Title: A Past That Wouldn't Let Go
Author: Becca T
E-mail: Beksmfa2@aol.com
Rating: PG
Challenge Number: 97
Summary: Soon after hearing from an old friend, strange things
begin to happen to Jesse. When someone tries to take his life,
his friends must get involved before Jesse's stalker gets it
right...
A Past That Wouldn't Let Go
It was mid-morning when Jesse went on his break. He walked into
the Doctors' Lounge and took a cup of coffee before opening the
mail he had received that morning. One envelope of the three
caught his attention. Whereas most of his letters were in either
white or brown envelopes, this one was in a lilac coloured
envelope. He decided to open that one last.
At last he took up the envelope, still wondering what it could
be. He opened it carefully. Inside was a letter, with the same
lilac coloured paper as the envelope. He read it.
"Dear Jesse," it read.
"How are you? Where have you been? This is Cassie Flemming.
You used to live next door to me, remember? What have you been up
to lately? Are you a doctor yet? I always remember playing
doctors and nurses when we were little, and you always had to be
the doctor and do everything right."
"I am at college now. I haven't got work beyond being a
waitress at the moment. I am still keeping my options open.
Anyway, keeping it short, I just wanted to catch up, see how you
were and what was happening. My address is on the back of this. I
hope you write back."
The letter was signed at the bottom. Jesse smiled. He had lived
three doors away from her from when he was six until he was
eighteen. They had been to school together, and so saw each other
a lot, but no as much when they were growing up. Cassie had been
a nice girl, and it would be nice to talk to her again sometime,
he thought. They had quite a bit of catching up to do.
"A penny for your thoughts?" Mark asked as he sat down
at Jesse's table.
"I just got a letter from a girl who I knew when I was a
kid."
"Uh huh?" Mark said.
"It's not like that," Jesse said, laughing, "we
lived in the same street, and were really good friends. I lost
contact with her when I was eighteen. She must have found me
somehow." Although Jesse didn't see it, Mark didn't like
that sound of that.
"Do you know where she is now?" Mark asked, trying not
to sound suspicious.
Jesse turned over the paper. "Not far from here," he
said, "about a forty-minute drive from here."
"Are you going to write back?" Mark asked.
"Well, I am not much good at writing, but I guess she took
the trouble to write to me, I'll write back to her." Mark
gave up being suspicious and finished his coffee.
That evening, Jesse sat down to write the letter.
"Dear Cassie," he began,
"I warn you now that I am not great at writing letters, so I
apologise now. So, how have you been? Good, I hope. I am good. I
got my residency in Community General Hospital recently. I guess
my dream did work out.
I am stuck for what else to say. My address and number is on the
other side. Hope you contact me soon."
Jesse signed the letter and sent it the next day. He hoped that
his letter wasn't too brief for her. And, he hoped that he would
get a reply soon. He did get one, just sooner than he thought.
About a week later, there had been no reply from Jesse.
Truthfully, Jesse wasn't expecting one so soon. After the first
letter or so, he knew that people begin to slack when writing
letters, especially if they lead hectic lives, so he didn't hold
out so much hope for a quick reply.
"Has Cassie written back yet?" Mark asked one day in
the Lounge.
"Not yet, but she said she is in college, so I guess she is
busy."
"Probably," said Mark. He had a funny feeling about the
girl. He had had it from the start, but he didn't tell Jesse,
because it was only his opinion and didn't count for much,
particularly as he had never met her. He kept his opinions to
himself.
"Were you very close, as kids?" he asked.
"We were very close until I turned ten, and we began to do
more after-school stuff. She had her friends, I had mine, but
since our parents were friends, we did see a lot of each
other."
"Why did you suddenly lose contact?" Mark asked.
"I moved away suddenly when I was eighteen." Mark
didn't persist anymore. He had learnt that Jesse was not into
talking too much about his family life, so he didn't ask
questions.
A day later, Jesse was at his apartment when the phone rang. He
answered it.
"Jesse Travis here," Jesse said, thinking that it could
be the hospital. Nobody answered. There was just breathing at the
other end of the receiver.
"Hello?" Jesse asked, annoyed and impatient. Still,
there was no answer. The other end let out a sigh, and then put
the phone down on Jesse. Jesse couldn't trace the call. Perhaps,
he thought, perhaps it was just a one-off prank call. It would
probably never happen again.
But it did. For the next three days, Jesse kept receiving prank
calls. They were all the same, they were all breathing down the
phone at him. Jesse didn't like this.
"What should I do, Steve?" Jesse asked over lunch,
"what can I do about the calls?"
"Well," Steve began, "letting them get to you is
wrong, for a start. They are just prank calls - they can't hurt
you unless you let them get to you."
"Okay," Jesse said, thinking and listening hard.
"Second, write down a list of times and dates when you
receive the calls, and give them to me. We could try and work out
a pattern."
So Jesse did this, and gave them to Steve. Steve promised he
would study them.
Next, Jesse began to receive letters. The first one read:
"Jesse, what happened? Don't you like me?"
A second read:
"I am going to make you like me, somehow."
The third read:
"I know where you live…" This one was written in
blood. Jesse shivered. Why was somebody doing this to him? Why
was he being threatened? What had he done?
He showed the notes to Mark. "I don't know what I've
done," Jesse kept saying as Mark looked intently at the
pieces of paper.
"When did this start?" Mark asked, looking up.
"I got these notes three days ago. Before that, I kept
getting phone calls where somebody was breathing down the line at
me. Those started ten days ago, I think."
Mark had an idea in his mind that it was an old friend of Jesse's
that was causing the problems, but again he didn't say anything,
because he had no proof of it. He shared his thoughts with Amanda
instead.
"It's true that it looks suspicious," Amanda said,
"but we can't go jumping to conclusions yet."
"I know," Mark replied, "that's why I haven't told
Jesse what I think."
"We'll keep it that way," Amanda said.
Two days later, Jesse was walking home, and took a back alley. He
was yelled at. He looked around to see who it was. Moments later,
Jesse had been drenched in honey. It had been poured from above
him, but Jesse didn't have time to see who it was. Jesse was just
standing there, trying to get the worst out of his hair, when he
heard a thud next to him. A cardboard box had been dropped next
to him, and had split on impact. Jesse heard a loud humming from
the box. Wasps flew out of the box, and headed straight for the
sweet-smelling Jesse. He sprinted the whole way home, and locked
himself in the bathroom, tending to his wounds.
Jesse had to completely wash the honey from him before covering
himself in cream. The cool cream smarted against his wasp stings.
He had been stung only once before, and it was only a little
sting. This was horrific.
Jesse couldn't figure out how twisted somebody might be to have
done that to him. He also couldn't figure out who would hate him
that much, and why they should hate him. Jesse decided to keep it
to himself, but then he realised that his arms and face were
covered in wasp stings and that there was no hiding that. He
considered taking the day off, but it wasn't fair to the
patients, and a day would not make much difference. He had to
face the music.
"Jesse, what happened?" Mark and Amanda asked in
surprise and shock the next day.
"Well," he began, "I got stung a few times."
"A few times?" Mark asked in disbelief, "it's like
you were a walking pot of honey and you walked right past a wasps
nest!"
"That is pretty close to the truth," Jesse said. He
told them what had happened the previous day. They listened in
disbelief.
"That's horrible," Amanda said in disgust, "the
person who did that to you is pretty twisted."
"It is going too far," Mark said, "at first it was
a prank, but now it is beyond that."
"Just leave it," Jesse insisted, "the person will
probably be bored now."
"You are going to let them get away with what they have done
to you?" Mark asked, eyes wide, "you might be
permanently scarred." Mark meant physically and mentally,
but he didn't say so.
"I'll be okay," Jesse said, trying to be brave. He was
pretty scared of this person. He kept asking why they were out to
get him.
"Well, the least you can do is go home," Mark insisted,
knowing that Jesse was hardly fit to do a days work.
Jesse was too exhausted to argue. He decided that a day at home
wouldn't hurt. He set off for home.
Jesse got home to his apartment, and instantly worried when he
saw his door ajar. He never, ever left it like that. Someone was,
or had been, in there.
Jesse slowly and quietly opened the door. Inside, his house was a
mess. A deliberate mess. Someone had trashed the house. Books
from shelves were on the floor. The couch was on it's back. There
was almost nowhere to walk on the floor. Jesse checked the rest
of the house. The situation was the same. Jesse could so far find
nothing missing, but also no criminal. Jesse headed for the
phone.
"Steve? It's Jesse. My apartment has been wrecked. Please,
is it your business to investigate?"
"I'm on my way," Steve said hastily. Jesse called Mark
next.
"Mark? You thought that my stalker had gone too far? Come
over to my apartment and you might change your mind about
that." Mark was confused, but told Jesse he would be over in
ten or fifteen minutes. Jesse sat down on the overturned sofa to
think. He had one question in his mind. Why?
"What did you find, Steve?" Jesse asked when Steve came
up to him.
"These might help," Steve produced a clear bag
containing shreds of pink paper.
"That's the letter that Cassie wrote to me!" Jesse
said, wondering what on earth was going on.
"Cassie? Who's she?" Steve asked, wondering why he
hadn't known about this before.
"Cassie is an old friend of mine. She got in contact with me
about 3 weeks ago."
"She is now a good suspect in this stalking case,"
Steve said.
"No, not Cassie," Jesse protested, "she can't be.
Why would she rip up the letter?"
"I intend to find that out," Steve replied, "where
does she live?"
"The address is on those pieces of paper," Jesse
pointed to the bag. He began to walk away.
"And where do you think you're going?" Steve asked him.
"It's not safe here, so I may as well go back to the
hospital." Steve tried to stop him, but Jesse was already
out the door before he could stop him. He called a number, and
spoke to a man he knew well.
"Could you make it to Community General hospital today?
When? Now? That's a great help. I'll see you in a few
minutes." Steve hung up and began to head to the hospital.
Jesse arrived to the hospital. Mark had been told by Steve to
stay at the hospital and check that Jesse would be okay until
Steve's friend came along.
"Jesse, I made some coffee in the Doctors' Lounge,"
Mark said, guiding him along the corridor. Jesse obeyed.
"So, what happened? How bad is it?" Jesse told Mark
about the mess at his place when Steve arrived.
"Hi, Jesse, in a couple of minutes, there is a friend of
mine I'd like you to meet," Steve said, "His name is
Carl."
"What does he want with me?" Jesse asked suspiciously,
not liking the look on Steve's face.
"He is going to be a sort of bodyguard for you until we get
this case sorted out," Steve said, knowing that Jesse was
not going to like it.
"I don't need one of those," Jesse said, feeling
frustrated. "You can tell him that from me." With that,
Jesse walked out of the room. Steve stayed for a moment to talk
to Mark before following.
Jesse had gone to his car to get a report on a patient out of it.
He had forgotten it in the rush. He walked slowly out into the
parking lot, enjoying the cool breeze. He got to his car, and
retrieved the report.
He was crossing the lot when he saw a car coming towards him.
Actually, he heard it first. It blared its horn at him, and
accelerated towards Jesse at a top speed. Jesse had no time to
think before he was knocked to the ground and he rolled a few
feet across the lot. The driver sped away before being spotted.
The car had no licence number on it.
Steve, who had come out to greet the bodyguard, saw Jesse lying
lifelessly on the tarmac and sprinted over to him. Mark, who had
followed Steve out, ran over too.
"Jesse," Steve said, trying to stay calm, "can you
hear me?" Mark checked his vital signs. Jesse was still
breathing, and his pulse was just about there.
"Get a stretcher and some doctors, Steve," Mark
ordered. In less than a minute a medical team were there, trying
to keep Jesse alive.
"Dad, he's starting to wake up," Steve said. Mark came
over to check.
"Jesse, calm down, relax," Mark said, seeing that Jesse
was looking very frustrated, "you are okay."
Jesse lay there still. He could hardly move, no matter how hard
he tried. He was so frustrated.
A few hours later, Mark walked into the room where Jesse lay,
surrounded by a couple of monitors. His arm was in a cast, and
his ribs were strapped up. He was awake.
"Hi, Jesse," Mark said. He paused, wondering what to
say. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore," Jesse said in a hoarse voice. It seemed to hurt
to talk.
"Okay." Mark got ready to ask the question.
"Jesse, did you see who was driving the car that knocked you
down?"
"A woman," Jesse said, "but I didn't see
anymore."
"Okay, Jesse. You concentrate on getting better." Mark
didn't like to mention that there were armed guards outside his
door. Although Jesse couldn't physically do anything about it, it
would probably annoy him. He left the room.
"Dad," Steve said, "how's Jesse?"
"In a lot of pain," Mark said. "Steve, find that
woman."
"You think we haven't been trying?" Steve said,
"she's gone into hiding somewhere."
"Can I help in any way?" His father asked.
"Dad, Jesse has already been hurt. I don't want you to be
next."
"Okay, Steve. I understand." Mark said goodbye to
Steve. He went to find Amanda.
"Amanda, would you help me?" Mark asked.
"Sure, what is it?"
"We have to do a bit of travelling," Mark said. Amanda
looked confused, but knew that Mark would explain it to her.
"I have this report to file, and then I am on my way."
Amanda finished her work, and then joined Mark in the car.
"So, where are we going and what are we doing?" Amanda
asked.
"We are going to visit a mother," Mark said.
"A mother? Any particular one in mind?"
"Yes. We are going to this address." Mark showed Amanda
the address.
Amanda drove to the house. It was a normal house, with ivy
climbing up the side of the white walls.
"Jesse used to live in that house," Mark said, pointing
down the road.
"Who are we here to see?" Amanda asked.
"Cassie Flemming's mother," Mark replied. They knocked
on the door, and a fairly old woman answered it.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I am Dr. Mark Sloan, and this is Dr. Amanda Bentley,"
Mark began, "you have a daughter called Cassandra."
"That's right," the woman replied, "what's the
problem?"
"Could we ask you a few questions?"
"Well, sure," the woman replied, "come in."
They were shown into the comfortable home, and served coffee.
"Thank you Mrs Flemming," Mark said, drinking his
coffee. "This matter is on your daughter, Cassie."
"Go on," Mrs Flemming replied.
Amanda let Mark do the talking. "Am I right in saying that
she once knew a boy called Jesse Travis?"
"Yes," Mrs Flemming stiffened up.
"Is there a problem?" Amanda asked.
"No, it's just… well you see…" Mrs Flemming
sighed. "Take a look in Cassie's room."
Amanda and Mark followed. They were taken aback by her bedroom.
"What on earth?" In the bedroom, the walls were covered
with pictures of Jesse as he grew up.
"I was never allowed in her bedroom from when she was ten
years old," she explained, "and I stayed out of it.
Until about a month ago. I had to go in there to find a book she
had taken in there. I thought she wouldn't have minded, having
grown up and all. But I found this. I was totally shocked."
"I can see why. Mrs Flemming, did you have any idea about
this, this obsession?"
"None at all."
"Well, can you tell me where Cassie might be now? We have
reason to believe that she has been stalking Jesse, and Jesse is
now seriously injured in hospital."
"What did she do?" Mrs Flemming was clearly very
concerned.
"We think that she tried to run him over."
"Oh, dear God no! Not my little Cassie!"
"I'm sorry," Amanda said gently. She knew that it must
be hard on the mother, learning this.
"We think," Mark said, "that Cassie was in love
with Jesse, but Jesse didn't know and made no reaction. So, for
breaking her heart, she tried to kill him. She stalked him first,
though."
"I have one idea of where she could be," Mrs Flemming
said. "The other day, I called her on her cell phone. It
sounded like she was in a public place. Whilst I was listening to
her, I heard a voice in the background announcing that all staff
should attend ER, or something like that. I bet she was in a
hospital."
"And you think she could be there now?"
"Either there, or at this address." She wrote it down
for Mark.
Amanda and Mark said goodbye to the woman, and then they headed
off. Whilst Amanda was driving, Mark worked out what they should
do.
"Once we get back to the hospital, we'll tell Steve,"
Mark said. "He'll go to the address, and we will look around
in the hospital."
"Okay," Amanda said, unsure. She had seen what this
stalker had done to Jesse. Was it such a good idea to get wound
up in it?
They turned into the hospital. Mark went to phone Steve.
"Hi Steve, it's Mark," Mark said. "Listen, I found
something out today."
"Dad, I thought I told you not to get involved," Steve
said, exasperated.
"But listen, son, this could really help," Mark said.
He told him about what he and Amanda had found.
"Nice work, Dad," Steve said. "But, I am not so
sure about you and Amanda checking around the hospital for this
girl. She tried to kill Jesse, remember?"
"We'll be fine, son," Mark replied, "you check out
that house, and Amanda and I will check around the hospital.
We'll call you if we find anything."
"Okay," Steve said slowly, "but be careful."
Amanda and Mark headed down some stone steps to the basement of
the hospital. They looked in all of the boiler rooms. Three from
the end, they found something.
"Mark, look at this," Amanda said. Mark headed over to
where Amanda was.
"It's a photo of Jesse," she said, "but about five
years younger."
"She must have been down here." They kept looking in
the room.
"Here are some leather gloves," Mark said, picking them
up with the sleeve of his coat.
They searched a bit more, but found nothing else. Then, on their
way out of the room, they found a note.
"So, you thought you could find me? How's Jesse? Is he
alive? Who cares if he is? Is he dead? I could do it again, and I
just might, later. He broke my heart. For over ten years I wanted
him to like me the way I liked him, but he just liked me as a
friend. I suppose I should have given up, but I wanted him too
much. Can you see it now? The bottom line is that I am obsessed
with him, and I tried to kill him. With him dead, I could go kill
myself and…" it stopped there.
There was a pencil led on the floor. The pencil that Cassie was
writing with must have snapped. She must have left the note there
recently. If she wasn't at the hospital anymore, she must have
been at the other address. Mark and Amanda sprinted down the
echoing hallway to the nearest phone.
"Steve, are you at that address yet? We found a few things
that would help prove her guilty."
"Did you find her?" Steve asked.
"No," Mark replied, "she is on her way to the
address now, I think."
"I'm on my way there now."
When Steve got there, he found the girl asleep on the sofa, with
an empty packet of some kind of pills next to her. It was only
very recently that she had taken them.
"Get an ambulance, fast," Steve ordered. He called his
father again.
"We've got her, Dad, but she has taken an overdose. We've
called an ambulance, and one of the others is sorting her out
temporarily."
"What is he doing?"
"I don't know, I'm not the doctor. Anyway, you can tell
Jesse that he can rest at ease now."
"Yeah. I am not sure how quickly he'll get over this, or if
he will," Mark said. He decided to visit Jesse to tell him
the news.
Mark walked into the room. Jesse was awake, and staring at the
ceiling. He wasn't yet strong enough to do anything physical.
"How are you feeling?" Mark asked
"Better." Jesse wasn't up to long answers.
"That's good." Mark paused. "We caught your
stalker today, Jesse."
"Who?"
"It was Cassie." Mark waited for Jesse's reaction. The
young doctor looked sad.
"Jess, she did it because she loved you." Jesse looked
surprised.
"She loved me?"
"Yes, and you never returned that love."
"We were just friends," Jesse said.
"Did she ever do anything that said she loved you?"
"No. She was just a friend."
"We went into her bedroom. Jesse, she had an obsession with
you." Mark found that a hard thing to say.
Jesse was silent. "I never went in her bedroom after she was
nine years old. She wouldn't let me."
Mark didn't know what to say. And then, he said all that he could
think of then. "Jesse, that was one friend from the past,
and one friendship that didn't quite work out. I am sure you have
plenty more from the past, you have a lot at present, and I know
that you will have many more in the future. Try not to let it
keep you don't for long, okay?"
"Okay, Mark. I know you're right. I'll get over it."
Mark left Jesse, as he was tired. He thought about what he had
just said. They were probably the wisest words that Jesse could
have heard then. He was glad that Jesse had heard them. What
better thing could Jesse have heard but those wise words from the
wise Dr. Sloan?
The End
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