The Most Deadly Betrayal
A/N: This story came to me after watching the episode the other night. It is a few chapters long and is almost fully completed. therefore I hope to update it regularly as I work on my other updates. It was an episode that always made me wonder what happened after Steve looked so sadly up at Sydney's apartment and then went into his own at the end of the episode. This is merely my take on what might have happened next. Thanks for reading.
Chapter 1
Steve dropped his keys wearily on the hall table and made his way to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and taking out three bottles of beer and heading back down the corridor to the living room. Placing the bottles down on the coffee table he shrugged clear of his jacket and dropped it on the back of the armchair before pulling his tie off with equal distaste and throwing it alongside the jacket not even batting an eyelid as it slid off and landed on the floor unceremoniously. Sinking heavily onto the couch he then kicked off his shoes and flicked them against the far wall, each thud almost giving him a mild satisfaction. He could feel the rage and hurt building inside him by the second now that he was safe and alone in the comfort and familiar surroundings of his private apartment. How could he have been so gullible? How could he have read her so wrong?
He felt used and almost contaminated. But most of all he just felt stupid. Worse still was the fact that Mike had see through her way before he had. That hurt almost more than the heartbreak of knowing that the strong feelings he had begun to have for her were unrequited and the embarrassment at being caught out so expertly and played for a fool in front of his partner stung like a sharp blade through his heart. Mike had wanted to keep him company but he hadn't felt up to seeing the pity in Mike's eyes. While he knew Mike would never ever tell him that he had told him so in so many words, he knew he would feel it between them and couldn't bear the thought of the shame he would feel at having been duped so easily.
Removing the first bottle cap he tilted his head back and gulped down a large swallow of beer, followed closely by a second long slug. He sighed with contentment as he tasted the beer that he hoped would help numb him even temporarily and eyed up the other two bottles on the table. He knew Mike wouldn't approve. Mike had often told him that alcohol was never the answer and most of the time Steve had agreed and abstained but tonight was different. Tonight, he was in too much emotional pain and he longed for something to ease it even a little as he quickly swallowed down the beer, draining it alarmingly fast and hoping the sudden hit would drown out the condemning and judgemental voices inside his own head along with the sweet memories of their time together that he couldn't seem to forget so easily.
Two more empty bottles later and he had started to feel the slight fog settling. He wasn't drunk, not by a long chalk but his brain was slowing which was the desired effect. He remembered the hidden gun she had pointed at him as Mike had arrived and warned him. His shock as her face had come into view as she had turned around. The way his stomach had jolted in that instant as the bottom fell out of his world and left him reeling in confusion and the almost instant realization that he had been played coldheartedly by a person he had felt such strong feelings towards. He remembered her words that had hurt as much as the bullet she had threatened to use on him would have. "Nothing personal!" He felt his hand shake as he gripped the last empty beer bottle and without further thought he flung it in frustration against his living room wall, the glass smashing loudly as it exploded and shattered in all directions as he wrapped his arms around his chest as it heaved and his body shook. He felt the tears brim and sat there for several painstaking seconds before the moment passed and he stood and surveyed the unwitting mess he had just made in anger.
Rubbing his tear streaked face, he felt even more foolish as he stormed off, returning seconds later with a dustpan and brush and bent down to start to clean up the shattered glass. The pieces had splintered everywhere and it took him several minutes to clear most of them away, picking up the larger pieces more carefully with his fingers. As he reached for a particularly jagged piece, the doorbell rang and distracted and slightly foggy from the three bottles of beer he had consumed on an empty stomach, he swore under his breath as the glass sliced and he sucked the hurt finger in disgust as blood started to seep mercilessly through the jagged cut. Grabbing a nearby discarded tea towel he wrapped the offending finger and hurried to the door convinced it was Mike back to check up on him. Opening the door swiftly, he spoke firmly.
"Mike, you DON'T have to check up on me. I'M FINE! ..." but his words ebbed and quietened as he saw the frail form of his downstairs neighbor Mrs. Peterson instead on his door stoop.
"Mrs. Peterson! I'm ... I'm sorry. I ah ... I thought you were Mike ... Is ... is everything ok?" Steve flustered, hiding his wrapped finger behind his back purposefully.
It was unusual for Mrs. Peterson to make the trek up the many steps to his door and in the moment his own personal pain and torment were forgotten in his concern for the elderly woman he had grown very fond of.
"Well that was what I came up here to find out! I was just about to feed my Teddy and I heard glass breaking up here. I was worried that something was wrong. Are you ok Steve dear?"
Steve felt even more embarrassed now on hearing that he had worried his aging neighbor and brought her up so many steps unnecessarily. He cleared his throat and sighed apologetically.
"Oh! I'm sorry ... I ah ... just dropped a glass bottle" Steve lied purposefully, feeling too ashamed to tell his neighbor what had really happened. " I'm fine ... Sorry if I worried you. You know ah ... you shouldn't trek up all those steps with that hip of yours ... It's dangerous. Here let me help you back down safely. It's the least I can do."
Steve stepped over the stoop and went to take her arm, forgetting the bloody finger wrapped in a tea towel in the moment and as Mrs. Peterson spotted it she exclaimed in concern.
"Oh my! You've cut yourself. How bad is it?"
Now suddenly feeling decidedly sorry for having slowed his reactions with alcohol and now causing another unwanted scene, he flustered even more.
"Oh no... It's really not that bad. It's just a small cut. This was just the first thing I could find to wrap it with ... It makes it look worse than it is ... It's tiny really."
"Well we'll see about that. You really should be extra careful picking up glass my dear boy. When we get back down to my apartment I'll take a look at it for you. I was actually quite a good nurse in my early days you know before these hands got so old and twisted with arthritis. But I can still bandage a cut ... well with a little help maybe ... " she added as she took Steve's arm and steered him down the steps instead of the other way around without even giving him the opportunity to step back and close over his front door.
"Really Mrs. Peterson, there's no need to fuss. It will be fine."
"Nonsense. It's no trouble Steve. At my age, we like opportunities to be useful you know? They don't come by often."
Realizing that his neighbor needed to fuss over him as much for her own sake as his he didn't have the heart to protest further so he allowed her to hold his arm and made sure she watched her footing on the way back down the steps, realizing half way down he was still in his stocking feet. As they reached the door to her downstairs apartment, Steve glanced up at his door that was still gaping open.
"Listen Mrs. Peterson, I had better just go up and close my door first ..." he began but Mrs. Peterson grabbed his arm and pulled him inside as she spoke softly.
"Oh don't worry dear, this will just take a moment. Now ... where do I keep that first aid box?" she added distractedly.
Steve frowned and hoped it wouldn't take that long and then smiled as he heard the older lady's last question. Having rescued her from a nasty fall shortly after coming to live here, he knew she kept the said first aid supplies beneath her kitchen sink. Pointing in that direction, he guided her gently.
"It's beneath the kitchen sink Mrs. Peterson."
"Oh why of course it is ... Silly me ... "
Reaching over she pointed to a chair at the dining table and spoke firmly.
"You just sit yourself down there Steve and we'll have you fixed up in a jiffy ..." she instructed kindly as she headed for the kitchen sink.
Steve smiled again at her last word. Jiffy? Well, that's a new one. He sat down as requested and watched as Mrs. Peterson's over fed black and white cat Teddy slowly padded from the bedroom and jumped up onto the table to see who their visitor was. He purred in recognition as he spied Steve and came to rub his back along Steve's arm and purred again in satisfaction as Steve obliged and rubbed his sleek fur gently and tickled under his chin causing Teddy to then lie down and bare his tummy for attention. Steve laughed as he again obliged with a few soft pets and heard Teddy purr and wriggle in approval. Their interaction was interrupted as Mrs. Peterson returned with the medical box and an extra pair of glasses in her hands.
She gave no warning as she turned on the extra bright over head light and Steve winced and shut his eyes against the unexpected brightness as Teddy also disapproved and jumped up and off the table to go underneath it instead and started rubbing himself against Steve's leg instead. Recovering from the sudden blinding, Steve opened his eyes gingerly and watched as the older lady positioned herself across from him.
"Teddy likes you, you know? He doesn't act that friendly with many people. He trusts you. Animals can always sense kindness. " she added smiling warmly as she then took Steve's wrapped hand and gently unwrapped it.
Steve blushed and then winced at his elderly neighbor's ministrations, resisting the urge to groan in pain as the cut pulled and hurt like hell.
"I ah ... really shouldn't have put you to this trouble Mrs. Peterson ... "
"Steve, you really can call me Mary you know and it's really no trouble at all ... " she continued but then gasped as she saw the bloodied finger still oozing fresh blood. " Oh my! That looks nasty ... We had better take a close look at that. "
Placing the second pair of reading glasses in her hand on over her normal pair, Steve watched in amusement as she then held his bloodied finger up so she could study it in the light streaming from above. The double glasses made her eyes look extra big and Steve grinned at the sight. She often needed both pairs to see small things clearly and Steve had tried to tell her discreetly that she might need new glasses but each time he had broached the subject, she had insisted that she managed perfectly fine with the two pairs she had. Steve felt like hell and began to wonder if he reeked of alcohol after his recent indulgence. He ran his free hand nervously through his hair and then brought it down to cover his mouth self-consciously in case his breath gave him away. As Mrs. Peterson continued to study his finger he flustered a little at the older lady's previous words.
"I'm sorry ... it's just that my Grandfather brought me up to always call older ... ah more mature people by their full title. He used to say it was disrespectful to use their first names. I guess it's just always stuck with me ..."
Mrs. Peterson smiled.
"You are sweet Steve. Well if that's the case you can still call me Mrs. Peterson if it feels more comfortable for you to do so ..."
Steve nodded gratefully and then yelped involuntarily as Mrs. Peterson squeezed his finger and it sent a sharp unexpected pain shooting up his finger to the knuckle. Studying it even more closely the older lady shook her head in dismay.
"Oh dear! I'm afraid you still have a sliver of glass in this Steve. I'm going to need my trusty tweezers ..."
Steve frowned and winced again as he tried to look at the offending finger, still held protectively in the older lady's grip and couldn't see any glass. He figured the two pairs of glasses gave her a distinct advantage in seeing something so clear and small and just hoped she had said "trusty" tweezers and not "rusty" ones. He also hoped she was as proficient in its use as her upbeat tone had intimated. He watched as she expertly retrieved the said medical tweezers and with a surprisingly steady hand, she gripped, unseen to Steve's naked eye, something in his finger and without further warning extracted a long thin shard of jagged glass from the open cut as a steady flow of bright red blood followed its exit. Steve watched in horror as the sliver of glass came free and admired the fact that she had noticed it and extracted it so efficiently. Maybe she was right and she didn't need new glasses after all!
"There we are. All out! It shouldn't be as painful now." Mrs. Peterson announced proudly as she fetched some antiseptic and started dabbing some onto a cotton wool swab.
"Now just to clean it and cover it and you'll be free to get on with your evening. I expect you'll be seeing that nice young lady from upstairs again this evening. I hope you dont mind me saying but I couldn't help notice how friendly you two have become these last few days. Such a nice young lady. Sydney wasn't it? She introduced herself to me the other day when she was moving in. You two make such a nice couple you know?" Mrs. Peterson spoke freely and without even taking hardly a breath as she cleaned and bandaged the cut expertly, asking him in between the one sided conversation to place a finger on the bandage so that she could tie the knot securely.
The distraction of his throbbing, sore finger, the attention of his neighbor's cat and Mrs. Peterson's company had temporarily taken his mind off his earlier sadness but her words now brought the whole unpleasantness back instantly along with a constricting lump in his throat. Not feeling up to explaining the whole sorry and sordid details, Steve chose to give a subdued and condensed version of events for now. It was all he felt up to.
"Ah ... Syd ... Sydney's moved out Mrs. Peterson. She ah ... she won't be back again ..."
Steve struggled with the words and couldn't believe how hard it had been to even speak her name. The hurt was raw and it felt like there was a scar on his heart tightening every time he spoke of her. Mrs. Peterson sensed something was terribly wrong and suddenly regretted even mentioning their fleeting neighbor at all.
"Oh my! I am sorry to hear that ... I didn't expect her to leave so soon. She seemed so nice. "
Again Steve's voice faltered as he went to answer and he cleared his throat purposefully, desperately trying to keep his true feelings from his tone.
"Yeah ... Me either ... Turns out ... we ah ... didn't really know her as well as we thought we did ..."
Mrs. Peterson had lived long enough to recognize heartache when she saw it and as she finished her first aid, she grasped his arm compassionately and drew Steve's distracted attention back in her direction.
"I'm sorry Steve ... Truly, I am ..."
Steve smiled and nodded gratefully, changing the subject away from the current one he felt he just couldn't continue any longer and purposefully making sure his tone stayed nonchalant and uncaring.
"Thanks. Never mind! These things happen, right? Anyway ... wow! You did a terrific job on my finger. Thanks for that. "
Then standing up, he spoke in a flustered manner.
"Look I ah ... Better get back upstairs. I have work tomorrow and Mike won't be pleased if I don't get a good night's rest. Thanks again for the first aid."
Mrs. Peterson saw through his act and came after him to see him out. She wondered what the seemingly nice young lady had done to hurt the young man so badly and felt a distinct annoyance at the young woman for causing such a reaction in her kindly young neighbor. She often joked with him that he should find a nice girl and settle down. If anyone deserved a "special someone" she felt it was the selfless and polite young neighbor she had grown so fond of and had become to look on like the son she had never been blessed with. As they reached her front door, Mrs. Peterson suddenly clasped his arm gently a second time and risked a comment she hoped would be taken the way it was intended.
"Steve, please don't take this the wrong way but ... well ... alcohol isn't the answer for a broken heart, you know? ... Obviously I don't know what she did but I do know you didn't deserve whatever it was and you must rise above it and not let it affect you. You're better than that and if she couldn't see that, then ... well then that's her loss Steve ... And she didn't deserve you. "
Her words almost floored him as his cheeks reddened and he looked down shamefully, knowing her words would echo what Mike's reaction would be as well had he been here. He nodded again gratefully and spoke reassuringly.
"Yeah ... I know ... Don't worry. I ah ... I know that and I ... I appreciate your words ... Goodnight Mrs. Peterson ... oh and don't forget to lock this door behind me, ok? "
"Yes, I will. Goodnight Steve dear ..." Mrs. Peterson responded as Steve saw the visible pity in her eyes and stepping across the door stoop, he also noticed how much darker it had become in the time he had spent in his elderly neighbor's ground floor apartment. Gently closing her door behind him, Steve took several deep breaths of the night air, making sure he heard the older lady draw the bolts across and turn the lock before turning quickly to hurry back up to his apartment.
As he bounded up the steps in the dark, in his stocking feet, taking two at a time, he got to his open front door and stepped inside just as he heard movement coming from his living room, feeling his heart rate quicken as he suddenly realized he had an unexpected visitor. Wondering if it was maybe Mike, he quickly peered outside and looked up and down Union Street but saw no sign of Mike's car or any other car he recognized for that matter so his police instinct kicked in and sidestepping into the hall and pushing himself up against the wall, he reached around to silently unclip his holster and retrieve his gun as quietly as he could manage. Holding it now in his right hand he inched along the wall as he heard someone step on the broken glass inside and again cursed the fact that he had drank as much as he had, hoping it didn't slow his reactions too much when he now needed them the most.