Everyone was sitting in Mark's office, discussing the current situation.
Mark was at his desk, with the rest of the group assembled around him.
Marion was perched next to Jesse, supporting his pale frame. After a few
minutes of Jesse describing his dream, Mark was silent, deep in thought.
Everybody in the room could see the wheels turning in his head; they were
used to it. Finally, he looked up, and everyone leaned forward in his or
her chairs, eager to hear what the doctor had to say.
"What really puzzles me is your wide spectrum of symptoms. I mean, it started with the high fever, and that's still." Mark looked at Jesse, who nodded. ".still present."
"Incoherency." Steve said.
"Then there was the coughing fit," Amanda added.
"Dizziness." Jesse's head was still spinning.
"And who can forget yesterday's nausea?" Marion recalled.
"'Nausea' is putting it lightly," Jesse laughed, putting his arm around Marion.
"Jesse, this is serious. Your symptoms don't resemble any one condition. They seem like-"
"-lots of things put together, something only a biotech would know how to do," Jesse interrupted, proving his earlier-made point.
"Exactly. So why don't we do a search on biotechnology students, especially those who have a criminal record," Leaning over his computer, Mark entered the database. "Her name was Roxie.Roxanne?"
Finally, the search stopped, and Mark looked up from the screen. "Here she is. Roxanne Chandler. Biotechnology student at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Kicked out in her second year for 'improper and questionable use of equipment.'"
"That has to be her. But now the question is: how do we get them, and before they strike again?" Jesse asked. He wanted the entire experience over with. Except for Marion, he wanted her to stay forever.
"I have an idea," Mark said, after thinking for a little while. "It's a little iffy, it depends on a lot of things that may or may not happen. But, as of now, it's all we have."
**
Jesse and Marion both knew the plan. While he was dropped off at the beach house, she would follow a predetermined path, monitored by the police, which looked like an attempt at throwing off her followers. She would drive slow, but take a long, winding way to her final destination to lure the two villains to Mark's house, which was being observed by a team from Steve's precinct.
When Jesse picked up the phone, he listened to every word Steve had to say. "Marion just passed by, loosely but definitely followed by a navy blue sedan. It's got to be them."
"Great. I'll turn the tape recorder on," Reaching under the guest bed; Jesse felt with his fingers until he found the 'record' button on the high quality, police-owned recorder. A paramedic team was at the ready, should anything happen Marion or Jesse while they were inside. All they had to do was wait.
"And remember, act as helpless as you possibly can. We may be able to evoke some sort of explanation of the drugs they used that way. They're turning onto PCH," Steve added.
"Like I need to act," Jesse rolled his eyes. "I feel bad enough as it is."
"Alright, Jesse, they're coming up fast, I had better go. Good luck."
"Bye, Steve."
"And you're sure the tape's on?"
"Yes! Everything's under control. I hope." Jesse clicked the phone off and put that under the bed with the recorder. Snuggling under the covers, he anticipated Marion's arrival. As much as he wanted to see her again, this time was different. It wasn't just Marion coming over to talk with Jesse or talk care of him between hospital shifts. This time, they were trying to catch a murderer and his accomplice.
Roughly a half hour later, Jesse heard the grinding of tires in the driveway. He listened for her key in the lock, and then waited for her to come into the room. She took a seat on the side of the bed that he wasn't occupying and started in on some lighthearted chitchat.
"I'm so tired Jesse. I worked the graveyard shift last night, and I swear, it was one car crash after the other. We must have had five within eight hours," Marion yawned and rested her head on Jesse's shoulder.
Jesse nuzzled his head in next to her neck and pretended to fall asleep exceptionally quickly. In reality, he was squinting outside, waiting for something. What he was waiting for, he wasn't sure, but when he saw it, he'd know it. After fifteen minutes of feigning sleep, he saw it. The man he had seen in his dream, there, walking across the beach, binoculars held up to his eyes.
"That's him!" Jesse whispered, trying not to move his lips. Who knew how well Jonathan/Sam's binoculars worked?
Five minutes passed, the man walked away, and Jesse closed his eyes again. He ran a lock of Marion's soft, brown hair through his weakened fingers. He was so tired; he was on the verge of dozing off, for real, this time, when he heard the front door shoved open. Heavy footsteps signaled that someone other than Mark, Amanda, or Steve had entered the building.
"Warhurst!" The man shouted as he walked into the bedroom. "It's payback time!"
"Hold on. Who are you, and what did Andrew or I ever do?" Marion asked, sitting up.
"You know who I am. 1997, your emergency room, your hand, my son."
"Wait. Just start from the beginning. Who are you?"
"We'll get to that, later. Two years ago, my son's best friend died in a car accident under a drunk driver."
"I'm so sorry, I wish we could have done something. Maybe you could contact one of my associates?" Trailing off, Marion could see that this man had no interest whatsoever in talking to another doctor.
"It's too late. Nothing can help my son now. See, he was the driver. They were at a party, they were out late, they had a few drinks, and the next thing I knew, I was waiting for my son to come out of the ICU," Mr. Endersen pursed his lips, apparently trying to block out the memories.
"My son survived. But when he was well enough physically to leave the hospital, I was still worried about his mental condition. When he was released, he was very depressed, as he had killed his best friend."
Not soon after, I started sending him to a psychiatrist."
"Let me guess, Andrew Higley?" Jesse attempted hoarsely.
"Right. When we both thought that my son's condition was under control, he surprised everyone by attempting to commit suicide. He shot himself eight months, thirteen days, and four hours ago. I found him on his bedroom floor with a gun he picked up from a gang on the street and got him to the hospital."
"I remember now. I was the attending surgeon that night," recalled Marion softly.
"Yeah. He died in your hands. And that makes it your fault."
"Hang on! You son held a .22 caliber handgun to his heart and fired, there was nothing anybody could have done for him," Insisted Marion.
"That's exactly what you doctors want us to think! Maybe if you had tried harder, he would still be alive!" the man (they were still unsure of his real name,) said.
"I met Roxanne at a grievance discussion group. She had lost her daughter in a similar situation. Higley was her daughter's shrink, they thought she was fine, until she ran away with some gangster and showed up two days later, raped and murdered. If Andrew had done his job, her daughter could have realized how good she had it, and lived. So Roxie and I began plotting. She was a biotech, I had experience in strategizing, and we both wanted revenge.
"My son's name was Jonathan. When I met Roxanne, I decided to take his name, to honor his memory. He was never really dead. Not until the two doctors who are to blame are. And with one down, you're the only one left, Warhurst."
'Jonathan' reached deep in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a silver and black handgun. Turning it over and over in his hands, he laughed an evil-sounding chuckle. Jesse and Marion pressed their bodies as flat against the wall as the human anatomy would allow them. They exchanged terrified glances; they both knew: this was the end for either them or for the murderer.
"The police never found the gun my son shot himself with. They said that the gangster probably came back for it before the cops got in. I knew where the gun was. I was the one took it. I was the one who kept it all these years. I was the one who planned on using it again," He lifted the gun, and aimed, making a hole in the plaster above Marion's head. He lowered it and summoned the woman over to where he was standing. Too terrified to do anything but obey, she stood, whimpering, and walked nervously to Jonathan. "Higley was killed with the knife Roxie found in her daughter's back the night she was killed. Again, dismissed as 'the gang members took it back.'"
Jonathan grabbed Marion's head and jerked it against his chest. Holding the gun to her temple, he said, "Killed with the weapon that took my son, funny, isn't it?"
"You are a sick and twisted man!" Jesse, shouting, tried to get up, but was stopped by a sharp pain over his heart.
"Save your energy, Travis! You'll need it. I won't kill you, but you will have to live with the memory of witnessing your girlfriend murdered for the rest of your life. Which won't be very long, I might add. See, you started off as a diversion, but as our plan progressed, it turned into just having a little extra fun. It's a shame for you, really, if you had been at a hospital, you could have lived."
Marion tried to escape her captor, but he kept a firm grip on her. "Any last words?"
"Not today, Endersen," Marion said as calmly as she could before twisting her body around in some complex way, managing to knock the gun out of Jonathan's hand. She kicked it across the floor before shouting 'Now' as loud as possible.
Steve threw the door open from the outside and some other officers from the precinct came running in. Forcing Jonathan's hands behind his back, one of them was able to cuff him before Marion let him out of the headlock. The officers walked a resisting Jonathan outside, reading him his rights, while Steve remained on the scene. Marion brushed off her jacket in a movie- esque fashion as she walked over to Jesse.
"I guess I forgot to mention that I got my black belt before I graduated?" She commented as she took a seat next to Jesse, who had begun breathing very rapidly. His skin was clammy and his eyes were barely open. After attempting a weak smile, he closed his eyes and slumped over onto the bed.
Marion felt for a pulse, but she found none. The paramedic team rushed in from the outside, closely followed by Mark. At lightning fast speed, they attached a heart monitor up to the patient, but the only thing it proved was that Jesse was as good as dead unless someone administered a shock soon. Two more medics came running in, lugging a heavy defibrillator behind them.
"Paddles," Mark held out his hands. "Alright, CLEAR!"
Jesse's small body jolted with the electricity, as a steady, comforting, pulsating sound filled the room. Marion exhaled and flopped back down onto the bed. Mark heaved a sigh of relief and stroked Jesse's forehead.
"It's over, Jess. It's all over."
**
Congregated in Jesse's hospital room again, the four doctors listened to Steve's report of the two criminals.
"After we picked Roxanne up from the car down the street, we arrested them both, and they cracked. Told us everything."
"Anything about an antigen?" Jesse asked impatiently.
"I'm getting to that, I'm getting to that. There's good news and bad news. When we were questioning-"
"Wait! Don't I get a choice, which one comes first?"
"Actually, it's more just news, it all blends together into one big, news- thing," Steve admitted, gesticulating madly to prove his confusing point. "There is no antigen.."
"What!?" Jesse cried out.
"But..that doesn't matter because the effects of the biogen wear off after time. It was engineered that way. See, if you were a normal civilian, and your best friends weren't doctors and an awesome cop," Steve struck an overly self-confident pose. "then you may not have survived. The heart issue was the worst and final step in the process."
Amanda reached over and ran the back of her hand town the side of Jesse's face. "And it's already starting to die down. You're fever broke, Jess. You're okay."
A smile spread across Jesse's face as Marion caressed his hand with hers. "So I'm out of here?"
"Well everything seems to be in order.."
"And when you get out, there's something that's going to happen.." Marion whispered anxiously.
**
"Why do you have to leave?" Jesse asked Marion indignantly, and for the third time.
"I already told you, there are too many memories here. Some bad, and some very, very good," she reached out and felt his face. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too," Jesse paused, and then took a small box out of his pocket. As he opened it, he heard Marion gasp softly. From it, he lifted a silver chain with a rose-shaped pendant attached. With a nod, he silently asked Marion permission, and she spun around so he could fasten the clasp at the base of her neck.
"It's beautiful, thank you," Marion whispered in awe, still admiring the necklace.
"I would have gotten you a real rose, but, unfortunately, I'm allergic," Jesse confessed sheepishly.
"How romantic," Marion said, kissing him. A monotonous voice came on over the loudspeaker, and she pulled away. "That's my flight. Good-bye, Jesse. Thank you for everything."
"Bye," Jesse tried weakly.
Marion pulled a crisp slip of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. He unfolded it to reveal a long series of digits.
"My home phone number. Call me sometime. I'd love to hear from you."
"I will. Promise," Jesse swore, before giving Marion one last kiss before she got on her plane. He watched her take up her bags and board the airplane. She waved at him before she disappeared into the craft.
She was going home. But Jesse felt cold and alone.
**
Back at Community General, Jesse, Amanda, and Mark were walking down the hall. Whomever they passed seemed to have something to say to Jesse.
"Nice to see you again, Dr. Travis."
"You're looking better, Jesse."
"You make a better doctor than you do a patient, I'll bet."
"That's true, Jess," Mark said.
Jesse laughed. "You know, I think I could get used to this. Getting infected with genetically engineered bacteria is slowly becoming a hobby."
"Well, you better find a different one," Amanda said. "I don't think I can handle the stress of you getting sick every time there's a murder."
The three of them passed by to doctor's lounge, and Jesse stopped and gazed sadly into it. "It was only a month ago we met, there," he pointed to the couch. "I was there, and she was right there."
"You miss her, don't you, Jess?" Mark asked sympathetically.
"More than I though possible."
"So why don't you give her a call? I'm not great with time change, but there's a chance you could catch her," Amanda suggested.
"You know what, I will," Jesse walked into the lounge and picked up the phone. He carefully dialed Marion's number, holding the piece of paper in his shaking hand. It rang a couple of times, and then the machine picked up. "Hey, Marion, it-it's me, Jesse.."
"What really puzzles me is your wide spectrum of symptoms. I mean, it started with the high fever, and that's still." Mark looked at Jesse, who nodded. ".still present."
"Incoherency." Steve said.
"Then there was the coughing fit," Amanda added.
"Dizziness." Jesse's head was still spinning.
"And who can forget yesterday's nausea?" Marion recalled.
"'Nausea' is putting it lightly," Jesse laughed, putting his arm around Marion.
"Jesse, this is serious. Your symptoms don't resemble any one condition. They seem like-"
"-lots of things put together, something only a biotech would know how to do," Jesse interrupted, proving his earlier-made point.
"Exactly. So why don't we do a search on biotechnology students, especially those who have a criminal record," Leaning over his computer, Mark entered the database. "Her name was Roxie.Roxanne?"
Finally, the search stopped, and Mark looked up from the screen. "Here she is. Roxanne Chandler. Biotechnology student at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Kicked out in her second year for 'improper and questionable use of equipment.'"
"That has to be her. But now the question is: how do we get them, and before they strike again?" Jesse asked. He wanted the entire experience over with. Except for Marion, he wanted her to stay forever.
"I have an idea," Mark said, after thinking for a little while. "It's a little iffy, it depends on a lot of things that may or may not happen. But, as of now, it's all we have."
**
Jesse and Marion both knew the plan. While he was dropped off at the beach house, she would follow a predetermined path, monitored by the police, which looked like an attempt at throwing off her followers. She would drive slow, but take a long, winding way to her final destination to lure the two villains to Mark's house, which was being observed by a team from Steve's precinct.
When Jesse picked up the phone, he listened to every word Steve had to say. "Marion just passed by, loosely but definitely followed by a navy blue sedan. It's got to be them."
"Great. I'll turn the tape recorder on," Reaching under the guest bed; Jesse felt with his fingers until he found the 'record' button on the high quality, police-owned recorder. A paramedic team was at the ready, should anything happen Marion or Jesse while they were inside. All they had to do was wait.
"And remember, act as helpless as you possibly can. We may be able to evoke some sort of explanation of the drugs they used that way. They're turning onto PCH," Steve added.
"Like I need to act," Jesse rolled his eyes. "I feel bad enough as it is."
"Alright, Jesse, they're coming up fast, I had better go. Good luck."
"Bye, Steve."
"And you're sure the tape's on?"
"Yes! Everything's under control. I hope." Jesse clicked the phone off and put that under the bed with the recorder. Snuggling under the covers, he anticipated Marion's arrival. As much as he wanted to see her again, this time was different. It wasn't just Marion coming over to talk with Jesse or talk care of him between hospital shifts. This time, they were trying to catch a murderer and his accomplice.
Roughly a half hour later, Jesse heard the grinding of tires in the driveway. He listened for her key in the lock, and then waited for her to come into the room. She took a seat on the side of the bed that he wasn't occupying and started in on some lighthearted chitchat.
"I'm so tired Jesse. I worked the graveyard shift last night, and I swear, it was one car crash after the other. We must have had five within eight hours," Marion yawned and rested her head on Jesse's shoulder.
Jesse nuzzled his head in next to her neck and pretended to fall asleep exceptionally quickly. In reality, he was squinting outside, waiting for something. What he was waiting for, he wasn't sure, but when he saw it, he'd know it. After fifteen minutes of feigning sleep, he saw it. The man he had seen in his dream, there, walking across the beach, binoculars held up to his eyes.
"That's him!" Jesse whispered, trying not to move his lips. Who knew how well Jonathan/Sam's binoculars worked?
Five minutes passed, the man walked away, and Jesse closed his eyes again. He ran a lock of Marion's soft, brown hair through his weakened fingers. He was so tired; he was on the verge of dozing off, for real, this time, when he heard the front door shoved open. Heavy footsteps signaled that someone other than Mark, Amanda, or Steve had entered the building.
"Warhurst!" The man shouted as he walked into the bedroom. "It's payback time!"
"Hold on. Who are you, and what did Andrew or I ever do?" Marion asked, sitting up.
"You know who I am. 1997, your emergency room, your hand, my son."
"Wait. Just start from the beginning. Who are you?"
"We'll get to that, later. Two years ago, my son's best friend died in a car accident under a drunk driver."
"I'm so sorry, I wish we could have done something. Maybe you could contact one of my associates?" Trailing off, Marion could see that this man had no interest whatsoever in talking to another doctor.
"It's too late. Nothing can help my son now. See, he was the driver. They were at a party, they were out late, they had a few drinks, and the next thing I knew, I was waiting for my son to come out of the ICU," Mr. Endersen pursed his lips, apparently trying to block out the memories.
"My son survived. But when he was well enough physically to leave the hospital, I was still worried about his mental condition. When he was released, he was very depressed, as he had killed his best friend."
Not soon after, I started sending him to a psychiatrist."
"Let me guess, Andrew Higley?" Jesse attempted hoarsely.
"Right. When we both thought that my son's condition was under control, he surprised everyone by attempting to commit suicide. He shot himself eight months, thirteen days, and four hours ago. I found him on his bedroom floor with a gun he picked up from a gang on the street and got him to the hospital."
"I remember now. I was the attending surgeon that night," recalled Marion softly.
"Yeah. He died in your hands. And that makes it your fault."
"Hang on! You son held a .22 caliber handgun to his heart and fired, there was nothing anybody could have done for him," Insisted Marion.
"That's exactly what you doctors want us to think! Maybe if you had tried harder, he would still be alive!" the man (they were still unsure of his real name,) said.
"I met Roxanne at a grievance discussion group. She had lost her daughter in a similar situation. Higley was her daughter's shrink, they thought she was fine, until she ran away with some gangster and showed up two days later, raped and murdered. If Andrew had done his job, her daughter could have realized how good she had it, and lived. So Roxie and I began plotting. She was a biotech, I had experience in strategizing, and we both wanted revenge.
"My son's name was Jonathan. When I met Roxanne, I decided to take his name, to honor his memory. He was never really dead. Not until the two doctors who are to blame are. And with one down, you're the only one left, Warhurst."
'Jonathan' reached deep in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a silver and black handgun. Turning it over and over in his hands, he laughed an evil-sounding chuckle. Jesse and Marion pressed their bodies as flat against the wall as the human anatomy would allow them. They exchanged terrified glances; they both knew: this was the end for either them or for the murderer.
"The police never found the gun my son shot himself with. They said that the gangster probably came back for it before the cops got in. I knew where the gun was. I was the one took it. I was the one who kept it all these years. I was the one who planned on using it again," He lifted the gun, and aimed, making a hole in the plaster above Marion's head. He lowered it and summoned the woman over to where he was standing. Too terrified to do anything but obey, she stood, whimpering, and walked nervously to Jonathan. "Higley was killed with the knife Roxie found in her daughter's back the night she was killed. Again, dismissed as 'the gang members took it back.'"
Jonathan grabbed Marion's head and jerked it against his chest. Holding the gun to her temple, he said, "Killed with the weapon that took my son, funny, isn't it?"
"You are a sick and twisted man!" Jesse, shouting, tried to get up, but was stopped by a sharp pain over his heart.
"Save your energy, Travis! You'll need it. I won't kill you, but you will have to live with the memory of witnessing your girlfriend murdered for the rest of your life. Which won't be very long, I might add. See, you started off as a diversion, but as our plan progressed, it turned into just having a little extra fun. It's a shame for you, really, if you had been at a hospital, you could have lived."
Marion tried to escape her captor, but he kept a firm grip on her. "Any last words?"
"Not today, Endersen," Marion said as calmly as she could before twisting her body around in some complex way, managing to knock the gun out of Jonathan's hand. She kicked it across the floor before shouting 'Now' as loud as possible.
Steve threw the door open from the outside and some other officers from the precinct came running in. Forcing Jonathan's hands behind his back, one of them was able to cuff him before Marion let him out of the headlock. The officers walked a resisting Jonathan outside, reading him his rights, while Steve remained on the scene. Marion brushed off her jacket in a movie- esque fashion as she walked over to Jesse.
"I guess I forgot to mention that I got my black belt before I graduated?" She commented as she took a seat next to Jesse, who had begun breathing very rapidly. His skin was clammy and his eyes were barely open. After attempting a weak smile, he closed his eyes and slumped over onto the bed.
Marion felt for a pulse, but she found none. The paramedic team rushed in from the outside, closely followed by Mark. At lightning fast speed, they attached a heart monitor up to the patient, but the only thing it proved was that Jesse was as good as dead unless someone administered a shock soon. Two more medics came running in, lugging a heavy defibrillator behind them.
"Paddles," Mark held out his hands. "Alright, CLEAR!"
Jesse's small body jolted with the electricity, as a steady, comforting, pulsating sound filled the room. Marion exhaled and flopped back down onto the bed. Mark heaved a sigh of relief and stroked Jesse's forehead.
"It's over, Jess. It's all over."
**
Congregated in Jesse's hospital room again, the four doctors listened to Steve's report of the two criminals.
"After we picked Roxanne up from the car down the street, we arrested them both, and they cracked. Told us everything."
"Anything about an antigen?" Jesse asked impatiently.
"I'm getting to that, I'm getting to that. There's good news and bad news. When we were questioning-"
"Wait! Don't I get a choice, which one comes first?"
"Actually, it's more just news, it all blends together into one big, news- thing," Steve admitted, gesticulating madly to prove his confusing point. "There is no antigen.."
"What!?" Jesse cried out.
"But..that doesn't matter because the effects of the biogen wear off after time. It was engineered that way. See, if you were a normal civilian, and your best friends weren't doctors and an awesome cop," Steve struck an overly self-confident pose. "then you may not have survived. The heart issue was the worst and final step in the process."
Amanda reached over and ran the back of her hand town the side of Jesse's face. "And it's already starting to die down. You're fever broke, Jess. You're okay."
A smile spread across Jesse's face as Marion caressed his hand with hers. "So I'm out of here?"
"Well everything seems to be in order.."
"And when you get out, there's something that's going to happen.." Marion whispered anxiously.
**
"Why do you have to leave?" Jesse asked Marion indignantly, and for the third time.
"I already told you, there are too many memories here. Some bad, and some very, very good," she reached out and felt his face. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too," Jesse paused, and then took a small box out of his pocket. As he opened it, he heard Marion gasp softly. From it, he lifted a silver chain with a rose-shaped pendant attached. With a nod, he silently asked Marion permission, and she spun around so he could fasten the clasp at the base of her neck.
"It's beautiful, thank you," Marion whispered in awe, still admiring the necklace.
"I would have gotten you a real rose, but, unfortunately, I'm allergic," Jesse confessed sheepishly.
"How romantic," Marion said, kissing him. A monotonous voice came on over the loudspeaker, and she pulled away. "That's my flight. Good-bye, Jesse. Thank you for everything."
"Bye," Jesse tried weakly.
Marion pulled a crisp slip of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. He unfolded it to reveal a long series of digits.
"My home phone number. Call me sometime. I'd love to hear from you."
"I will. Promise," Jesse swore, before giving Marion one last kiss before she got on her plane. He watched her take up her bags and board the airplane. She waved at him before she disappeared into the craft.
She was going home. But Jesse felt cold and alone.
**
Back at Community General, Jesse, Amanda, and Mark were walking down the hall. Whomever they passed seemed to have something to say to Jesse.
"Nice to see you again, Dr. Travis."
"You're looking better, Jesse."
"You make a better doctor than you do a patient, I'll bet."
"That's true, Jess," Mark said.
Jesse laughed. "You know, I think I could get used to this. Getting infected with genetically engineered bacteria is slowly becoming a hobby."
"Well, you better find a different one," Amanda said. "I don't think I can handle the stress of you getting sick every time there's a murder."
The three of them passed by to doctor's lounge, and Jesse stopped and gazed sadly into it. "It was only a month ago we met, there," he pointed to the couch. "I was there, and she was right there."
"You miss her, don't you, Jess?" Mark asked sympathetically.
"More than I though possible."
"So why don't you give her a call? I'm not great with time change, but there's a chance you could catch her," Amanda suggested.
"You know what, I will," Jesse walked into the lounge and picked up the phone. He carefully dialed Marion's number, holding the piece of paper in his shaking hand. It rang a couple of times, and then the machine picked up. "Hey, Marion, it-it's me, Jesse.."