sure he’s at the beach house," Mark said, trying to assure himself. "Please, page me again if you hear anything from him within the next half an hour."

"Yes, sir. Goodbye, Dr. Sloan."

Mark flipped the phone shut.

"I take it that wasn’t him," Jesse said.

"No, he never showed up for work today. Look, Jess, I have to get home. If he’s not there, he’ll be at Bob’s. Could you go check for me?"

"Absolutely, I’ll leave right now."

"Thanks, Jesse. Call me if he’s there."

Mark drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. It wasn’t at all like his son not to go to work. It wasn’t like Steve not to come to the hospital either. Mark zipped past cars trying to get home as soon as possible. It seemed to take forever.

The house looked empty as Mark drove into the driveway. Steve’s truck was exactly where it was that morning. That only comforted him slightly. He got out of the car quickly and ran up the steps to the door. He fumbled with his keys but finally got the door open. He burst into the house. "Steve?" he called. Mark checked the kitchen. He saw the dirty dishes from that morning still stacked in the sink. In one swift move, he opened the refrigerator door. Still waiting to be eaten, was the breakfast Mark had made Steve. He let the door shut on its own and left to comb over the rest of the house.

He opened his eyes again and sighed. Suddenly, he heard the muted sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. He hoped to God that it was his father. Steve waited to see if anyone would enter the bedroom. It wasn’t long before he saw Mark’s familiar figure standing in the doorframe.

Mark rushed to his son. He couldn’t have been happier to see anyone. "Have you been here all day?" Mark asked.

Steve could only nod.

"You didn’t eat the breakfast I left for you in the refrigerator."

Steve shrugged. Couldn’t Mark see that he was sick?

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Finally!" Steve thought. He shook his head. He knew what the next question would be without Mark even having to ask it. He tried to get out of his bed to find a pen and paper. As he stood, he began to feel light-headed. He held himself up against the wall with his arm. Mark helped him sit back down on the bed.

"How long have you felt like this?" he asked, concerned about his son.

Steve held up two fingers.

Mark handed Steve a pen and a pad of paper from Steve’s dresser. "Is this what you were going to get?" he asked.

Steve nodded.

"Can you talk?" Mark silently wondered why. None of the other patients had that particular symptom.

Steve shook his head.

"Write down your symptoms." Mark watched as his son wrote down many of the symptoms listed for the Millennium Bug. He sighed and ran his hand through his white hair. Steve handed him the pad of paper. Mark took it and read over it more carefully. He shook his head, it was the Bug. He hesitated. "Well, we have two options," he began. "You can stay home or I can take you to the hospital."

Steve looked surprised. He grabbed the pad away from his father and began writing again. "What?!" he scribbled.

Mark sat down beside him. "You have a virus that is spreading rapidly across the country. They’re calling it the Millennium Bug. It’s very similar to the flu, but the symptoms get progressively worse. Right now, there is a relatively small number of patients with it at Community General." Mark paused for a moment. "Have you been anywhere besides here, the hospital, or at work for the past few days?"

Steve thought for a second. He began to write again. He listed the places he’s been in the last three days: BBQ Bob’s, the beach house, the precinct, and other various places he’d been working.

"You said you’ve had it for two days, right?"

Steve nodded.

"Narrow that down to the last two days then."

Steve took the pad of paper back. The only three he left on the list were Bob’s, the house, and work.

"The Bug’s symptoms set in within an hour or two." Mark thought. "Where were you an hour or two before you began feeling sick?" he asked his son.

Steve thought for a second. He looked back down at the paper and slowly circled work.

Jesse slowly approached BBQ Bob’s. Steve’s truck hadn’t been outside, so he wasn’t expecting his partner to be there. "Still," he said to himself, "there might be a chance." He walked up to the building. He was almost ready to open the door when he saw a "Vote for Griffith" sign hanging on it. He ripped it off, crumpled it, and walked inside. The dining room was fairly crowded, which was always a welcome sight to any owner of a small business. He smiled at the woman who was working behind the counter. He threw the piece of paper behind the counter and banked it into the trashcan.

"Can I get you anything, Dr. Travis?"

"Just some information, Natalie," Jesse replied. "Have you seen Steve Sloan around here today?"

"No, I’m sorry. I haven’t."

Jesse lowered his head. "That’s okay. I’ll see you later." Natalie watched her boss as he rushed out the door.

"So," Mark said, looking down on his son. "Would you rather stay here or come to the hospital with me in the morning?"

Steve began writing again. "Which would you rather do?" he wrote in stretched strokes. He looked up at his father and cocked his head.

"Don’t be sarcastic with me, young man." Mark scolded. "I’ll stay home with you for a couple of days and then we can decide whether we need to move you to CGH or not."

"You don’t have to stay home with me," Steve wrote. "I’m an adult, you know."

"I’m perfectly aware of that," Mark pointed out, smiling. "But you’re also sick and I’m not going to leave you alone until we know exactly how bad this is going to get." He thought for a moment, "You’re right, though, I can’t stay with you the whole time. I have to see how this progresses at the hospital. I’ll have Jesse or Amanda come over and stay with you while I can’t."

"Come on, Dad!" Steve wrote in protest. He knew it was no use to argue, his father always got his way.

Just then the phone in Steve’s bedroom rang. Mark quickly picked it up.

"Is he there?" Jesse asked.

"Yeah, he’s here," Mark said looking at his son who was once again writing on the sheet of paper.

Jesse and Amanda invited themselves to dinner that night. Steve was tired and stayed in his room. The three doctors sat around the dining room table and talked.

"So, it’s definitely the bug?" Amanda asked. Mark nodded. "Now, maybe we can get to the bottom of what’s causing this."

"Yeah," Jesse chimed in. "Who knows Steve’s medical history better than you?"

"How’s Mrs. Thomas doing?" Mark asked.

"Not much change. She’s not feeling cold anymore, but other than that there’s nothing new to report."

"How about any of the other patients?"

"More came in today after you two left," Amanda informed him. "Their cases seemed more severe."

"How many more?" Mark asked.

"I think there were four more. None of them came from the same place, though. So, there are no leads that way."

Mark sighed. "Where is this coming from?"

Mark sat out on the balcony, later that night, watching the ocean. The moonlight glistened on the water. He loved that no matter how bad things got, the ocean was always there to soothe him. The quiet lapping of the waves calmed him. He closed his eyes and listened for a few minutes, feeling as if he was drifting out to sea. He was brought back to dry land by the sound of Steve coughing in the living room. Mark got up quickly.

Steve watched as his father went from the balcony to the kitchen. His throat was suddenly scratchy and rough. Suddenly, Mark was back with a glass of water. Steve took it thankfully. "Better?" Mark asked. Steve nodded.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely.

"Starting to get your voice back?" Mark asked.

Steve shrugged. Mark sat down next to his son on the couch. There was an almost uncomfortable moment of silence. Neither man knew what to say next. Steve coughed again, which was a welcome change to the silence.

"Feel like some TV?" Mark asked.

"Sure," Steve said.

Mark flipped the TV on. He handed Steve the remote. Steve shook his head and pushed it back into his father’s hands. Mark hated it when Steve did this. He began flipping through channels until something caught his attention. He stopped at KCDM when he noticed a colleague’s face on the screen. He looked to Steve, "Mind?" he asked. Steve shook his head. Mark turned the volume up slightly.

"Approximately how many patients do you have in your hospital with the Millennium Bug, Dr. Fields?"

"I believe," Fields began, "that there are nearly thirty-five patients that have the symptoms."

"And what is being done for those thirty five patients?"

"As much as humanly possible. We seem to have been able to lessen the effects, slightly, but really all we can do is keep them comfortable until we find out more."

"What seems to be taking so long that you can’t treat your patients?"

"We have yet to find the common link that they all possess. There are thousands of doctors working all over the country. We’re sure to have something soon."

"Thank you, doctor. Back to you in the newsroom."

Mark glanced at Steve again and then flipped the television off. It burned him inside that nothing could be done to help. Mark got up and left the room. Steve watched his father as he left. Mark came back shortly with a thermometer in his hand.

"Oh, Dad," Steve’s scratchy voice groaned.

"Humor me, huh?" Mark asked. Steve gave in, and Mark handed him the thermometer.

Steve took the thermometer and stuck it under his tongue. He knew that his temperature couldn’t be less than 100 degrees, but he did it to make his dad happy. He held the thermometer in his mouth for almost a minute before Mark took it from him. As soon as the thermometer left his mouth, Steve began to cough. He reached for his glass of water, but knocked it over instead. The glass didn’t break, but there was water all over the coffee table. He quickly stood up to run and get some towels, but when he stood a huge wave of dizziness washed over him. He lowered himself, slowly, back onto the couch. Mark went to get the towels for Steve. He came back and mopped up the water, but he had also brought Steve a new glass. Steve nodded his thanks.

"Your temperature is still one hundred and two," Mark said and sat back down beside his son. Steve seemed to have regained his balance and was looking up at his father instead of down at the floor. Mark looked at his son and shook his head. "I’m sick of this," he said. Steve looked at him with a puzzled expression. Mark jumped up from the couch again and grabbed the telephone. He punched in the number to Community General. "Yes," Mark began. "Madison Wesley, please," he paused. "Thank you." He paced as he was waiting for the Dean to pick up. "Hello, Madison, Mark Sloan. I hate to bother you, but could you do me a favor?" He paused. Steve kept his eyes glued to his father. "Could you have someone send over all of the files of the Millennium Bug patients? You will? Thank you," he hung up the phone and smiled. He was finally tired of someone else doing all the work and reporting to him. He was going to get to the bottom of this on his own.

The Sloans’ doorbell rang about a half an hour later. Standing at the door was one of Community General’s new medical students, Alex. Mark smiled and showed Alex into the house. "Alex, this is my son, Steve," Mark introduced them. Alex nodded in Steve’s direction.

"Excuse me, Dr. Sloan, but why do you need all these files tonight? Wouldn’t it have been easier to get them in the morning?"

"In this case, no. This is spreading extremely quickly and I want to get to the bottom of what’s causing it."

"Whatever suits you, Dr. Sloan. Would you mind if I stick around and help you look through some of these? It might help to have a younger set of eyes helping."

Mark smiled at his young student. "Thanks, I’d appreciate it." Mark glanced at his watch and then at Steve. It was close to midnight and Steve wasn’t looking well. He wondered how much longer it would be before they would have to move him to the hospital. "Follow me, Alex. We’ll set up in the dining room."

An hour later, Mark was still going strong. Alex leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "Don’t you think it’s about time to quit?" he asked, yawning.

"Oh, I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t realize how late it was," he leaned back himself and took his glasses off. "I guess it is about time for you to be getting back home."

"Who said anything about going home? I have to go right back to the hospital." He yawned again. "Bye, Dr. Sloan. I’ll see you in class."

"Right," Mark said and watched the young man leave. Suddenly, an obvious realization hit him. "I need ALL of the patient’s charts!" He kicked himself for having not thought of it sooner. He needed to see the bigger picture. "Of course!" he said.

"Have you seen Mark?" Amanda asked Jesse in the hospital the next day.

"Not recently, why?" Jesse asked.

"More Bug patients brought in today," she paused. "One of them works with Steve."

Jesse smiled. "Finally a connection!" He said happily. "Did you try paging him?"

"Do you think I’m stupid? Of course I tried paging him. He never called back, though."

"Try again," Jesse persisted. "He needs to know this."

Amanda reached for her cell phone. She dialed the number and waited. When given the command, she punched in her own phone number. She flipped the phone shut and smiled at Jesse. This could be the break they’d been waiting for.

Mark rolled over, sleepily, on his bed. He could hear his pager vibrating against the nightstand. He groaned and reached for it. He squinted, trying to make out the tiny numbers. He gave up and reached for his glasses. He recognized Amanda’s cell phone number. He pulled the cordless phone off of his nightstand and dialed. It rang only once before she picked up.

"Hello?" Amanda answered.

"Hi, what do you need?" Mark asked, still not quite awake.

"I don’t need anything. I thought you might want something that I’ve got."

"And that would be?" Mark asked, intrigued.

"A new patient came in last night. You’ll never guess what he came in for." Amanda stopped.

"Bug patient?" Mark asked, wanting her to get to the point.

"Yep, I haven’t even told you the best part yet. He works with Steve."

"I’ll be there in five minutes."

Mark knocked lightly on the door to Steve’s room. He didn’t hear any answer so he entered. As soon as he stepped in, he heard the sound of retching coming from the bathroom. He quickly crossed to the door of the bathroom, which was half-open. He pushed it open the rest of the way and found his son sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Steve looked at Mark when he came in. His face was ghostly pale he looked almost as he had the first day he’d had to stay home. Mark grabbed a towel from a shelf and ran it in cold water. He handed it to his son. Steve took it and covered his face. He removed it quickly and began to vomit again. Mark placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder to let him know that he was still there. Steve waved his arm for Mark to leave. Mark did as his son asked and stepped out of the bathroom.

Not even five minutes later, Steve came out of the bathroom. He still had the towel. He draped it over the back of his neck.

"Are you alright?" Mark asked.

Steve nodded slowly. He sat on the bed and once again placed his head in his hands. "Ugh," he groaned. "I feel horrible, Dad." His voice still hadn’t returned fully.

"I know," Mark said. "I know." He walked over to the bed and knelt in front of his son. "We’re trying to figure this thing out. You’ll be rid of it before you know it, I promise." Steve nodded and lay back on his bed. He covered his eyes with his arm. Mark left the room. He left the door open, just in case.

Jesse was paged as he was checking on one of his patients. "I’ll be right back, Mrs. David." She nodded and smiled at her young doctor. Jesse shut the door behind him as he left. He approached the nurses’ station.

"Line 2."

"Thanks," Jesse said. He pressed the button and said hello.

"Jess, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Mark, what is it? You know, Amanda is freaking out around here. She thought you were supposed to be here like a half an hour ago."

"That’s what I’m calling about. Listen, how much longer do you have on your shift?"

"Not much. Mark, what’s the matter?"

"Steve’s getting sicker. I don’t want to leave him alone. Do you mind coming over? Just so you can be here if he would need someone?"

"Absolutely. I’ll be there in a little while, okay?"

"Thanks, tell Amanda I’ll be there as soon as you can get here."

"I will."

Jesse took the steps to the front door two at a time. He didn’t bother knocking; he just let himself in. "Mark?" he called.

"Oh, good, you’re here. Steve’s down in his room. I think he’s probably asleep. Please, call me right away, if he starts getting any worse." With that, Mark picked up his keys and left.

Jesse stood there and watched him go. He shrugged. Well, now what was he supposed to do? He stood there for a few more seconds before deciding to go down and check on Steve. He jogged down the stairs and looked in the door. He saw that Steve had his eyes closed, so he shut the door and went back up the stairs. He didn’t want to disturb his friend.

Mark made his way to the pathology lab. He saw Amanda sitting behind her desk typing something. "Any other connections?" he asked as he sat down in front of her.

"Good day, to you too."

"Come on, Amanda." Mark said, becoming impatient.

"Yeah, I did actually find another connection. I talked to the other officer, he said that he and Steve were working on something together. They both walked through Griffith Park, and began to get sick the next day."

"Really?" Mark asked. "How about any of the others? Did you cross-reference them?"

"Yeah, some of them said they had been through the park lately. I had Jesse check it out for me. Then again, there are others who haven’t. I’m thinking, though, that the ones who don’t match, just have a really bad case of the flu."

"Are you sure?" Mark asked.

"Almost positive," Amanda said smiling. "Why didn’t you get here earlier? I thought you said you could have been here in five minutes, that was almost an hour ago."

"Steve’s worse."

"Oh, Mark, I’m sorry. Well, we’re getting closer, right?" she said and pushed a folder in front of him.

"Yeah," Mark answered. "But too slowly, I’m afraid."

Mark had been at the hospital for almost an hour. Jesse was beginning to get bored at the beach house. He sat on the couch and flipped through channels for the millionth time. He turned the television off and decided to check on Steve again. He figured that he would still be asleep. He’d been asleep ever since Jesse had gotten there. Jesse stood up and threw the remote on the couch. He made his way down the stairs to Steve’s floor. He nudged the door open and stepped inside. He saw Steve’s figure lying in the large bed. Cautiously, Jesse crossed over to the bed, wanting to check his friend’s temperature. Jesse approached the bed and placed his hand on Steve’s forehead. Jesse could tell he was still running a very high temperature.

Steve rolled over and groaned. Jesse jumped back quickly. He knew how grumpy Steve could be when people woke him up.

Jesse let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t wake up. He quickly left the room and headed back up the stairs. He got to the top of the staircase and wondered what to do next. He looked out on the beach. The waves were perfect. He wished he had a board with him. He knew he couldn’t leave the house, but he wished that he could’ve been out there catching some awesome waves. He turned away from the large windows and began searching for something else to do. He’d just found an interesting looking book when Steve trudged up the stairs. Jesse greeted him with a smile but it wasn’t reciprocated.

"Where’s Dad?" Steve asked, his voice very rough and gravelly.

"He had to go to the hospital for a little while. He asked me to stay with you for a while when he left."

"I told him I didn’t need a sitter," Steve commented, dryly.

"I’ll assume you said that because of some kind of medicine you’re on, deal?" Jesse said. He crossed to the couch and sat down. Steve followed him.

"Sorry, Jess," Steve started. "I just feel so damn lousy."

"I know, I wish there was something I could do for you. Amanda found a connection between you and another patient though. That’s the only reason your dad left, if it makes you feel any better."

"Kind of, thanks." Steve leaned his head back against the back of the couch. He felt dizzy again.

"You okay?" Jesse asked.

"Fine," Steve said. He lifted his head. As he did, he slipped into unconsciousness. He slumped over onto Jesse.

"Steve? Steve?" Jesse shook his friend’s shoulders. "Ah!" Jesse yelled. He reached for the Sloans’ phone and quickly dialed 911.

"911, what’s your emergency?" an operator answered.

"Yeah, this is Dr. Jesse Travis from Community General. My friend has the Millennium Bug and he just went unconscious."

"Where are you sir?"

Jesse gave her the address and hung up the phone. He still had Steve’s body leaning against him. He gently pushed Steve so he seemed to be sitting up on the couch. He jumped up and used the phone again to call Mark.

"Dr. Sloan."

"Mark! Look, Steve’s unconscious. I called an ambulance and they are on their way. I didn’t think there was any use in risking his health any further. You’ll need to get him a room." He heard the wailing sirens. "Mark, the ambulance is here, I have to go. Bye!" he said and quickly turned off the phone. He ran to the front door and flung it open. He went out and flagged down the ambulance.

"In here!" He called and led the EMTs into the house.

Mark was waiting when Steve was wheeled into the ER. He knew this was coming. It would have been only a matter of time before they would have had to move him to the hospital anyway. He watched Jesse jog in beside his son. They wheeled Steve away from Mark, immediately.

Jesse let them take his friend and walked to Mark. "He woke up in the ambulance, but he seems to be hallucinating. Talking about all sorts of weird things."

"What kinds of things?" Mark asked.

"I don’t know, he was mumbling, you really couldn’t understand him. Listen, Mark, I know this is the last thing you want to do right now, but go check out the other connections between Steve and the other officer that was brought in, please."

Mark nodded, and the two friends ran off in opposite directions.

Jesse watched from a distance as the other ER doctors examined and tried to talk to Steve. He could tell they wouldn’t get anywhere, but he didn’t feel it was his place to interfere, that was, until Steve saw him.

"Jesse! Jesse! Please, come get them off of me!" The other doctors turned quickly. Jesse slunk back. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen Steve this way before, and wished he wasn’t seeing it now. "Jesse, please!" he heard Steve cry from the loudest voice that he could muster. Just then, one of the nurses pulled a curtain, and Jesse could no longer see his friend.

Mark opened the door slowly. He didn’t want to disturb the patient if he was sleeping. He poked his head in the door. He saw a rather large man lying in the hospital bed. The man lifted his head when Mark came in.

"Hello," Mark said quietly.

"Hi," the other man said. "You’re Sloan’s dad aren’t you?"

"Yeah, I am. Are you good friends with Steve?"

"We see each other around the precinct. I’m Detective Brown," Brown extended his hand toward Mark.

"You don’t seem to be too sick," Mark commented. He shook Brown’s hand and sat down next to the bed. "Your voice seems rather strong, too. Did you not lose it?"

"Yeah, it’s gotten much better since they moved me into the hospital. Is that the way it is with all of the patients? I mean we all have the same symptoms right?"

"Unfortunately, no, not yet anyway. Listen, the reason I came to see you is because my son is also sick. I would appreciate it very much if you could tell me any kind of connection that the two of you may have had in the past week or two. It would be very helpful."

Brown thought for a second. "I’m sorry I don’t think I can think of anything except work. We’ve been working on a case together for a while. We’ve had to hang around each other a lot."

"You’re sure?" Mark asked.

"Sorry, Dr. Sloan, I can’t think of anything else."

"Thank you," Mark said. He opened the door and left. Once out in the hall, Mark leaned against the wall. There just had to be something.

Jesse sat in the hospital room with Steve. He felt so horrible. How could he have just stood there like that with his best friend calling out to him for help? They’d given Steve a sedative to calm him down. Jesse watched his sleeping friend. He felt so horrible for him. He knew there wasn’t much they could do for him.

Absentmindedly, Jesse turned the television on. He flipped through channels until he came to something that looked like the news. He stopped.

"In our top story of the day, a patient, in Indiana, has died from the Millennium Bug." Jesse gasped. "Seventeen-year-old, Miranda Kiser, had been in the hospital for only a week with the Bug. She was a senior in high school."

Jesse looked at Steve again. He couldn’t help but thinking, "He could be next."

Mark was sitting with Steve when he woke. Steve groaned and moved. "Where am I?" he croaked.

"The hospital," Mark answered. "Remember anything?" he asked.

Steve shook his head and tried to pop his neck. "Should I?" he asked.

"I doubt it."

"How long do I have to stay?" Steve asked.

"I’m afraid you’ll have to be here until you’re well again. We can’t risk another episode like this with you at home."

"Episode?" Steve asked.

"It’s better you not know."

Steve nodded slowly. His mind was reeling. What was going on?

"Jesse told me something you should know," Mark began. He leaned over and placed his elbows on Steve’s bed. "A young girl in Indiana died from the Bug." Steve hung his head. So that’s why they had brought him to the hospital. "I sent for her medical records." Steve nodded. He knew his father had to be worried about him. He placed his hand on his dad’s.

"I’m gonna be fine," he said.

Mark smiled. "I know." He put his other hand on top of Steve’s.

As darkness fell five people, all dressed in black, walked through the park. They carried large tanks on their backs that were filled with toxins. The person in front gave a signal, the wave of an arm, and the others all scattered. They began spraying the contents of the tanks onto the grass and nearby trees. When they had all finished, they met up and left as quietly as they had come.

Jesse walked through the halls of Community General beginning his rounds. His student, Alex Smith, followed close behind. Jesse stopped at the door to Lucie Thomas’s room. He opened it and walked in. Alex walked to the end of the bed and picked up her chart. "How are you feeling, Mrs. Thomas?"

"Better, Alex," she said.

"Mrs. Thomas," Jesse began, "do you go through Griffith Park often?"

"Almost every day. I like to go there after work."

Jesse nodded. "Had you noticed anything changing in the park before you got sick?"

Mrs. Thomas thought for a while. "Well," she began, "there was kind of a funny smell the last two days that I was able to go there. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought they were just treating the grass or something."

Something clicked in Jesse’s head. "Thanks, Mrs. Thomas. Come on, Alex. We have to find Dr. Sloan."

Jesse found Mark sitting with Steve in his hospital room. "I’ve got it!" Jesse cried.

"Got what?" Steve asked. His voice had almost fully returned since he had been admitted.

"I know who is doing this. I was talking to Mrs. Thomas, our first Bug patient, right?" They all nodded. "It was something she said about the park smelling funny. She said she thought they were just treating the grass, but if it had just been that, how could people from all over the country come down with the almost exact same thing at the exact same time?"

Steve, Mark, and Alex all exchanged a confused glance.

Alex spoke, "Coincidence?"

"No! Terrorists! Have you guys ever heard of the group P.L.A.N.T.? People Lobbying Against National... something. Anyway, they have the capabilities of pulling something like this off. They have chapters all over the country. Don’t you think it’s worth checking out?"

"Well, sure Jess." Mark stated. "Are you positive that they are behind it though?"

"Do you have any better suggestions?"

Two days later, Steve lay in his hospital bed with a laptop computer in front of him. He was looking up all the possible things he could find on the terrorist group. From what he read, they were the best bet. They had pulled off some major demonstrations before, but nothing as extreme or extravagant as this. Still, Steve had a suspicion it was them. The head of the California chapter, he soon found, lived right in Los Angeles.

Amanda walked into Steve’s room, then. "Hi," she said and shut the door behind her.

"Hey," Steve answered, barely looking up from his computer screen.

"Something interesting?" Amanda asked.

"Mm hmm." Steve answered. "This terrorist group Jesse told us about, I think they’re the ones. Could you check some things out for me?"

"You’re the cop," Amanda said.

"I’m also kind of indisposed at the moment," he said back and smiled.

"Sure, what do you need?"

Suddenly, there was a very large crash from across the hall. Amanda jumped up and ran quickly to find out what it was. She saw a young girl sprint out of her room and down the hall. Amanda and a group of others ran to catch up with her.

"What’s going on?" Amanda asked one of the nurses that were running beside her.

"MB patient. Probably the most advanced one we’ve treated. She’s been having horrible hallucinations; nothing we can give her seems to be helping. It’s really sad." The nurse then sped up and left Amanda hanging in the back.

She stopped to try and catch her breath. She knew there was nothing she could do for the child. She was ready to turn around and go back to Steve, when she felt his arms wrap around her from behind. She lifted her hands to touch him. He must have known what she was thinking.

"I’m going to get better, Amanda," Steve said quietly. "I will."

Amanda nodded, but still couldn’t shake the fact that Steve could easily be in the same situation as the young girl.

"Asthma," Mark said as he laid the folder down in the doctors’ lounge.

"What?" Amanda asked.

"Asthma," Mark repeated. "That’s what caused Miranda Kiser to die."

"You’re sure?" Amanda asked. She and Jesse had been sitting in the lounge drinking coffee when Mark had come in.

"Almost positive. I’ve also found that there’s a pattern to when the most patients have been brought in. Look," Mark pulled out a paper from the folder, "seven this day, four the next. Then, it goes up to ten and down to three. Every two days it becomes worse."

"So," Jesse spoke up, "assuming that they are spraying something, they spray every two nights?"

"Exactly."

"So, we just have to stake out Griffith Park until they show up," Jesse said. Mark nodded.

"Hate to interrupt," Amanda said, "but I have to go to some fund raiser for Jon Griffith. I’ll talk to the two of you later."

"Bye," Mark said and watched her walk out of the lounge.

"Did she say Jon Griffith?" Jesse asked.

"Yeah, he’s running for some kind of office."

"Think there could be some connection between him and the park?"

"I think it was named after his great-great-grandfather."

Suddenly, Steve walked into the doctors’ lounge. "Dad," he gasped, out of breath. His sickness was beginning to get to him again.

"Steve! You know you shouldn’t be out of that bed! Look at you! You’ve gotten yourself all worked up. Sit down, come on," he stood up and offered his son his chair.

He just stood there. "Griffith," Steve said. "They’re going to kill him."

"What?" Mark asked.

Steve decided not to be difficult and to sit for a moment and try to catch his breath, which was becoming increasingly difficult. "I found something on the Internet that was put up by a member of P.L.A.N.T. They’re going to kill him."

"I was checking my computer earlier, but I didn’t see anything like that. Where’d you find it, Steve?" Jesse asked. "I was on there for over two hours."

"I followed some leads through the police station. If you don’t believe me, you can go up to my room now and check it out. The laptop is on my bed." Steve stated. His breathing was almost back to normal.

Jesse began to get up, but decided against it. He figured that if Mark thought anything substantial was going on, he would be the first one to jump up and rush out the door. It was apparent Mark wasn’t going to do that this time.

"Steve, calm down. You know we don’t doubt you. Look, I’ll come up to your room and look at this page that you have. If there’s anything to worry about, we’ll call the police station. You aren’t going anywhere in your condition." Steve began to protest, but didn’t have the energy.

Mark continued, "Jesse, go get me a wheelchair. I’m taking you back up to your room." Jesse hurried off to find a wheelchair. Father and son were left alone momentarily. Neither said a word.

Mark sat silently beside Steve’s bed. The web page looked authentic, but he still doubted it. They’d bookmarked it and went on to search for other possible connections. He had to admit this was their best bet, but it didn’t feel right. Suddenly, Mark thought of something. He had to find Jesse fast. Mark stood without saying a word to Steve and left the room. To his surprise, Jesse was getting ready to enter Steve’s room. He gently pushed Jesse out of the doorway. They stood in the hall and talked. The door to Steve’s hospital room was left slightly open.

"Do you remember Amanda saying something about going to a fund raiser for Griffith tonight?"

"Sure," Jesse replied. "You were cool about it though, so I didn’t worry. You think we should worry?"

"I don’t think they would try to do anything at something that public, but if they are out to get him…" Mark’s sentence trailed off.

Suddenly, the door behind them clicked shut and locked. Steve had locked them out. Mark pounded on the door. "Steve!" he yelled. "Steve!!"

"Let me try," Jesse insisted. "Steve, open the door!" He listened for a second and heard nothing. "Steve!" He pressed his ear to the door but could only hear shuffling around. "What’s he doing in there?" Jesse whispered.

Mark didn’t waste anymore time standing around. He rushed off to the nurses’ station. The woman looked frightened when Mark rushed up on her. "I have a patient who has locked himself in his room. We need help immediately. Call security as well," Mark ordered.

Steve shuffled around his room. He grabbed his clothes from the closet and hurriedly put them on. A wave of dizziness washed over him, but he couldn’t let it get to him this time. He fought it with all of his strength. He pulled his shirt on and looked around the room for something that he might need. He was so glad he wasn’t hooked up to any IVs. In his state, he wouldn’t have been able to take one out of his arm without fainting or getting sick. He looked around for an escape. Only the window. He was only on the third floor, but somehow the distance to the ground seemed a lot farther. It was his only means of escape and he knew it. He mustered up enough strength to pick up one of the chairs that was always placed next to the patient’s bed. He threw it with all that he could. The glass shattered. He once again heard the pounding outside his door. This was it, he had to go.

He climbed up onto the windowsill. No ledge. His vision became blurred as he stood. Something wasn’t right, and he knew it. He couldn’t possibly stay there, though. The beating on the door had stopped suddenly. He didn’t have much time.

He looked down at the ground. He saw grass and bushes, but no one would be there if he were to fall. He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes momentarily. He heard the door to his room open, and heard his father say his name. With his eyes closed, he fell.

The falling sensation was incredible and gave him a much-needed rush of adrenaline. He felt like he could do anything. Then, abruptly, something stopped his fall. He groaned as he landed on a small row of bushes. A few choice phrases came to mind as Steve got up and began to half-jog away.

"Steve!" Mark screamed. He and Jesse ran to the window. They feared the worst. They looked at each other and looked down. They were just in time to see Steve roll off a row of bushes and limp away. Both sighed with relief.

Jesse chuckled in spite of the situation, "He really must be Superman."

Steve stopped to get on a bus. He couldn’t let his father catch him. He knew Mark would have cops all over the place looking for him within the hour. Steve closed his eyes. He leaned his head back against the windows. He was dead tired. All of the activity had taken a lot out of him. He opened his eyes again for fear of falling asleep. Above him, he saw something about Jon Griffith. He smiled and stood, unsteadily. It was something about the fundraiser. "Finally," he thought. "A break." He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and jotted down the information. He couldn’t risk going home, but he couldn’t go to a fundraiser dressed in jeans and a tee shirt.

Amanda sat at her vanity table trying to decide how to do her hair. Suddenly, the phone rang. "Amanda Bentley," she answered.

"Amanda, Mark. Steve’s escaped. We think he might be coming to the fundraiser to protect you."

"Escaped? Mark, what are you talking about?"

"I don’t have time to go into all the details. How much longer is it until the party begins?"

"About an hour," Amanda replied.

"Good, then we have an hour to find him and bring him back."

Steve stumbled off of the bus. He needed a tux. He could also feel that he was getting sicker. He couldn’t stop now. He had to save Amanda. He went into every store along the street until he found someone that would rent him a tux for the night. He thanked the manager that helped him and left the store, still stumbling. He checked his watch. A half an hour.

He quickly hailed a cab. He opened the door and sat down. "Century Plaza Hotel," he commanded.

Amanda walked into the large hotel and smiled. She could see people had already begun to arrive. She looked around for any sign of Steve, but didn’t see any. She smiled, thankfully. She saw a cab pull up outside of the hotel’s large glass doors. The valet opened the door for the man who was inside. She gasped as she saw it was Steve. He saw her and smiled slightly. He quickly caught up to meet her.

"Hi," he said and smiled. He wobbled slightly as he walked.

"Hello," she said.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Well, frankly, yes, Steve. Your father is worried sick about you, you’re supposed to be in the hospital with a disease that is still sweeping the nation, but instead you’re here and you look like you’ve been drinking!" she scolded. "I don’t think I know you, Steve."

Steve was hurt. He was supposed to be doing her a favor by being protective. He stopped suddenly and sat down in the large chairs in the lobby. Amanda followed after him, feeling bad for having hurt his feelings.

"They’re going to do something, tonight. I just know it," Steve said, quietly.

"Steve, let me call your dad, have him pick you up and take you back."

"No," Steve protested. "Please," he looked into her eyes. "Let me stay. If nothing happens, great, but if I were to leave and you were to get hurt…" his voice trailed off.

"Ok," Amanda gave in. "As soon as it is over, we are going back to Community General."

Steve smiled. He stood up and offered her his arm. They walked arm in arm to the escalator to the ballroom.

Jon Griffith stood at the podium ready to make his speech. He took a drink of water and began, "Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank you all for coming tonight. Without your generous contributions, I wouldn’t be where I am right now. I would just like to say," he paused. A pained look spread over his face. A low murmur swept through the ballroom. "I would just like to say," he stopped again. He clutched his chest and his face twisted in pain.

Amanda stood up. "Quick!" she yelled. "Someone call an ambulance!"

Amanda stood over the body of Jon Griffith a day later. She was speaking into a small tape recorder. Jesse slipped quietly into the Pathology Lab and stood behind Amanda. Amanda flipped the recorder off.

"I heard you," she said.

"Sorry, just wanted to see how it was going."

"Fine, Jesse. Can you please leave me alone so I can finish and get the results to Mark?"

"Yeah, sorry." Jesse backed out of the lab and out into the hall. He sighed heavily and walked away.

Amanda watched him as he walked away. She had to smile. He had become such a good friend over the past few years. She set the tape recorder down. She sighed thinking about Steve. He’d seemed so odd; not at all like his usual personality. She snapped herself out of her thoughts and went quickly back to work on the autopsy.

Jesse entered Steve’s new hospital room later that day. Steve seemed to be asleep. Unfortunately, they had had to restrain him once they had brought him back to the hospital. The administrators and doctors had said it was for his own good. They didn’t want to see a repeat of the night before. He lay there now, silently. Steve drew in a long breath. Jesse held his own hoping that Steve wouldn’t wake up. Steve tried to roll over onto his side, but the restraints prevented him from doing so. He groaned and opened his eyes.

He squinted at Jesse. "Do I know you?" he asked, groggily.

"Come on Steve, don’t joke like that. You’re in a lot of trouble, you know that, right?"

Steve pulled at the restraints on his arms. "What are these here for?" he asked.

Jesse was concerned. "To keep you from pulling another stunt like yesterday." He studied his friend’s face. "Are you okay?"

"What was your name again?" Steve asked. He honestly didn’t know who Jesse was.

"Jesse Travis, guess I forgot to mention that." Jesse answered. He had to get out of there and find Mark. "Listen, I’m going to go, you need anything?"

"No, I’m good. See you later," he paused thinking, "Jesse."

"Bye."

"Mark, we have a major problem," Jesse said as he rushed up to his friend.

"What’s the matter, Jess?" Mark asked.

"Steve didn’t remember me just now when I was in his room."

"What?" Mark asked in disbelief.

"I don’t know. I was in there and he had just woken up, but I could swear that he didn’t know me. He didn’t know why the restraints were on his arms either. I think we’ve misjudged his condition. Instead of getting better, I think he’s getting worse!"

"Don’t get too excited. Come on, let’s go back and see him." The two headed off for the hospital room.

"Steve?" Mark asked as he poked his head through the door.

Steve looked to the door and smiled as he saw his father. "Hey, Dad." Mark smiled. "Is this really necessary?" Steve asked, referring to the restraints.

Mark shrugged. "Can’t risk it," he said. He came further into the room, followed closely by Jesse.

"Risk what?" Steve asked. "Hey, Jess."

Jesse gawked in disbelief. What had just happened here? Two minutes ago, Steve hadn’t known who he was. Now, he knew Jesse and his father. Steve wasn’t clear on what else had happened, though.

"Is Amanda okay?" Steve asked.

"Fine," Mark answered. "Why?"

"I just had this feeling that she was or is in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Jesse asked.

Steve shrugged and yawned. "Any word on any members of P.L.A.N.T. being at the fundraiser last night?" Things seemed to be coming back to him little by little.

"None at all," Amanda said entering the room. She sat in a chair beside Steve’s bed. Mark sat next to her, and Jesse sat down on the other side of the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Not bad, considering."

Amanda smiled.

"So," Jesse interjected. "Are we talking stakeout, here?"

Steve looked at Mark. "What do you think, Dad?"

"You’re asking me?" Mark was shocked.

"Yeah," Steve answered. "You’re kind of running the show." Mark still stared at his son. "I said kind of."

They laughed.

"Sure, stakeout," Mark answered. "On one condition, Steve, you’re staying here. You aren’t well enough to do any work. Okay with you?" Mark looked at his son. Steve nodded.

"Good, I’ll call the station and tell them what’s going on." Steve yawned again. "When is the next time they’ll spray Griffith Park?"

Amanda thought for a moment. "It should be tomorrow night."

Jesse frowned. "Mark and his conditions," he thought.

The next night, Steve lay in his bed flipping through the television channels. Jesse came in carrying a tray of food. Steve smiled and took it. Jesse left while Steve ate. He didn’t see how he could like hospital food that much.

A half an hour later, he came back for the tray. He opened the door slightly to make sure that Steve wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t. Jesse took the tray and set it aside. "You’re not disappointed that you won’t be going on the stakeout tonight?" Jesse asked.

Steve shrugged. "Not particularly. I knew my father wouldn’t let me go. I was expecting it."

"I wasn’t," Jesse pouted.

"Aw, come on, Jess, you know my dad. I can’t believe you didn’t predict that one." Steve smiled.

"Hey," Jesse said. "I just noticed that your voice is completely back."

"Yeah, it has been for a few days. Think that is a good sign?"

"Couldn’t hurt," Jesse answered. "Well, I’m going. My shift is over. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you."

Steve watched as his friend left the room. He was extremely glad that Jesse hadn’t noticed he’d slipped out of the restraints. Everything would have come tumbling down on him then. He got up from his bed, slowly. He went to the closet to get his clothes. He opened the doors, but found nothing hanging. "What?" he asked himself.

Then, he remembered. He’d been wearing a rented tux when he was brought back to the hospital. How could he have forgotten something that important? He leaned against the wall and sighed. A whole day planning his get away for nothing. Then, he remembered something. The doctor’s lockers. Surely his father would have extra clothes in there. He crossed his fingers. Going to the lockers meant crossing in front of Amanda’s lab and risking getting caught. He had to chance it, though.

He slowly stepped out of his room and walked quickly down the hall. He walked cautiously to the elevator. He didn’t want to be seen sneaking around. He tried to wait casually for the elevator. When it opened, he was relieved to see that no one was on. He stepped in and pressed the down button.

The doors opened on the first floor. People were rushing all around him. He didn’t look so awkward there. He made his way quickly to the room where the lockers were. He stopped at a wall by Amanda’s lab and peeked in hoping not to see her. He didn’t. He let out a long steady breath. He continued on, safely.

Amanda watched Steve from across the hall. He’d looked into her lab. Was he looking for her? How could he be out of bed? No one had let him out of the restraints had they? She followed after her friend. What was going on with him?

Steve tried and tried to get his father’s locker open, but he couldn’t figure out the combination. He tried one last time. 12-03-25, Mark’s birthday. The lock sprung open. Steve silently cheered. Why hadn’t he tried that earlier? He didn’t care. He opened the small locker and removed a pair of pants and a shirt. The clothes didn’t fit correctly, but he couldn’t be picky. He shoved his hospital gown into a basket by the door and left.

Another problem quickly arose. How would he get to Griffith Park? Why hadn’t he thought of these things? His common sense seemed to be slipping away from him. He had all the tricky stuff covered, but he’d left out some of the most important things. He stopped to think for a moment, where could he get easy access to a car? The first thought that popped into his mind was the police station. He could get a cab to the station and take his car. No one would probably think twice about it. He exited the hospital with Amanda quietly following.

He hailed a cab and gave the driver directions. Amanda got one not long after and told the driver to follow. The cab skidded out into the road. Amanda quickly buckled her seat belt.

Steve got out of the cab in front of the police station. He paid the driver and then had a quick look around. He smiled when he saw his car sitting in its spot. Finally, something was working for him. He opened the door to the station and stepped inside.

Amanda had the driver stop at the corner to let her out. What could Steve possibly be doing at the station at this time of night? She watched him walk into the station before she moved any closer. She ran to the front doors and looked inside. She saw Steve round the corner and disappear. It wasn’t long before he came back, carrying keys. She looked, quickly, for someplace to hide. She ran to a car in the parking lot and ducked behind it.

Steve came out of the station and tossed his keys into the air. He caught them with his other hand and went to his car. No one had questioned him being there. His plan was going smoothly, now. He unlocked the door to his car, slid inside, and turned on the lights. Suddenly, the passenger door opened and Amanda slid in next to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Keeping an eye on you," she replied.

Steve sighed. "Does my dad know?"

"I didn’t tell him, if that’s what you’re asking."

"Thanks, Amanda. I needed to do this myself."

Amanda nodded. She knew how he felt. "You have to promise you’re going right back to the hospital when we’re done. No more of this escapee game. Okay?"

"Promise," Steve said. He started the car and they pulled away.

They drove in silence for a while. Suddenly, Steve swerved wildly on the road. Amanda gripped the armrest tightly. She prayed they wouldn’t hit anything and that nothing would hit them. She closed her eyes and grabbed Steve’s arm as the car skidded. It stopped abruptly, and she opened her eyes slowly. She let out a sigh of relief that no one had been around.

"Why did you do that?" she cried. She removed her hand from his arm and slapped his shoulder. "You could have killed the both of us!" She smacked him again.

Steve sat in the driver’s seat motionless. He didn’t even flinch as he felt Amanda’s hand hit his arm. "Didn’t you see her?" he asked softly.

"See who?" Amanda shot back angrily.

"The… The little girl. She walked right out in front of us."

"Steve, there was no one there."

"Yes there was. She walked right out in front of us. She had blonde hair and she was wearing blue jeans and a tee shirt. She was there." Steve looked around for the child that had forced him off the road.

"Get out," Amanda commanded.

"What?" Steve said, surprised.

"Get out. I’m driving. We’re going back to the hospital. You’re in no condition to go anywhere. I should have stopped you at the hospital."

"No, Amanda, please. That little girl was there, I swear it. It’s only a little bit further."

"I said no. Get out, Steve."

Steve sat still for a moment not knowing what to do. He couldn’t turn back now and he knew that. He was tired of being sick; he was tired of not being able to do anything about it. The anger grew within him as he sat there. When Amanda began to reach for the door handle to get out of the car and trade Steve places, he locked her in. He pressed hard on the gas pedal and the car shot out into the road.

"Steve, stop!" Amanda cried. They sped down the street. Steve weaved in and out of traffic and sped the whole way there. He slowed the car and turned off the lights as they approached the small park. Amanda was quiet. She hadn’t said a word since they had taken off. The silence felt odd to Steve, but he didn’t have time to worry about her now. He looked for anything moving in the darkness. He couldn’t see anything off-hand, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything out there. He parked the car and peered silently into the darkness. He could feel Amanda’s piercing eyes on him. He was still angry. She was the one who decided to follow him.

"Have you thought any about the effect this could have on you? You could get much sicker in the next couple of days. You’ve really put yourself in danger, you know."

"You didn’t do much to stop me," Steve noted. Amanda was quiet again. "Besides, don’t blame me. Blame Jesse. He was the one who didn’t catch that I’d been able to get out of the restraints. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for him."

"I’ll kill him," Amanda whispered.

"Who?" Steve asked. "Him or me?"

Amanda opened her mouth to say something else, but decided against it. This was totally out of character for Steve. He’d never talked to her like this before. She was almost afraid of him.

"There," Steve said, pointing. "Is someone out there?"

Amanda squinted but couldn’t see anything in the dark.

"I’m going." Steve reached into the back seat and pulled out a gun and his badge. He began to open the door.

"Steve, don’t do this. You’ll get yourself killed. You might survive tonight, but being exposed again is going to kill you. You know that."

"I have to go."

Amanda sat in the car for a moment wanting to watch him walk away. She soon realized that she couldn’t. She quietly got out of the car and caught up with him.

"No," Steve said. "Back to the car."

"If you’re going, I’m going. I can’t have you out there alone."

Steve knew he’d never get her back to the car, now. "Just stick close. I don’t know how many of them there could be." A wave of dizziness hit him suddenly. He leaned on Amanda.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine, I’m fine. Let’s go," Steve said. They continued on, Steve rather unsteadily. A noise behind them put Steve on alert. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"No, go on." They quickened their pace. Amanda’s heart was pounding. Even with Steve there, she was scared out of her mind. Why did she have to care so much? Suddenly, both of them were surrounded by people in black suits. Steve pushed Amanda behind him. He wasn’t prepared for this many people.

"What are you doing here?" One of them asked.

They both stayed quiet. Steve reached across to pull out his gun, when one of them grabbed Amanda.

She screamed.

"Let her go," Steve commanded.

"Who are you?" they replied.

Steve pulled his gun out and pointed it at the one who was speaking. "Steve Sloan, LAPD and you are all under arrest."

"We haven’t done anything. Have we?" A slow murmur rippled through the rest of the group. "You’re the one invading our space. I think you should be under arrest. Cuff them," he ordered.

Two in the group moved forward. They were the only two wearing the large tanks. Steve watched as they both removed their tanks. One walked to him, the other to Amanda. He tried to move to her, but they were in his way.

"NO!" he yelled. It was too late. They’d already knocked her to the ground. He couldn’t bear to listen to what might happen next. He didn’t have to worry. He felt a tremendous pain in the back of his head and blacked out instantly.

"He’s waking up!" Mark called out to Jesse. Steve opened his eyes to see his father kneeling over him.

Steve groaned. What was going on? He heard all sorts of commotion around him. He tried to sit up, but Mark held him firmly on the ground.

"Not yet," Mark said. "Don’t try to get up."

"How did you know?" Steve asked.

"Jesse called me. He was worried. After he left your room the second time, he realized that you’d had free movement of your hands. He returned to your room, but you were already gone. Then, he went to find Amanda, but she was gone, too. He talked to some nurses and they said they’d seen you leave. He called me and I called your station. They said you had already been there and had gotten your car. They didn’t know about Jon Griffith or P.L.A.N.T. I made the connection right away and told them to get here immediately."

"Amanda…" Steve said. He began to get up again.

"She’ll be fine. It’s just a bump on the head."

Steve nodded and lowered himself back to the ground.

"You’re the one we’re worried about right now. You really shouldn’t have come out here again, Steve."

Steve sighed. "I know, Dad." He heard ambulance sirens in the background. "Back to the hospital," he whispered.

Steve watched as the EMTs lifted him onto the ambulance. Mark climbed in beside him. The doors closed and the sirens wailed again. Steve closed his eyes. The noise was too much for his pounding head to handle. He squeezed his hands into fists and tried not to let the pain show on his face.

The next thing Steve could remember clearly was waking up in the morning in his hospital room. When he opened his eyes, Jesse was standing at the foot of the bed looking over his chart.

"Good morning," Jesse greeted.

"Yeah," Steve answered. He lifted his hand to feel the back of his head. He flinched. It was still very tender.

"You’ve got a good sized bump there."

"A bump? It feels like I have a golf ball sticking out of my head."

Jesse laughed.

"How is Amanda?" Steve asked.

"She’ll be okay; probably released tomorrow or so. We have to watch her for Bug symptoms, though. At least no one else will get sick. You two stopped them from spraying last night, you know."

Steve smiled. At least he’d done something right.

Steve, Mark, Jesse, Amanda, CJ, and Dion were all sitting around the television at the beach house. Steve had finally gotten over the Millennium Bug after almost two months in the hospital. He’d come home just two days before. They’d found out that all of the chapters of P.L.A.N.T. had been targeting a specific politician in their "political statement." The disease seemed to have disappeared rather quickly once they’d been arrested. The patients’ recovery periods weren’t so quick. Many were still in the hospital and still seriously ill.

A total of five people died from the Bug, all suffering from asthma. In asthma patients, it attacked their respiratory system with a vengeance. Most who were still in the hospital were hooked up to respirators.

Steve got up from his chair and went out onto the balcony. Amanda followed him. Steve leaned on the rail and looked out onto the ocean. He sensed Amanda beside him.

"Hell of a month, huh?" he asked, chuckling.

"You had us scared a few times."

"I told you I’d get better," he said.

"I’m glad you kept your promise."

From inside, they could hear CJ and Dion yelling at them. "Come on you guys! You’re going to miss it!"

Amanda started to go back into the house when Steve took a hold of her hand. She looked up at him and blushed. They walked back into the living room hand-in-hand.

"Five, four, three, two," they chanted together. "One! Happy New Year!" They yelled.

Suddenly, everything went black. They all became quiet instantly.

Jesse started a fit of laughter. The rest soon followed.

"I’ll find the candles!" Mark called after they’d calmed down.

"I’ll come with you!" Jesse said. He fumbled his way around the living room in the dark. Suddenly, they heard a loud thump. "I’m okay!" Jesse called. The four who remained in the living room burst out with laughter again.