"Murder in the Family"
- An Alternate Universe story for the Diagnosis Murder Episode
"Murder in the Family".
Author: Sharon
Email: schmidtsharonk@hotmail.com
Rating: G
Summary: Following her rescue from Andrea, Steve and Carol work
on reconciling their relationship.
Disclaimer: "Diagnosis Murder" and its characters are
property of CBS and Viacom. I have simply borrowed them to create
this piece of fan fiction. I did it for enjoyment and not for
profit.
Feedback: Would be appreciated
"I knew you'd find my message," Carol said, hugging her
father
"I probably wouldn't have if it weren't for Steve." At
Carol's puzzled look Mark explained, "Your big brother knew
you wouldn't run away."
Carol was stunned. Barely twenty-four hours earlier, Steve had
accused her of always running when things got too tough. Now it
sounded as if he'd had a change of heart.
Glancing over her shoulder, Carol saw Steve leaning against one
of the police cars. She was undecided if she should go to him
and, sensing her hesitancy, Mark gave her an encouraging nod.
Squaring her shoulders, Carol walked over to her brother.
Steve watched as Carol came towards him. The unreadable
expression on her face made it impossible to tell what she was
thinking. He wasn't in the mood to argue with her. His ribs were
on fire, it was difficult to take a breath, and he was beginning
to think he should've listened to his father about staying in the
hospital. With an effort, Steve pushed himself upright as Carol
stopped directly in front of him. Unblinkingly they stared at
each other for a few seconds and then, suddenly, she smiled.
Steve pulled her into his arms and she slid her arms around his
waist being careful to avoid his injured ribs.
Carol was the first to break the silence. "What are you
doing out of the hospital?" she demanded. "Never mind,
don't answer that. The better question is how did you manage to
sneak past Dad?"
"I saved him the trouble," Mark said, coming up behind
them. "I let him out on a conditional release and his time
has just run out. Come on," he motioned to Steve. "It's
time for you to go back to the hospital."
Steve grimaced. "All you're going to do is prescribe bed
rest and check my vitals every two hours. I don't think I have to
be in the hospital for that especially since I have my own doctor
and a private nurse to keep an eye on me."
"Well…" Mark appeared to be giving the argument
some consideration.
As she watched Steve, it seemed to Carol that he was taking
awfully shallow breaths and at times had to stop to catch his
breath. "Are you having trouble breathing?" she asked.
"I have cracked ribs, Carol," Steve snapped. "It
hurts to stand so of course I'm having trouble breathing."
Carol ignored her brother's tone and looked at Mark. "What
do you think?"
If Steve was admitting to being in pain, Mark figured they'd
better take no chances. "I think we should head back to the
hospital."
"Dad!"
"Just to be on the safe side. If I'm satisfied with what I
see, you can go home." He motioned to Emma Lopez and the
detective walked over. "If you don't need us anymore, we're
going back to the hospital."
"I can send an officer with you so he can take Carol's
statement."
"Great."
Steve let go of the police car he had been leaning on and swayed
slightly. Carol sighed in irritation. "Don't be so proud and
let me help you to the car."
Emma smothered a smile as Steve glowered. "Officer,"
she said to the patrolman, "if Lieutenant Sloan gives his
father or sister any trouble about going to the hospital, you
have my permission to wound him."
"Emma!" Steve protested.
Mark laughed. "Hopefully we won't need to take such drastic
measures, but that should keep him in line. Thanks, Emma."
Deadly force wasn't needed and a second x-ray showed no
additional damage to Steve's ribs. Mark was relieved. After
Carol's comment about Steve's breathing, Mark had been concerned
that one of the cracked ribs had broken and punctured a lung.
He'd insisted on the additional x-ray so they wouldn't have to
take a chance on having to rush Steve back to the hospital later
with complications.
The drive to the beach was done in near silence. Steve dozed in
the backseat only rousing when Mark stopped the car outside of
the house. Waving aside Carol's offer of help, Mark assisted
Steve down the steps and they disappeared into Steve's lower
level apartment.
Thirty minutes later, after helping Steve into bed and giving him
a dose of pain medication, Mark returned to the first floor. The
house was quiet, almost too quiet he realized uneasily. He should
be hearing sounds from Carol but there were none. Had she left
again without saying good-bye, Mark wondered as he checked the
deck and beach for any sign of his daughter and came up empty.
Reentering the house, he called out.
"Carol? Carol?"
With relief, Mark heard the bedroom door open. Carol came out in
a robe and with her hair wrapped in a towel. She'd obviously just
finished taking a shower.
"Daddy? What's wrong? Is it Steve?"
Mark dropped into the easy chair. "Everything's fine.
Steve's asleep."
"Then what had you nearly in a panic?"
Mark hung his head, ashamed at the lack of trust he had shown his
daughter. "It was so quiet when I came upstairs, I was
afraid that you'd left again."
Carol dropped to her knees next to the chair. "I will never
do that to you or Steve again, I promise. I wasn't thinking about
anybody but myself eight years ago and that was wrong. I won't be
that selfish again."
"And I'm sorry that I didn't trust you just now."
"Well trust needs to be earned, and I haven't given you much
of a reason to trust me in the past with my behavior." Carol
rose. "Jesse and Amanda will be here for dinner. Amanda
called while you were downstairs. Do you think Steve will be up
for company?"
"He might be in some discomfort, but I think he'll be
okay."
"Good. I'm going to get dressed and dry my hair, then I'm
going to see what I can make for dinner."
Carol was thankful someone had retrieved her suitcase from
Andrea's house and dropped it by the hospital. In her haste to
flee Barstow she hadn't packed much more than a few essentials so
she didn't have many clothes to choose from, but at least she
wouldn't have to put the same jeans and shirt back on. Her comb
apparently lost when Vince and Malcolm searched her bag, Carol
ran her fingers through her hair and decided to let it finish
drying naturally. You always were low maintenance, she smirked at
her reflection.
Tiptoeing past her father who had fallen asleep in the chair,
Carol entered the kitchen. A search of the cupboards revealed two
things. One was that everything was still stored in the same
place it had been when her mother ruled the kitchen, and the
other was that all the ingredients for a pan of lasagna were on
the shelves. Humming quietly with the radio, Carol pulled out the
pans she needed and began cooking.
Sometime later Carol heard the shower running and surmised her
dad had wakened from his nap. Glancing at the clock, she realized
it was later than she thought. Amanda and Jesse would be arriving
soon and she hadn't chilled the wine she had found on the shelf
to go with dinner.
"Carol?"
"In the kitchen, Dad."
Mark came through the doorway sniffing appreciatively.
"Something smells really good."
"Must be dessert. I haven't put the lasagna in the oven
yet."
A quiet knock sounded on the door leading to the deck and Jesse
and Amanda stepped inside. "Hi! We didn't want to use the
front door in case Steve was asleep in the living room."
"He's downstairs," Mark said. "I'm hoping the pain
medication will keep him knocked out for a while yet."
"Sorry we missed you when you came back to the hospital. I
was in surgery."
"And I was in the middle of an autopsy. We were glad to hear
from the x-ray techs that everything checked out okay."
"He wasn't too happy about having to go back to the
hospital, but I just thought it was a good idea to get a second
look at his ribs after all that moving around he did."
"That was my fault," Carol said coming into the dining
room with dishes to set the table. "I thought he was having
some trouble breathing."
Jesse took a stack of plates from her. "You did the right
thing. Steve hates to admit when something is wrong so we have to
be doubly vigilant. He can't stand anybody making a fuss over
him."
"Some things never change I guess," Carol commented,
wryly. "Even as a kid he hated being the center of
attention."
After putting the lasagna in the oven and setting the timer,
Carol slipped downstairs to check on Steve. The bedroom door was
ajar and she peeked her head through. While he'd been sleeping,
the sun had changed positions in the sky and the room was flooded
with sunlight. Steve had one arm flung over his eyes as if trying
to block it out. Quietly Carol crossed to the window and closed
the blind plunging the room into the shadows.
"Thanks."
Startled, Carol swung around. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake
you."
"You didn't. I've just been laying here wishing I had
reminded Dad to close the blind before he went upstairs."
"Now you can go back to sleep without getting up. Do you
need anything while I'm here? Water? More pain medication?"
Steve removed his arm from his face. "Help me rearrange the
pillows so I can sit up."
Carol stacked the pillows behind Steve and helped ease him into a
sitting position. He couldn't quite suppress the slight groan of
pain the movement caused. Tears sprung to Carol's eyes.
"I'm sorry. This is all my fault."
"What is?"
"Everything. I never should've come back. If I hadn't, then
Bruce wouldn't have followed me, Vince and Malcolm wouldn't have
ended up here and you would've never had to get involved with
them."
"Is that what you think?"
"That's what I know! You're hurt and it's my fault."
Steve sighed. Guilt was eating away at Carol. Somehow he'd have
to convince her his injuries weren't her fault, but he'd have to
do it carefully. One misspoken word on his part and he had a
feeling Carol would leave again.
"Sit with me?" he asked gently.
Hesitantly Carol perched on the edge of the bed, refusing to meet
her brother's eyes. "I have a pretty good idea of how much
courage it took for you to come back here so I don't want you to
ever be sorry about that."
"But…"
"No buts. I'm a cop, Carol. I know the risks that come with
the job. Dealing with guys like Vince and Malcolm is one of them
and so is getting hurt. This could've happened while I was
following a lead on any one of the dozen cases I have sitting on
my desk. Don't blame yourself. If you have to blame somebody,
blame Bruce. He got you involved without your knowledge."
Carol twisted her wedding band. "It's so easy to blame him.
He's dead."
"Then don't blame anybody. Just let it go. I have."
Carol finally raised her head and looked directly at Steve.
"Really?"
"Really." Steve tilted Carol's chin so he could examine
the faint bruise still visible along her jaw line. "How many
times did Bruce hit you?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does matter, Carol. How many times did he hit you?"
Carol removed Steve's hand from her jaw but instead of letting go
entwined her fingers with his. "Just once," she
replied. "When he did that, I realized he wasn't the man I
married anymore. Bruce was involved in something I wanted no part
of and I knew if I stayed he'd drag me in whether I agreed or
not. And I was pretty sure I'd get hit again, too. I'm lucky. I
saw the signs and knew enough to get out. Women come through the
clinic all the time that think they can't leave or that they
deserved to be hit. Not me. I don't deserve it and I refuse to be
a victim."
Steve squeezed her hand. "When did you get so smart? And so
grown-up?"
"Maybe I always have been and you just never noticed."
Steve's heart constricted at the sadness in Carol's voice.
Despite their reconciliation, he knew he bore the majority of
blame for driving her away and that guilt still weighed heavily
on him. He noticed, for the first time, the lines of exhaustion
around her eyes and the tension in the set of her shoulders.
Tugging gently on her hand, Steve encouraged Carol to stretch out
next to him in the big bed. He draped an arm around her shoulders
and pulled her into the shelter of his embrace.
"Your ribs!" Carol protested.
"Would you quit worrying so much?" Steve was
exasperated.
"Do you know what this reminds me of?"
"No, what?"
"All the nights you let me crawl into bed with you after I
had a bad dream."
Steve smiled at the memory. Shortly after moving into the beach
house, Carol began having bad dreams. She would wake up crying
not remembering what the dream was about. Mark or Katherine would
wipe away her tears, tuck her back in to bed and sit with her
until she calmed down. Once alone, however, she would always
sneak into Steve's room where she would crawl under the covers
with her big brother. This pattern had lasted about three months
and then the dreams stopped as suddenly as they had started. They
had never figured out what had caused them.
"I remember the first night you came into my room. All of a
sudden I woke up and there you were, standing next to my bed. You
had that sad, stuffed dog - "
"Mr. Sam."
"That's right, Mr. Sam. Anyway, he was tucked under your arm
and you looked so sad. I asked you what was wrong and you said
you wanted to sleep with me. You got into bed and were asleep in
minutes."
"I always knew you'd keep the monsters away. And that was
before I knew about the real life monsters."
"You don't have to worry about Andrea or Vince and Malcolm.
They're going away for a long time."
Carol could feel herself relaxing for the first time since the
night Bruce hit her and she'd made the decision to flee whatever
he had gotten involved in. "Only a few days 'til Christmas.
I guess I have to go shopping."
"Me too. What do you want for Christmas?"
"I don't know."
"Come on, you gotta give me some hints. How about something
for your new apartment?" Steve remembered Carol mentioning
even the furniture in the Barstow apartment was rented.
"I'm sure I'll love anything you pick out. What about you?
What do you want for Christmas?"
"I already got my present."
"You did? What was it?"
"You," Steve said, softly. "Coming home. The only
other thing I'd want is for you to actually stay for
Christmas."
"What if I told you that could be arranged?"
Steve looked down and met Carol's gaze. "Are you going to
stay for Christmas?"
"Yes. My job doesn't start until the Monday after New
Year's. It was the apartment I needed to get, but after we got
back here this afternoon I called the landlady. I told her I was
still interested but would be staying in California longer than I
planned. She offered to hold the apartment for me. I told her if
she had another chance to rent it out I'd understand, but she
said she didn't want to bother advertising over the
holidays."
Carol fell silent and a few minutes later Steve could tell by the
sound of her even breathing that she had fallen asleep. Savoring
the quiet, he stroked her hair and let his mind drift back to
something that had happened several weeks before. He'd come
upstairs and his dad had been playing the soundtrack from the
Broadway musical "Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet
Street" one of the more obscure compact discs in his
extensive collection. One song in particular, entitled "Not
While I'm Around", had caught his attention. It had reminded
him of Carol, of his fierce desire to always protect her, and his
failure to prevent her from marrying Bruce. The song had touched
something deep inside him and he had borrowed the CD so he could
listen to the song again.
"Nothing's gonna harm you," Steve quoted softly,
"not while I'm around. Nothing's gonna harm you. No sir, not
while I'm around…No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna
dare, others can desert you, not to worry, whistle, I'll be there…Nothing's
gonna harm you, not while I'm around. Nothing's gonna harm you,
not while I'm around…"
Upstairs on the deck, Mark was enjoying the mild weather and the
company of his two young friends. Glancing at his watch, he
realized time had passed more quickly than he'd thought and that
the lasagna would be ready to come out of the oven soon. It also
dawned on Mark that he hadn't seen Carol in a while.
"Do either of you know where Carol is?"
"Last time I saw her she was headed downstairs," Amanda
said.
Mark didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed. "I'd
better go check and see if everything's okay," he said,
rising from his chair.
"I haven't heard anything," Jesse said.
"I think that's Mark's point, Jesse. As a parent, you start
to worry if your kids are too quiet. It usually means they're up
to something."
Jesse smiled mischievously. "Or it could mean that Steve
said something Carol didn't like and she smothered him with a
pillow. He's not exactly in fighting shape right now."
Mark shook his head in amusement at the picture Jesse's words had
formed. His children had had a lot of screaming matches
especially in the months leading up to Carol's departure but not
once to his knowledge had they ever tried to hurt each other.
However, he wouldn't put it past his headstrong daughter to try
and teach her equally stubborn brother a lesson if he provoked
her.
"Jesse, will you take the lasagna out of the oven when the
timer goes off?"
The young doctor brightened at the mention of dinner and Amanda
shot Mark a skeptical look. "Are you sure - " she
started.
"And Amanda will you keep an eye on Jesse to make sure he
doesn't eat any of it before we're all at the table?"
Jesse's face fell and Amanda laughed. "Sure, Mark!"
Satisfied dinner was in good hands, Mark descended the stairs to
Steve's apartment. The bedroom door was open yet he still
couldn't hear any voices. Crossing to the threshold, Mark raised
his hand to knock but stopped as he saw Steve put a finger to his
lips and motion toward his sleeping sister.
Mark approached the bed silently. "How long has she been
asleep?"
"Not long," Steve whispered. "She was
exhausted."
"Dinner will be ready soon. Are you coming up?"
Steve nodded. "I've been smelling the lasagna for the last
20 minutes." He eased his arm from around Carol and
carefully laid her head down on a pillow. "I just want to
clean up a little first."
"No shower," his dad warned. "Just a sponge
bath."
Steve moved cautiously from the bed as much to shield his sore
ribs as to not waken Carol. "I know," he said.
"I'll let her sleep until I'm done."
"Need any help?"
"Thanks, but I'll manage," Steve replied, heading for
his bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, Steve emerged from the bathroom feeling
refreshed after his quick sponge bath. He moved around the room
quietly getting dressed and combing his hair. His sore ribs
prevented him from leaning over to shake Carol awake so he had to
settle for calling her name.
"Carol. Carol, wake up." Carol made a little noise and
shifted but didn't wake up. Steve tried again. "Come on,
Sis. It's time to wake up."
Carol stirred and stretched, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.
"How long was I out?" she asked, sleepily.
"Not long enough, but I figured you might want some
dinner."
"Dinner!" Carol scrambled off the bed fully awake now.
"I forgot about the lasagna in the oven. You shouldn't have
let me fall asleep."
"Relax." Steve grabbed Carol's arm to prevent her from
running out of the room. "I'm sure Dad and Amanda have
everything under control. After all, I haven't smelled anything
burning yet."
Carol smiled. "I suppose you're right. Everything was
basically done except to toast the bread and pour the wine."
"See I told you." Steve headed for the stairs.
"Let's eat."
"You go ahead, I'll be up in a minute. I want to splash some
water on my face and run my fingers through my hair."
"Okay, but don't take too long. If I know Jesse, and I do,
he's already at the table waiting for the food."
When Carol came upstairs a few minutes later, Jesse wasn't at the
table but hanging around the kitchen. Amanda handed him the salad
bowl and shooed him away from the oven where she was removing the
garlic toast. Mark was serving the lasagna and Steve was opening
the wine.
"Anything I can do?"
"Nope," Mark assured her. "It's all taken care of.
Why don't you go have a seat? We're ready to eat."
It was obvious to Carol as she quietly ate her dinner that her
dad and brother had shared many other meals with the two doctors.
There was an easy camaraderie between the foursome, shared jokes
and quick laughter. Carol's heart warmed with the knowledge that
Jesse and Amanda were such good friends to Steve and her dad.
"When should we put up the tree?" Mark's voice pulled
Carol out of her own thoughts.
"Now?" Steve asked, his eyes brightening.
Mark laughed. "You just can't wait can you?"
"The tree has always been one of Steve's favorite Christmas
traditions," Carol told Amanda and Jesse. "He would've
put it up right after Halloween if Mom and Dad would've let
him."
Steve's face reddened. "Okay, Carol. It happened once and I
was ten."
Jesse was clearly enjoying Steve's embarrassment. "You got
anymore good Steve stories?" he asked Carol.
"Tons," she assured him. "There was this time when
he was about 12…"
Steve didn't know how the conversation had gotten out of control
so fast. "All right, we don't really need to be telling
anymore stories about me and my youth tonight."
"You're right," Carol agreed. "There'll be plenty
of time tomorrow. I'll meet you for coffee, Jesse, and give you
the rest of the dirt."
Even Amanda was intrigued. "Call me when you go. I want to
hear this too!"
"Oh, Amanda! Not you too?!" Steve turned to his father.
"Are you just going to sit there and let the three of them
gang up on me or are you going to help me out?"
Mark smiled. "I gave up trying to referee you two long ago.
And Jesse and Amanda are free to make their own decisions about
who they're siding with in this squabble."
"Clearly I'm getting absolutely no support here," Steve
said, rising stiffly from the table, "and I'm the one who
got hit by a car. You can put up the tree without me."
Carol wadded up her napkin and threw it at Steve. "Going to
go pout, big brother?"
"Enough children," Mark said mildly, although Jesse and
Amanda suspected he was enjoying the byplay as much as they were.
"Time for a truce. I was thinking we could decorate the tree
on Saturday. Norman will be back from his conference on Friday
and Amanda you can bring CJ. After all, this is his first
Christmas. He needs to start learning all these traditions
early."
Everyone agreed to Mark's suggestion. Carol stood up and looked
at her brother. "So how 'bout it? You staying for
dessert?"
"What did you make?" Steve wasn't sure if dessert could
mollify him completely.
"Pineapple upside down cake."
"Have any ice cream to go with that?"
"Of course."
Steve smiled at his sister. "Then I'll stay," he said,
returning to his seat.
And just to prove there were no hard feelings, Carol gave Steve
the largest piece of cake and the biggest scoop of ice cream.
(Pick up a tree-decorating scene)
