Waking up and letting go, to the sound of the angels. Am I alive or just a ghost? Haunted by my sorrows. Hope is slipping through my hands, gravity is taking hold. ~ RED

So another chapter filled with Steve angst. Guess I'm really putting him through the wringer in this fic. Though I think it's about time we saw a more emotional side to Steve.

Hope you enjoy :)

Steve set a steaming mug of coffee down at his desk, hoping the caffeine would be enough to get him through the day. After spending all night at the Hospital, he was beyond exhausted. He felt as if he hadn't slept for a week, yet he welcomed the distraction of work. The events of the previous night were on a constant repeat, spiralling round his mind. No matter how hard he tried to force the thoughts out of his brain, they always returned with vengeance. He couldn't stand the idea of sitting at home worrying, all alone with his concern, he feared it would consume him. At least here, in the office, he could try and keep his brain occupied.

He impatiently drummed his fingers on the desk while he waited for his computer to load. He wanted to check CCTV footage of the area surrounding the Lorry Park and was waiting on a forensics report. He needed to find some sense in the events of the last 24 hours. There had to be some reason behind it all, there just had to be.

An email alert pinged. Occupational Health, again. Fuck. Steve immediately hit delete. He didn't have the strength to deal with that right now, there was too much else he had to focus on.

A faint voice broke through his thoughts.

"How is she sir?" Chloe asked quietly, hovering somewhat awkwardly by Steve's desk.

She looked as tired as he felt, still wearing yesterday's clothes. Like Steve, she probably hadn't made it home.

"Alive."

Alive, it was all Steve had the strength to answer. The image of Kate lying broken in that desolate Lorry Park, bleeding out and barely breathing was forever ingrained in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. So cold, so pale, barely breathing while he begged for her to hold on, to stay with him.

His prayers had been answered.

Somehow, she was still alive.

"Just."

Only just. It hurt to think of his best friend lying in a Hospital bed, clinging to the threads of life, machines breathing for her.

"I told you she was a strong wee lassie," came Ted's voice from behind him.

He strode across the office, looking a lot more put together than he had been when Steve had last seen him in the Hospital.

"She'll get through this son."

Steve looked up wearily at his Gaffer, who had come to stand next to Chloe. "I hope so," he replied.

There wasn't anything left to say. All he could do was hope, though he wasn't sure if that would be enough.

It was only as Steve met Chloe's wide eyes, aghast with more than exhaustion, did he realise. He hadn't changed since arriving at the hospital. His shirt and waistcoat were still stained with blood. Kate's blood. How hadn't he noticed?

Suddenly Steve felt like he was suffocating. "I…" he stumbled, jumping up from his chair.

"I think I have a change of clothes in my locker."

The walls of the office were closing in, he needed to get out, anywhere but here. His head spun with a dizzying fury. All he could see was the blood. Kate's blood. He had to get out of these clothes. Now. He pushed past a stunned Chloe and concerned Ted and staggered through the office, trying to quash the panic that was rising in his chest.

His whole body shook as he forced open his locker, hands trembling so much he was barely able to get the key in the lock.

"Are you alright in there son?"

Ted.

Steve didn't need his concern right now. He didn't need anyone's concern. He had spent the night in the Hospital, helplessly waiting while Kate fought for her life. He'd watched as she fought to stay conscious, strength fading. He'd held her hand as he begged her to hold on, he'd promised her that she would be okay. And then she died. He'd sat by her side as she lay broken in the ICU. He was still covered in his best friend's blood. Of course he wasn't fucking alright. Who would be?

Kate was his best friend, his rock. His one constant in a world of uncertainty and chaos. And he'd left her alone. Guilt was slowly eating away at him. If only he'd gotten there earlier. If only he'd been there for Kate when she needed him, supported her instead of leaving her alone at MIT. Alone with Jo fucking Davidson and that bastard kid Ryan.

He leant against the cool metal of the lockers and tried to regain control of his breathing. Deep breaths, in and out. There he remained, quivering, forcing back the sobs, until his heart rate had returned to a normal level.

Steve Arnott was tough, a Detective Inspector. In his many years on the force, he'd dealt with some of the worst of humanity and he had never batted an eye, he'd remained unfazed. Steve Arnott didn't cry. Except he did. In the past few hours he had cried enough tears to fill an ocean and still the tears fell. Hot and salty streams running down his cheeks.

Thankfully he found his gym bag, containing both his workout gear and a set of casual clothes. Steve settled for the casual clothes. Quickly changing into a jumper and jeans. His hands trembled as he balled up his shirt and waistcoat, stuffing them into the bottom of his gym bag.

Steve could feel all eyes on him as he walked back into the office, the pitying looks and worried expressions burnt into his back. He kept his head down and quickly made his way back to the relative safety of his desk. He didn't want pity. He just wanted Kate to be okay.

He turned back to his computer screen and focused his attention on collating the documents ready to interview Jo Davidson. He needed a distraction. Anything that would disrupt the images flashing through his mind.