HOSTAGE

Disclaimer: "Diagnosis Murder" and the other characters in it are owned by CBS and Viacom and are merely being borrowed here for recreational, non profit purposes.

Rating: G

Summary: Steve is taken hostage and Mark tries to save him before it's too late

Acknowledgments: This story is for Nonny. I never intended to write one, I just liked reading hers but she suggested, supported, encouraged, dealt with writer's anxiety and blocks and finally proofread and explained how to make my computer upload to this site when it didn't want to comply. Thanks Nonny, you are a wonderful friend!

Chapter 1

"Thanks for the ride, son." Mark tried to suppress a yawn as he relaxed deeper into the passenger seat of Steve's car, his whole body aching with exhaustion.

"No problem." The glance Steve threw his father was compounded of equal parts affection and concern. "Rough day, huh?" He had heard of the train wreck on the radio and guessed the Community General ER had been swamped. He hadn't seen his father since he left for work the previous morning, and now the morning rush hour was rolling round again. A 24 hour shift at his father's age was no joke. He knew Amanda and Jesse would do their best do prevent Mark from overdoing things but as Chief of Internal Medicine, his responsibilities were extensive.

"Mmmmm," Mark nodded his affirmation but was reluctant to add any more, wanting to leave the pandemonium of the job behind. He was silent for several minutes, and Steve thought he had fallen asleep, when he turned back to his son with a mischievous grin. "So, how was the hot date last night?"

Only someone who knew Steve as well as his father did would have noticed the slight grimace his innocent enquiry elicited, and he sank back into his seat, closing his eyes again. "Not so good, huh?"

Steve sighed, amused and, if he admitted it to himself, touched by his father's fascination with his love life. "She dumped me." Now it was his turn for reticence. Silence resumed in the car, but out of the corner of his eye Steve could see his father looking at him expectantly. He managed to preserve the silence for one minute more before that hopeful look forced him to continue. He had never been able to keep secrets from his father. "Apparently I'm too ..." He stopped, unable to finish, and was relieved when it was obvious his dad was going to let him off the hook. He tried to conceal the hurt under a flippant tone, but knew his father wasn't fooled. He shrugged. "Don't worry Dad, she wasn't the right one; you'll get those grandchildren yet".

The car stopped at a red light, and Mark yawned again, rubbing his forehead. "Go to sleep, Dad. The traffic's awful. I'll wake you up when we get home."

Mark complied, resting his head back on the car seat, but as he was drifting off, he was rudely awakened by an urgent voice on the radio.

"Shots fired on 5th and Elm. Officer down. All units in the vicinity please respond."

A jolt of adrenaline banished all thought of sleep, and Mark turned to his son "That's only two blocks away!"

Steve was only too aware of the location. Torn between duty and protectiveness towards his father, he hesitated, hand on the radio, inwardly cursing the timing that placed him so near a potentially dangerous situation with his father in the car. He knew from bitter experience that his father's safety was the most important consideration to him. He remembered telling an over-zealous officer endangering his father in his pursuit of a felon, "Yeah, I'm a cop, but I'm a son first." But this situation was not cut and dried, and he owed a fellow cop his assistance.

Mark read the emotions flickering over his son's face. "Go," he urged gently. "I'll stay in the car, scout's honour." He could tell when Steve reached his decision as the muscle in his jaw clenched and he muttered an invective that Mark pretended not to hear.

"And you were never a Scout," he added more loudly. Turning on his siren and lights, he hastily responded with his intent on the radio but before setting off he jumped out of the car and grabbed some equipment from the trunk. He threw a flack jacket at his father with the terse command of "Put that on," and only then took off.

The brakes screeched as Steve pulled to a halt behind another police car where a uniformed officer crouched, gun pointing towards a liquor store. "Get out and stay down behind the car," he ordered, burying his concern as a son beneath his professional police persona. He guided his dad out, hand on his shoulder keeping him low until he was satisfied he was as safe as could be given the situation then he moved forward to the other cop.

"Sloan, homicide," he introduced himself, briefly taking his eyes off the building to assess the other man. It was impossible to miss the relief on the younger cop's face as he tacitly relinquished charge of the situation to the more experienced officer.

"Matthews, 25th precinct. My partner just went in for some snacks. Next thing I knew there were shots fired, and when I tried to enter, they fired at me." The rookie's voice was tinged with shock, clearly this was his first trial of fire.

"Any idea how many perps? How many hostages?" Steve tried to draw out the information without causing any further self-castigation on the part of the rookie. Johnson shook his head.

"I think... I don't know... I think there was more than one gun fired and I saw a couple enter around the same time as Brad. Uh Brad Johnson, that's my partner" he added somewhat unnecessarily.

As Steve continued to debrief the young cop, moving back after a while to talk on the radio, Mark divided his attention between his son and the bustling activity around. More police cars pulled up and the tension mounted as the cops waited, guns leveled. Eventually, Steve worked his way back to his father and hustled him into the control van parked outside the immediate danger area.

"Dad, let me find someone to take you home. This could take a while. We've got at least two perps and a hostage situation. So far there's been no contact with those inside. SWAT and a negotiator are on their way but they're held up in traffic, and for now I'm in charge"

"You also have possibly injured hostages and need a doctor around," Mark argued. He smiled affably at his son, letting him know he had no intention of going anywhere. Despite the circumstances, Steve couldn't prevent an answering grin from lighting up his face. He would have preferred getting his father as far away as possible, but he conceded the point.

"I could probably use your help assessing the mental state of the captors. We need to make contact ASAP." He handed Mark a pair of earphones and sat down in the front of the van next to the driver. Taking a deep breath, he dialed the number he had been given for the store.

Chapter 2

The voice that answered on the other end sounded young, belligerent and not far from panic.

"You try anything and I'll kill them. I swear I will. I don't want to see a stinking cop or I'll blow these people away. You hear me?"

Steve kept his own voice firm but as unthreatening as possible as he tried to calm down the young felon and defuse the situation, but the phone was slammed down at the other end.

"He's dangerously unstable," offered Mark. "You're doing fine, the more you can keep him talking and allay his fears, the safer those people will be. All the fire power out here would panic anyone."

Steve reluctantly agreed and sent his second in command, Sergeant Mark Adams, to pull the men out of obvious range before picking up the phone again.

"We want the same thing you do," he reassured the prep. "We want everyone to get out of here and no one to be hurt."

"It's too late for that, I shot the cop, he's bleeding real bad."

"Then let us come to help him; I promise you no tricks, we'll just..."

"NO!" Steve was cut off by the vehement reply. "We let him go and you cops won't give a damn about anyone else. "

"That's not true, but you have to know that if he dies.." Steve paused and looked at his father. At his encouraging nod he continued "..you'll be facing capital charges; that means death by lethal injection is this state."

"Ok ok, let me think." The connection was again cut off.

"What do you think?" Steve questioned his father. "Maybe I shouldn't have pushed"

"It's a gamble," Mark agreed. "If Johnson does die, they'll have nothing to lose, but it's probably his only chance . I don't think that kid is a born killer, but if he's backed into a corner all bets are off."

It was only a few minutes before the phone rang. This time, however, the young man on the other end sounded more authoritative, less uncertain. "I'll let him go, but you are going to come in and take his place"

"That is not an option," Steve stated firmly.

"Well make it one. You've got five minutes to get your ass in here or I start shooting hostages. Five minutes, you get that? I'll do it!"

As the increasingly agitated voice cut off, the silence in the van seemed deafening. Steve could feel the tension rolling off his father, but couldn't force himself to look his way.

"It's against policy" said Adams bluntly. "Don't give them what they want"

"You got any better ideas, I'd love to hear them. We're working blind at the moment. We have no idea how many hostages there are or even how many perps for sure. We get Johnson out and he can hopefully give you that information. That kid is a powder keg waiting to go off. I'm not waiting for a bloodbath, and that's what we'll get if we go in with guns blaring. Go get the ambulance personnel standing by to evacuate Johnson."

As Adams left the van, Steve pulled a flack jacket on and started to remove his gun.

"Steve." It was just one quiet word uttered with almost no inflection, but it stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, he turned round to face his father.