Signs of a Beating Heart

Izzyaro

This is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for ages, and is based on some of the things Tricia said to Steve last series. It's set in between episodes 8 and 9 of series 9, and I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own New Tricks, and am not associated with BBC Television or Wall to Wall.

'The perilous highs, and desperate lows, and extravagant flurries of mood are not always symptoms of a broken mind, but signs of a beating heart.' - Terri Cheney

Most of the time, Steve was fine. He had wilder moods, but he had learned to manage them, and even channel them into his work. There was a reason his reputation for spreading anarchy wherever he went was accompanied by one of the best clean-up rates in Strathclyde. He could use his excess of spirits to do a bit of good, so yeah, most days he was fine.

Other days he was not.

See, it was hard to feel motivated when you were constantly exhausted. It was even harder when even getting out of bed felt like a complete waste of time. And when you could solve a dozen murders and still feel dead inside? Not the best combination in the world.

But Steve managed. He controlled the highs, and forced himself through the lows, and if even people he'd worked with years couldn't understand him, well, he could live with that.

Didn't mean it was easy. Especially dealing with it alone. Trusting anyone enough to tell them had always been a bit beyond him, and although Tricia eventually figured it out, she never understood. She tried, but she couldn't help blaming him for something out of his control. That didn't do much for his trust issues.

So Steve didn't say anything when he accepted the job at UCOS. It wasn't like there was anything they could do; he was taking his medication, and knowing about it would only make them feel uncomfortable. Maybe even uncomfortable enough to tell him they'd made a mistake. And Steve really, really wanted to keep this job. Being a copper again, doing some good again, he hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. Or how much he'd missed working with people who had his back. Gerry liked him, Sandra trusted him, and even Brian had finally accepted him. They didn't need to know about his problems; he had proven his worth as a detective and that was all that mattered.

And, for a while, everything was fine. Yeah, there were some ups and downs, but nothing Steve couldn't handle. Maybe the last prescription change had actually done what it was supposed to.

Then Steve woke up one day and felt like he was suffocating and knew he'd never be that lucky.

He thought about staying at home. Calling in sick wouldn't even be a lie, not really. Sandra had no reason to doubt him, and they could manage without him for a couple of days. They'd probably appreciate the peace and quiet. Sandra would definitely appreciate not having to test her creativity when Strickland asked her how they'd gotten certain information. He'd been on a high ever since joining UCOS, and while his medication had helped with the worst of it, Steve was very aware that he had been a bit overwhelming. A few days off would do everyone good.

Except it wasn't likely to be just today. Or even a few days. Hell, a few weeks was likely a low estimate. There was no way of knowing how long it would last, but there was no way Steve could hide away for all of it.

And lying in bed doing nothing for the first day would only make the coming weeks that much harder.

It took almost more willpower than Steve possessed, but he forced himself to get up and start getting ready for work. It would be easier once he was around people, especially once he had work to concentrate on, and he did have ways of coping if the worst came to pass, but it still all felt pointless. What would it matter if he didn't come in? UCOS had been managing perfectly well before he joined. Better actually. How much trouble had he caused for Sandra since he had become part of the team? Gerry and Brian might bend the rules, but they didn't smash them into little pieces. He should get out now, and save them all the bother.

Steve clenched his fists. He couldn't be thinking like that. He knew better. He picked up his toothbrush, then paused at the sight of the deep crescent marks his nails had left in his palms. The pain hit a second later, and the familiar sensation steadied him. He could get through this. He always had before.

Doing routine things helped a little, and by the time Steve pulled into the car park he felt less like he wanted to scream. He still had to take a few minutes to summon some semblance of his normal geniality, but he was feeling slightly more at ease as he pushed open the office door.

"What time do you call this?"

Steve's mood plummeted in an instant, but he managed a shrug. "Ah yeah, sorry, boss. Can't get up at 6 every morning."

Sandra rolled her eyes, but didn't press the matter. Steve let out a breath and slumped onto one of the comfy sofas by the door. Thirty seconds of human interaction and he was already exhausted. Gerry flashed him a quick wink and grin and turned his attention back to his computer, but Brian frowned. "Not like you to be half an hour late though."

Steve glanced at his watch and winced. It took so long to do anything in these moods, and Brian was the last person Steve wanted to notice. The older man was far too good at putting pieces together for Steve to feel comfortable giving him even the tiniest clues.

"Steve?"

Damn. Steve shook himself. "Sorry. Didn't sleep well last night, you know."

It wasn't even a lie, albeit not unusual, but Brian's eyes narrowed. Fortunately, Sandra chose that moment to step back into the main office. "Well, now that Steve's deigned to join us, why don't we concentrate on catching a murderer?" She threw a file at Steve, who caught it automatically and opened it. The very first page made him freeze. Of all the cases they could have gotten...

"Jenny Simmonds," Sandra announced. "Murdered in 1997. She was thirteen years old."

Brian went very still, and Gerry swore viciously under his breath, but Steve could barely listen through the iron bands suddenly crushing the breath from his body. There was no good day to investigate the murder if a child, but some days could certainly be worse than others. Sandra continued to reel off the case details while Steve concentrated on not running from the room. If any victim, any family, deserved justice, it was this one. He couldn't afford to break. Not now.

"We do need those, you know."

Steve blinked up to find his teammates watching him. "What?"

"The papers you're trying to crush into a diamond," said Gerry. Steve looked down and saw with a start the papers Sandra had given him crumpled in his fist.

"I, er-"

"That doesn't even work," Brian pointed out.

The words drew Gerry's attention, and Steve dropped the papers on the table. "What doesn't?"

Brian peered at him over his glasses. "Crushing coal to diamonds. Can't do it."

"Can we get back to a little girl's murder?" Sandra snapped. "And Steve, I don't know what's going on, but you'd better get your head in the game now."

Steve nodded and forced himself to concentrate. He could do this. Sandra shook her head and started pinning pictures to the whiteboard. "She was assaulted on her way home, and died from a blow to the head. The body was found at the location an hour later, but no one was ever charged."

Gerry scowled and folded his arms. "Sometimes I really hate this job."

Steve grunted his agreement, and Brian leaned forwards. "So why are they re-investigating now?"

Sandra pulled out another picture. "Jenny's older sister, Louise. Died three weeks ago in a car accident. Nothing suspicious there, but while looking through her things her husband found some old diaries written around the time of Jenny's death."

Gerry straightened. "Something interesting, I take it?"

Sandra nodded. "Oh, yes." She took out a typewritten sheet and handed it to Brian. "It seems both girls had been having problems, but Louise was too afraid to tell the police at the time."

"Pity," Brian remarked. "We might have caught them twenty years sooner.'

Steve couldn't quite hide his flinch. "Not always easy for kids, is it though?" he managed. "'Specially if they can't get away from whatever's scarin'em."

"Which was exactly the case here," said Sandra. She nodded approvingly at him, but Steve couldn't muster any sort of appropriate response. He could feel Brian's eyes on him too, and felt a rush of exhaustion. It was too soon to be dealing with something like this. He could hear Sandra explaining the details, but actually paying attention was beyond him.

Damn it. The amount of energy it took to do anything was one of the worst parts of this. Steve forced himself to sit upright and pulled his laptop out his bag. Not that he had any idea what to do with it, but it looked like he was doing something. The start-up icon whirled, and Steve found himself staring at it. Sandra's voice was a soothing drone in the background. The office was very warm. Steve still found himself shivering.

"Steve?"

Steve dragged his head up. Gerry and Sandra were arguing about something over by the desks, but Brian was frowning at him. "Everything all right?"

Steve summoned a smile. "Fine, pal. Just this sort of case, y'know?"

Brian nodded slowly, but Steve saw doubt in his blue eyes. He sighed, and started pulling up family records in his laptop. The sooner they got this sorted, the better.

Working matters like this was never fast. Despite his best efforts Sandra had caught onto the fact that was something was wrong, and Steve found himself stuck in the office with Brian for the day. While not having to go and interact with strangers was a relief, research had never been his forte, and his state of mind was in no way helpful. Even distracted as he was though it was impossible to miss the glances Brian kept shooting his way. By the end of the day Steve's nerves had been stretched to breaking point, and all he wanted to do was go home and curl up in bed and let sleep wipe everything out for a few hours.

Not that his dreams would ever allow such a thing. That'd be far too much to ask.

"You look like crap."

Steve was too tired to snap. "You say the nicest things, Gerry." He threw himself down and rubbed his eyes. "I hate cases like these."

He saw Gerry and Brian exchange a look, before Gerry shuffled closer to him. "Look, you know you can sit this one out, if you want."

Steve was tempted. Very, very tempted. But... "I'm fine."

Brian snorted. Gerry folded his arms. "If you're fine then I'm happily married."

Steve sighed and leaned forwards. "Just give it a rest, eh? Yeah, I've been a bit under the weather, but it's nothin' serious."

Gerry held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, all right, mate." He stuffed his hands in a pocket and sighed. "I'm goin' for a fag before the Guv'nor gets in." He hovered briefly in the doorway before shaking his head and disappearing.

Steve sighed and let his shoulders slump. Pretending to be normal took too much bloody energy. He turned back, only to start as he found Brian still staring at him. "What?"

Brian's eyes narrowed. "I'm watching you." He turned his attention to his computer without another word. Steve groaned and let his head fall back on the cushions. Well, that was a waste of energy.

To Steve's complete lack of surprise, the second day made the first look flawless. He was off his game, distracted and unmotivated, and it was impossible to hide it. Sandra was exasperated to say the least, and Gerry couldn't keep himself from snapping. Both reactions only made matters worse; Steve was well aware that he was being more if a hindrance than a help, but at the same time he was doing the best he could. The end of the day was a relief for everyone.

Brian didn't say anything, but he kept his word. Steve had no idea what was going on in the other man's head, and he was honestly too drained to care.

The dreams were worse that night. Steve gave up after two hours.

The third day was never going to go well. Steve got up, and spent a good ten minutes simply staring at his reflection while he tried to convince himself there was a point to going in. Staring into space while he summoned the energy to start his car took very nearly as long. By the time he eventually got to work, Steve was fully aware that he was in trouble.

Sure enough, Sandra looked like she wanted to murder him. Gerry too was staring at him like a stranger, though Steve saw more concern than irritation in his gaze. He squared his shoulders and braced himself for the onslaught.

He still didn't feel anything.

But even as Sandra began to stalk towards him, Steve found his elbow caught in a tight grip. Brian didn't look at him, instead twisting round so he could address Sandra. "I'm just going to follow up in a lead," he announced. "We'll be back in thirty minutes."

"What?"

"Brian-"

"You can't just-"

Brian paid no attention to any of the protestations. He pushed Steve back through the door and started up the corridor.

"What the hell are you doing?" Steve spluttered.

Brian shot him a quick look. "You'd rather go back and face Sandra?"

Steve shivered, but he wasn't about to drop the matter. "Brian, where are we going?"

Brian didn't answer. Steve considered pressing him, but if he'd learned anything about his new team over the past couple of months it was that Brian was more stubborn than Sandra and Gerry combined when he got an idea in his head. He gritted his teeth and followed the older man through the corridors. Not that he had much choice. Brian still hadn't let go of his arm, and he was surprisingly strong.

Brian continued to walk in silence until they left the main building. Once outside, Brian led them round the side of the building. The area was deserted, but Brian still looked round carefully before finally releasing Steve's arm. Steve took an automatic step back, feeling more confused than ever.

"Brian, what is going on?"

Brian fixed him with a piercing look and spoke in a very low voice. "Have you been taking your medication?"

For a long minute, Steve could only stare at him. How could he know? He had been so careful. No one was ever supposed to realise something was wrong with him, that he was so weak, pathetic, unable to function like any normal person...

"Steve!"

Steve sucked in a breath and forced himself to think. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Brian's brilliant blue eyes narrowed. "Mood stabilisers," he said deliberately. "Anticonvulsants, antipsychotics, antidepressants. You're on at least one. Not my area of expertise, but I'd say lithium-"

"Stop it," Steve whispered. His hands had clenched into fists, and he was horrified to find he was trembling. This couldn't be happening. "Just drop it."

Brian blinked at him. "Why? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Steve opened his mouth, but paused before he snap a retort. Brian wasn't just saying empty platitudes. Gerry's words from his first day flashed through Steve's mind, and he swallowed. It made sense that someone who suffered similar problems would be able to recognise the signs, even if they weren't a human computer. Some of his thoughts must have shown in his face, because Brian gave a small smile.

"Not easy, trying to hide it all the time, is it?"

Steve just shook his words. Words were a bit beyond him. Brian folded his arms, watching him all the while. Once Steve was calmer he straightened. "So. Lithium?"

Steve took a deep breath, and forced himself to nod. "And valproate," he muttered. "Lithium on it's own was doin' bugger all." He closed his eyes for a second. "Still only affects the mania."

Brian frowned. "You're having to take antidepressants too?"

Steve looked away. "Don't seem to respond too much. Tried all the standard ones, so I'm on these TCA things."

"Tricyclic antidepressants?" Brian asked. Steve shrugged, and he shook his head. "Nasty things."

Steve snorted. "Tell me about it. Complete waste of time." The whole point of the bloody things was to keep him functioning like a normal person, and stop conversations like this from having to happen.

"Have you been back to the doctor?" Brian asked. "I know," he said, when Steve pulled a face, "but they can help. I mean, look at me, or ask Esther what I used to be like. It might have taken years, but they got it all sorted in the end."

Steve folded his arms. "Guess I don't have as much faith in doctors as you do," he muttered. Yet another consequence of his wonderful childhood.

"Steve-"

"I'm fine."

"Don't be a damned fool," Brian hissed. "You can't work like this; you can't live like this-"

"I've managed the last twenty years," Steve shot back.

"But you don't have to!"

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again. There wasn't much he could say to that, at least not that wouldn't make Brian even more suspicious. The anger faded from Brian's face, and he sighed. "It can't do any harm to talk to them at least."

Steve let his head fall back against the wall. "Fine." Arguing was too much energy. Brian eyed him.

"I'll book you an appointment while you talk you talk to Sandra."

Steve's head snapped up. "You have got to be joking." Brian finding out was bad, but at least he understood what it was like. Telling Sandra, his boss...

"You've got to tell her something," Brian pointed out. "She knows there's something wrong."

"Can't I just tell her I'm having a few bad days?" Steve demanded. "Or that I don't like cases like these? Hell, why don't I just say I've got the flu or something?"

"You could," Brian agreed. "She might even believe you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. For about ten seconds."

Steve glared at him. Brian shrugged. "Maybe twenty if Gerry opens his mouth and distracts her."

Steve bumped his head back against the wall. "Thanks."

Brian sighed and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Look, I know it can be difficult to tell anyone, especially people you respect, but Sandra's not like that and you know it. She's known about my...difficulties from the start, and it's never made a difference."

Steve gritted his teeth. He understood that. In many ways this was the best this situation could have gone. Sandra and Gerry were both used to working with Brian, and would probably be just as fine with his own eccentricities. Brian himself had already shown that he understood, and was willing to help. They were good people.

But Steve had been burned a few hundred too many times to take anything on sight. And his work, and his friendships, were too important to risk.

"Steve," said Brian softly. "You need to work with us here. Sandra and Strickland won't stop you working just because you're ill, but if they think you're not taking care of yourself then they won't have any choice."

"They say that," Steve muttered. "What's to stop them thinkin' keeping someone like me on is only askin' fer trouble?"

Brian frowned at him. "Do you really think Sandra would do that?"

Steve shrugged. "She's not the highest person in this place." He folded his arms and looked away. "And I know I'm not the most reliable o'people."

"And I am?" Brian demanded. He moved round so that Steve had no choice but to look at him. "Look, you know Sandra. You know Gerry. I don't know why you don't want to tell them, but if you want to stay here then you're going to have to tell them something." He stepped forwards, until his face was only inches from Steve's. "So. D'you want this job, or not?"

Steve's nails were digging into his palms again. Part of him wanted nothing more than to run. Go back home, where his weakness wouldn't affect anyone but himself, and let UCOS get on with their work. Sandra didn't need the hassle, and the whole team would be better off without him causing trouble. It would be easier for all concerned if he just left. He'd done it before. He'd done it a lot of times.

Did it really do any good?

Steve drew in a deep breath, and tried to think. Yes, it would be easier to leave. Yes, staying could cause problems. But running away wasn't any better. At least here he had a team who understood, and were willing to work with him, if he would let them.

Maybe it was time to stop running.

Steve took another minute to centre himself, before looking back at Brian. "So, you've done this sorta thing before," he mumbled. "How do you tell your boss you're messed up in the head?"

Brian stared, then grinned at him. "Just try not to sound too mad. No one seems to appreciate that." The smile faded slightly. "And don't be ashamed of it. It's not your fault after all."

Steve just nodded. Brian clapped him on the shoulder and began to steer him back towards the entrance. "And I'm still booking you that appointment."

Steve didn't have the energy for more than another nod. Making decisions was bad enough; carrying them out was even more exhausting. His vision blurred for a second, and he shook his head fiercely. Maybe trying to get more sleep would have been a good idea.

"You all right?"

"I'm-"

"Fine. Right."

He said nothing else, but Steve could feel his eyes on him. Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. His head was starting to throb, and his former lethargy had been replaced by a whirlwind. Brian might be confident that Sandra would be fine, but Steve simply couldn't be sure, and the stress was doing nothing for his nerves. Why had he agreed to this?

Brian paused at the head of the corridor and looked at him. "You ready?"

"I could use a drink," Steve muttered. He rubbed a hand over his face and nodded. "Let's get this over with."

He moved off towards the corridor without waiting for Brian. It was that or run.

Sandra still looked like she was about to spit fire. Not that Steve had expected anything less. He held up his hands. "Er, can I talk t'you fer a minute, boss?"

Sandra's eyes narrowed, but she exchanged a look with Brian, and jerked her head towards the office. "This had better be good," she growled. She turned on her heel and stalked back to her desk. Steve drew in a deep breath and followed. He just had time to hear Gerry start demanding explanations from Brian before he shut the door and turned to face Sandra.

"Sandra, I-"

"What the bloody hell is the matter with you?"

Steve flinched. He couldn't help it. His hands curled into fists and he shoved them into his pockets to keep the shaking from showing. Sandra's eyes widened slightly at the tell. She paused, took a breath, and straightened up. "Steve," she continued more gently. "What's wrong?"

Steve swallowed. "Well, ah, there's something I need to tell you." He shifted his weight awkwardly. "Probably shouldda told you before you hired me actually."

Sandra closed her eyes for a moment. "If this is about you being too ashamed to tell me you've got depression, you're an idiot. Haven't you seen that we're fine with Brian?"

"It's not that," said Steve softly. He was too tired to be surprised that she'd worked part of it out. He tried to steady himself for the explanation. He hated saying the name. It felt too real. He opened his mouth, but Sandra held up a hand.

"No," she murmured. "No, not depression. At least, not all the time."

Steve stared at her. Sandra blinked and looked up. "This is the first cycle you've had since joining, isn't it?"

Relief left Steve dizzy. "Uh, yeah. Was in a, um, manic phase before." He winced slightly at the terminology, but Sandra just nodded slowly as she sat down.

"That makes sense." She waved him into the chair opposite. "You've got medication for that, I assume?"

Steve nodded warily. "Got some antidepressants too, but they're still tryin' t'find something that works."

Sandra grimaced. "I've heard that can be difficult." She fixed him with a sharp look. "Are you all right?"

Steve automatically started to reassure her, but checked himself. Sandra wasn't an idiot, and she needed, deserved, the truth. Instead, he shrugged. "It's manageable. Some days are just worse than others."

"I don't like the sound of that," said Sandra with a frown. "Are you getting your tablets reviewed?"

Steve scowled. "Brian's booking me an appointment now."

"Good." She was silent for a minute. Steve felt a rush of anxiety, and had to fight to keep his breathing even. This was the part where she said he couldn't work with them any more.

Eventually Sandra stirred and looked at him. "I wish you'd told us sooner," she said.

Steve looked down. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Wasn't sure how much it would change." He looked back in time to see Sandra roll her eyes.

"If you were still a police officer, probably quite a lot. But you're not a police officer."

Steve blinked. Was she seriously saying... Sandra rummaged among the papers on her desk for a minute then gave up with a muttered curse. "You'll need to fill in a medical form so we know what you're taking, but otherwise you're fine."

Steve stared at her. This couldn't be happening. "I can stay?"

Sandra nodded. "If you want to." She raised an enquiring eyebrow, and Steve was quick to nod.

"Work helps," he explained.

"Well, that's settled then," she said briskly. "Make sure you tell us if anything changes."

For a minute Steve could only sit there. There had to be more to it than that.

"Steve?"

"Is that it?" His throat was bone dry, and the words came out in a croak. Sandra raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair.

"Did you want me to tell you that I don't want a repeat of the last couple of days? I thought you were smart enough to figure that out for yourself."

Steve nodded automatically. "But you're not mad I didn't tell you?"

Sandra looked at him for a minute, then sighed. "I should be. But I can understand why you wouldn't want to tell anyone." Her expression turned distant. "It's not easy to admit it when the struggle's just in your own head."

Steve frowned. She didn't sound like she was talking about Brian. Sandra abruptly shook herself and looked back at him. "Just let me know if anything changes in the future, all right?"

It was a clear dismissal, but Steve still couldn't help but hesitate. "You shouldn't have to put up with my crap."

Sandra just looked at him. "Steve, you're a good detective. If we cared about anything else we'd have kicked Brian out years ago, if we'd ever let him join in the first place." She picked up a pen and pulled a file towards her. "Now go and show me I'm right."

Slowly, Steve got to his feet. He knew he should be over the moon, but his head was spinning so much that all he could feel was numb. It was a trick, it has to be, and Steve knew that that was a ridiculous thing to think, but it was hard to break six decades of paranoia. Nothing was going as he expected, and all he wanted to do was go home and try and work out what the hell had happened, but he suppressed the impulse. They still had a killer to find.

First though, there was one more person who deserved the truth.

Brian was back at his own desk by the time Steve left the office. Steve shot him as much of a smile as he could manage, and turned to the other occupied desk.

"You all right there, Gerry?"

Gerry pulled off his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "I was about to ask you the same question."

Steve took a deep breath. No time like the present. "Yeah, well, about that." He heard Brian stop typing, but kept his eyes on Gerry's face. "I know I've been actin' a bit weird lately. Thing is, I've got this, well..." Damn, he hated saying the name.

"Go on, mate," said Gerry. His voice was surprisingly gentle. Steve took another breath.

"It's this mental health thing. Mood disorder. Had it fer years, but sometimes it's worse than usual."

Gerry nodded. "Like the last few days, right?"

"Yeah."

"All right," said Gerry slowly. "So what's it called, this mood disorder?"

Steve closed his eyes for a moment. "Bipolar disorder." He just about kept back his flinch. It was a stupid reaction, but he couldn't help it. So many people heard the term and immediately assumed he was out of control. Like it was something he should be able to control, if only he weren't so pathetic. No one ever reacted well to just being told.

Sure enough, Gerry was frowning. "I've heard of that. That's the one, whatsisname, Stephen Fry's got?"

"Yeah," said Steve slowly. Was that a good thing or not? Gerry didn't look upset, but he also didn't look like he'd finished thinking about it. "You know what it is?"

"Course I do," said Gerry. "You feel either really happy or really sad all the time, right?"

Steve blinked. "Er, more or less."

Gerry nodded, and folded his arms. "Okay. And you've just hit a sad bit?"

"Depressive episode," Steve muttered. Terminology mattered sometimes. "Yeah." He sighed and shifted his weight. "It's different for everyone, but my moods tend to suddenly change every couple of months. This is the first down since I started here."

"All right," said Gerry slowly. "So before, all your energy was because you were in, what, a high phase?"

Steve nodded. Gerry thought for a moment. "But you didn't seem particularly bad," he said at last. "I mean, yeah, you were a pain at first, but nowhere near as bad as you've been the last couple of days. We all noticed something was wrong then."

Steve grimaced. "That's 'cause the medication for the mania actually works. Antidepressants are a bloody waste of time."

"You sound like Brian," Gerry remarked.

Steve shrugged. "Just the truth." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Gerry. I just didn' wanna make a big thing out of it, y'know?"

"Yeah, I get it, mate." He was silent for a moment. "You are okay though, right?"

"Yeah," said Steve softly. "Yeah, I am." Most of the time.

Gerry held his gaze for a long minute before shaking his head. "You can be a right prat, you know that?" His tone was gruff, but his eyes were smiling again, and Steve felt the last of the tension leave his body.

"So I've been told."

Gerry glanced at him. "Didya really expect us to make a big deal outta this?"

Steve shrugged again. "Some people do." He did his best to keep his tone casual, but Gerry's eyes still narrowed.

"Well, we won't," he said flatly. "And if anyone does they'll end up like Don Bevan."

Steve frowned at him. "Like what?"

Gerry shot him a surprisingly evil grin. "Flat on his back with a broken jaw."

For the first time in days, the crushing weight on Steve's chest seemed to lighten. "Oh, really? You're a useful man to have around, Gerry."

"Stop encouraging him, Steve," came Sandra's voice from the office.

Gerry spread his hands, his face a study in practiced innocence. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I'm supporting my team!"

"Not like that, you're not."

Steve just stood there, and let the now familiar arguments wash over him. He caught Brian's eye, and the older man looked so pleased with himself that Steve had to smile.

That in itself made him pause. He still felt sick with exhaustion, he was still half-convinced that everything was going to go terribly wrong, and he almost certainly had many more months of this before they found a concoction that worked properly, but he was smiling.

Maybe he had reason to. Or rather three reasons.

Yeah. Everything was going to be fine.

I don't have bipolar disorder, but a lot of this is based on my experiences with depression so I hope it comes across all right. Thank you for reading, any feedback would be very much appreciated.