Title: The Pariah
Author: Elle
E-mail: elle@sparbust.fsnet.co.uk
or ellerob@hotmail.com
Rated: PG-13
Challenge No: 184 - We all know Mark's brother Stacy is a
sleepwalker. What
if, Steve starts to sleepwalk? Why is he sleepwalking? And how
does Mark
handle it?
Summary: Steve is faced with a really difficult problem and, as a
result of
the mental stress, begins to sleepwalk.
Any/all feedback more than welcome.
Title: The Pariah
Rating: PG13 - Drama/Angst
Series: Diagnosis Murder
Author: Elle
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to CBS and
Viacom. This is a piece of fan fiction, written for pleasure and
not for profit. The characters are borrowed for the purpose of
the story.
This story is written in response to Betty's Challenge No. 184
(We all know Mark's brother Stacy is a sleepwalker. What if,
Steve starts to sleepwalk? Why is he sleepwalking? And how does
Mark handle it?) which is featured on Singing Wolf's DM Challenge
Page.
Chapter 1 - A TROUBLED MIND
A noise woke Mark Sloan in the early hours of Wednesday morning.
A loud bump followed by a muffled expletive. Mark recognised the
voice immediately. It belonged to his son, Steve. Mark was out of
bed in an instant.
"Steve are you alright?" he called out as he entered
the living room, switching on the light, momentarily blinding
both him and his son. When his eyes had adjusted to the
brightness Mark discovered Steve sitting on the sofa holding on
to his shin with both hands.
"I walked into the coffee table", Steve informed his
father.
"Let me take a look", said Mark, crossing over to where
Steve was sitting and prising his son's hands away from his leg
to take a closer look at his shin. The skin was broken and a thin
trickle of blood was oozing from a fairly deep cut. Steve had
obviously walked into the corner of the coffee table.
"This will need to be cleaned and dressed", he informed
his son. "I'll just go get the first aid kit from the
bathroom".
"Sure dad", replied Steve, sinking back against the
comfortable leather gratefully. The pain in his shin had now
subsided from a sharp throbbing pain to a muted ache.
"So did you come up to get a drink?" asked Mark as he
returned with the first aid kit and set about cleaning and
dressing the wound.
"I don't know dad", Steve replied truthfully. "I
just woke up when I felt the pain in my shin and found myself
standing in the living room".
Mark looked up at his son anxiously. "Oh no", he
thought silently. "Don't tell me that Steve has started
sleepwalking".
---
"So you found Steve standing in the middle of the living
room with no idea how he got there?" asked Jesse Travis
later on that morning as he and Mark sat in the doctor's lounge
enjoying a coffee. "Has he ever sleepwalked before
Mark?"
"No. Never". Mark replied, running a hand distractedly
through his shock of thick, white, hair.
"Well maybe this is just a one off", said Jesse, trying
to reassure Mark. "Maybe he's worrying about something -
that's often what sparks off an incident. Did you ask him if he
had anything particular on his mind that might be bothering
him?"
"Yes I did Jess - and he said no. But ….", Mark
frowned.
"But what?" Jesse's bright blue eyes were full of
concern.
"I know my son Jesse. Very well. And I think something is,
and has been, bothering him for quite a while".
---
"Say lieutenant - do you mind if we just swing by the
convenience store on the corner of 11th? I need some more
cigarettes".
Todd Brown, the young sergeant Steve had been asked to 'babysit'
until he settled in at the precinct turned to smile over at
Steve.
Steve felt his heart sink but he hid his dismay.
"Sure", he agreed. No sense in making a huge fuss about
it after all. Because maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong,
thought Steve, as he pulled up at the kerb and Todd Brown leapt
out of the car and strolled into the store. And then again,
thought Steve, as he unbuckled his belt and followed the young
man inside, maybe he hadn't.
---
Another noise. This time the sound of the front door being
unbolted and opened. Mark was out of bed in seconds and got to
the front door in time to see Steve, barefoot, clad only in his
jeans, walking out of the door and down the front steps.
"Steve - son - where are you going?" asked Mark, as he
caught up with Steve and touched him, gently, on the arm. Steve
stopped walking but he didn't respond to his father's question.
While he gave every appearance of being awake, Mark knew that his
son was, in fact, asleep. He had, after all, seen this sort of
behaviour so many times before with his brother, Stacy.
"Steve - wake up", said Mark, crossing in front of his
son and grasping both of his arms firmly, before giving him a
gentle shake, knowing full well that it was a popular
misconception that waking someone who was sleepwalking could harm
them. Far more harmful to let them carry on when they might cause
themselves injury.
"Dad?" Steve's voice was full of puzzlement as he woke
up to find himself standing outside in the driveway of the house,
dressed only in his jeans, with his father shaking him gently.
"What happened? What am I doing out here?"
"You were sleepwalking son", said Mark, slipping a
comforting arm around Steve's shoulders. "Come on", he
added as Steve shivered. "Let's get you back indoors in the
warm".
Once inside, Mark locked and bolted the front door before turning
to face his son.
"Is there anything worrying you Steve?" he asked.
Steve hesitated for just a fraction before replying "No
dad". That hesitation was enough for Mark to know that
something was wrong but, short of applying either thumbscrews or
pentathol he knew that, unless Steve was ready or wanted to tell
him, then he was going to keep whatever was worrying him very
firmly to himself.
---
As he headed back down to his apartment, Steve came to a
decision. He couldn't allow the situation to continue any longer.
It was already affecting his sleep, causing him to sleepwalk like
his uncle Stacy and it wouldn't be much longer before his father
would insist on sitting down for a man to man chat to find out
what was going on or, worse still, insist that his son undergo
tests to discover if there was perhaps a medical reason for his
somnambulance.
Steve knew that the decision he had reached, the only decision he
could make he reasoned as he slid back into bed and pulled the
covers over him, was going to ensure that his life was about to
become very difficult and, in all probability, very, very
unpleasant and the last thing Steve wanted was to worry his
father.
---
"Morning lieutenant", Todd Brown greeted Steve the
following morning. "Rough night?" he asked, noting the
man's pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes.
"Something like that", Steve replied tersely.
Todd frowned at Steve's curtness. "Is something wrong
lieutenant?" he asked.
Steve looked up at the young man as he sat down behind his desk.
Brown was leaning over his desk, his green eyes filled with
confusion at Steve's attitude, which had, up until that moment,
been pleasant and friendly. Steve hated himself for what he was
going to do next but, as he saw it, he had little choice in the
matter. His eyes swept over Todd as though seeing the sergeant
for the first time. Brown was a handsome guy with almost model
good looks. Tall, lean and muscular with thick blonde hair, clear
blue eyes and a flawless complexion. A real all American boy. 26
years old, single, he had had, up until that precise moment, an
exemplary record in the force. Had being the operative word
thought Steve.
"No", Steve replied, finally, in response to Todd's
question. "Nothing is wrong sergeant".
But it soon would be, thought Steve, as he sent Brown off to
records to collect some old files. As soon as Todd left the
office, Steve picked up the phone and rang Chief Masters.
---
Chief Masters' face remained impassive while Steve relayed both
what he had seen, and heard, over the past few weeks. He remained
silent for a long time after Steve had finished speaking and
then, finally, he leant forward, formed his fingers into a temple
upon which he rested his chin, and fixed Steve with a level gaze.
"These are VERY serious allegations you are making
lieutenant", he said softly.
"Yes sir, I know that", Steve replied.
"And you are absolutely certain - both of what you heard,
and what you saw?"
"Absolutely certain sir".
"Very well". Masters leant back in his chair and
sighed. "I trust your judgment lieutenant. 100%. But you
know what will happen once internal affairs become
involved?"
Steve nodded. He knew only too well that, once the machinery was
set in motion, Brown's life would be put under a microscope, as
would those of his friends and acquaintances, both inside and
outside of the police force.
"I don't guess I have to tell you that your life could
become very difficult lieutenant?" the chief continued.
"I know that sir", Steve replied. And he did, only too
well. Once it became common knowledge that Steve had made
accusations of corruption and fraud against a fellow officer, he
would be ostracised, even by the colleagues who knew him well.
Regardless of the fact that Brown was involved in extortion and
god knew what else, all of which would be revealed in the
fullness of time, it would be Steve who would be considered the
guilty party for breaking the code of honour: never inform on
another cop.
"Brown is only 26", mused the chief. "With an
excellent record in the force. But", the chief stood up.
"If he's dirty then I don't want him, either in my precinct,
or in the force. I'll get onto the internal affairs group now
Sloan. No need to let Brown know what's going on just yet. He'll
find out soon enough".
---
In the early hours of Friday morning, Mark was woken by a loud
crash. He discovered Steve in the kitchen, attempting to make a
sandwich. The crash had been the plate he had inadvertently
dropped and broken as he extracted it from the cupboard. Mark
woke his son gently and, as Steve made his way back to his
apartment, Mark made a mental note to have a lock fitted to the
outside of his son's bedroom door until such time as he could
convince Steve to either tell him what was wrong, or to undergo
tests to ascertain if there was a medical reason for him starting
to sleepwalk.
Chapter 2 - THE BEGINNING
"Jesse have you noticed anything different about Steve over
the past week?" asked Mark as he caught up with the tousled
haired doctor at the nurse's station.
Jesse hesitated before replying because he knew how much Mark
thought of, and worried over, his son. He didn't want to cause
Mark any undue alarm but neither did he want the man to be
unaware of the facts. So reluctantly, very reluctantly, Jesse
answered.
"Yes I have. He's been real quiet and withdrawn. Like he has
something really serious he's thinking about. And …",
Jesse hesitated.
"And?" Mark raised an eyebrow impatiently.
"He looks real unhappy", said Jesse.
---
Steve was "real unhappy" as Jesse had put it. On the
Tuesday following his discussion with Chief Masters, Steve was
summoned to attend a meeting with two officers from the internal
affairs group where he was more or less grilled like a hapless
suspect about what he had seen, and heard, while working with
Todd Brown. When he finally emerged from the interview room he
was astonished to discover that he'd been there for almost three
hours.
"Thank you for your time and honesty lieutenant", said
one of the officers - a surly looking man with dead eyes.
"We'll handle things from here on in. I don't guess I need
to tell you to have as little contact with Sergeant Brown as
possible?"
"No sir", replied Steve. Although that, he reflected as
he headed back to his office, wouldn't be difficult because, once
Brown and the other officers discovered what he had done, he'd be
having very little contact with anyone. He'd be a pariah!
Captain Newman, fully briefed on the situation by the Chief, had
reassigned Todd Brown to work with Detective Jarrett, one of
Steve's colleagues. At the moment anyway Steve reflected
ruefully. When Todd had questioned the reassignment Newman had
fudged the issue saying that Todd needed to get a feel of how
each detective worked. Brown had accepted that. Once he found out
about the IAG investigation of course, he would know the real
reason for his reassignment. Until then, well all Steve could do
was to wait until the bureaucratic wheels began to grind. Once
they did - well that was when life could start to get tough. In
the meantime, Steve tried not to think about the situation. He
went to work at BBQ Bob's, he ate supper with his father, and he
did his best, his very best, to convince everyone that things
were just fine.
---
On Thursday morning when Steve arrived at the precinct he was met
with a wall of silence. He knew then, that the investigation, and
his role in it, was common knowledge.
---
"Lieutenant - wait up a minute", Todd Brown called out
as Steve was just about to get into his car on Thursday evening.
Turning, Steve saw the young man striding towards him
purposefully, a friendly smile on his face. The only friendly
smile Steve had had cast in his direction all day. But the smile
on Todd's face didn't reach his eyes. It was there purely for
effect so that, if anyone else should happen to witness them
talking, they would see that Todd Brown bore no malice towards
Steve.
"I just wanted to talk to you for a minute", said Todd
as he caught up with Steve.
"I don't see that we have anything to say to one another
Todd", replied Steve, turning away from the sergeant.
"Oh but we do", Todd insisted, reaching out and
gripping Steve's right arm tightly, preventing him from getting
into his car. "I want you to go see IAG and tell them that
you made a mistake lieutenant".
Steve shrugged off Todd's hand. "I wish I could", he
said reasonably. "But I didn't Todd, and you know that. Now,
excuse me but my shift is over and I'm going home".
"You're making a big mistake lieutenant", said Todd
quietly, his voice full of repressed anger.
Steve straightened and turned to face the sergeant, his face
impassive.
"All I'm asking", Todd continued affably. Is for you to
retract your allegations then everything will be fine. But if you
don't ……", his voice tailed off.
"Are you threatening me sergeant?" asked Steve.
"Not threatening no", the man replied, shrugging.
"But accident's do happen lieutenant" he added, smiling
softly.
---
The sound of the balcony door opening woke Mark. Yawning he
checked his watch. 3.30 AM. Mark hauled his weary body out of bed
and went to check on Steve. He found his son at the bottom of the
balcony steps, rubbing his head.
"Tripped and fell", Steve mumbled by way of
explanation. "Woke me up anyway", he added wryly.
"Well that does it", said Mark firmly, as he helped his
son to his feet and back inside the house. "A lock is going
on your apartment door first thing tomorrow morning".
"You're going to lock me in my room?" Steve's voice was
incredulous.
"Yes I am son, for own safety", Mark replied.
"Steve", Mark held up his hands as Steve started to
protest. "You could have hurt yourself very badly tonight.
Now unless you want to tell me what it is that's bothering you,
or you agree to come into the hospital so I can check you out
thoroughly to see if there's an underlying medical reason causing
you to sleepwalk, I am going to ensure that you don't come to any
further harm by making sure you stay in your room. So what's it
to be?" Mark's eyes met those of his son's.
"Guess you'd better get the lock fixed on my door",
replied Steve.
---
On Saturday, two days after the IAG investigation began, Steve
was grateful it was the weekend. At least, he thought, as he
returned from his early morning run, his father would speak to
him! Being totally ignored and having fellow officers turn their
backs on you as you approached them was disconcerting, not to
mention extremely unpleasant. If his partner, Tanis Archer had
been there Steve knew he could have at least relied on her to
speak to him because Tanis, like himself, refused to run with the
pack, preferring to give each individual the benefit of the doubt
until the facts of the matter were fully established. But Tanis
was attending a scene of crimes course in Denver and wouldn't be
back for another two weeks.
Well, thought Steve, as he poured himself a coffee, you knew it
would be tough Sloan but, at the end of the day you know that
Todd Brown is involved in something nasty and he probably isn't
working alone, so you'll just have to grit your teeth and wait
until internal affairs finish their investigation and you're
vindicated. Which was easier said than done, he thought, as he
headed down to his apartment to shower and dress. Because IAG
weren't known for their speedy progress and he was liable to be
in for a long, arduous, wait.
---
"Letter for you son", Mark announced as Steve bounded
back up the stairs, lured by the tantalising smell of eggs and
bacon. "I've put it on the counter".
"Thanks". Steve picked up the letter. It looked
official. A brown envelope with a typed label. He turned it over
and ran his fingers quickly under the flap without even thinking.
A searing pain bit into his fingertips.
"Goddamit", he hissed, as he dropped the letter on the
floor and examined his fingers where the concealed razor blade
had sliced into them. Blood began to well up, threatening to drip
onto the floor.
"What's wrong?" asked Mark, turning round to look at
his son, having heard his muttered expletive.
"Oh .. er .. nothing dad. Just an unexpected bill for the
restaurant is all", Steve replied, wrapping his fingers in
the soft material of his t-shirt to stop any blood dropping on to
the floor. Bending down he picked the letter up before muttering,
"I … er forgot to brush my teeth dad. Excuse me".
"Since when do you brush your teeth BEFORE you eat?"
asked Mark but Steve had already turned on his heel and headed
down to his apartment where he made his way to the bathroom, and
turned the cold tap on full, holding his fingers under it until
the blood flow eventually slowed and then stopped. Reaching for
the plasters he taped over the cuts. If his dad asked, he would
say he fell over while jogging and grazed them on a rock.
The letter lay where he had dropped it on the bedroom floor as he
entered his apartment. Steve picked it up and checked it for
contents. There were none. Well, he thought, as he headed back
upstairs trying to pretend that everything was perfectly normal,
perfectly natural, what did he expect? The razor blade taped
under the flap was a very clear message to back off!
---
"Oh come ON dad". Steve was astonished when a locksmith
turned up on the doorstep Saturday afternoon to fit a lock not
only to the outside of his apartment door he discovered, but also
to his bedroom windows. He stared at his father in disbelief. He
really thought his dad had been joking when he said he was going
to have a lock fitted to his apartment door. "I'm NOT a
child", he added angrily.
"I know that Steve", Mark replied patiently. "But
you've had two accidents already due to your sleepwalking and I'm
not prepared to take any chances as far as your safety is
concerned. Now, if you sleepwalk in the future, you can't do
yourself any harm. And as for the windows - people have climbed
out of them before while sleepwalking", he added, noting his
son's disbelieving expression. "Your Uncle Stacy was found
wandering down the street at 4 AM one morning having climbed out
of his bedroom window on the third floor", he informed his
mutinous son. "We moved him to the ground floor after that
particular episode", he added, smiling in spite of himself
at the memory of two police officers calling at his parents' home
in the early hours of the morning, to return his brother who was
covered in a blanket. He'd been found by a passing patrol a mile
away, totally naked striding along the sidewalk purposefully.
When stopped and questioned he was perfectly lucid, perfectly
rational, insisting that he was heading off to work. Luckily one
of the officers realised that Stacy was sleepwalking and, under
gentle questioning had established his name and address before
returning him to the safety of his home with a gentle suggestion
that it might be a good idea to lock him in his room at night to
prevent further incidents.
"But it will be like being ….", Steve's voice
failed him.
"In prison?" Mark completed the sentence for him.
"Yes son I guess it will". "So why", he added
silently, "don't you tell me exactly what's bothering you?
Because I know that something is".
"So what time is my curfew?" Steve asked sulkily, after
the locksmith had left. Just like being in jail Steve thought
mutinously as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. And his dad was
his jailor!
---
Steve crawled under the bedclothes around 11.30 PM and heard the
click of the bolt as his father locked him in. He so wished he
could confide in his dad about what was going on but he had a
feeling things were going to get a lot worse and he really, he
thought, as he let sleep claim him, didn't want his dad involved.
He was, after all, a grown man. He could handle this problem
himself. He also knew that the letter was just the tip of the
iceberg.
Chapter 3 - PRESSURE BUILDING
Steve went off to work Monday morning with all the enthusiasm of
a man about to face a firing squad. If he were honest, he was
disappointed with the attitude of his colleagues, men, and women,
he knew well and had worked alongside with on some tough cases
for long, long hours. Hell, he thought, as he strode into the
office, they knew him. Or they should do. He wouldn't make
allegations against another officer, especially a young, recently
transferred officer, unless there was no doubt in his mind that
his suspicions were grounded in fact.
But, then again, Steve reflected as he sat down behind his desk,
what it all boiled down to was the code of honour. But, as he sat
and glanced around the room at his colleagues, all of whom were
avoiding eye contact with him, knowing that he faced another
long, lonely day, that was very little consolation.
---
At 11 AM Steve was summoned to the Chief's office.
"Shut the door Sloan", said the chief as Steve entered
the room. Steve complied.
"It would appear", the chief said, as Steve sat down,
"that this situation is worse, far worse, than any of us
could have expected or anticipated. IAG have discovered that Todd
Brown isn't the only officer involved in, as you quite rightly
suspected, an extortion racket. Several of his fellow officers at
his previous precinct appear to be involved in some very
unsavoury dealings. IAG suspect, as do I, that Brown requested a
transfer here to …" the chief hesitated, searching for
the right word, "extend his lucrative sideline. What you've
done lieutenant is to rip the lid off a can of very ugly
worms".
The Chief paused before continuing.
"Newman tells me the other officers are giving you a tough
time".
"I can handle it sir", Steve assured the chief.
Masters swept an appraising eye over the man before him. Sloan
was an excellent officer, there was no doubt of that and Masters
was glad he was on his team. But Masters also knew that Steve
Sloan was stubborn. He'd had first-hand experience of that when,
after working on a special squad set up to investigate organised
crime, Masters had asked the detective to remain working with
him, and had been astonished when the man had politely declined,
requesting instead a transfer back to robbery/homicide. While
Masters respected the man's integrity and loyalty, there came a
time when obduracy could be a positive disadvantage in some
situations.
"I'm sure you can lieutenant but you don't have to as you
well know. Now I can transfer you out to another department
temporarily, or you can take leave".
"No sir", Steve said vehemently. "If I take a
transfer, or accept leave, then everyone is going to assume that
I'm running away from the situation, that I'm too scared to face
up to the consequences of my actions".
"And you aren't … concerned?" asked the chief in a
quiet voice.
"Concerned, no", Steve admitted. "Apprehensive
maybe. But, sir, at the end of the day what these officers are
doing is wrong and they should be brought to account for their
actions. I'm not about to buckle under just because of a …",
Steve stopped himself.
"Just because of what?" asked the chief, his glacial
blue eyes fixed on the detective. "Has something happened
detective?"
"It was nothing sir", Steve replied, cursing himself
for that stupid slip of the tongue, and automatically tucking his
fingers into the palm of his hand.
Masters sighed. Dealing with Sloan was oftentimes like beating
your head up against a brick wall except, he thought ruefully; a
brick wall would eventually fall over. Not so Sloan who, if he
had made his mind up, remained totally unmoving.
"Ok detective, I'm not going to pursue that avenue because I
have a feeling that I'll achieve very little if I try. All I want
to say is that if you experience any problems, any at all, then
please come see me".
---
"Hey Brown - want to come join us for a beer after your
shift finishes", Detective Jarrett called over to Todd
Brown.
Todd's handsome face creased into a smile. "Sure thing
Simon", he replied, smiling triumphantly over at Steve who
regarded him impassively. "Why don't you come along too
Steve?" he asked quietly as he passed by the detective's
desk. "I'm sure your colleagues will welcome you with open
arms".
"Back off Brown", Steve muttered, reaching out to take
a file from the top of the mountainous pile on his desk.
"How are your fingers detective?" Brown asked casually.
"Bet that must have hurt hmm? And that's just the start,
Sloan. My friends and I are NOT happy with you detective. Now, up
until this precise moment in time I've managed to hold them off
but, unless you go see IAG tomorrow and say that you're very
sorry but you made a mistake, I can't guarantee that they'll
remain … reasonable for very much longer".
"Go have your beer Brown", Steve said wearily,
"Enjoy it while you still can".
"Ok", Brown replied cheerfully. "But don't say I
didn't try lieutenant. If you don't want to play ball and be
reasonable. Well," Todd shrugged, "I guess you deserve
whatever's coming".
---
Steve left the precinct around 7 PM, his thoughts focused on a
hot shower, a couple of long, cold beers and supper with his dad
and, possibly Amanda and Jesse if they happened to call by.
Dismissing all thoughts of the day, Steve slid behind the wheel
of his car, turned on the ignition and pulled out into the busy
traffic.
10 minutes later as he approached a busy intersection and traffic
ahead of him began to slow, Steve applied the brakes. Nothing
happened. For a split second Steve froze before he began to pump
the brake pedal repeatedly. Still nothing. By now the vehicle in
front was looming up - fast. Steve wrenched on the handbrake but
he realised, even as he did so, that his efforts were futile.
There was no way he was going to be able to avoid a collision.
---
Jesse Travis was on duty when Steve Sloan was brought into the ER
together with the other driver involved in the rear end shunt,
protesting vigorously that he was fine and that there was really
no need for him to be there.
"Let me be the judge of that Steve", he said as he
crossed over to his friend who was lying, white faced, on the
gurney. "Now what happened exactly?"
"Car accident", Steve informed him. "Guess I
wasn't paying attention. Ran into the vehicle in front. When can
I get out of here Jesse?" he asked plaintively.
Jesse, spotting a perfect opportunity to run the tests Mark had
in mind to ascertain whether there might not be a medical reason
for Steve starting to sleepwalk, smiled.
"Pretty soon Steve", he assured his friend. "We
just need to take a few blood samples is all".
"Terrific", Steve muttered.
---
"How is he Jess?" asked Mark, having arrived at
Community General some 30 minutes after Jesse had called him at
the beach house to inform him that Steve had been involved in a
vehicular accident.
"Oh hi Mark - just fine - truculent", Jesse added,
grinning. "I've taken blood samples but I'm afraid that
Steve refused, point blank, to an MRI scan".
"Oh well, at least you tried", said Mark. "And
maybe the blood samples will show something. Can I take him home
Jess?" asked Mark.
"Sure - he's in examining room 1", said Jesse.
---
"I'm fine dad", Steve assured his father as they headed
off to the car park. "It was a simple traffic accident is
all. Now can we PLEASE go home? I'm kind of tired".
---
"I want Sloan's car checked over with a fine
toothcomb", Chief Masters barked, having been informed of
the detective's accident. "Because I don't believe for one
moment that what happened was an accident".
---
Mark knew, as he drove his son home, that there was something
very seriously wrong. Steve was an exceptional carefully driver.
He wouldn't have just lost control, or been distracted to the
extent he would have driven into the car in front. But, as he
glanced over at his son as they headed for home, Mark knew that
there was no way Steve was going to tell him what was going on.
Not until he was good and ready. Well, that, thought Mark, as he
pulled into the drive of the beach house, wasn't good enough.
Something was wrong. Very seriously wrong. And if Steve wouldn't
tell him what was going on then Mark would go see Chief Masters
or Captain Newman and find out if something at work was troubling
his son. Oh he would be discreet about it, thought Mark, as he
unlocked the front door. He didn't want, in any way, to embarrass
his son. But he would get to the bottom of this problem one way
or another - and sooner rather than later.
---
Steve headed for the fridge the moment they entered the beach
house, grabbing a beer for him and his dad. Popping the tops he
took two long, hard pulls, of his before slumping down on the
sofa.
"I'll get supper started", said Mark, smiling over at
his son who, he realised, was lost in a world of his own.
"Great dad", Steve said distractedly.
"Steve …", Mark started to say, at which precise
moment the phone rang.
"I'll get it", Steve volunteered, crossing over to the
phone on Mark's desk, snatching up the receiver.
"Steve Sloan", he announced.
"I understand you had an accident today Lieutenant
Sloan", a voice Steve didn't recognise purred down the
phone. "I'm glad you weren't hurt. It was just fortunate
that you weren't driving any faster. Next time you may not be so
lucky".
"Go to hell", Steve snapped, slamming down the
receiver.
"Who was that?" asked Mark, looking over at this son
who was, Mark noticed, standing looking at the phone as though he
would like to rip it out of the wall.
"Captain Newman", Steve lied. "Just checking to
see if I was ok to go in to work tomorrow. Can I ride in with you
dad?"
"Of course", Mark replied cheerfully. "Now come
eat son, supper's ready".
Chapter 4 - THE ASSAULT
"Good news Mark", Jesse greeted his colleague the
following morning. "The blood results on Steve came through
and everything is perfectly normal. Of course if we could
persuade him to have an MRI scan …..", Jesse's voice
tailed off as they both contemplated the likelihood of that
occurring.
"Well I guess that's one piece of good news but, to be
honest, Jesse, I don't think Steve's problem is medical. I'm
convinced he has something on his mind. My brother Stacy
sleepwalks whenever he gets stressed which, in Stacy's case is
most of the time", Mark recalled, laughing. Running a chain
of highly successful soda shops meant that Mark's brother was
under almost constant pressure as he worried about the hundred
and one day to day problems that arose from running a business.
Mark had tried to persuade his brother on more than one occasion
to slow down, maybe even to think of retiring, but Stacy wouldn't
hear of it. He thrived on the buzz, he informed Mark and so what
if every now and then he happened to sleepwalk. People suffered
from worse things in life. Compared to someone with heart
disease, or cancer, Stacy considered himself a lucky man.
"Steve has been stressed before - plenty of times",
Jesse pointed out hesitantly. "I wonder why now should be
any different?"
"I don't know Jess", Mark admitted. "But I fully
intend to find out", he added grimly.
---
"Just as you suspected Chief", said Captain Newman
later that afternoon. "The brake pipes on Sloan's car were
cut. It was no accident".
---
"Oh man I am wiped out", Jesse complained after the
last of the customers had left BBQ Bob's on Friday evening.
Steve looked over at the young man sympathetically. He did look
tired.
"You go on home Jess", he offered. "I'll lock up
here".
Jesse didn't need to be told twice. Flashing a smile at Steve, he
left the restaurant at a run. Steve heard his car start up and
pull out of the parking lot before fading away into the distance.
He busied himself tidying up, putting chairs on tables, clearing
up the kitchen and he was just about to start cashing up when the
door to the restaurant opened.
"Sorry we're closed", he called out, turning just in
time to see Todd Brown, followed by three burly looking men, come
in.
"Alone at last", said Todd, laughing at his own humour.
"Now, lieutenant, my friends and I have a score to settle
with you".
---
Jesse was halfway home before he realised he'd left his jacket,
containing the keys to his apartment, back at the restaurant.
"Oh man", he wailed, as he prepared to do a u-turn.
---
"This won't achieve anything Brown", said Steve, as two
of Todd's colleagues, grabbed hold of him roughly. "Even if
I could retract my allegations - which I won't - internal affairs
has already got enough on you and your fellow officers to bring a
string of convictions against you all for corruption and
fraud".
"Oh we know that" Todd replied amiably. "Consider
this payback Sloan", he added as, approaching Steve, he
lashed out savagely, landing a ferocious punch to Steve's
abdomen. If it hadn't been for the two men holding Steve upright
he would have collapsed from the force of the blow. As it was he
was bent almost double with pain. In the next instant, a hand had
gripped his hair, jerking his head up and a fist connected, hard,
with his jaw. Steve staggered backwards, dazed. After that, what
happened became a blur as Todd Brown and his colleagues set to
work on him with their fists and, when Steve eventually collapsed
and they let him fall to the ground, with their feet. A red mist
of pain descended on him, as a further kick to his abdomen sent a
white sheet of agony radiating throughout his entire body, Steve
felt himself slipping into oblivion. His last conscious thought
was that at least he wouldn't feel anything else.
Jesse pulled up outside the restaurant, leaving the engine
running, planning just to run in, grab his jacket, and then head
straight for home again. As he reached the door, he was both
surprised and alarmed to find it partially open.
"Steve", Jesse called out cautiously, as he entered the
restaurant where, to his horror, he found his friend lying
unconscious.
"Oh God Steve!" Jesse exclaimed, kneeling down over the
prone figure of his friend, his eyes already assessing the
damage.
"Jesse", Steve whispered.
"Don't talk and DON'T move", said Jesse, reaching for
his mobile and dialling 911.
"Jess", Steve persisted. "I don't want my dad to
find out about this".
"Steve are you crazy?" Jesse exclaimed, his eyes
sweeping over his friend, wincing at the damage to his face. His
nose was bleeding heavily; both his eyes were swollen and already
turning black. Judging from the way Steve was breathing it was
also likely he had several broken ribs. Not to mention any other
number of possible internal injuries. And Steve didn't want his
father to find out?
"I'm sorry Steve", Jesse said firmly. "But right
after I get you admitted to Community General I'm calling your
dad".
"No …..". Despite Jesse's retraining hands, Steve
struggled to sit up. "I don't want to worry him".
Pushing Jesse aside Steve stood up, holding on to the counter for
support.
"And how, exactly, are you planning on concealing your
injuries from your dad?" asked Jesse, shaking his head at
his friend's obduracy.
"I …..", Steve got no further. A wave of pain
washed over him. He staggered backwards against the counter; his
legs buckled underneath him and he lost consciousness.
---
"How is he Jesse?" asked Mark, his face creased with
worry. Jesse had called Mark at the beach house a little after
midnight, after Steve had been admitted to the ER. Mark had
dressed in seconds and had driven to the hospital as though the
hounds of hell were pursuing him.
"Complaining", said Jesse, grinning. Steve had regained
consciousness in the ambulance and by the time they had got to
Community General he was insisting that he was fine and that he
wanted to go home. It was only when Jesse threatened to sedate
his friend that Steve quietened down and allowed himself to be
subjected to a battery of tests.
"Seriously Mark", Jesse continued. "The cuts and
bruises will heal, in time. As will the ribs - three are cracked.
They'll give Steve some pain for a while but nothing that he
hasn't experienced in the past. But ….", Jesse's voice
tailed off.
"But what? What are you holding back from me Jess?"
asked Mark.
"I think Steve has a ruptured spleen", said Jesse
quietly. "His abdomen is painful and tender and his
abdominal muscles feel rigid. I'm waiting for the x-ray results
now. I guess I don't need to tell you that if, as I suspect, the
spleen has been ruptured, we'll need to operate right away
because the blood loss could prove to be fatal".
Mark groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "What happened
Jesse - do you know?"
Jesse shook his head. "When I got back to the restaurant,
Steve was lying on the floor. He said that he was attacked by two
men who were after the takings from the till but the money was
still in the register when I checked".
"Maybe they were disturbed when you arrived", Mark
commented.
"I didn't see anyone when I pulled up Mark", said
Jesse. "My guess is that whoever did this was long gone and
it had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with robbery. I think
it's all connected to Steve's car accident the other day and
maybe it's also the reason he's started sleepwalking".
"Well whatever happened", said Mark grimly. "I'm
going to find out".
---
"An operation!" Steve exclaimed. "What for? I feel
fine - a little bruised maybe but nothing that won't heal".
"Steve!" Mark regarded his son with growing
frustration. "The x-rays show that you have a severely
ruptured spleen as a direct result of the beating you sustained.
The covering of the spleen and the tissue inside have been torn
and it's bleeding, heavily, into your abdomen which is why your
abdomen feels painful and tender".
"So", Steve regarded his father mutinously. "Can't
you give me something to stop the bleeding? I don't WANT an
operation dad. I want to go home".
Mark took a deep breath, counted to 20, and then released it
gently.
"If the rupture was small, we could close it off which would
still", Mark held up his hands as his son started to say
'well then', "require an operation. But the damage is
substantial Steve", he continued. "And unless we
operate quickly then the blood pressure in your body will fall
and you will go into shock and in all likelihood die. Son",
Mark continued softly. "I know how much you hate hospitals
and surgery and that's not surprising after what you've been
through in the past. And I wouldn't be standing here telling you
needed this operation if I didn't think it was absolutely
essential".
Steve sank back against the pillows wearily.
"Ok", he reluctantly agreed. "But I don't want to
stay in hospital another minute than is absolutely
necessary", he added.
"Agreed", said Mark.
---
"What are those for Jesse?" asked Steve, his eyes
widening in alarm as Jesse approached his bed carrying three
hypodermic needles in a metal kidney dish.
"Vaccinations", Jesse informed his friend as he began
swapping Steve's right arm.
"Since when do you have to be vaccinated for surgery?"
Steve asked testily, shifting uncomfortably in his bed. Despite
what he had said earlier he was in a considerable amount of
discomfort and it had, over the last hour, been getting steadily
worse.
"Since you're having a splenectomy", Jesse replied
matter of factly, picking up the first hypodermic. "Trust me
Steve - you really need these injections. They're to protect you
against the risk of infection from Pneumococcus, Haemophilus type
B and Meninococcus".
"I didn't realise the operating room had that much bacteria
running loose", Steve muttered as Jesse, deftly inserted the
first of the hypodermic needles into Steve's upper arm and
depressed the plunger.
"It doesn't", Jesse laughed, before becoming serious.
"But with your spleen removed the risk of you contracting an
infection is higher - particularly against Pneumococcus -
pnemonia", he added, seeing Steve's puzzled expression,
"So we take these preventative measures now and then, after
the operation, put you on a course of long term antibiotics to
prevent any possible infections occurring. It's just preventative
medicine Steve", Jesse added, noting the look of alarm that
crossed Steve's face. "There's a small increased risk that
you'll be more susceptible to infections in the future because
any bacteria in your system won't be filtered out of the
bloodstream as effectively but, and I stress, it is a very small
risk. You're fit and you're healthy and, provided you have
regular flu jabs in the future, I don't envisage you having any
long-term problems as a result of having your spleen
removed".
Once the third vaccination had been carried out Jesse threw the
empty hypodermic into the kidney dish with the other two.
"Good", he said, turning back to his friend. "Now
Susan will be in in just a minute to give you your pre-op and
I'll see you down in the theatre in about half an hour".
"Terrific", muttered Steve.
Chapter 5 - SERIOUS TALK
"Dr. Sloan - I heard about your son - how is he doing?"
asked Chief Masters the following morning as he entered the
doctor's lounge to find Mark sitting on the sofa looking as
though he hadn't had a wink of sleep all night which, Mark
reflected, he hadn't. Steve had been taken down to surgery where
Jesse had conducted the splenectomy. The operation had gone
smoothly and Steve was now sleeping.
"He'll recover Chief Masters", said Mark. "In
time. In the meantime, I'd like to know just EXACTLY what's been
going on".
---
"Steve was assigned to a new partner, Todd Brown, a little
over a month ago", Chief Masters told Steve, both men
nursing mugs of coffee although Mark noticed the Chief Masters
didn't touch a drop.
"Yes", Mark nodded. "He mentioned it to me.
Sergeant Brown was transferred from the West Hollywood
precinct".
"Exactly so", the Chief replied. "He requested the
transfer. Said he wanted to broaden his experiences. I suspect
his real intention was to expand his lucrative sideline".
Mark raised an eyebrow at this statement.
"Todd Brown is involved in an extortion and corruption
racket Dr. Sloan. He's one of a core group of officers - the rest
being colleagues who worked with him at the West Hollywood
precinct. Steve walked in on Sergeant Brown a few weeks ago when
he was threatening a storekeeper, demanding money in exchange for
protection. Brown glossed it over, said that Steve had misheard
him but your son was convinced he had heard right the first time
and so he kept an eye, a very close eye on the sergeant and,
eventually, he realised that he had been right. Which is when he
came to see me".
Masters sighed, stretching out his long, long, legs.
"I don't have to tell you Dr. Sloan how … poorly a cop
is viewed if he makes accusations against a fellow officer - no
matter how well grounded in fact those accusations might be.
Steve knew the risks he was taking and, I gather from Captain
Newman that, for the last few weeks, he's been ostracised by his
colleagues for his actions. He hasn't had a happy time of it Dr.
Sloan".
"I KNEW he was hiding something from me", exclaimed
Mark. "With all the stress and worry he's been under it's
small wonder he began sleepwalking. And then there were the
accidents. The car and …", Mark hesitated. "The
letter".
Masters raised an eyebrow.
"Letter?"
"Steve received a letter a few weeks back. He said it was a
bill for the restaurant. I don't know why I didn't make the
connection earlier because a bill for BBQ Bob's wouldn't come to
the house and it wouldn't just be addressed to Steve. I guess I
was more concerned at the time about protecting Steve from
hurting himself any further during his sleepwalking episodes.
But, when I come to think of it, Steve made a feeble excuse and
headed down to his apartment straight after he opened the letter.
I noticed later on that day he had some tape on his fingers. I
didn't think anything of it at the time - Steve said he'd fallen
while he was jogging and grazed his hand".
"More likely a razor blade concealed under the flap of the
envelope", said Masters. "It's an old trick Dr.
Sloan".
"So this Sergeant Brown and his friends decided to get even
with my son for doing what any other normal, law abiding citizen
would do", said Mark.
"Not any other normal law abiding citizen", the Chief
reminded him. "Steve is a cop Dr. Sloan. He turned in
another cop. It's an unbroken rule in the force. I know",
Masters held up his hands when he saw the furious expression on
Mark's face. "It's no excuse and I agree with you. But Steve
knew the risks he was taking Dr. Sloan. And he took them
anyway".
"My son is a good man, an honest man", said Mark.
"Yes he is", the Chief agreed. "And Brown and his
friends will soon be behind bars Dr. Sloan and your son will be
safe. And, just as importantly, vindicated. Now", the chief
stood up. "I suggest that you go home and get some rest. You
look exhausted".
"No", Mark said quietly. "I'll stay here until my
son wakes up. Chief Masters", Mark said as the man prepared
to leave. Masters turned.
"I want you to make sure that Brown and his 'friends' are
put away for a very long time".
"Don't worry Dr. Sloan", the chief assured Mark.
"They will be".
---
"Mark - how long have you been here?" asked Amanda,
having entered Steve's room later that morning to check on his
progress.
"Oh hi Amanda", Mark yawned, stood, and stretched.
"A couple of hours. I was just waiting for Steve to wake
up", he added.
Amanda smiled over at Mark fondly, touched by his evident love
and concern for his son.
"Mark", she said, reaching out to touch him gently on
the arm. "Steve is going to be just fine. Why don't you go
home and get some sleep. He's in the best possible hands".
"I know that Amanda", Mark replied, settling back down
in the chair in the corner, his eyes never leaving those of his
sleeping son. "But I want to, need to, be here when Steve
wakes up".
---
Steve woke a little over an hour later. Mark was at his side in
an instant.
"Hi son - how are you feeling?" he asked gently. Steve
grimaced.
"Thirsty", he croaked.
Mark poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside
table, inserted a plastic drinking straw, slipped an arm around
his son's shoulders to help him up and put the tip of the straw
into Steve's mouth. Steve drank the water greedily.
"Thanks dad", he whispered, as Mark eased him gently
back on to the pillow where he promptly fall back to sleep.
---
"Time for your antibiotic Steve", Susan Hilliard
announced as she came into Steve's room. "No arguments
please", she added sternly, as she held out the pill
together with a plastic cup of water.
Steve took the tablet and swallowed it reluctantly. He hated,
really hated, taking any form of medicine, especially antibiotics
which depleted the body's natural resources anyway, for all that,
in his case, they were necessary to fight off the risk of any
infection occurring immediately after surgery or in the ensuing
weeks while he recovered.
As Susan left the room, so his father entered it. Pulling up a
chair, Mark sat down next to his son.
"Right then young man", Mark said briskly, fixing his
son with a look that brooked no argument. "You and I are
going to have a VERY long and serious chat about what's been
happening to you over the past few weeks".
---
"Dr. Sloan", Captain Newman looked up in surprise as
the elegant white-haired doctor entered the office looking,
Newman thought, absolutely thunderous. "How's Steve?"
"As well as can be expected after undergoing surgery to
remove his spleen", Mark said loud enough for everyone in
the office to hear.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that doctor", Newman replied.
"We all are", he added.
"Really? Why do I find that hard to believe Captain
Newman", Mark snapped and Newman looked at him askance.
Could this really be the amiable, good-natured Mark Sloan he'd
known and worked with over the past year or so since his tenure
as Captain? A man who had never been anything other than
unfailingly helpful and polite?
"Well er …." Newman spluttered, unsure of exactly
what to say or do next. He wondered what Mark Sloan's agenda was
because he quite clearly had one.
"I won't detain you Captain Newman because I know how busy
you are. What I've come to say won't take very long".
Mark turned to face Steve's colleagues, most of whom were looking
as though they would really rather like to disappear in a hole,
quick smart.
"You all know me", said Mark quietly. "And I know
you - most of you have been to my home and I've welcomed you both
as friends and colleagues of my son Steve. And you all know
Steve. You've worked with him for months, even years and you
know, all of you, that he's a good, honest, decent man".
"Mark …", Newman started to say, but Mark held up
his hand. "No", he said, "let me finish Captain
Newman", he said, and Newman fell silent.
---
"My son would never make an accusation if he wasn't
absolutely convinced it wasn't founded in fact", continued
Mark. "And he agonised over going to see Chief Masters about
Todd Brown for a long, a very long, time. It affected his health
to the extent that … well, never mind that, but suffice to
say that it played on his mind for a long time until he,
eventually, realised he couldn't stand by and watch a fellow
officer involved in corruption and extortion threaten innocent
members of the public. And so he did what anyone, any decent
human being, would have done. And for that he was ostracised by
the very colleagues who should have stood behind him and given
him their support".
"Dr. Sloan ….", Detective Jarrett tried to
interrupt and Mark whirled on the man in a fury.
"Don't give me all that nonsense about your precious
"code of honour" detective because it won't wash with
me. Isn't it more honourable to stand by a colleague you know to
be honest and decent instead of simply abandoning him? And you,
Jarrett, I'm surprised at you in particular. Steve stood by you,
even testified on your behalf as I recall, when you faced a
disciplinary board hearing last year".
Bob Garrett flushed with embarrassment as he recalled how Steve
Sloan had stood by him when he had been accused the previous year
of bullying a young officer. At the internal enquiry Steve had
stood up and told the board that the officer in question not only
had an attitude problem but a chip on his shoulder wider than the
Grand Canyon. Garrett had been totally vindicated and the officer
transferred before leaving the force after making similar
accusations against another officer at his next precinct. It had
subsequently transpired the young man was a pathological liar
and, but for Steve's intervention and support things might have
gone very badly for Garrett.
"My son has gone this whole route alone with no support from
any of you. His life has been threatened and now, as a result of
a vicious beating he's had to have his spleen removed. And if his
partner hadn't forgotten the keys to his apartment and had to go
back to the restaurant it's just possible that my son might have
died if he hadn't received prompt medical assistance".
Mark's face was stony as his swept over Steve's colleagues.
"I wonder if any of you appreciate the seriousness of a
splenectomy? No I guess not judging from your faces. Well let me
tell you that anyone who has their spleen removed is more at risk
of infection. Steve had to have vaccinations before the surgery
to prevent such a risk and now he's on a course of long-term
antibiotics to stave off the possibility of any infection as a
result of the surgery he's received and he will, in future, have
to keep a careful watch on his health because there are long-term
risks associated with a splenectomy".
Mark was well aware that he was exaggerating Steve's condition.
Oh certainly Steve would have to receive yearly vaccinations
against influenza to lessen the risk of developing pneumonia and
if he developed any fever or a severe sore throat he would have
to consult a doctor rather than ignore the symptoms but, other
than that, he shouldn't suffer any undue side effects because,
after only a short time, the other organs, specifically the
liver, adapted to increase their infection-fighting ability to
compensate for the loss of the spleen. But Steve's colleagues
weren't to know that and Mark was so very angry with them right
at this moment in time that he wanted them to feel guilt and
shame for the way they had treated his son and, judging from the
expressions on their faces, he guessed that he'd achieved exactly
what he'd come to the precinct to do.
Chapter 6 - STANDING TOGETHER
"Oh dad PLEASE tell me that you didn't really go down to the
precinct, Steve groaned, when Mark informed him what he had done
when he called in to check on his son that evening.
"I most certainly did", Mark replied. "I wanted to
tell your so-called colleagues what I thought of their behaviour
face to face and that's exactly", he smiled ruefully as he
recalled the sea of shocked faces as he walked out of the
precinct. "What happened"
"But don't you see that you've made my situation ten times
worse?" Steve moaned.
"Well I don't see HOW", Mark replied indignantly.
"Dad I'm not a little kid anymore", Steve informed his
father in an exasperated tone of voice. "Sometimes I think
you forget that fact. I'm a grown man and I can stand up for
myself. I don't need, or want, you going down to the precinct to
fight my battles for me. Now my colleagues will think that I'm
….", Steve searched for the right word, "too weak
to stand up for myself".
"Steve …", Mark said helplessly. "Son, I just
wanted to help".
"I'm tired dad. I'd like to get some rest", Steve said
testily before lying back in the bed and closing his eyes,
feigning sleep.
Mark stood looking down at his son for a long time before he
said, very quietly, "ok son, goodnight", before turning
and leaving the room. After his father left Steve lay awake,
staring into the darkness for a long, long, time.
---
"I don't know Amanda", Mark said the following morning,
as he poured them both a coffee. "I thought I was acting in
Steve's best interests but it seems as though, from what he said
last night, that I've just made matters worse".
Mark sighed, and ran a hand through his shock of thick white
hair. "I guess I did act hastily", he admitted.
"But I was so angry Amanda. When Chief Masters told me what
had been happening and knowing that my son had kept quiet about
it because he didn't want to worry me - well I just saw
red".
"Of course you did", Amanda replied, soothingly.
"You did what any father would do Mark. You defended your
son".
"Steve doesn't see it that way Amanda", Mark said
quietly. "He's barely speaking to me".
---
"I want a word with you Steven Sloan", Amanda said in a
stern voice, entering Steve's room later that morning where she
shut the door, very firmly, behind her.
"Steven?" Steve raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"My mom used to call me that when I'd misbehaved so I
guess", he sighed, "I must be in some sort of
trouble".
"You most certainly are", Amanda confirmed. "Steve
what were you thinking of, turning on your father the way you
did? He's devastated".
Well, maybe 'devastated' was an exaggeration, thought Amanda, as
she watched Steve's face fill with guilt at the thought that he
had hurt his father so badly, but Amanda was so mad herself at
seeing her colleague hurting that she had gone off very much at a
tangent which is what we do, she thought, when someone attacks or
hurts our loved ones. And Amanda did love Mark. He was more like
a father to her than a friend or colleague. And then, watching
Steve struggle with his guilt Amanda felt guilty herself. Oh
dammit it she thought, no wonder situations rapidly escalate
until they spiral out of control! One rash action, one impulsive
word too many and, before you know it, everyone is upset. Amanda
tried to backtrack slightly.
"Your dad is very hurt Steve and now he thinks that you're
too angry to speak to him".
"Oh hell", Steve growled, running a hand through his
soft brown hair. "I didn't mean to hurt my dad Amanda. I
love him. It's just that sometimes he can get a little ….
Overprotective".
"That's because he loves you Steve and he's been worried
sick about you over the past few weeks, wondering if you had
something medically wrong that was causing you to sleepwalk. You
should have told him what was going on Steve instead of letting
him find out from Chief Masters", she admonished.
"Ok ok enough", Steve begged, raising his hands in a
gesture of submission. "You've made your point. I'll
apologise to my dad. Now, please, I'm kind of tired Amanda. I'd
like to get some sleep".
---
When Mark crept, hesitatingly, into Steve's room later that
afternoon, he was pleasantly surprised to be greeted warmly by
his son who then apologised for his surly behaviour the previous
evening. Mark wasn't sure quite what had brought about this turn
of events but he was certainly glad that he and Steve were back
on speaking terms.
---
"Dr. Sloan - good morning. How is Steve?" Chief Masters
enquired as Mark ushered him into the house.
"Fretting", Mark replied.
Steve had been home from the hospital for just over a week and he
was driving Mark slowly crazy with his constant pacing backwards
and forwards, complaining that he was fine and that he should be
back at work. Mark had insisted that he took at least another
week, a statement that had gone down with his son like the
proverbial lead balloon.
"Well I have some news for him", said the Chief.
"I wanted to come tell him personally".
"Please - come through", said Mark, gesturing towards
the balcony. "Can I get you something Chief? Coffee? Or
maybe a cold beer?"
"Nothing - thank you", the chief replied, before
heading out to the balcony where Steve was sitting at the table
tracing patterns on the surface with his finger and looking, the
chief noticed, thoroughly bored. He glanced up upon hearing
someone approaching and all but jumped to attention when he saw
the chief standing in the doorway.
"At ease lieutenant", the Chief said, smiling, drawing
up a chair and sitting down opposite Steve.
---
"Todd Brown and four of his colleagues have been suspended,
and are facing multiple charges of corruption and extortion.
They'll be going away for a very long time. I wanted to come tell
you personally Sloan", Chief Masters informed Steve.
"Brown had the makings of a very fine officer", Steve
said regretfully.
"Yes he did. But Brown had a choice detective - as do we
all", Masters informed Steve as he prepared to leave.
"At the end of the day, he preferred greed and ambition
rather than to protect and serve".
---
"I really wish you'd reconsider taking another week off
Steve", said Mark, knowing that his words were falling on
deaf ears because once his son had made his mind up, that was
final!
"Dad if I stay home for just ONE more day", Steve
replied. "I'll go bug eyed nuts. And I PROMISE that I'll
take it easy ok?"
It wasn't ok, far from it in fact, but Mark knew better than to
argue the point with his son whose jaw was set in a way that Mark
knew only too well.
"Well I want you to promise me that if you feel tired you'll
come straight home".
"Deal, dad - I'll call you later ok?"
And with that Steve was gone, striding out towards his car, glad
to be back on track after weeks of sitting around waiting for his
body to heal. Once Steve realised that the daytime soaps were
beginning to hold a horrible sort of attraction and he found
himself actually WANTING to sit down and watch them, he knew that
he just HAD to get back to the precinct. There was bound to be a
heap of paperwork waiting for him, he reflected, as he drove
along PCH.
He was so deep in his own thoughts Steve didn't realise he was
being followed by a tan Mercedes.
---
Steve arrived at the precinct a little before 8 AM. He was
heading towards the precinct building when he became aware of a
car peeling rubber behind him. Turning, he saw a tan Mercedes
heading right for him. Steve threw himself sideways just in time
to avoid being knocked down, landing awkwardly on the tarmac, all
the breath knocked out of his body. The car screeched to a halt
only a few feet away. Steve struggled to get up. The sudden
violent movement had hurt - badly. His father's words "don't
overdo it son," echoed in his ears. Except he was sure that
his father hadn't envisaged a potential hit and run situation
thought Steve!
"Hello Lieutenant", said a voice Steve recognised only
too well and, looking up, he found himself staring at Todd Brown
who was standing over him holding a wickedly sharp knife, which
glinted in the sunlight. Brown was turning the handle of the
knife round and round in his right hand.
"Get up Sloan", Brown hissed, his handsome features
twisted with anger. "Let's finish this here and now".
"Don't be stupid Brown", Steve said calmly as he got,
shakily, to his feet. He looked the sergeant straight in the eye,
ignoring the knife. "You're in enough trouble Todd", he
said quietly. "Don't make things any worse than they are
already".
"Worse!" Brown laughed. A hard, bitter, laugh.
"How could they possibly get worse Lieutenant? Suppose you
tell me that huh? I've lost everything because of you. You just
couldn't leave it alone could you? Steve Sloan - the
oh-so-straight cop. Well, I might be going to jail lieutenant -
but you", Todd took a step towards Steve, "are going to
your grave".
"Drop the knife Brown", a voice behind Todd barked. The
sergeant turned, slowly, coming face to face with Bob Garrett and
three other detectives, all colleagues of Steve's, who had their
guns drawn and trained directly on him.
"Stay out of this Garrett - it doesn't concern you. This is
between Sloan and me".
"No", Garrett replied firmly. "It's between you
and all five of us".
"Well you've changed your tune", Brown replied,
laughing sarcastically. "A few weeks ago Sloan was a pariah
as far as you were concerned".
"What Steve did was the right thing", Garrett replied,
looking over at Steve who, he noticed with concern, was swaying
slightly, his face ashen. "What we", Garrett looked
over at his colleagues, "did was wrong and we'll all
ashamed, very ashamed of our actions. Now, drop the knife
Todd".
Brown looked from Sloan over to the four, armed detectives. He
could, with one swift lunge, bury the knife in the detective's
abdomen before the officers had a chance to stop him but he knew,
from the look in Garrett's eye in particular, the man wouldn't
hesitate to shoot him. Shrugging, Todd bent down and placed the
knife on the ground. Two of the officers then escorted him inside
the precinct building where he would have an assault with a
deadly weapon charge added to his other convictions.
As he was led away, Brown looked back over his shoulder at Steve.
"This isn't over Sloan", he called out. "When I
get out I'm going to come looking for you. Remember that".
---
"Thanks Bob", Steve said as his colleague hurried over
to him. "If you hadn't come along when you did …..",
he left the sentence unfinished.
"Jack saw what was going down", Bob Garrett told Steve
taking hold of his right arm firmly while Jack Cross, another
officer and friend of Steve's took hold of Steve's left arm.
"He came to get us. We're all sorry Steve. What we did was
wrong and it took your father to make us see that. But, we can
discuss all this later. Let's get you inside Steve. You don't
look so good".
Steve laughed, shakily. "I don't feel so good", he
said, before he passed out.
---
When Steve regained consciousness he found himself back in a
hospital bed with his father standing over him, consulting his
chart. Steve struggled to sit up.
"Take it easy son", his father cautioned. "Your
…. accident has caused some slight internal bleeding. Not
much", Mark added, seeing the look on his son's face.
"You should be able to go home tomorrow. And I mean home
son. For another two weeks at least".
Steve moaned, allowing his head to fall back on the pillow.
"Look on the bright side", said Mark. "You'll get
to see two more weeks of 'The Young and the Restless'".
"Great", Steve muttered.
---
A crash woke Mark in the early hours of the morning some three
days later. His first thought as he hurried to check out the
source of the noise was that Steve had resumed sleepwalking and
his heart sank. The locks on Steve's apartment door and windows
had been removed when Steve had come out of hospital after his
operation and, until now, there had been no reoccurrence of his
nightly activities. Until tonight. Mark headed for the kitchen
where Steve stood, his back to his father, fixing a sandwich.
"Steve", Mark said quietly so as not to alarm his
sleeping son.
Steve whirled round in surprise, almost dropping the jar of
peanut butter he was holding. "God dad!" he exclaimed.
"You scared me half to death. Don't you know better than to
creep up on people in the dark?"
"I thought you were sleepwalking", Mark replied.
"Cover your eyes a minute son I'm going to put the light
on".
"I was hungry", Steve explained, resuming making his
sandwich once his eyes had adjusted to the light. "Want a
glass of milk dad?" he asked, reaching into the fridge for
the carton. Mark nodded. Steve poured them each a glass of milk
and both men sat down at the table.
"Chief Masters called earlier this evening while you were
still at the hospital, to tell me that Brown and his associates
were each given a 6 year sentence", Steve informed his
father.
"It should have been longer for what they did to you",
Mark replied firmly. "But", he added as he drained his
glass and stood up, preparing to head back to bed. "At least
it's over now son".
Steve, who had seen the look in Todd Brown's eyes and could still
hear him calling out "When I get out I'm going to come
looking for you. Remember that", knew that it was very far
from being over. When Brown was released ….. but that was 6
years away, thought Steve. There was no point in worrying about
it now.
"Yes dad - it's over", he replied.
THE END
Which ending leaves me with the perfect opportunity to write a
sequel at some stage!
Elle
