An Unexpected Sloan
By Tanglehair
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: "Diagnosis Murder" and its characters belong to Viacom and CBS. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright
infringement is intended.
Summary: An Alternate Universe (AU) story in which Steve Sloan discovers a son he never knew he had.
Note: If you're looking for a streamlined plot, this is not the story for you. After Steve meets his son, it will likely take the form of vignettes rather than one comprehensive storyline. I should also mention that I don't have a very good track record WiPs but will do my best not to leave this hanging.
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Later, Steve Sloan would remember that the letter destined to change his life arrived right in the middle of a celebration.
How utterly appropriate.
The police detective was out on the deck with his father and two dear friends, Jack Stewart and Amanda Bentley, when the doorbell rang. The dark- haired young doctor was regaling the others with a tale of how his assistance had been essential in cracking Steve's latest case. Knowing his son's interest in the story, especially in how Jack's version differed from the official report, Mark rose to answer the bell.
Still laughing at Jack's grandiose descriptions, Mark opened the door to find their postal carrier.
"Hello, Becky." The elderly doctor was on a first-name basis with just about everyone. "What have you got for me today?"
The pretty blonde smiled at him. "Nothing for you, Dr. Sloan, but I do have a registered letter for Steve. Is he here to sign for it?"
"Sure, I'll get him for you," Mark offered. "You want to come in for some lemonade?"
"No thanks," the young woman said, shaking her head and causing her ponytail to bounce with the movement. "I'm doing two routes today, so I've got a lot of ground to cover."
"What's up, Dad?" Steve had noticed his father's conversation and came in to investigate.
"A letter for you, Son. Becky needs your signature."
The younger Sloan walked over and obliged. It wasn't at all unusual for the detective to receive official letters. As a policeman, a part of his job was providing testimony for the various cases he worked on. The timing was odd, though. To the best of his knowledge, he didn't have any court cases pending.
Distracted, Steve only half-listened as his father thanked the postal carrier and shut the door behind her. The detective turned the envelope in his hands, eyebrows arching in surprise as he read the out-of-state return address. Obviously, the missive wasn't related to his police work.
"Everything all right?" Mark had noticed his son's frown.
"I don't know," Steve responded. "I have no idea who'd be sending me a registered letter from outside California." The big man shrugged suddenly, grinning at his dad. "I suppose there's only one way to solve *this* mystery." With a flourish, the younger Sloan started opening the envelope.
"Who was the babe?" Jack asked, walking in from the deck.
"What he really means, is why didn't you introduce him?" Amanda clarified, trailing into the house behind the other doctor.
"Hey, I think about more than women," Jack protested.
"Yes, you certainly do," Mark teased. "Like how to meet more women."
The younger man rolled his eyes. "Steve, they're ganging up on me. You gotta help me out here, buddy."
The three friends turned to look at the fourth member of their party, only to find Steve ashen-faced as he held onto the letter with trembling fingers.
"Steve? Son, are you all right?" Mark asked, moving to guide the detective to a nearby chair. From the looks of it, the bigger man's legs wouldn't support him too much longer.
Amanda took her friend's wrist, calmly taking his pulse. Satisfied that Steve wasn't on the verge of a heart attack, she nodded reassurance at the older Sloan. "What is it?" She asked, careful to keep her voice gentle. "Bad news?"
"You could say that." Steve took a deep breath, using it to steady himself. "Dad, Brenda died."
Mark looked confused for a moment but then his face cleared as he placed the name. "Brenda – that redheaded med student you dated?" When his son only nodded glumly, Mark sighed and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Steve."
"This girl meant a lot to you?" Jack asked, his dark eyes unusually somber.
"Yeah. There was a time I thought she was The One." The detective pried one hand from the letter and rubbed his face. "You know, ''til death do us part' and all that."
The small group remained quiet as the irony of those words became clear.
"What happened?" Amanda asked, sympathetic to her friend's pain and knowing that talking about a grief helps heal it. "How come we've never heard of her before?"
"We broke up," the policeman replied, eyes unfocused as he delved into his memories. "She loved me but not California." Steve shrugged. "She couldn't stay and I wouldn't leave – LA's my home. Brenda moved back to the Midwest and I eventually moved on with my life."
"That was ten years ago," Mark said, voice full of worry at his son's obvious distress. "I'm sorry, of course, to hear of Brenda's death... but I'm surprised to see it affect you so much." The old man became even more concerned when Steve didn't respond to his comment.
"Are you going to the funeral?" Amanda asked in an attempt to break the awkward atmosphere.
That simple question cracked Steve's brittle silence. "Not hardly," he laughed softly and bitterly. "Brenda died five years ago."
"What – five years?" Jack voiced the surprise that they all felt. "The way you were actin', it seemed like you just found out."
"I *did* just find out," Steve responded firmly, seeming to regain his equilibrium minute by minute. "But the purpose of this letter wasn't to inform me of Brenda's death."
"It wasn't?" Mark asked, as confused as his colleagues were. "Then what was it for?"
"It's from Brenda's parents," Steve answered. "They're suing me."
"Whatever for?" Amanda questioned, voice shaded with indignation that anyone would litigate against her friend.
Steve answered her question, but kept his eyes locked on his father as he replied. "For child support. Apparently, they've been raising my son."
"Your son?" Mark echoed. It was the older Sloan's turn to become pale and stagger for a chair. "You and Brenda... had a child?"
"It seems so," Steve replied curtly.
"I take it that Brenda didn't tell you?" Amanda asked gently, going behind where Mark sat in shock and gently rubbing his shoulders.
"No, she most certainly did not," Steve launched himself from his chair and started pacing the room. The detective experienced so many feelings pass through him at the realization that he was a father – joy at the news, frustration at not knowing earlier, disappointment at the years irretrievably lost – that he truly didn't know how to react.
Wincing with sympathy, Jack asked, "What're you gonna do?"
"What am I going to do?" Steve repeated, stopping at his father's chair and squatting down so he could look his parent in the eye. "I'm going to make sure my son gets the financial support that he needs, then I'm going to find a way to become part of his life." The policeman took his father's hands in his own. "I've benefited from having the world's greatest dad; no child of mine is going to be without a father. What do you think, Dad? Are you up to being a grandfather?"
"A grandfather?" Mark said, eyes twinkling as the shock diminished and gave way to the potential happiness of the situation. "Are you kidding? I've been waiting years for the opportunity to spoil my grandchildren!"
The two Sloans hugged and Mark spoke in his son's ear. "Don't worry, Steve. I'll be there for you, you're not in this alone."
"I know, Dad," the younger man replied. "You always have been – and something tells me I'm going to need you now more than ever."
"Looks like you're gonna need a lawyer too," Jack advised him. Uncomfortable with the emotion the father and son were displaying, he'd picked up the letter where it had dropped from Steve's grasp and read it to distract himself. "They're not offering you custody or even visitation rights, they just want your money."
"Like I said," Steve replied firmly. "I'm going to find a way to be in my son's life. No matter what it takes."
And, looking at the expression in his eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw, none of the others in the room doubted him for a second.
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"What I don't get," Jack asked, "is why now?"
He and Steve were going through the line at Community General's cafeteria, getting lunch while waiting for Mark to join them. It had been two weeks since the fateful letter had arrived and murder investigations had taken a backseat to the pending custody issue. Jack had taken Mark's place a medical seminar due to the Sloans' personal crisis and therefore had been out of town since shortly after Steve had received news of his son. As a result, he had lots of questions as the policeman filled him in on the details.
"What do you mean?" Steve asked, rifling through his wallet and paying the cashier.
"I mean," Jack said as he and the taller man found a seat in the crowded room, "is why did they wait five years to contact you? Shouldn't you have been notified as soon as Brenda died?"
"I asked Melody about that," the detective answered, referring to his lawyer. "She said that it's possible that Brenda's parents were afraid that I would want custody and take their grandson away, so they probably waited until they absolutely had to before asking for financial support."
"Aren't they right?" Jack asked bluntly. "I know how you and Mark are about family, I can't imagine you sitting back and just giving up custody, once you found out you had a son." When Steve glared at him, the doctor held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, they had just lost their daughter. I guess I can't blame them for worrying about some stranger swooping in and taking away their grandkid."
Steve deflated. "You're right and I'd like to think it wouldn't have been that way – that it *won't* be that way. I don't know why Brenda didn't tell me, but she didn't and I have to deal with it." The detective sighed. "That little boy doesn't know me at all. I've got to think of what's best for him and that's probably not uprooting him from everything he's known and moving him halfway across the country. The best I can probably hope for is visitation rights and maybe partial custody during the summer when he's not in school."
"Partial custody," Jack said thoughtfully. "Will that be enough for you?" Seeing in Steve's eyes that it wouldn't be, the younger man made a logical guess. "You're not thinking of moving out there, are you?"
"I don't know," Steve said. "We'll see. I might, but then, Dad's here. My work's here. Melody says not to make any major decisions yet. We still haven't heard back from the grandparents, after all."
"I hate to be a sourpuss," Jack looked uncomfortable and wouldn't meet his friend's gaze. "But have you had any tests done? All you know is from that letter, you don't even have any proof that the kid's yours."
Luckily for Dr. Stewart, Steve didn't take offense. "You didn't know Brenda. If she said he was mine, then he is."
"But you haven't even seen a picture!" Jack protested. "All you've got is the grandparents' claim, this Brenda of yours didn't even notify you. You can't afford to get too emotionally involved here. How do you know they aren't pulling this same stunt on all their daughter's old boyfriends?"
Steve sighed. "My lawyer said the same thing, which is why we're having a DNA test done, thank you very much." The detective listlessly poked through his French fries. "I didn't want to seem so cheap, to withhold financial support until I got confirmation, but Melody said I had to. Otherwise, even if the tests came back negative, I would have established a parental link." The big man shook his head. "The money doesn't matter. I have a son – I'd like to know more about him. I'm dying to meet him."
Jack snorted. Having come from a different background than Steve's, he knew that money did *very* much matter. "I hate to tell you this, Big Guy, but money is a big issue. You might live with your dad and not have to shell out a lot in rent, but you don't want to be forking over the dough for somebody else's kid." When Steve opened his mouth to protest, Jack emphasized his point by gesturing with his fork. "Because, if you're not his dad, then his real dad's out there somewhere and *he* would deserve to have a chance to know his kid. Besides, it wouldn't be exactly fiscally responsible to any of those future little Sloans you might happen to begat."
"I know, you're right," Steve admitted. "It's just the waiting to find out is killing me."
"How's your father holding up?" Jack asked, not having had a chance to see Mark since coming back into town.
Before Steve could answer, the man in question came into the cafeteria.
"Steve!" Mark announced when he was still halfway across the room. "You'll never guess – the sports store had a sale on baseball gloves. I bought one in every size, just in case!"
"Oh, he's staying detached," Steve answered Jack dryly, watching his father with amusement as the older doctor approached the table. "You know, not getting too emotionally involved until we know for sure that the boy is mine."
By that time, Mark had reached their table and Jack didn't dare reply. The two younger men scrambled to protect their plates as the newcomer dumped the contents of two bulging shopping bags in front of them.
"Geez, Mark, did you buy out the whole store?" Jack complained.
"Something tells me that there's going to be a whole lot of games of catch in my grandson's future," Mark explained, eyeing the fruits of his shopping labors with satisfaction. "And we don't know - yet- what glove size the little fella has. I just thought it best to be prepared.
Steve looked from the happiness shining in his father's face to the cynicism shadowing Jack's. Despite his friend's warning, Steve didn't really doubt that the child was his. Given the boy's age, he'd definitely been conceived during the time Steve had been involved with Brenda and, even though their relationship had eventually failed, he knew that the woman he'd loved would never have betrayed him.
Looking at his father's expression, Steve couldn't help but offer up a prayer that he was right. It wouldn't only be his heart that was broken should the news come back negative.
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"Do you want me to wait outside the room?"
Steve looked up at his lawyer's question. Once again the direction of his life was contained in one little envelope. This time, it was the results of the DNA test that had been conducted to confirm paternity. Ever since that first official notification, all correspondence regarding the matter had been conducted through the Sloans' lawyer and it was Melody Treen who'd called to let them know the test findings were in.
Steve looked over at his dad briefly for support, then smiled wanly at the attorney. "No, that's okay. You've really been there for us on this, Melody, you should be here now."
"It was the least I could do," the woman demurely said, "After all you and your father did to solve my husband's murder case. You did so much for me and my family, I'm happy to be able to return the favor."
The detective looked down at the envelope again, seeing his nervousness mirrored in his father's eyes. All along Steve had been so sure the test would come back positive, but now that the time had arrived to have that faith verified, he was oddly reluctant.
"Steve..." Mark gently prompted. "What's done is done; delaying reading the results isn't going to change them if they're not what you wanted to see. Why don't you open it up and find out?"
"You're right, Dad," Steve replied. Then bracing himself by taking a deep breath, the policeman carefully opened the envelope and slid the much- anticipated report out. The two onlookers carefully watched his expression as he read.
"Well...?" The older Sloan asked, all but bouncing in his chair as his son remained silent.
Steve looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder. "It's a boy. Oh my God, Dad, I'm a father!"
Mark whooped with delight, hopping off his chair and catching the bigger man in a big hug. Steve hugged his father right back, not at all ashamed at the tears running down his cheeks. "I'm a father - I have a son," he whispered.
Melody felt a little choked up herself. As a family attorney, she'd had a lot of experience in paternity suits. Rarely, if ever, had she seen a man in Steve's position so happy to learn of unknown child. So many men would have seen it as a burden, not an occasion for celebration.
As the Sloans calmed down, Ms. Treen offered her congratulations. "I'm very happy for you, Steve. Your son is one very lucky little boy."
Steve gladly returned her handshake. "Thanks. I don't know where to begin, when can I meet him?" The big man turned to his father. "How soon can you wrangle a few days off - we need to fly out there and introduce ourselves!"
"Wait a minute," Melody felt like a bully, but knew she needed to bring her client and his dad back to reality. "We need to proceed carefully."
"You said we needed to wait until paternity was established," Steve responded in frustrated confusion. "It has been. I've known for a whole month that I might have a son, I've been as patient as a saint, waiting for these damn test results to be back. Now that they are, I'm eager to move forward."
"I know and I understand," Melody soothed, "But we need to look at this from the child's perspective. He's never known his father; his mother died when he was almost five; and now, when he's nine years old and spent half his life with his grandparents, his father wants to make an entrance." When Steve and Mark opened their mouths to protest, the lawyer kept talking, "All I'm saying is that we need to contact the grandparents, through their lawyers, and set up a procedure for how to accomplish this. You want to be part of your son's life, great! But unless you do it right, in establishing a relationship with the boy *and* the custodial grandparents, there is the potential to seriously threaten any future ties you might have. Trust me, I've seen enough botched custody and visitation cases to know that slow and easy is the best thing right now."
Steve sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he nodded his acceptance of his lawyer's advice. "All right, we'll do it your way. But, I want that trust fund with back child support money set up and accessible. I don't want his grandparents to think I'm stingy or trying to duck my responsibility."
Melody grinned at him. "I've never seen a man so eager to pay child support before."
"Us Sloans are responsible people," Mark replied, eyes still misty with happiness. "That child would have wanted for nothing if Steve had only known."
"Which is a point I'm going to be sure to make," the lawyer promised. "Now, go. Get out of here." She made a shooing motion. "Go tell the world that there's another Sloan generation to celebrate. Let me take care of the mundane stuff."
"With pleasure," Steve said, then turned to his father. "Dad, is that sporting goods store still having a sale? I think we're gonna needs some bats and balls to go with all those gloves."
Watching them leave, Melody Treen wasn't entirely sure that either man's feet touched the ground as they walked out of her office.
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Steve was exhausted when he came back to the beach house. Not so much tired of body, but of mind and soul. It had been a couple of days since getting the DNA results, but Melody had not heard a peep from Brenda's parents. The attorney kept assuring the Sloans that there was nothing to worry about. Maybe it was his imagination, but during their last phone conversation, Steve would have sworn he'd heard a note of concern creep into her voice.
Not only was the anticipation getting to him, but some of the euphoria of learning he was a parent was beginning to wear off too. All he had to do was take one look at his dad, the ultimate father figure as far as Steve was concerned, and know that he would never measure up. Either a soldier or a cop since early adulthood, Steve was well equipped to deal with hardened criminals. Little boys, on the other hand, were outside his field of experience and despite buying every parenting guide at the bookstore, he was deathly afraid he was going to screw it up. It was easy enough for his dad to tell him to relax and do what came naturally, but Mark Sloan had been a father for decades; Steve was somewhat more new to the idea.
Other than getting the test results, the highlight of Steve's week had been, oddly enough, paperwork. Usually forms and official documents were enough to make his teeth ache, but changing his personnel records at the LAPD to include his son had been a pleasure. Always before, his father had been named the benefactor of Steve's insurance benefits, but with Mark's blessing, he had changed that. Brenda's sudden death five years earlier had left their child unprovided for – a circumstance that was *not* going to happen again if Steve Sloan had anything to say about it.
Sighing at the reality that, to date, he had been given absolutely *no* say in anything to do with his child, Steve fished out his key as he approached the front door of the home he shared with his father. The house was dark; meaning that either his dad had worked late or was already in bed. With the odd schedules they both kept, either was a real possibility.
"SURPRISE!!!"
Just inside the door, Steve came to a dead stop as the lights suddenly blazed and a chorus of voices greeted him. Looking around, he saw familiar faces: relatives, staff from Community General, even people from his precinct. And, right in the front, their ringleader – Mark Sloan.
"What's all this?" Steve asked, smiling as he directed his question to his father.
"Well, it's a little too late for a baby shower," his dad explained, grinning from ear to ear. "So we thought we'd have you a boy shower."
Looking around, Steve could see that their living room had been decorated in baby blue, with balloons and banners that proclaimed "It's a boy!"
"Here, have a cigar," Jack said, handing Steve a blue foil wrapped object. Seeing his friend's confusion, the young doctor explained. "Mark wouldn't let us get the real thing, so these are chocolate cigars." He shoved a whole bundle of them into the detective's hands. "Here, you better start handing these out before the candy starts melting."
Steve looked around him in amazement. "When did you guys have the time to plan all of this?"
Even Community General's administrator, Norman Briggs, was sporting a button that declared him an honorary uncle.
"It's been in the works for a week or so," Amanda admitted, coming forward to kiss Steve on the cheek. "We were just waiting for the DNA results to come back. All the people who care about you are so happy for you, Steve. We just wanted you to know that... and help welcome your son into the family."
"If we ever do get to meet him," the policeman muttered.
Amanda pretended she hadn't heard that comment and gently gave her friend a nudge towards the nearest party-goer. With a nod at the cigars in his hand, she silently encouraged Steve to join the fun and forget about his cares for the time being. Knowing an order when he'd seen one, Steve gave in and was soon enjoying himself, despite his worries.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again, your son is one lucky little boy," Melody told him when he came to present her with a cigar. Steve opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by the sound of a cell phone ringing. With an apologetic look, the lawyer dug her phone out of her purse, moving outside where it was quieter even as she put it to her ear.
"C'mon, Steve, you've got to see this," Mark said, pulling his son by the arm. With barely reined in excitement, the doctor ushered the younger Sloan into a chair and gathered the other guests around.
"Your addition to the family is arriving in a little bit of a non- traditional way," Amanda explained as she offered up a brightly wrapped package. "Gifts are a traditional part of any shower, but none of us quite knew what to get."
"Then Mark suggested that you'd really need was some advice," Jack interjected. "So, since everybody's got an opinion on how to raise kids – especially those of us who don't have any – we thought it would be helpful to write it all down for you."
At his friends' encouragement, Steve opened the box and discovered an elegant scrapbook. He lifted it out of the packaging and immediately started paging through it, touched to find handwritten notes of advice, from all sorts of friends and family.
"This... this is really great," the detective lifted his eyes to the group, uncharacteristically choked up at all the trouble they'd taken. "If my son learns one thing from me, I hope he learns the value of good friends."
The rest of Steve Sloan's impromptu speech was cut off by his lawyer elbowing her way through the throng of shower guests.
"Steve, I have to talk to you." Even those he didn't know her well could see that Melody was pale.
The policeman immediately got up, absently placing the scrapbook on the chair behind him. "What's wrong?"
The attorney looked around her, then grabbed Steve by the arm, pulling him towards the kitchen. Mark, Amanda, Jack, and Norman followed in their wake. From her expression, the news was unpleasant and not a single one of them was willing to let Steve face it alone.
"What's the matter?" Steve repeated, shaking her hand off as they'd reached the more private kitchen area. Just beyond, the buzz from the interrupted party could clearly be heard.
Seeing the worried faces in front of her, Melody took a moment to compose herself. "That call I just got? It was from my office. Your son's grandparents took your request for contact with the child seriously."
"Really?" Steve felt a thrill of excitement at her words, but something in the lawyer's manner told him she wasn't through with her news and he looked at her expectantly.
"Really." Melody took a deep breath. "In fact, they took it so seriously that they've completely relinquished custody."
"What?" It was Mark who answered her. Steve stood gaping, incapable of forming a question.
The lawyer threw her hands up in disgust. "Apparently, they had no idea that the boy's father would have any interest in him; they contacted you, Steve, out of purely financial interests. Remember, after we got the lab results back and I said I would be sending them a letter of intent, notifying them that you wanted to arrange visitation rights?" When her client numbly nodded, she continued. "Well, I guess they took that as a sign that you'd be willing to take full custody. *Immediate* full custody."
"That poor boy," Amanda said softly. "First he loses his mother, then his grandparents are wanting to give him up to a virtual stranger." She looked at Steve guiltily. "I mean, we know you're a great guy, but they don't know that. How could they be willing to bring their grandchild to live with someone they don't even know?"
"Oh, it gets even better," Melody said grimly. Now that they were looking closely, the friends could see that her agitation was from anger, not panic. "From what I can tell, they had him on a bus headed for California within hours of getting my letter. By himself, I might add."
"You mean, he's on his way?" Jack's voice squeaked in alarm.
The attorney looked at her watch. "No, I mean, there's a possibility that he's already here." She looked at the Sloans apologetically. "I don't know what happened, but my office *just* got word about this and they called me as soon as they found out. How anybody could send a child halfway across the country when they haven't even given you notice that he was coming is beyond my understanding. What if you'd been an unsuitable parent? What if you'd been out of town? What if you'd lived in a one bedroom apartment and didn't have room for the boy?"
Steve grabbed her by the arms. "My son is *here* – in Los Angeles?"
"If his bus is on time, he'll get in around 11 pm."
The other four's eyes automatically went to the kitchen clock. It was already 10:15. Without a word, Steve strode for the door, already digging his keys out of his pocket. The detective was stopped momentarily by his father's hand on his arm.
"We're coming with you," Mark said firmly. His son looked into his father's determined eyes and nodded curtly.
The attorney barely had time to call out the bus company's name before Steve, Mark, Amanda, and Jack were out of sight. Melody herself would meet them there, after stopping at her office to pick up legal papers. Stunned as the Sloans at the turn of events, she and Norman looked at each other. Considering he'd been determined to follow them into the kitchen to find out what was going on, she was surprised to see the hospital administrator had willingly stayed behind.
"Well," Norman responded with dignity to her silent look. "Didn't you say you needed to stop at the office and pick up those documents before you went to meet them? You better get going. If I know Steve, he'll use the siren the whole way." He turned away from the lawyer and looked towards the living room, where the rest of the party guests mingled in confusion. "If this house is going to be presentable when Steve's son and Mark's grandson get home, I've got some work to do." He smiled a little sadly at the attorney. "I wouldn't be any good at comforting little boys, but organizing the clean-up after a party and getting a guest room ready for him, that I can handle."
Somehow, that thoughtful gesture touched Melody more than the others' mad dash out the door with Sloans. As she hurried out to her own car, she thought yet again what a lucky little boy Steve's son was, to discover such loving family.... despite how he was arriving.
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No one dared say anything as the sedan careened around yet another corner. The flickering lights from the siren irregularly bathed the car's interior with harsh light, the cold illumination making Steve's tense face appear to be cut out of stone. After the wheels squealed loudly after yet another death-defying turn, generating muffled whimpers from the passengers riding in the back seat, Mark finally decided to speak.
"Steve, your son's already lost one parent, you don't want him to totally become an orphan, do you?" When Steve spared a brief glance from the road, Mark tried to convey his understanding with both gentle tone and expression. "Slow down. Having a car accident right now is not a good idea."
"We've got to get to the terminal before that bus, Dad," the detective said desperately. "What if he arrives and I'm not there? What will he think of me, if I'm not on hand to greet him?"
Mark tried to soothe his son. "How many buses have you known to run on time, Steve?"
The younger Sloan grumbled a protest, but slowed down a little. A murmured thank you could be barely heard from the back seat. A tense silence settled over the group, until Steve pounded a hand on the wheel in frustration.
"Weeks," the big man growled. "For weeks, I couldn't contact my son because my attorney said it was too soon and I had to move carefully. Introduce myself to Brenda's parents slowly. Don't want to give the impression that you're coming in and totally taking over their lives. Then, they shove my son onto a bus and send him halfway across the country without even letting me know he's on the way." Anger turned to disbelief. "I thought I'd seen all types of people in my job, but this takes the cake. How could they do that to their own grandson? He's only nine years old!"
"I don't know," Mark said. "But we don't have all the facts yet, so try not to jump to conclusions. We don't know what circumstances caused Brenda's parents to act that way."
"Sounds to me like a pretty crappy thing to do," Jack offered from the back seat. Amanda smacked her younger colleague in the arm, glaring at him when he protested. He glared right back, rubbing the sore spot. "Hey, I got a right to my opinion."
"Well, believe it or not, for once I agree with you," Steve said, the intense look on his face stifling any further conversation.
After what seemed like eons, the bus station pulled into sight. Steve ignored the parking lot completely, instead haphazardly pulling his sedan up to the entrance and half on the front sidewalk itself. When the clerk behind the ticket counter tried to protest, the agitated detective shoved his badge in the hapless man's face.
"The 11 o'clock bus from Chicago, what gate will it be arriving at?" The policeman growled. The other three spread out behind him, like a group of mother hens surrounding a solitary chick.
The clerk's adam's apple bobbed as he checked his schedule. "G-g-ate 3C," he stammered, "if it's still here."
Steve had already turned to make for the gate, but pulled back at the last comment. "It's 10:53, the bus isn't even due for seven minutes. What do you mean, 'if it's still here?'"
"It was early – it happens sometimes! This was the end of the line. It dropped its passengers off and the driver was supposed to take it to the barn for an overhaul." The bus employee gulped. By this time, the scene was drawing a crowd but from the look on the big, blond guy's face, the clerk didn't think it would help him if the man decided he was at fault - even if he didn't know what was bugging the guy.
Mark quickly moved to intervene. It looked like Steve was ready to throttle the poor ticket seller and it wasn't the man's fault. "There would have been a child on board, a nine year-old. We're here to pick him up." The doctor was about to give the employee his grandson's name but the other man interrupted.
"Nine year-old?" The clerk repeated. When all four of the people surrounding him nodded, he answered with more confidence. "Bus company don't allow kids that little to travel without an adult. Not after we lost a few. No way the kid was on our bus. You must be mistaken."
"Check your passenger list anyway," Mark snapped, even his legendary patience gone after all they'd been through.
The reluctant employee pulled it up on his computer terminal but was quick to confirm his claim. "Nope, like I told you, no unaccompanied kids on this bus." Looking at the friends' angry faces, he picked up his phone. "Look, I'm gonna call the police. If you lost a kid, they need to know about it."
"You go ahead and do that," Steve growled. "And you tell them that it's LAPD detective Steve Sloan that needs assistance."
"Excuse me."
Steve whirled at a soft tug on the arm of his shirt, only to find no one at his side. Until, that was, he looked down....
Into a pair blue eyes peering at him from underneath an unruly mop of blond hair.
"Excuse me," the child repeated. "Did you say your name was Steve Sloan?"
Numb, Steve nodded. "Yes, that's me," he whispered.
"I guess that means you're my dad." The boy bit his lip and then shyly stuck out his hand. "Hi, my name is Jesse Travis. I'm your son."
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By Tanglehair
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: "Diagnosis Murder" and its characters belong to Viacom and CBS. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes. No money is being made from it and no copyright
infringement is intended.
Summary: An Alternate Universe (AU) story in which Steve Sloan discovers a son he never knew he had.
Note: If you're looking for a streamlined plot, this is not the story for you. After Steve meets his son, it will likely take the form of vignettes rather than one comprehensive storyline. I should also mention that I don't have a very good track record WiPs but will do my best not to leave this hanging.
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Later, Steve Sloan would remember that the letter destined to change his life arrived right in the middle of a celebration.
How utterly appropriate.
The police detective was out on the deck with his father and two dear friends, Jack Stewart and Amanda Bentley, when the doorbell rang. The dark- haired young doctor was regaling the others with a tale of how his assistance had been essential in cracking Steve's latest case. Knowing his son's interest in the story, especially in how Jack's version differed from the official report, Mark rose to answer the bell.
Still laughing at Jack's grandiose descriptions, Mark opened the door to find their postal carrier.
"Hello, Becky." The elderly doctor was on a first-name basis with just about everyone. "What have you got for me today?"
The pretty blonde smiled at him. "Nothing for you, Dr. Sloan, but I do have a registered letter for Steve. Is he here to sign for it?"
"Sure, I'll get him for you," Mark offered. "You want to come in for some lemonade?"
"No thanks," the young woman said, shaking her head and causing her ponytail to bounce with the movement. "I'm doing two routes today, so I've got a lot of ground to cover."
"What's up, Dad?" Steve had noticed his father's conversation and came in to investigate.
"A letter for you, Son. Becky needs your signature."
The younger Sloan walked over and obliged. It wasn't at all unusual for the detective to receive official letters. As a policeman, a part of his job was providing testimony for the various cases he worked on. The timing was odd, though. To the best of his knowledge, he didn't have any court cases pending.
Distracted, Steve only half-listened as his father thanked the postal carrier and shut the door behind her. The detective turned the envelope in his hands, eyebrows arching in surprise as he read the out-of-state return address. Obviously, the missive wasn't related to his police work.
"Everything all right?" Mark had noticed his son's frown.
"I don't know," Steve responded. "I have no idea who'd be sending me a registered letter from outside California." The big man shrugged suddenly, grinning at his dad. "I suppose there's only one way to solve *this* mystery." With a flourish, the younger Sloan started opening the envelope.
"Who was the babe?" Jack asked, walking in from the deck.
"What he really means, is why didn't you introduce him?" Amanda clarified, trailing into the house behind the other doctor.
"Hey, I think about more than women," Jack protested.
"Yes, you certainly do," Mark teased. "Like how to meet more women."
The younger man rolled his eyes. "Steve, they're ganging up on me. You gotta help me out here, buddy."
The three friends turned to look at the fourth member of their party, only to find Steve ashen-faced as he held onto the letter with trembling fingers.
"Steve? Son, are you all right?" Mark asked, moving to guide the detective to a nearby chair. From the looks of it, the bigger man's legs wouldn't support him too much longer.
Amanda took her friend's wrist, calmly taking his pulse. Satisfied that Steve wasn't on the verge of a heart attack, she nodded reassurance at the older Sloan. "What is it?" She asked, careful to keep her voice gentle. "Bad news?"
"You could say that." Steve took a deep breath, using it to steady himself. "Dad, Brenda died."
Mark looked confused for a moment but then his face cleared as he placed the name. "Brenda – that redheaded med student you dated?" When his son only nodded glumly, Mark sighed and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Steve."
"This girl meant a lot to you?" Jack asked, his dark eyes unusually somber.
"Yeah. There was a time I thought she was The One." The detective pried one hand from the letter and rubbed his face. "You know, ''til death do us part' and all that."
The small group remained quiet as the irony of those words became clear.
"What happened?" Amanda asked, sympathetic to her friend's pain and knowing that talking about a grief helps heal it. "How come we've never heard of her before?"
"We broke up," the policeman replied, eyes unfocused as he delved into his memories. "She loved me but not California." Steve shrugged. "She couldn't stay and I wouldn't leave – LA's my home. Brenda moved back to the Midwest and I eventually moved on with my life."
"That was ten years ago," Mark said, voice full of worry at his son's obvious distress. "I'm sorry, of course, to hear of Brenda's death... but I'm surprised to see it affect you so much." The old man became even more concerned when Steve didn't respond to his comment.
"Are you going to the funeral?" Amanda asked in an attempt to break the awkward atmosphere.
That simple question cracked Steve's brittle silence. "Not hardly," he laughed softly and bitterly. "Brenda died five years ago."
"What – five years?" Jack voiced the surprise that they all felt. "The way you were actin', it seemed like you just found out."
"I *did* just find out," Steve responded firmly, seeming to regain his equilibrium minute by minute. "But the purpose of this letter wasn't to inform me of Brenda's death."
"It wasn't?" Mark asked, as confused as his colleagues were. "Then what was it for?"
"It's from Brenda's parents," Steve answered. "They're suing me."
"Whatever for?" Amanda questioned, voice shaded with indignation that anyone would litigate against her friend.
Steve answered her question, but kept his eyes locked on his father as he replied. "For child support. Apparently, they've been raising my son."
"Your son?" Mark echoed. It was the older Sloan's turn to become pale and stagger for a chair. "You and Brenda... had a child?"
"It seems so," Steve replied curtly.
"I take it that Brenda didn't tell you?" Amanda asked gently, going behind where Mark sat in shock and gently rubbing his shoulders.
"No, she most certainly did not," Steve launched himself from his chair and started pacing the room. The detective experienced so many feelings pass through him at the realization that he was a father – joy at the news, frustration at not knowing earlier, disappointment at the years irretrievably lost – that he truly didn't know how to react.
Wincing with sympathy, Jack asked, "What're you gonna do?"
"What am I going to do?" Steve repeated, stopping at his father's chair and squatting down so he could look his parent in the eye. "I'm going to make sure my son gets the financial support that he needs, then I'm going to find a way to become part of his life." The policeman took his father's hands in his own. "I've benefited from having the world's greatest dad; no child of mine is going to be without a father. What do you think, Dad? Are you up to being a grandfather?"
"A grandfather?" Mark said, eyes twinkling as the shock diminished and gave way to the potential happiness of the situation. "Are you kidding? I've been waiting years for the opportunity to spoil my grandchildren!"
The two Sloans hugged and Mark spoke in his son's ear. "Don't worry, Steve. I'll be there for you, you're not in this alone."
"I know, Dad," the younger man replied. "You always have been – and something tells me I'm going to need you now more than ever."
"Looks like you're gonna need a lawyer too," Jack advised him. Uncomfortable with the emotion the father and son were displaying, he'd picked up the letter where it had dropped from Steve's grasp and read it to distract himself. "They're not offering you custody or even visitation rights, they just want your money."
"Like I said," Steve replied firmly. "I'm going to find a way to be in my son's life. No matter what it takes."
And, looking at the expression in his eyes and the stubborn set of his jaw, none of the others in the room doubted him for a second.
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"What I don't get," Jack asked, "is why now?"
He and Steve were going through the line at Community General's cafeteria, getting lunch while waiting for Mark to join them. It had been two weeks since the fateful letter had arrived and murder investigations had taken a backseat to the pending custody issue. Jack had taken Mark's place a medical seminar due to the Sloans' personal crisis and therefore had been out of town since shortly after Steve had received news of his son. As a result, he had lots of questions as the policeman filled him in on the details.
"What do you mean?" Steve asked, rifling through his wallet and paying the cashier.
"I mean," Jack said as he and the taller man found a seat in the crowded room, "is why did they wait five years to contact you? Shouldn't you have been notified as soon as Brenda died?"
"I asked Melody about that," the detective answered, referring to his lawyer. "She said that it's possible that Brenda's parents were afraid that I would want custody and take their grandson away, so they probably waited until they absolutely had to before asking for financial support."
"Aren't they right?" Jack asked bluntly. "I know how you and Mark are about family, I can't imagine you sitting back and just giving up custody, once you found out you had a son." When Steve glared at him, the doctor held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, they had just lost their daughter. I guess I can't blame them for worrying about some stranger swooping in and taking away their grandkid."
Steve deflated. "You're right and I'd like to think it wouldn't have been that way – that it *won't* be that way. I don't know why Brenda didn't tell me, but she didn't and I have to deal with it." The detective sighed. "That little boy doesn't know me at all. I've got to think of what's best for him and that's probably not uprooting him from everything he's known and moving him halfway across the country. The best I can probably hope for is visitation rights and maybe partial custody during the summer when he's not in school."
"Partial custody," Jack said thoughtfully. "Will that be enough for you?" Seeing in Steve's eyes that it wouldn't be, the younger man made a logical guess. "You're not thinking of moving out there, are you?"
"I don't know," Steve said. "We'll see. I might, but then, Dad's here. My work's here. Melody says not to make any major decisions yet. We still haven't heard back from the grandparents, after all."
"I hate to be a sourpuss," Jack looked uncomfortable and wouldn't meet his friend's gaze. "But have you had any tests done? All you know is from that letter, you don't even have any proof that the kid's yours."
Luckily for Dr. Stewart, Steve didn't take offense. "You didn't know Brenda. If she said he was mine, then he is."
"But you haven't even seen a picture!" Jack protested. "All you've got is the grandparents' claim, this Brenda of yours didn't even notify you. You can't afford to get too emotionally involved here. How do you know they aren't pulling this same stunt on all their daughter's old boyfriends?"
Steve sighed. "My lawyer said the same thing, which is why we're having a DNA test done, thank you very much." The detective listlessly poked through his French fries. "I didn't want to seem so cheap, to withhold financial support until I got confirmation, but Melody said I had to. Otherwise, even if the tests came back negative, I would have established a parental link." The big man shook his head. "The money doesn't matter. I have a son – I'd like to know more about him. I'm dying to meet him."
Jack snorted. Having come from a different background than Steve's, he knew that money did *very* much matter. "I hate to tell you this, Big Guy, but money is a big issue. You might live with your dad and not have to shell out a lot in rent, but you don't want to be forking over the dough for somebody else's kid." When Steve opened his mouth to protest, Jack emphasized his point by gesturing with his fork. "Because, if you're not his dad, then his real dad's out there somewhere and *he* would deserve to have a chance to know his kid. Besides, it wouldn't be exactly fiscally responsible to any of those future little Sloans you might happen to begat."
"I know, you're right," Steve admitted. "It's just the waiting to find out is killing me."
"How's your father holding up?" Jack asked, not having had a chance to see Mark since coming back into town.
Before Steve could answer, the man in question came into the cafeteria.
"Steve!" Mark announced when he was still halfway across the room. "You'll never guess – the sports store had a sale on baseball gloves. I bought one in every size, just in case!"
"Oh, he's staying detached," Steve answered Jack dryly, watching his father with amusement as the older doctor approached the table. "You know, not getting too emotionally involved until we know for sure that the boy is mine."
By that time, Mark had reached their table and Jack didn't dare reply. The two younger men scrambled to protect their plates as the newcomer dumped the contents of two bulging shopping bags in front of them.
"Geez, Mark, did you buy out the whole store?" Jack complained.
"Something tells me that there's going to be a whole lot of games of catch in my grandson's future," Mark explained, eyeing the fruits of his shopping labors with satisfaction. "And we don't know - yet- what glove size the little fella has. I just thought it best to be prepared.
Steve looked from the happiness shining in his father's face to the cynicism shadowing Jack's. Despite his friend's warning, Steve didn't really doubt that the child was his. Given the boy's age, he'd definitely been conceived during the time Steve had been involved with Brenda and, even though their relationship had eventually failed, he knew that the woman he'd loved would never have betrayed him.
Looking at his father's expression, Steve couldn't help but offer up a prayer that he was right. It wouldn't only be his heart that was broken should the news come back negative.
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"Do you want me to wait outside the room?"
Steve looked up at his lawyer's question. Once again the direction of his life was contained in one little envelope. This time, it was the results of the DNA test that had been conducted to confirm paternity. Ever since that first official notification, all correspondence regarding the matter had been conducted through the Sloans' lawyer and it was Melody Treen who'd called to let them know the test findings were in.
Steve looked over at his dad briefly for support, then smiled wanly at the attorney. "No, that's okay. You've really been there for us on this, Melody, you should be here now."
"It was the least I could do," the woman demurely said, "After all you and your father did to solve my husband's murder case. You did so much for me and my family, I'm happy to be able to return the favor."
The detective looked down at the envelope again, seeing his nervousness mirrored in his father's eyes. All along Steve had been so sure the test would come back positive, but now that the time had arrived to have that faith verified, he was oddly reluctant.
"Steve..." Mark gently prompted. "What's done is done; delaying reading the results isn't going to change them if they're not what you wanted to see. Why don't you open it up and find out?"
"You're right, Dad," Steve replied. Then bracing himself by taking a deep breath, the policeman carefully opened the envelope and slid the much- anticipated report out. The two onlookers carefully watched his expression as he read.
"Well...?" The older Sloan asked, all but bouncing in his chair as his son remained silent.
Steve looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder. "It's a boy. Oh my God, Dad, I'm a father!"
Mark whooped with delight, hopping off his chair and catching the bigger man in a big hug. Steve hugged his father right back, not at all ashamed at the tears running down his cheeks. "I'm a father - I have a son," he whispered.
Melody felt a little choked up herself. As a family attorney, she'd had a lot of experience in paternity suits. Rarely, if ever, had she seen a man in Steve's position so happy to learn of unknown child. So many men would have seen it as a burden, not an occasion for celebration.
As the Sloans calmed down, Ms. Treen offered her congratulations. "I'm very happy for you, Steve. Your son is one very lucky little boy."
Steve gladly returned her handshake. "Thanks. I don't know where to begin, when can I meet him?" The big man turned to his father. "How soon can you wrangle a few days off - we need to fly out there and introduce ourselves!"
"Wait a minute," Melody felt like a bully, but knew she needed to bring her client and his dad back to reality. "We need to proceed carefully."
"You said we needed to wait until paternity was established," Steve responded in frustrated confusion. "It has been. I've known for a whole month that I might have a son, I've been as patient as a saint, waiting for these damn test results to be back. Now that they are, I'm eager to move forward."
"I know and I understand," Melody soothed, "But we need to look at this from the child's perspective. He's never known his father; his mother died when he was almost five; and now, when he's nine years old and spent half his life with his grandparents, his father wants to make an entrance." When Steve and Mark opened their mouths to protest, the lawyer kept talking, "All I'm saying is that we need to contact the grandparents, through their lawyers, and set up a procedure for how to accomplish this. You want to be part of your son's life, great! But unless you do it right, in establishing a relationship with the boy *and* the custodial grandparents, there is the potential to seriously threaten any future ties you might have. Trust me, I've seen enough botched custody and visitation cases to know that slow and easy is the best thing right now."
Steve sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he nodded his acceptance of his lawyer's advice. "All right, we'll do it your way. But, I want that trust fund with back child support money set up and accessible. I don't want his grandparents to think I'm stingy or trying to duck my responsibility."
Melody grinned at him. "I've never seen a man so eager to pay child support before."
"Us Sloans are responsible people," Mark replied, eyes still misty with happiness. "That child would have wanted for nothing if Steve had only known."
"Which is a point I'm going to be sure to make," the lawyer promised. "Now, go. Get out of here." She made a shooing motion. "Go tell the world that there's another Sloan generation to celebrate. Let me take care of the mundane stuff."
"With pleasure," Steve said, then turned to his father. "Dad, is that sporting goods store still having a sale? I think we're gonna needs some bats and balls to go with all those gloves."
Watching them leave, Melody Treen wasn't entirely sure that either man's feet touched the ground as they walked out of her office.
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Steve was exhausted when he came back to the beach house. Not so much tired of body, but of mind and soul. It had been a couple of days since getting the DNA results, but Melody had not heard a peep from Brenda's parents. The attorney kept assuring the Sloans that there was nothing to worry about. Maybe it was his imagination, but during their last phone conversation, Steve would have sworn he'd heard a note of concern creep into her voice.
Not only was the anticipation getting to him, but some of the euphoria of learning he was a parent was beginning to wear off too. All he had to do was take one look at his dad, the ultimate father figure as far as Steve was concerned, and know that he would never measure up. Either a soldier or a cop since early adulthood, Steve was well equipped to deal with hardened criminals. Little boys, on the other hand, were outside his field of experience and despite buying every parenting guide at the bookstore, he was deathly afraid he was going to screw it up. It was easy enough for his dad to tell him to relax and do what came naturally, but Mark Sloan had been a father for decades; Steve was somewhat more new to the idea.
Other than getting the test results, the highlight of Steve's week had been, oddly enough, paperwork. Usually forms and official documents were enough to make his teeth ache, but changing his personnel records at the LAPD to include his son had been a pleasure. Always before, his father had been named the benefactor of Steve's insurance benefits, but with Mark's blessing, he had changed that. Brenda's sudden death five years earlier had left their child unprovided for – a circumstance that was *not* going to happen again if Steve Sloan had anything to say about it.
Sighing at the reality that, to date, he had been given absolutely *no* say in anything to do with his child, Steve fished out his key as he approached the front door of the home he shared with his father. The house was dark; meaning that either his dad had worked late or was already in bed. With the odd schedules they both kept, either was a real possibility.
"SURPRISE!!!"
Just inside the door, Steve came to a dead stop as the lights suddenly blazed and a chorus of voices greeted him. Looking around, he saw familiar faces: relatives, staff from Community General, even people from his precinct. And, right in the front, their ringleader – Mark Sloan.
"What's all this?" Steve asked, smiling as he directed his question to his father.
"Well, it's a little too late for a baby shower," his dad explained, grinning from ear to ear. "So we thought we'd have you a boy shower."
Looking around, Steve could see that their living room had been decorated in baby blue, with balloons and banners that proclaimed "It's a boy!"
"Here, have a cigar," Jack said, handing Steve a blue foil wrapped object. Seeing his friend's confusion, the young doctor explained. "Mark wouldn't let us get the real thing, so these are chocolate cigars." He shoved a whole bundle of them into the detective's hands. "Here, you better start handing these out before the candy starts melting."
Steve looked around him in amazement. "When did you guys have the time to plan all of this?"
Even Community General's administrator, Norman Briggs, was sporting a button that declared him an honorary uncle.
"It's been in the works for a week or so," Amanda admitted, coming forward to kiss Steve on the cheek. "We were just waiting for the DNA results to come back. All the people who care about you are so happy for you, Steve. We just wanted you to know that... and help welcome your son into the family."
"If we ever do get to meet him," the policeman muttered.
Amanda pretended she hadn't heard that comment and gently gave her friend a nudge towards the nearest party-goer. With a nod at the cigars in his hand, she silently encouraged Steve to join the fun and forget about his cares for the time being. Knowing an order when he'd seen one, Steve gave in and was soon enjoying himself, despite his worries.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again, your son is one lucky little boy," Melody told him when he came to present her with a cigar. Steve opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by the sound of a cell phone ringing. With an apologetic look, the lawyer dug her phone out of her purse, moving outside where it was quieter even as she put it to her ear.
"C'mon, Steve, you've got to see this," Mark said, pulling his son by the arm. With barely reined in excitement, the doctor ushered the younger Sloan into a chair and gathered the other guests around.
"Your addition to the family is arriving in a little bit of a non- traditional way," Amanda explained as she offered up a brightly wrapped package. "Gifts are a traditional part of any shower, but none of us quite knew what to get."
"Then Mark suggested that you'd really need was some advice," Jack interjected. "So, since everybody's got an opinion on how to raise kids – especially those of us who don't have any – we thought it would be helpful to write it all down for you."
At his friends' encouragement, Steve opened the box and discovered an elegant scrapbook. He lifted it out of the packaging and immediately started paging through it, touched to find handwritten notes of advice, from all sorts of friends and family.
"This... this is really great," the detective lifted his eyes to the group, uncharacteristically choked up at all the trouble they'd taken. "If my son learns one thing from me, I hope he learns the value of good friends."
The rest of Steve Sloan's impromptu speech was cut off by his lawyer elbowing her way through the throng of shower guests.
"Steve, I have to talk to you." Even those he didn't know her well could see that Melody was pale.
The policeman immediately got up, absently placing the scrapbook on the chair behind him. "What's wrong?"
The attorney looked around her, then grabbed Steve by the arm, pulling him towards the kitchen. Mark, Amanda, Jack, and Norman followed in their wake. From her expression, the news was unpleasant and not a single one of them was willing to let Steve face it alone.
"What's the matter?" Steve repeated, shaking her hand off as they'd reached the more private kitchen area. Just beyond, the buzz from the interrupted party could clearly be heard.
Seeing the worried faces in front of her, Melody took a moment to compose herself. "That call I just got? It was from my office. Your son's grandparents took your request for contact with the child seriously."
"Really?" Steve felt a thrill of excitement at her words, but something in the lawyer's manner told him she wasn't through with her news and he looked at her expectantly.
"Really." Melody took a deep breath. "In fact, they took it so seriously that they've completely relinquished custody."
"What?" It was Mark who answered her. Steve stood gaping, incapable of forming a question.
The lawyer threw her hands up in disgust. "Apparently, they had no idea that the boy's father would have any interest in him; they contacted you, Steve, out of purely financial interests. Remember, after we got the lab results back and I said I would be sending them a letter of intent, notifying them that you wanted to arrange visitation rights?" When her client numbly nodded, she continued. "Well, I guess they took that as a sign that you'd be willing to take full custody. *Immediate* full custody."
"That poor boy," Amanda said softly. "First he loses his mother, then his grandparents are wanting to give him up to a virtual stranger." She looked at Steve guiltily. "I mean, we know you're a great guy, but they don't know that. How could they be willing to bring their grandchild to live with someone they don't even know?"
"Oh, it gets even better," Melody said grimly. Now that they were looking closely, the friends could see that her agitation was from anger, not panic. "From what I can tell, they had him on a bus headed for California within hours of getting my letter. By himself, I might add."
"You mean, he's on his way?" Jack's voice squeaked in alarm.
The attorney looked at her watch. "No, I mean, there's a possibility that he's already here." She looked at the Sloans apologetically. "I don't know what happened, but my office *just* got word about this and they called me as soon as they found out. How anybody could send a child halfway across the country when they haven't even given you notice that he was coming is beyond my understanding. What if you'd been an unsuitable parent? What if you'd been out of town? What if you'd lived in a one bedroom apartment and didn't have room for the boy?"
Steve grabbed her by the arms. "My son is *here* – in Los Angeles?"
"If his bus is on time, he'll get in around 11 pm."
The other four's eyes automatically went to the kitchen clock. It was already 10:15. Without a word, Steve strode for the door, already digging his keys out of his pocket. The detective was stopped momentarily by his father's hand on his arm.
"We're coming with you," Mark said firmly. His son looked into his father's determined eyes and nodded curtly.
The attorney barely had time to call out the bus company's name before Steve, Mark, Amanda, and Jack were out of sight. Melody herself would meet them there, after stopping at her office to pick up legal papers. Stunned as the Sloans at the turn of events, she and Norman looked at each other. Considering he'd been determined to follow them into the kitchen to find out what was going on, she was surprised to see the hospital administrator had willingly stayed behind.
"Well," Norman responded with dignity to her silent look. "Didn't you say you needed to stop at the office and pick up those documents before you went to meet them? You better get going. If I know Steve, he'll use the siren the whole way." He turned away from the lawyer and looked towards the living room, where the rest of the party guests mingled in confusion. "If this house is going to be presentable when Steve's son and Mark's grandson get home, I've got some work to do." He smiled a little sadly at the attorney. "I wouldn't be any good at comforting little boys, but organizing the clean-up after a party and getting a guest room ready for him, that I can handle."
Somehow, that thoughtful gesture touched Melody more than the others' mad dash out the door with Sloans. As she hurried out to her own car, she thought yet again what a lucky little boy Steve's son was, to discover such loving family.... despite how he was arriving.
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No one dared say anything as the sedan careened around yet another corner. The flickering lights from the siren irregularly bathed the car's interior with harsh light, the cold illumination making Steve's tense face appear to be cut out of stone. After the wheels squealed loudly after yet another death-defying turn, generating muffled whimpers from the passengers riding in the back seat, Mark finally decided to speak.
"Steve, your son's already lost one parent, you don't want him to totally become an orphan, do you?" When Steve spared a brief glance from the road, Mark tried to convey his understanding with both gentle tone and expression. "Slow down. Having a car accident right now is not a good idea."
"We've got to get to the terminal before that bus, Dad," the detective said desperately. "What if he arrives and I'm not there? What will he think of me, if I'm not on hand to greet him?"
Mark tried to soothe his son. "How many buses have you known to run on time, Steve?"
The younger Sloan grumbled a protest, but slowed down a little. A murmured thank you could be barely heard from the back seat. A tense silence settled over the group, until Steve pounded a hand on the wheel in frustration.
"Weeks," the big man growled. "For weeks, I couldn't contact my son because my attorney said it was too soon and I had to move carefully. Introduce myself to Brenda's parents slowly. Don't want to give the impression that you're coming in and totally taking over their lives. Then, they shove my son onto a bus and send him halfway across the country without even letting me know he's on the way." Anger turned to disbelief. "I thought I'd seen all types of people in my job, but this takes the cake. How could they do that to their own grandson? He's only nine years old!"
"I don't know," Mark said. "But we don't have all the facts yet, so try not to jump to conclusions. We don't know what circumstances caused Brenda's parents to act that way."
"Sounds to me like a pretty crappy thing to do," Jack offered from the back seat. Amanda smacked her younger colleague in the arm, glaring at him when he protested. He glared right back, rubbing the sore spot. "Hey, I got a right to my opinion."
"Well, believe it or not, for once I agree with you," Steve said, the intense look on his face stifling any further conversation.
After what seemed like eons, the bus station pulled into sight. Steve ignored the parking lot completely, instead haphazardly pulling his sedan up to the entrance and half on the front sidewalk itself. When the clerk behind the ticket counter tried to protest, the agitated detective shoved his badge in the hapless man's face.
"The 11 o'clock bus from Chicago, what gate will it be arriving at?" The policeman growled. The other three spread out behind him, like a group of mother hens surrounding a solitary chick.
The clerk's adam's apple bobbed as he checked his schedule. "G-g-ate 3C," he stammered, "if it's still here."
Steve had already turned to make for the gate, but pulled back at the last comment. "It's 10:53, the bus isn't even due for seven minutes. What do you mean, 'if it's still here?'"
"It was early – it happens sometimes! This was the end of the line. It dropped its passengers off and the driver was supposed to take it to the barn for an overhaul." The bus employee gulped. By this time, the scene was drawing a crowd but from the look on the big, blond guy's face, the clerk didn't think it would help him if the man decided he was at fault - even if he didn't know what was bugging the guy.
Mark quickly moved to intervene. It looked like Steve was ready to throttle the poor ticket seller and it wasn't the man's fault. "There would have been a child on board, a nine year-old. We're here to pick him up." The doctor was about to give the employee his grandson's name but the other man interrupted.
"Nine year-old?" The clerk repeated. When all four of the people surrounding him nodded, he answered with more confidence. "Bus company don't allow kids that little to travel without an adult. Not after we lost a few. No way the kid was on our bus. You must be mistaken."
"Check your passenger list anyway," Mark snapped, even his legendary patience gone after all they'd been through.
The reluctant employee pulled it up on his computer terminal but was quick to confirm his claim. "Nope, like I told you, no unaccompanied kids on this bus." Looking at the friends' angry faces, he picked up his phone. "Look, I'm gonna call the police. If you lost a kid, they need to know about it."
"You go ahead and do that," Steve growled. "And you tell them that it's LAPD detective Steve Sloan that needs assistance."
"Excuse me."
Steve whirled at a soft tug on the arm of his shirt, only to find no one at his side. Until, that was, he looked down....
Into a pair blue eyes peering at him from underneath an unruly mop of blond hair.
"Excuse me," the child repeated. "Did you say your name was Steve Sloan?"
Numb, Steve nodded. "Yes, that's me," he whispered.
"I guess that means you're my dad." The boy bit his lip and then shyly stuck out his hand. "Hi, my name is Jesse Travis. I'm your son."
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