Epilogue
Amanda left Mark sleeping, she had suggested and Bill Taylor had agreed with her that Mark needed a strong sedative to force him to relax after the trauma of the last few days. They had both known that Mark would be up and at his son's side as soon as he were able, and if he was not forced to rest then the consequences for his own health could be serious.
She did feel a little guilty, she hadn't been entirely truthful with her friend about Steve's condition, he was not yet out of danger entirely. True that none of his injuries individually was life threatening, but the combination of them had left him in critical condition. His weakened system was having a hard time fighting the infection even with the help of the powerful antibiotics that were being given intravenously.
The next few hours could be touch and go and both Amanda and Dr. Taylor knew Mark was not up to facing that, not again. So they had taken the decision to keep Mark asleep, by the time he awoke in the morning hopefully Steve would be stronger and truly out of danger and Mark would be in a better state to deal with everything.
She tried not to think about how Mark would react if Steve's condition did not improve and he had been denied the chance of being there. That simply was not going to happen. Her faith had paid off with Jesse and it was going to pay off with Steve too.
Having left Mark's room, she had one more visit that she needed to do that evening before going and trying to catch some sleep herself and that was to check in on detective Turner. Given the fact that the three men who were closest to her in the world were all patients themselves, she had surprised herself with how worried she was about the young detective.
As she walked down the corridor she realised that it was about time she started dealing with these feelings that she had been ignoring amidst the drama that had been going on in her life.
She remembered the feelings of jealousy that she had had when she had seen Nathan react to Agent Harris, what seemed like a lifetime had only been a few days ago. She remembered the pleasure she had felt on seeing Nathan rush into the ICU doctor's lounge, disheveled and obviously flustered, his attempt to regain his composure drawing her attention despite the serious reason for his visit. She had not been able to take her eyes off him for some time on that occasion.
Most of all, however, she remembered the slight kick, the tiny butterflies she'd felt the last few times when she had seen him. All ignored at the time because there was too much else going on to deal with it, and now.... well now she had the time.
She walked down the corridor to his room feeling slightly nervous.
Emma and Alison stood side by side on the corridor staring in through the glass at Steve's pale and sleeping form. They were not related and so had been told that they would have to wait until he was stronger before they could go in. The seriousness of his condition was reinforced to them both by the presence of all of the machines and monitors and the regular checks by the nurses who updated his chart every fifteen minutes.
They had been together since Collins and Captain Newman had left to back Mark up. They were together when Steve had been brought in, and by Mark's side when he had collapsed in the ER. They had sat patiently and waited for news as Steve went up to the OR to have his many wounds cleaned and stitched and his burns treated.
They had followed him up to ICU and had waited again for news from the doctors. Now that they were allowed to see for themselves that he was indeed still alive, albeit barely, they stood next to each other, saying their own silent prayers
In all that time they had said very little, there was little that they could say, each lost in their own thoughts.
It was Emma who spoke now, one hand raised and pressed against the glass as though that were closer to touching him. "He will be all right won't he?" She said quietly, in a tone that made it sound more like a statement than a question.
"He has to be," Alison replied without turning her gaze away from the bed.
"Mrs. Fielding," a voice said softly from behind. Both women turned to find Director Collins and Captain Newman along with a uniformed female police officer. It was Captain Newman who had spoken. "We're sorry to bother you," he continued. "I know the past few days has been very difficult for you but we do need to take a statement."
He carefully watched Emma's reaction. There had been tears brimming in her eyes when she had turned round but otherwise she remained impassive.
"I've brought a female police officer with us and I promise that both Director Collins and I will handle this personally." He hastily continued, "We know you have every reason not to trust the law to protect you at the moment but..."
"It's OK," Emma interrupted, "I'm tired of running." She glanced back at the bed behind her. before turning to face the law enforcement agents again. "And the cost is too high." She sighed and her shoulders dropped. "I'll go with you and tell you all I can."
"Thank you," Newman said and the small group began to move off.
Alison watched them go, knowing that she should feel strong animosity towards the woman who was a rival for Steve's affections. It was because of her that he was now fighting for his very life. All of the things that had happened to Steve in the last few days had happened because of her, the injuries, the pain, the fever, all because he had tried to help.
Yet as she watched her walk away shoulders slumped, utterly defeated by the cards life had dealt her, Alison could feel nothing but compassion.
Emma had lost her husband, drugged into paranoia and almost believing she had killed him. She had almost lost her own life and had been driven to the brink of a mental breakdown by the greed of another. As for what had happened to Steve, Alison knew that it had affected Emma every bit as much as it had affected her. She had seen in Emma's eyes how deeply she cared for Steve, knew that she felt deep guilt for his pain. In short she knew that Emma loved him too.
"Wait," Alison called after the retreating figures. They all stopped and turned to look at her. "There's something I have to tell Mrs. Fielding, Emma," She moved slightly closer. "If we could just have a moment in private."
Collins and Newman glanced at each other slightly bemused, Newman's eyes questioning 'what do you think' without him actually voicing the words. Collins shrugged.
"OK," Newman said, "we'll wait for you by the elevators." And they walked off leaving Emma and Alison facing each other, Emma with an expression of curiosity on her face.
Alison took a deep breath, steeling herself, attempting to reaffirm her resolve to tell Emma what she was about to tell her. Deep down she knew it was the right thing to do but that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt.
"There was something I didn't tell you," She said quietly her voice shaking slightly, "something that I didn't tell anyone. There was..." she hesitated, this was so hard to do, too much emotion was involved. "There was a little more to the conversation that I overheard between Steve and agent Harris." She looked up into Emma's eyes, they were still questioning. "She asked..." another hesitation, "she asked Steve if he still loved you." Alison glanced down at the floor and took another deep breath before meeting Emma's gaze once more. "And he said yes." She finished almost as quietly as Steve had replied. "I thought... I thought you should know."
Alison continued to stare into Emma's eyes waiting for some sort of reaction, not sure of what to expect. It took several seconds for the words to sink in and then Alison saw there something that had been missing since she had met this woman earlier that day. She saw a new spark of life, a spark of hope.
As the words penetrated Emma realised just how hard it must have been for Alison to have told her that. If the positions had been reversed she wasn't sure if she would have done the same. She smiled at Alison with the warmest smile she could manage. "Thank you," she said softly, but her eyes expressed her gratitude better than words ever could. She turned and headed off towards the waiting group by the elevator, her demeanor better, stronger than it had been.
Alison watched until she had disappeared from sight then turned for one last look at Steve's peaceful form. Then she headed for the nurses' station. She hastily wrote a note and addressed it to Dr. Bentley leaving it at the desk she headed out of the hospital and home. Home, where she could finally unleash those tears that she had been holding in, where she could face the emotions and revelations of the day
Nathan appeared to be sleeping when Amanda walked in, not wanting to disturb him she made to turn and leave when he spoke. "Amanda?"
She turned back to find that he had opened his eyes and was smiling at her.
"I thought you were asleep," she said by way of explanation for her almost hasty departure. She moved over to the bed.
"No," he replied, "just resting my eyes against the light, it helps keep the headache down to a dull thumping." He smiled again, "And I was trying to make sense of what happened," he continued. "I've just had Captain Newman here. He filled me in on the events after I was hit." His expression darkened. "Boy I didn't see that one coming. Some detective huh?"
"Hey don't blame yourself." She caught the now familiar self recrimination in his tone. He was the only person she knew who was even harder on himself than Steve was. He seemed to believe that anything less that perfection, certainly when it came to his work, just wasn't good enough. "She had us all fooled." Amanda continued reassuringly. "I seem to remember it was you who pointed out her excellent acting abilities."
"Guess she won't be winning any Oscars now."
"No, thank goodness," Amanda said her own expression becoming more serious, "and I never thought that I would say this about anyone but I'm glad that she's dead, after what she did to Steve...."
"How is he?" Nathan asked concerned.
"Holding his own," Amanda looked wistful, that was about the best she could say at the moment.
"And Jesse?"
"Annoying," Amanda said her smile returning. "The only positive thing about cyanide poisoning is that it kills by paralysing the respiratory system, stopping you breathing, but if you survive then it has no long term effects. It seems that we got to Jesse in time, the oxygen to his brain wasn't cut off long enough to cause any permanent damage. Since he woke up he's done nothing but complain about the fact that he has to remain in bed. Which considering he almost died twice in the last three days.."
"Sounds about like Jesse," Nathan smiled back. "Who says doctors don't make good patients?"
Amanda had taken a seat next to the bed and Nathan couldn't help noticing how tired she looked.
"So all of this must have been pretty hard on you," he said placing a reassuring hand on her arm.
Amanda felt a slight tingle as she reacted to his touch and wondered if he felt it too. She looked up into his eyes and there was something there. She knew that he did.
She swallowed before replying to his question. "Yes, it's been a rough few days."
Despite his pounding headache Nathan couldn't help but notice the twinge of excitement he had experienced when he touched Amanda's arm. What started out as a friendly gesture suddenly meant more and he could see in her eyes, could sense, that she felt it too.
Like Amanda he had known that there was something, a spark between them, for a while now. Each time they met he took pleasure in her company no matter how grisly the case they were discussing, but up until now he had been loath to act on it in case he was imagining things.
"When this is all over.." he began before he had chance to think about it and use logic to change his mind. "That is when Steve's out of danger, maybe I.... I mean....maybe we..." This was not going well maybe he should have thought more about it.
"I'd love to." Amanda replied, amused by Nathan's discomfort, she guessed that this was not something he did very often.
"Pardon?" Nathan asked somewhat bewildered.
"You want to know if, when things have settled down a bit, I'll have dinner with you and the answer is yes," Amanda smiled at his 'how did you know that?' expression. "You're not the only one around here who does detective work you know?"
He favoured her with his brightest grin. "I guess not," he said and rested his head back on the pillows.
When Mark finally awoke the sun was already high in the sky. He looked around trying to make sense of his surroundings. Remembering where he was and why he was there he sat up in bed and pressed the button that would summon a nurse. The call was answered quickly and Mark was greeted by a friendly face. Nurse Jones had worked at the hospital for over ten years.
Mark was determined to get dressed and go straight to see Steve but was persuaded to wait whilst Dr. Taylor was summoned so that he could give him the all clear. The clinching argument had been that it would look very bad if the chief of Internal Medicine at the hospital were to walk roughshod over hospital procedures and Nurse Jones left him in no doubt that she would make sure that everybody knew.
Mark sighed and acquiesced, knowing that the nurse was doing her job and looking out for him, he sat and waited as patiently as he could manage for Dr. Taylor to arrive and check him over, before he allowed that to happen, however, he secured an update on Steve's condition.
Steve was out of danger. The infection and accompanying fever was down and vital signs were strong and steady. He would remain in ICU for the time being because of the extent of his injuries and he would be kept heavily sedated for at least the next couple of days to spare him some of the pain.
Mark did not need to have it pointed out that Steve's injuries were all amongst the most painful that a person could sustain. Electrical burns being at the top of that list closely followed by an infected gunshot wound, two broken ribs and long cuts to the skin and muscle tissue that had sliced their way through a multitude of pain receptors. Allowing him to wake up before some of those had a chance to heal would be nothing short of cruel.
There was however a limit to how long they could use sedation as a method of pain control. If the injured muscles were left too long without movement then the pain of getting them to move again would equal any they produced when damaged. It was a fine line that they were going to have to tread and, however they did it, they could not spare Steve from what was going to be a long and painful recovery.
Having completed his checks Dr. Bill Taylor looked at his old friend. "Here's the deal," he began. "You spend the day with Steve up in his room if you want but you come back down here and stay here tonight. I want to keep a check on you."
Mark was too astute for that, he knew why his old friend didn't want him going home. "Amanda told you about the Beach House didn't she?"
Bill smiled. "Yes and you are in no state to go home and deal with that," he replied, "but even if your home had been fine I think I probably would have kept you in anyway. Don't forget you collapsed yesterday and you need to rest."
"Is that why you gave me the sedative?" Mark asked, he could still feel the remains of it clinging in his system, making him drowsy despite all the sleep. He correctly named what he must have been given and the dose.
"Anyone else and I would have said that they had checked out their chart," Bill laughed.
"OK," Mark said, not wanting to waste any more time, he wanted to go up and see Steve for himself. "I'll stay here, but from now on no drugs without letting me know first."
Having secured agreement with Dr. Taylor, Mark headed up to ICU. He couldn't get the image of the last time he had seen Steve, lying battered and bleeding on the cold concrete floor out of his head. Nor could he block the memory of the terrible odour, a mixture of blood and burnt flesh, as it appeared to assault his senses once more.
The sight of Steve in the ICU, whilst holding it's own terrors was nothing compared to that. He moved into the room quickly and looked down, the cuts and burns were all covered in clean dressings and there was the steady reassuring beep of the heart monitor affirming that Steve was still alive. Mark could not take hold of his son's hand as he wanted, they were both heavily bandaged, instead he gently brushed the hair off Steve's forehead, savouring the contact before sitting in the chair and watching the gentle rise and fall of Steve's chest.
The position was all too familiar, once again he had come too close to losing his beloved son and if that happened, he would not only lose a precious child, something no parent should have to bear, but an integral part of his life. He said a prayer and thanked God that he had once more been spared that grief.
Mark stayed in the hospital ostensibly as a patient for the next two days. Dr. Taylor had been right he needed to be stronger to deal with the wreckage at the beach house and being in the hospital gave him the opportunity to remain close to Steve and to get some much needed rest. Although the amount of rest he actually achieved became questionable once Jesse managed to get himself up and around.
If anyone had been afraid that Jesse would suffer after effects, melancholy or depression from the trauma of his two close brushes with death, then they were very much mistaken. If anything, the experience seemed to have increased his enthusiastic zest for life, which given his already bubbly personality, made him difficult to keep up with.
Jesse's arm and hand were responding positively to his treatment and all of his fears seemed to be forgotten, despite, or maybe because of his second close call. Maybe it had helped him to realise that it was just good to be alive.
When Mark was not sitting in vigil at Steve's bedside, and sometimes when he was, he spent time with the young doctor, needing somehow to make up for not being there when he had been gravely ill. They spent the time talking and reminiscing, a lot about Steve but some of it just about each other. Jesse appreciated it, knowing that he had people who genuinely cared for him like Mark and Amanda and Steve was part of the reason why he now felt that life was so good.
The decision was taken on the second day, the third since Steve had been admitted, to reduce the level of sedation and see how Steve handled it.
When Steve finally woke both his father and Jesse were sitting in the room. Steve had had brief interludes of consciousness between seeing his father looking down at him in the factory and waking up now. He recalled different images, snatches of conversation, the loud sound from the choppers rotor blades, bright lights as he was rushed into the ER, smiling concerned faces looking down at him. Somehow these mixed in with other random memories; standing in the rain holding out his hand too afraid to touch Emma in case she were an illusion, watching Jesse try to drag himself to his feet as blood poured from his arm, looking in the mirror at his own pale, bruised and battered image, Nathan falling to the floor, Stephanie plunging a knife into his arm, the rifle pointed at his father's head.
In his mind the images swirled and blended into one, a nightmare of defeat and rescue, of hope and despair. He saw the rifle pointing down at his father heard the shot as it reverberated around the room and his eyes flew open "No," he cried out in an anguished tone.
Mark was instantly at his side, "It's OK son," he said reassuringly. "It's all over and everyone is safe."
Steve's eyes focused on his father, "Dad?" he said questioningly
"Yes," Mark smiled as his son recognised him and with that recognition the fear dissipated from Steve's face as he smiled back.
"And don't forget me," said Jesse, his characteristic grin plastered over his face.
Steve turned to look at his young friend a huge surge of relief temporarily robbed him of any further response. Stephanie had told him that she had killed Jesse and he had believed her. His lack of response made both his father and his friend deepen their concern as Steve stared blankly at Jesse.
"Steve are you all right?" Mark asked.
Steve forced himself to respond before he caused any further worry. He looked into Jesse's eyes his own expression turning to pure pleasure. "She told me you were dead... that she had killed you." Steve said by way of explanation.
"She tried," Jesse replied, his grin widening at his friends' reaction, "but I, like you, am not that easy to get rid of."
"Thank goodness," Steve said meaningfully.
Despite the sincerity of Steve's comment Jesse could not help giving a light hearted reply, "I'll remind you you said that next time I'm over watching your pay per view." He said mischievously
Steve smiled at his friend, instead of taking the comment in the light hearted spirit that it was meant however he used it to reaffirm the relief he had that his friend was still alive. "You do that." He swallowed, emotion making his voice crack slightly, "trust me I'll never complain again."
As he looked into Jesse's bright eyes he suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of guilt, replacing the relief and pleasure in an instant. This was his best friend and he had almost got him killed not once but twice. He looked down at the bed his expression darkening.
Mark and Jesse exchanged worried glances unable to keep up with Steve's rapidly switching mood. "Steve?" Jesse asked his voice edged with concern again.
"I'm sorry Jess," Steve said quietly still unable to look at his friend.
"Sorry?" Jesse repeated confused.
"I shouldn't have got you involved," Steve said unable to look back up into Jesse's eyes. "You almost died twice. It's my fault, I'm really sorry."
Jesse understood. "Hey, don't even go there Steve," he said so sharply that Steve was shocked into looking at him. "The only thing I remember is you running out into a hail of bullets to drag me to safety, treating my wound and making sure that I got here still breathing, despite being hurt yourself, and that is the only thing I hold you responsible for." He locked Steve's gaze holding it for several seconds. "The only thing, you got it?"
Jesse's uncharacteristic sincerity forced Steve to take notice. Not that Jess wasn't the sincere and caring sort. It was just that he normally chose to hide his feelings behind humour and light banter. It reinforced, on those occasions when he did let it show, the importance to him of what he was saying. Steve was reminded once again of why he liked Jesse so much despite their differences. "I got it," he replied allowing his smile to return.
It was at that point that doctor Taylor arrived to check on Steve's condition. Mark had paged him the instant Steve had shown signs of returning to consciousness.
The interruption lasted twenty minutes before Mark and Jesse were allowed to return. Dr. Taylor shook his head, rarely did he have his patients visiting each other, but he felt that the prognosis for all three of them would be improved by their mutual support, so he allowed it on the understanding that they all got sufficient rest.
Mark and Jesse spent most of the rest of the day with Steve, talking to him when he wasn't sleeping. He was still very drowsy and drifted off every so often. They filled him in on all that had happened, how they had managed to find him and how agent Harris had, thanks to him, finally met her end.
Amanda had done the autopsy on her. She had died instantly although it wasn't clear which of the four bullets that had hit her were responsible for her death. Three had hit her in the chest, left side and one in the neck. Collins, Newman and the two police marksmen had all been able to get a clear shot when she broke cover to take aim first at Steve and then at Mark and they had all taken it, each of them finding their mark. Before that she had been too well hidden and, if it had not been for Steve's distraction, they were all doubtful that they would have been able to do anything before she had shot Mark.
At about five thirty there was a knock at the door to Steve's room. Mark was there alone with Steve as Jesse had had to return to his own room for his treatment to continue.
The two men who entered were both in their early forties and, just from their demeanor Mark could tell they were police before they spoke.
They took out their badges, "Detective Cohen and Detective Nelson, Internal affairs," Cohen said indicating his partner. "We need to speak to lieutenant Sloan, it shouldn't take long."
"Dr. Mark Sloan, Lieutenant Sloan's father," Mark returned the introduction before continuing defensively "Couldn't this wait gentlemen, my son is recovering from some serious injuries."
"I appreciate that Dr. Sloan," Cohen replied politely, "but the sooner we can file our report the sooner this will all be cleared up for everyone concerned."
Mark was about to protest again but Steve spoke from behind him. "Dad, it's all right," he said, his voice weak but even, "I need to do this."
Steve had known from the moment that he had taken the law into his own hands, that this time would come. As an officer of that law, he would not easily be forgiven for the way he had disappeared and flouted procedure. At best he might get off with a formal reprimand and a fixed period of suspension. At worst he would lose his badge.
Since returning to consciousness he had not really had time to consider those outcomes and was quite glad of that fact. One thing he did know, putting off this interview would simply delay the inevitable and if he was going to lose the job that he loved he would rather get it over with quickly than drag the whole process out.
Mark turned to look at his son, his expression asking 'are you sure you want to do this.' Steve held his gaze steady and nodded slightly. "OK," Mark said, "but I'm staying."
Neither of the IA officers seemed to have a problem with this. In fact Steve was surprised at how genial the two men were. IA officers were usually more hostile when dealing with people they knew had broken the rules.
If he was surprised by their attitude he was totally taken aback by their first question. "We've been told by Captain Newman that you have been working undercover for the NSA in a joint operation in order to help them smoke out a rogue agent. You were working under direct authority of one of their Field directors," he checked his notes, "Director Collins. Is that correct?" Cohen asked.
Steve quickly hid his shock, licking his lips to moisten them, he nodded. "Yes, that is correct," he replied as his mind rapidly analysed the situation. Newman and Collins had covered for him, had obviously reported that everything he had done had been under orders from them. He hadn't thought that his Captain had it in him, he owed him big time for this.
The rest of the interview was easy. The two officers had the whole story from both a director of the NSA and a police Captain and that was good enough for them. All they expected from Steve was that he confirmed their version of events and added the odd detail, so that they could file their report and go home.
When they left, they left a somewhat relieved and bemused Steve behind, not only would he not lose his job but it was possible that he would get a commendation for bravery above and beyond the call of duty. It was all too much for his pain wracked senses to comprehend.
Mark had been equally shocked and was equally relieved that his son would not get into trouble for his actions which ,after all, had been driven by the need to save someone's life. He was reminded of the many times that he had been out on a limb to do the same. Sometimes gaining justice and following the letter of the law did not go hand in hand.
Mark also thought he understood why Collins had protected Steve. He had spent only a little time with the man but knew that he took his responsibilities seriously. Stephanie had been under his command and so he felt responsible for all of the problems that she had caused. This was his way of putting some of that right.
The following day Mark returned home. Amanda drove him and walked with him as far as the door of the house. The yellow crime scene tape was still there reminding him before he even entered of the devastation beyond. He paused at the door, turning and gripping both of Amanda's hands in his. "Just give me a few minutes on my own," he said quietly.
She nodded and Mark took a deep breath and entered the house. He wondered in through the entrance hall and looked around at the debris but that was not what he saw. Instead he saw the room perfectly decorated. His children rushing by, barely stopping to acknowledge he was there in their youthful enthusiasm.
He wondered slowly from room to room in his mind's eye the furniture miraculously repaired itself, the books returned to their shelves and in each one there were people, his wife, his children, his friends, different people at different times, laughing and smiling, talking, playing, even singing and dancing. He saw them once again and heard them. Saw only his home in all it's glory, in all it's beauty, as his own haven from the world.
When Amanda finally came in she found him standing on the deck staring out at the ocean. She walked out to stand beside him and put her hand on his arm.
"You know it's true what I said once." He spoke softly without taking his eyes off the crashing waves. "It's not the things that you have or even the space that you live in that makes a place home. It's all in here," he pointed at his heart, "and up here," he pointed to his head. "That's what really matters." He carried on staring out at the ocean for a few minutes allowing the mood to linger before he turned back to Amanda. "Although I'm guessing that people won't want to try to sit on ripped cushions and memories." He smiled. "So I think I'd better start tidying up."
"I'm here to help," Amanda volunteered amazed by her old friend's resilience. They made their way back inside just as the doorbell rang. "Ah, that'll be the volunteers," she stated.
"Volunteers?" Mark asked as he followed her back to the hallway.
Amanda did not answer straight away she simply opened the door to the large group of people who stood outside. As they started to come in she explained. "This is the clean up crew, all volunteers from the hospital who wanted to help when they heard what happened. There would have been more but a lot of them are on shift." She looked at Mark taking a big pile of catalogues from one of the people who Mark recognised as an ER nurse. "Your job for today is to supervise and set about ordering replacements for the things that can't be repaired."
Mark just stood for a few moments with his mouth open. He recognised all of the people, knew them by name, they covered a complete spectrum of the workforce from the hospital; cleaners, porters, nurses, doctors even someone from the catering staff. All of them dressed for work some of them carrying cleaning materials, others carrying tools for repair work.
Mark was at a loss for words unable to believe that so many people would be prepared to give up their time to help him, so self-effacing that he failed to realise that he had helped out each and every one of the people in front of him over the years with some small or large act of kindness.
Jesse brought up the rear of the group his arm still heavily bandaged and in a sling. "Don't just stand there," he said grinning. "Get supervising."
Steve grew stronger every day, his general high level of fitness helping his body to recover from the multitude of injuries. Visits from his father and friends helped and Steve's progress was good but he was now left with a major dilemma and it was one he would have to face alone.
Mark caught him just sitting staring out of the window on several occasions and knew instinctively what he was thinking about. He tried not to intrude on his son's private thoughts but made it clear that he was there if Steve needed to talk to him about anything.
In their own way Jesse and Amanda did the same. Amanda in particular was able to pick up on slight aspects of Steve's expression and behaviour that let her know where his thoughts lay. Even Jesse, not always the most tactful of friends especially when it came to Steve's love-life, could see the difficulties that Steve faced and avoided the glib jibes that under normal circumstances he knew Steve could cope with.
As for the two women in question they both visited for short periods at different times of the day.
The first time Emma had visited when Steve was awake she had told him of her gratitude for saving her life and had again tried to apologise for the pain she had caused him but Steve would not hear of it.
"I made you a promise a long time ago," he said quietly, "I just kept it that's all."
"Then at least let me reiterate what I said on that first night." She replied, "Thank you for being the only person I could ever trust"
Beyond that their conversations had avoided any real emotional content, deliberately on both sides. Emma had turned up each day and stayed for a few minutes checking on his condition and ensuring that he had everything he needed. She made it clear that she cared about him, but nothing more. There was time for that when he was stronger.
Alison had had to be persuaded to visit. On the night she had left the hospital she had left a note for Amanda who, on reading it the following morning, had called and insisted that she come in and talk about it.
'Dear Amanda,' it had read, 'I'm sorry about this but I think it would be easier on Steve if I don't visit. Please keep me updated on his condition and give him my love when he wakes up. I will check on him from time to time- Alison.'
After a long talk Amanda had managed to persuade Alison that she would regret it if she walked out of Steve's life now.
"You love him don't you?" Amanda had asked, astute as ever.
"Yes," Alison replied honestly, returning Amanda's gaze. "But that's not enough unless he loves me too."
"And you know for a fact that he doesn't?"
"Yes," Alison answered quickly then hesitated, "No, I thought maybe he did but then....."
Amanda noted the confusion, "Alison, whatever has happened over the last few days, you and Steve had something really good together going. Don't throw it all away until you're sure that it can't be saved." She paused, "I don't think any of us are in a state to make any decisions at the moment least of all Steve. Don't cut him off. Give him a little time. You owe him and yourself that."
Alison thought about it. Amanda was right, no matter how painful this may be she needed to play it out to the end. "OK," she said softly, "Let me know when he's up to having visitors," and with a slight melancholy smile she got up and left.
She had known that she had made the right decision when she visited Steve for the first time. His face lit up as she approached and he flashed her his best smile. His blue eyes sparkling as they had done when he'd picked her up for their first date.
It had occurred to Steve in that moment that if he had died then he would never have seen Alison's smile again and that would have been one of his biggest regrets. It also occurred to him that he would never have got a chance to tell her that he loved her and he did.
The whole visit and all of the subsequent visits were enjoyable for them both. Steve taking strength from her company and her caring for him, but as with Emma there was a slight undercurrent of avoidance on both sides as they skirted round any discussions of real emotion.
For Steve the dilemma he now faced was like some alien entity. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever considered that he could end up in such a position. He was strictly a one woman man, always had been. He would never have dreamed of looking at someone else whilst he was involved and yet he was now faced with two women, each of whom he loved and cared for, and he knew that they loved him.
He was faced with feelings of guilt for what he saw as his betrayal of Alison, leaving her side to help Emma, unable to prevent himself from responding to the strong feelings in him that she invoked. He did not know what to do, but he did know that he had to do something.
So each day, when there was no one else around, he sat lost in an emotional turmoil.
Steve stood in the hospital corridor and waited. His father would be by in about an hour to take him home but there was something he needed to do first. As he stood his mind drifted back to another time, another place, a scene he had relived a thousand times
He had paced nervously up and down the corridor, rehearsing over and over what he was going to say. His stomach was beyond tying itself in knots instead he just felt like he was going to be physically sick, the nerves were so strong. He had never felt like this about anything or anyone before. By the time Emma had appeared he had worked himself into a state, but simply one glance at her beauty as she approached, was enough to cause a sense of calm to settle over him.
He had known from the moment he had seen her that there was something special about her. For the first couple of weeks she had spent her time nursing him back to health, remaining professional, but he knew that she felt it too. As he grew stronger the spark between them had grown and she had asked to be reassigned, not wishing her job to be compromised.
Once she was no longer his nurse they had spent every spare moment she had together. She helped him fight his demons, deal with the grief and guilt that he had felt for the loss of his friend and, most importantly, she had given him a reason to go on living in his moments of deepest despair.
Now he stood, barely eight weeks after meeting her, watching her walk towards him and knowing that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
He smiled that smile that melted her heart and took off his uniform cap.
She smiled back at him but the smile did not reach her eyes. Steve dismissed it, he was going to have to go back tomorrow and finish his tour of duty, of course she was going to be sad, but he only had a few weeks to go and after that they had their future together.
"You look beautiful, " he said, stepping closer, "You always look beautiful," and he kissed her a deep passionate kiss, she melted into his embrace.
Then he stepped back from her, taking a deep breath for what he was about to do.
She placed her hand on his arm. "Steve wait..." she said quietly stopping his action. "There's something I need to tell you."
Steve looked at her suddenly frightened by what he saw, by the anguish in her tone. He knew that he was not going to like what was to come.
"I should have told you long before now," she continued hesitantly, "but the time never seemed right, at first it didn't seem important and then when it was it was too late."
Steve looked deep into her eyes. "What? Tell me , you're scaring me."
"Back in England," Emma replied, tears brimming in her eyes, "I'm already engaged, I have a fiancee."
Steve stepped back as though he'd been physically slapped. He looked at her, his face reflecting a mixture of hurt and betrayal and then he turned away. Not wanting her to see the stinging tears that were forming in his eyes.
They stood in silence for several minutes before Steve spoke, "Do you love him?" he almost whispered.
"Pardon?"
He turned back to face her "I said do you love him?"
Emma hesitated, "I.... care for him."
"That's not what I asked."
She thought for a moment. "No," she admitted, a tear rolled down her cheek.
Steve grasped at the spark of hope that this admission allowed. "But you do love me." he stated. It was not a question, he knew the answer. "Then break the engagement, marry me instead, come back home with me. I'll take care of you." the words poured out desperately. It was not the proposal he had intended.
"It's not that simple," She replied.
He moved back towards her. "Then make it that simple." He pulled the engagement ring from his pocket and opened the box offering it to her. "Marry me." he repeated.
She looked at the ring. "It's beautiful." There was a long pause. "but I can't take it, I'm sorry."
Steve gazed into her eyes, "But I love you."
"I know," she said softly, "but that's not enough. The change it's just too big a risk, I'm sorry." She folded her hand over his closing the box. "I'm truly sorry," and she turned and began to walk away the tears falling freely down her cheeks.
Steve couldn't begin to describe the pain he felt. It was as though someone had ripped out his heart. He could hardly bear to watch her walk away from him, walk out of his life. "Emma," he called out unwilling to let her go without letting her know that he would always love her.
Reluctantly she turned to face him one last time.
"I want you to know that if you ever need me, I will be there for you."
She closed her eyes and nodded, unable to find the strength to speak, she turned once more, praying that he would not call her back again as she did not think she had the strength to turn away from him for a third time.
Steve stood and watched her go, gripping the ring box tightly in his hand.
Even now Steve could hardly bear the emotions that the memory invoked. He lifted his hand to wipe away the tears in his eyes. There was a gentle cough behind him.
He turned to find Emma standing there. He had been so lost in his reminiscences that he hadn't heard her approach, had no idea how long she had been there.
"Beautiful as ever," Steve said smiling at her.
Emma smiled back, "You always did start every encounter with flattery," she said.
"It wasn't flattery, I always meant it," Steve replied
"And now?"
"I still mean it."
Emma stared at him. "Why am I here?" she asked. Steve had called and asked him to meet her on one of the corridors in a deserted part of the hospital.
"It seemed..... appropriate" Steve stated "We need to talk,".
Emma had known this was coming she just hadn't wanted it quite so soon. "I know," came the soft reply.
Steve took a deep breath. "I love you, I have always loved you and probably always will ..." he paused his eyes searching hers. "And I know that you love me."
Emma did not speak she just nodded, waiting to see where this was leading.
"But you told me once that that was not enough, I didn't understand at the time. I don't think I've understood for the last thirty years." He paused again, before adding softly "but I think I do now."
There were tears running down Emma's cheeks, a small part of her had hoped for a 'happily ever after' with Steve but the more realistic part had known that she had made her choice thirty years ago and there was no going back.
"The differences between us were too great, the adjustment too much. It was true then and I think it's true now." Steve had had plenty of time to analyse this, knew that what he was saying was true. So why did it still hurt so damn much. He fought back the tears, then he reached into his pocket, somewhat awkwardly with his bandaged hand and took out a well worn ring case. "I wanted you to have this," he said, opening it to reveal the still shiny ring within "I brought it for you and even though it never meant what I wanted it to, I've always thought of it as yours."
This time Emma took it and stared at it for a few moments before closing the case and gripping it tightly in her hand.
"I'll still always be there for you if you need me." Steve said, Emma nodded and smiled.
This time it was Steve who turned and walked away.
Later that evening Steve sat on his favourite spot on the beach staring out at the crashing waves, savouring the fact that he was still alive to enjoy the spectacle of the sun setting over the water.
He knew that he had company before she reached him, had known that Alison was coming out to see him and had asked his father to tell her where he was. Mark was surprised. He had always viewed the log on the beach at the edge of the dunes as Steve's private spot, where he went to sit and think when he wanted to be alone.
As Alison approached he indicated the space beside him. "Take a seat."
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, they just sat and watched the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon.
"You overheard me tell agent Harris that I still loved Emma didn't you?" Steve asked. It was a simple question not an accusation. Steve had had a long time to think this through and knew that to get a truthful answer he would have to be direct
Alison was slightly startled by this as an opening to the conversation but she answered nonetheless. "Yes."
Steve turned to look at her. "I'm sorry that must have hurt," he said gently, pausing briefly before continuing. "I've done a lot to hurt you over the past couple of weeks." He turned his gaze away, picking up a stick and drawing random patterns in the sand at his feet.
Alison watched him, sensing the guilt, "It's all right," she said.
"No," Steve's hand stopped moving, he looked up at the shoreline. "It's not all right, you deserve better than that."
She watched him again as he stared out at the white spray, still visible in the fading light.
"I was with someone else when I should have been with you." The guilt now edged his voice. "I have no right to expect you to forgive me for that." He paused and swallowed. "I don't know if I can forgive myself."
It took Alison a few moments to reply, she needed to word her answer carefully. "There's nothing to forgive. You did what you did to help someone you cared deeply about. I wouldn't expect anything less."
"But.."
"No," Alison interrupted. He turned to face her. "All of it is in the past now. I just need to know what is in the future. Will you see her again?"
"No," Steve answered truthfully, he had made his decision, Emma was a part of his past.
"And me?" she said softly. "Do you want to see me again?"
Steve smiled at her and stood up taking her hand. "Come on let's go for a walk."
Mark watched Steve walk back up the stairs on to the deck, his movements were still slow and stiff but the worst was over. He had been getting worried, it was Steve's first day at home and he didn't want him overdoing things. Jesse and Amanda were there they had all waited dinner for his return. A small celebration at having him home again.
Mark was surprised to see that he was alone. He had expected Alison to be with him. He looked closely at Steve's features to see if he could judge his mood.
Steve smiled at his father, somehow he had known that he would be watching and waiting for him, worrying about him as usual. "Hi dad," he said casually.
"Alison not with you?" Mark asked innocently unable to temper his curiosity.
"No, she headed home," Steve looked off down the beach before turning back. "but don't worry she'll be coming back."
Mark smiled, "Come on in and get yourself cleaned up, dinner's waiting."
Steve hung back a moment looking up into the stars of the night sky, feeling more content than he could ever remember, knowing that he could finally lay his past to rest and move on. Then he turned to join his family inside
THE END.
Author's note:- Okay finally finished. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think And once again :- thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone who has left/ leaves a review, every one is greatly appreciated.
Judith
Amanda left Mark sleeping, she had suggested and Bill Taylor had agreed with her that Mark needed a strong sedative to force him to relax after the trauma of the last few days. They had both known that Mark would be up and at his son's side as soon as he were able, and if he was not forced to rest then the consequences for his own health could be serious.
She did feel a little guilty, she hadn't been entirely truthful with her friend about Steve's condition, he was not yet out of danger entirely. True that none of his injuries individually was life threatening, but the combination of them had left him in critical condition. His weakened system was having a hard time fighting the infection even with the help of the powerful antibiotics that were being given intravenously.
The next few hours could be touch and go and both Amanda and Dr. Taylor knew Mark was not up to facing that, not again. So they had taken the decision to keep Mark asleep, by the time he awoke in the morning hopefully Steve would be stronger and truly out of danger and Mark would be in a better state to deal with everything.
She tried not to think about how Mark would react if Steve's condition did not improve and he had been denied the chance of being there. That simply was not going to happen. Her faith had paid off with Jesse and it was going to pay off with Steve too.
Having left Mark's room, she had one more visit that she needed to do that evening before going and trying to catch some sleep herself and that was to check in on detective Turner. Given the fact that the three men who were closest to her in the world were all patients themselves, she had surprised herself with how worried she was about the young detective.
As she walked down the corridor she realised that it was about time she started dealing with these feelings that she had been ignoring amidst the drama that had been going on in her life.
She remembered the feelings of jealousy that she had had when she had seen Nathan react to Agent Harris, what seemed like a lifetime had only been a few days ago. She remembered the pleasure she had felt on seeing Nathan rush into the ICU doctor's lounge, disheveled and obviously flustered, his attempt to regain his composure drawing her attention despite the serious reason for his visit. She had not been able to take her eyes off him for some time on that occasion.
Most of all, however, she remembered the slight kick, the tiny butterflies she'd felt the last few times when she had seen him. All ignored at the time because there was too much else going on to deal with it, and now.... well now she had the time.
She walked down the corridor to his room feeling slightly nervous.
Emma and Alison stood side by side on the corridor staring in through the glass at Steve's pale and sleeping form. They were not related and so had been told that they would have to wait until he was stronger before they could go in. The seriousness of his condition was reinforced to them both by the presence of all of the machines and monitors and the regular checks by the nurses who updated his chart every fifteen minutes.
They had been together since Collins and Captain Newman had left to back Mark up. They were together when Steve had been brought in, and by Mark's side when he had collapsed in the ER. They had sat patiently and waited for news as Steve went up to the OR to have his many wounds cleaned and stitched and his burns treated.
They had followed him up to ICU and had waited again for news from the doctors. Now that they were allowed to see for themselves that he was indeed still alive, albeit barely, they stood next to each other, saying their own silent prayers
In all that time they had said very little, there was little that they could say, each lost in their own thoughts.
It was Emma who spoke now, one hand raised and pressed against the glass as though that were closer to touching him. "He will be all right won't he?" She said quietly, in a tone that made it sound more like a statement than a question.
"He has to be," Alison replied without turning her gaze away from the bed.
"Mrs. Fielding," a voice said softly from behind. Both women turned to find Director Collins and Captain Newman along with a uniformed female police officer. It was Captain Newman who had spoken. "We're sorry to bother you," he continued. "I know the past few days has been very difficult for you but we do need to take a statement."
He carefully watched Emma's reaction. There had been tears brimming in her eyes when she had turned round but otherwise she remained impassive.
"I've brought a female police officer with us and I promise that both Director Collins and I will handle this personally." He hastily continued, "We know you have every reason not to trust the law to protect you at the moment but..."
"It's OK," Emma interrupted, "I'm tired of running." She glanced back at the bed behind her. before turning to face the law enforcement agents again. "And the cost is too high." She sighed and her shoulders dropped. "I'll go with you and tell you all I can."
"Thank you," Newman said and the small group began to move off.
Alison watched them go, knowing that she should feel strong animosity towards the woman who was a rival for Steve's affections. It was because of her that he was now fighting for his very life. All of the things that had happened to Steve in the last few days had happened because of her, the injuries, the pain, the fever, all because he had tried to help.
Yet as she watched her walk away shoulders slumped, utterly defeated by the cards life had dealt her, Alison could feel nothing but compassion.
Emma had lost her husband, drugged into paranoia and almost believing she had killed him. She had almost lost her own life and had been driven to the brink of a mental breakdown by the greed of another. As for what had happened to Steve, Alison knew that it had affected Emma every bit as much as it had affected her. She had seen in Emma's eyes how deeply she cared for Steve, knew that she felt deep guilt for his pain. In short she knew that Emma loved him too.
"Wait," Alison called after the retreating figures. They all stopped and turned to look at her. "There's something I have to tell Mrs. Fielding, Emma," She moved slightly closer. "If we could just have a moment in private."
Collins and Newman glanced at each other slightly bemused, Newman's eyes questioning 'what do you think' without him actually voicing the words. Collins shrugged.
"OK," Newman said, "we'll wait for you by the elevators." And they walked off leaving Emma and Alison facing each other, Emma with an expression of curiosity on her face.
Alison took a deep breath, steeling herself, attempting to reaffirm her resolve to tell Emma what she was about to tell her. Deep down she knew it was the right thing to do but that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt.
"There was something I didn't tell you," She said quietly her voice shaking slightly, "something that I didn't tell anyone. There was..." she hesitated, this was so hard to do, too much emotion was involved. "There was a little more to the conversation that I overheard between Steve and agent Harris." She looked up into Emma's eyes, they were still questioning. "She asked..." another hesitation, "she asked Steve if he still loved you." Alison glanced down at the floor and took another deep breath before meeting Emma's gaze once more. "And he said yes." She finished almost as quietly as Steve had replied. "I thought... I thought you should know."
Alison continued to stare into Emma's eyes waiting for some sort of reaction, not sure of what to expect. It took several seconds for the words to sink in and then Alison saw there something that had been missing since she had met this woman earlier that day. She saw a new spark of life, a spark of hope.
As the words penetrated Emma realised just how hard it must have been for Alison to have told her that. If the positions had been reversed she wasn't sure if she would have done the same. She smiled at Alison with the warmest smile she could manage. "Thank you," she said softly, but her eyes expressed her gratitude better than words ever could. She turned and headed off towards the waiting group by the elevator, her demeanor better, stronger than it had been.
Alison watched until she had disappeared from sight then turned for one last look at Steve's peaceful form. Then she headed for the nurses' station. She hastily wrote a note and addressed it to Dr. Bentley leaving it at the desk she headed out of the hospital and home. Home, where she could finally unleash those tears that she had been holding in, where she could face the emotions and revelations of the day
Nathan appeared to be sleeping when Amanda walked in, not wanting to disturb him she made to turn and leave when he spoke. "Amanda?"
She turned back to find that he had opened his eyes and was smiling at her.
"I thought you were asleep," she said by way of explanation for her almost hasty departure. She moved over to the bed.
"No," he replied, "just resting my eyes against the light, it helps keep the headache down to a dull thumping." He smiled again, "And I was trying to make sense of what happened," he continued. "I've just had Captain Newman here. He filled me in on the events after I was hit." His expression darkened. "Boy I didn't see that one coming. Some detective huh?"
"Hey don't blame yourself." She caught the now familiar self recrimination in his tone. He was the only person she knew who was even harder on himself than Steve was. He seemed to believe that anything less that perfection, certainly when it came to his work, just wasn't good enough. "She had us all fooled." Amanda continued reassuringly. "I seem to remember it was you who pointed out her excellent acting abilities."
"Guess she won't be winning any Oscars now."
"No, thank goodness," Amanda said her own expression becoming more serious, "and I never thought that I would say this about anyone but I'm glad that she's dead, after what she did to Steve...."
"How is he?" Nathan asked concerned.
"Holding his own," Amanda looked wistful, that was about the best she could say at the moment.
"And Jesse?"
"Annoying," Amanda said her smile returning. "The only positive thing about cyanide poisoning is that it kills by paralysing the respiratory system, stopping you breathing, but if you survive then it has no long term effects. It seems that we got to Jesse in time, the oxygen to his brain wasn't cut off long enough to cause any permanent damage. Since he woke up he's done nothing but complain about the fact that he has to remain in bed. Which considering he almost died twice in the last three days.."
"Sounds about like Jesse," Nathan smiled back. "Who says doctors don't make good patients?"
Amanda had taken a seat next to the bed and Nathan couldn't help noticing how tired she looked.
"So all of this must have been pretty hard on you," he said placing a reassuring hand on her arm.
Amanda felt a slight tingle as she reacted to his touch and wondered if he felt it too. She looked up into his eyes and there was something there. She knew that he did.
She swallowed before replying to his question. "Yes, it's been a rough few days."
Despite his pounding headache Nathan couldn't help but notice the twinge of excitement he had experienced when he touched Amanda's arm. What started out as a friendly gesture suddenly meant more and he could see in her eyes, could sense, that she felt it too.
Like Amanda he had known that there was something, a spark between them, for a while now. Each time they met he took pleasure in her company no matter how grisly the case they were discussing, but up until now he had been loath to act on it in case he was imagining things.
"When this is all over.." he began before he had chance to think about it and use logic to change his mind. "That is when Steve's out of danger, maybe I.... I mean....maybe we..." This was not going well maybe he should have thought more about it.
"I'd love to." Amanda replied, amused by Nathan's discomfort, she guessed that this was not something he did very often.
"Pardon?" Nathan asked somewhat bewildered.
"You want to know if, when things have settled down a bit, I'll have dinner with you and the answer is yes," Amanda smiled at his 'how did you know that?' expression. "You're not the only one around here who does detective work you know?"
He favoured her with his brightest grin. "I guess not," he said and rested his head back on the pillows.
When Mark finally awoke the sun was already high in the sky. He looked around trying to make sense of his surroundings. Remembering where he was and why he was there he sat up in bed and pressed the button that would summon a nurse. The call was answered quickly and Mark was greeted by a friendly face. Nurse Jones had worked at the hospital for over ten years.
Mark was determined to get dressed and go straight to see Steve but was persuaded to wait whilst Dr. Taylor was summoned so that he could give him the all clear. The clinching argument had been that it would look very bad if the chief of Internal Medicine at the hospital were to walk roughshod over hospital procedures and Nurse Jones left him in no doubt that she would make sure that everybody knew.
Mark sighed and acquiesced, knowing that the nurse was doing her job and looking out for him, he sat and waited as patiently as he could manage for Dr. Taylor to arrive and check him over, before he allowed that to happen, however, he secured an update on Steve's condition.
Steve was out of danger. The infection and accompanying fever was down and vital signs were strong and steady. He would remain in ICU for the time being because of the extent of his injuries and he would be kept heavily sedated for at least the next couple of days to spare him some of the pain.
Mark did not need to have it pointed out that Steve's injuries were all amongst the most painful that a person could sustain. Electrical burns being at the top of that list closely followed by an infected gunshot wound, two broken ribs and long cuts to the skin and muscle tissue that had sliced their way through a multitude of pain receptors. Allowing him to wake up before some of those had a chance to heal would be nothing short of cruel.
There was however a limit to how long they could use sedation as a method of pain control. If the injured muscles were left too long without movement then the pain of getting them to move again would equal any they produced when damaged. It was a fine line that they were going to have to tread and, however they did it, they could not spare Steve from what was going to be a long and painful recovery.
Having completed his checks Dr. Bill Taylor looked at his old friend. "Here's the deal," he began. "You spend the day with Steve up in his room if you want but you come back down here and stay here tonight. I want to keep a check on you."
Mark was too astute for that, he knew why his old friend didn't want him going home. "Amanda told you about the Beach House didn't she?"
Bill smiled. "Yes and you are in no state to go home and deal with that," he replied, "but even if your home had been fine I think I probably would have kept you in anyway. Don't forget you collapsed yesterday and you need to rest."
"Is that why you gave me the sedative?" Mark asked, he could still feel the remains of it clinging in his system, making him drowsy despite all the sleep. He correctly named what he must have been given and the dose.
"Anyone else and I would have said that they had checked out their chart," Bill laughed.
"OK," Mark said, not wanting to waste any more time, he wanted to go up and see Steve for himself. "I'll stay here, but from now on no drugs without letting me know first."
Having secured agreement with Dr. Taylor, Mark headed up to ICU. He couldn't get the image of the last time he had seen Steve, lying battered and bleeding on the cold concrete floor out of his head. Nor could he block the memory of the terrible odour, a mixture of blood and burnt flesh, as it appeared to assault his senses once more.
The sight of Steve in the ICU, whilst holding it's own terrors was nothing compared to that. He moved into the room quickly and looked down, the cuts and burns were all covered in clean dressings and there was the steady reassuring beep of the heart monitor affirming that Steve was still alive. Mark could not take hold of his son's hand as he wanted, they were both heavily bandaged, instead he gently brushed the hair off Steve's forehead, savouring the contact before sitting in the chair and watching the gentle rise and fall of Steve's chest.
The position was all too familiar, once again he had come too close to losing his beloved son and if that happened, he would not only lose a precious child, something no parent should have to bear, but an integral part of his life. He said a prayer and thanked God that he had once more been spared that grief.
Mark stayed in the hospital ostensibly as a patient for the next two days. Dr. Taylor had been right he needed to be stronger to deal with the wreckage at the beach house and being in the hospital gave him the opportunity to remain close to Steve and to get some much needed rest. Although the amount of rest he actually achieved became questionable once Jesse managed to get himself up and around.
If anyone had been afraid that Jesse would suffer after effects, melancholy or depression from the trauma of his two close brushes with death, then they were very much mistaken. If anything, the experience seemed to have increased his enthusiastic zest for life, which given his already bubbly personality, made him difficult to keep up with.
Jesse's arm and hand were responding positively to his treatment and all of his fears seemed to be forgotten, despite, or maybe because of his second close call. Maybe it had helped him to realise that it was just good to be alive.
When Mark was not sitting in vigil at Steve's bedside, and sometimes when he was, he spent time with the young doctor, needing somehow to make up for not being there when he had been gravely ill. They spent the time talking and reminiscing, a lot about Steve but some of it just about each other. Jesse appreciated it, knowing that he had people who genuinely cared for him like Mark and Amanda and Steve was part of the reason why he now felt that life was so good.
The decision was taken on the second day, the third since Steve had been admitted, to reduce the level of sedation and see how Steve handled it.
When Steve finally woke both his father and Jesse were sitting in the room. Steve had had brief interludes of consciousness between seeing his father looking down at him in the factory and waking up now. He recalled different images, snatches of conversation, the loud sound from the choppers rotor blades, bright lights as he was rushed into the ER, smiling concerned faces looking down at him. Somehow these mixed in with other random memories; standing in the rain holding out his hand too afraid to touch Emma in case she were an illusion, watching Jesse try to drag himself to his feet as blood poured from his arm, looking in the mirror at his own pale, bruised and battered image, Nathan falling to the floor, Stephanie plunging a knife into his arm, the rifle pointed at his father's head.
In his mind the images swirled and blended into one, a nightmare of defeat and rescue, of hope and despair. He saw the rifle pointing down at his father heard the shot as it reverberated around the room and his eyes flew open "No," he cried out in an anguished tone.
Mark was instantly at his side, "It's OK son," he said reassuringly. "It's all over and everyone is safe."
Steve's eyes focused on his father, "Dad?" he said questioningly
"Yes," Mark smiled as his son recognised him and with that recognition the fear dissipated from Steve's face as he smiled back.
"And don't forget me," said Jesse, his characteristic grin plastered over his face.
Steve turned to look at his young friend a huge surge of relief temporarily robbed him of any further response. Stephanie had told him that she had killed Jesse and he had believed her. His lack of response made both his father and his friend deepen their concern as Steve stared blankly at Jesse.
"Steve are you all right?" Mark asked.
Steve forced himself to respond before he caused any further worry. He looked into Jesse's eyes his own expression turning to pure pleasure. "She told me you were dead... that she had killed you." Steve said by way of explanation.
"She tried," Jesse replied, his grin widening at his friends' reaction, "but I, like you, am not that easy to get rid of."
"Thank goodness," Steve said meaningfully.
Despite the sincerity of Steve's comment Jesse could not help giving a light hearted reply, "I'll remind you you said that next time I'm over watching your pay per view." He said mischievously
Steve smiled at his friend, instead of taking the comment in the light hearted spirit that it was meant however he used it to reaffirm the relief he had that his friend was still alive. "You do that." He swallowed, emotion making his voice crack slightly, "trust me I'll never complain again."
As he looked into Jesse's bright eyes he suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of guilt, replacing the relief and pleasure in an instant. This was his best friend and he had almost got him killed not once but twice. He looked down at the bed his expression darkening.
Mark and Jesse exchanged worried glances unable to keep up with Steve's rapidly switching mood. "Steve?" Jesse asked his voice edged with concern again.
"I'm sorry Jess," Steve said quietly still unable to look at his friend.
"Sorry?" Jesse repeated confused.
"I shouldn't have got you involved," Steve said unable to look back up into Jesse's eyes. "You almost died twice. It's my fault, I'm really sorry."
Jesse understood. "Hey, don't even go there Steve," he said so sharply that Steve was shocked into looking at him. "The only thing I remember is you running out into a hail of bullets to drag me to safety, treating my wound and making sure that I got here still breathing, despite being hurt yourself, and that is the only thing I hold you responsible for." He locked Steve's gaze holding it for several seconds. "The only thing, you got it?"
Jesse's uncharacteristic sincerity forced Steve to take notice. Not that Jess wasn't the sincere and caring sort. It was just that he normally chose to hide his feelings behind humour and light banter. It reinforced, on those occasions when he did let it show, the importance to him of what he was saying. Steve was reminded once again of why he liked Jesse so much despite their differences. "I got it," he replied allowing his smile to return.
It was at that point that doctor Taylor arrived to check on Steve's condition. Mark had paged him the instant Steve had shown signs of returning to consciousness.
The interruption lasted twenty minutes before Mark and Jesse were allowed to return. Dr. Taylor shook his head, rarely did he have his patients visiting each other, but he felt that the prognosis for all three of them would be improved by their mutual support, so he allowed it on the understanding that they all got sufficient rest.
Mark and Jesse spent most of the rest of the day with Steve, talking to him when he wasn't sleeping. He was still very drowsy and drifted off every so often. They filled him in on all that had happened, how they had managed to find him and how agent Harris had, thanks to him, finally met her end.
Amanda had done the autopsy on her. She had died instantly although it wasn't clear which of the four bullets that had hit her were responsible for her death. Three had hit her in the chest, left side and one in the neck. Collins, Newman and the two police marksmen had all been able to get a clear shot when she broke cover to take aim first at Steve and then at Mark and they had all taken it, each of them finding their mark. Before that she had been too well hidden and, if it had not been for Steve's distraction, they were all doubtful that they would have been able to do anything before she had shot Mark.
At about five thirty there was a knock at the door to Steve's room. Mark was there alone with Steve as Jesse had had to return to his own room for his treatment to continue.
The two men who entered were both in their early forties and, just from their demeanor Mark could tell they were police before they spoke.
They took out their badges, "Detective Cohen and Detective Nelson, Internal affairs," Cohen said indicating his partner. "We need to speak to lieutenant Sloan, it shouldn't take long."
"Dr. Mark Sloan, Lieutenant Sloan's father," Mark returned the introduction before continuing defensively "Couldn't this wait gentlemen, my son is recovering from some serious injuries."
"I appreciate that Dr. Sloan," Cohen replied politely, "but the sooner we can file our report the sooner this will all be cleared up for everyone concerned."
Mark was about to protest again but Steve spoke from behind him. "Dad, it's all right," he said, his voice weak but even, "I need to do this."
Steve had known from the moment that he had taken the law into his own hands, that this time would come. As an officer of that law, he would not easily be forgiven for the way he had disappeared and flouted procedure. At best he might get off with a formal reprimand and a fixed period of suspension. At worst he would lose his badge.
Since returning to consciousness he had not really had time to consider those outcomes and was quite glad of that fact. One thing he did know, putting off this interview would simply delay the inevitable and if he was going to lose the job that he loved he would rather get it over with quickly than drag the whole process out.
Mark turned to look at his son, his expression asking 'are you sure you want to do this.' Steve held his gaze steady and nodded slightly. "OK," Mark said, "but I'm staying."
Neither of the IA officers seemed to have a problem with this. In fact Steve was surprised at how genial the two men were. IA officers were usually more hostile when dealing with people they knew had broken the rules.
If he was surprised by their attitude he was totally taken aback by their first question. "We've been told by Captain Newman that you have been working undercover for the NSA in a joint operation in order to help them smoke out a rogue agent. You were working under direct authority of one of their Field directors," he checked his notes, "Director Collins. Is that correct?" Cohen asked.
Steve quickly hid his shock, licking his lips to moisten them, he nodded. "Yes, that is correct," he replied as his mind rapidly analysed the situation. Newman and Collins had covered for him, had obviously reported that everything he had done had been under orders from them. He hadn't thought that his Captain had it in him, he owed him big time for this.
The rest of the interview was easy. The two officers had the whole story from both a director of the NSA and a police Captain and that was good enough for them. All they expected from Steve was that he confirmed their version of events and added the odd detail, so that they could file their report and go home.
When they left, they left a somewhat relieved and bemused Steve behind, not only would he not lose his job but it was possible that he would get a commendation for bravery above and beyond the call of duty. It was all too much for his pain wracked senses to comprehend.
Mark had been equally shocked and was equally relieved that his son would not get into trouble for his actions which ,after all, had been driven by the need to save someone's life. He was reminded of the many times that he had been out on a limb to do the same. Sometimes gaining justice and following the letter of the law did not go hand in hand.
Mark also thought he understood why Collins had protected Steve. He had spent only a little time with the man but knew that he took his responsibilities seriously. Stephanie had been under his command and so he felt responsible for all of the problems that she had caused. This was his way of putting some of that right.
The following day Mark returned home. Amanda drove him and walked with him as far as the door of the house. The yellow crime scene tape was still there reminding him before he even entered of the devastation beyond. He paused at the door, turning and gripping both of Amanda's hands in his. "Just give me a few minutes on my own," he said quietly.
She nodded and Mark took a deep breath and entered the house. He wondered in through the entrance hall and looked around at the debris but that was not what he saw. Instead he saw the room perfectly decorated. His children rushing by, barely stopping to acknowledge he was there in their youthful enthusiasm.
He wondered slowly from room to room in his mind's eye the furniture miraculously repaired itself, the books returned to their shelves and in each one there were people, his wife, his children, his friends, different people at different times, laughing and smiling, talking, playing, even singing and dancing. He saw them once again and heard them. Saw only his home in all it's glory, in all it's beauty, as his own haven from the world.
When Amanda finally came in she found him standing on the deck staring out at the ocean. She walked out to stand beside him and put her hand on his arm.
"You know it's true what I said once." He spoke softly without taking his eyes off the crashing waves. "It's not the things that you have or even the space that you live in that makes a place home. It's all in here," he pointed at his heart, "and up here," he pointed to his head. "That's what really matters." He carried on staring out at the ocean for a few minutes allowing the mood to linger before he turned back to Amanda. "Although I'm guessing that people won't want to try to sit on ripped cushions and memories." He smiled. "So I think I'd better start tidying up."
"I'm here to help," Amanda volunteered amazed by her old friend's resilience. They made their way back inside just as the doorbell rang. "Ah, that'll be the volunteers," she stated.
"Volunteers?" Mark asked as he followed her back to the hallway.
Amanda did not answer straight away she simply opened the door to the large group of people who stood outside. As they started to come in she explained. "This is the clean up crew, all volunteers from the hospital who wanted to help when they heard what happened. There would have been more but a lot of them are on shift." She looked at Mark taking a big pile of catalogues from one of the people who Mark recognised as an ER nurse. "Your job for today is to supervise and set about ordering replacements for the things that can't be repaired."
Mark just stood for a few moments with his mouth open. He recognised all of the people, knew them by name, they covered a complete spectrum of the workforce from the hospital; cleaners, porters, nurses, doctors even someone from the catering staff. All of them dressed for work some of them carrying cleaning materials, others carrying tools for repair work.
Mark was at a loss for words unable to believe that so many people would be prepared to give up their time to help him, so self-effacing that he failed to realise that he had helped out each and every one of the people in front of him over the years with some small or large act of kindness.
Jesse brought up the rear of the group his arm still heavily bandaged and in a sling. "Don't just stand there," he said grinning. "Get supervising."
Steve grew stronger every day, his general high level of fitness helping his body to recover from the multitude of injuries. Visits from his father and friends helped and Steve's progress was good but he was now left with a major dilemma and it was one he would have to face alone.
Mark caught him just sitting staring out of the window on several occasions and knew instinctively what he was thinking about. He tried not to intrude on his son's private thoughts but made it clear that he was there if Steve needed to talk to him about anything.
In their own way Jesse and Amanda did the same. Amanda in particular was able to pick up on slight aspects of Steve's expression and behaviour that let her know where his thoughts lay. Even Jesse, not always the most tactful of friends especially when it came to Steve's love-life, could see the difficulties that Steve faced and avoided the glib jibes that under normal circumstances he knew Steve could cope with.
As for the two women in question they both visited for short periods at different times of the day.
The first time Emma had visited when Steve was awake she had told him of her gratitude for saving her life and had again tried to apologise for the pain she had caused him but Steve would not hear of it.
"I made you a promise a long time ago," he said quietly, "I just kept it that's all."
"Then at least let me reiterate what I said on that first night." She replied, "Thank you for being the only person I could ever trust"
Beyond that their conversations had avoided any real emotional content, deliberately on both sides. Emma had turned up each day and stayed for a few minutes checking on his condition and ensuring that he had everything he needed. She made it clear that she cared about him, but nothing more. There was time for that when he was stronger.
Alison had had to be persuaded to visit. On the night she had left the hospital she had left a note for Amanda who, on reading it the following morning, had called and insisted that she come in and talk about it.
'Dear Amanda,' it had read, 'I'm sorry about this but I think it would be easier on Steve if I don't visit. Please keep me updated on his condition and give him my love when he wakes up. I will check on him from time to time- Alison.'
After a long talk Amanda had managed to persuade Alison that she would regret it if she walked out of Steve's life now.
"You love him don't you?" Amanda had asked, astute as ever.
"Yes," Alison replied honestly, returning Amanda's gaze. "But that's not enough unless he loves me too."
"And you know for a fact that he doesn't?"
"Yes," Alison answered quickly then hesitated, "No, I thought maybe he did but then....."
Amanda noted the confusion, "Alison, whatever has happened over the last few days, you and Steve had something really good together going. Don't throw it all away until you're sure that it can't be saved." She paused, "I don't think any of us are in a state to make any decisions at the moment least of all Steve. Don't cut him off. Give him a little time. You owe him and yourself that."
Alison thought about it. Amanda was right, no matter how painful this may be she needed to play it out to the end. "OK," she said softly, "Let me know when he's up to having visitors," and with a slight melancholy smile she got up and left.
She had known that she had made the right decision when she visited Steve for the first time. His face lit up as she approached and he flashed her his best smile. His blue eyes sparkling as they had done when he'd picked her up for their first date.
It had occurred to Steve in that moment that if he had died then he would never have seen Alison's smile again and that would have been one of his biggest regrets. It also occurred to him that he would never have got a chance to tell her that he loved her and he did.
The whole visit and all of the subsequent visits were enjoyable for them both. Steve taking strength from her company and her caring for him, but as with Emma there was a slight undercurrent of avoidance on both sides as they skirted round any discussions of real emotion.
For Steve the dilemma he now faced was like some alien entity. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever considered that he could end up in such a position. He was strictly a one woman man, always had been. He would never have dreamed of looking at someone else whilst he was involved and yet he was now faced with two women, each of whom he loved and cared for, and he knew that they loved him.
He was faced with feelings of guilt for what he saw as his betrayal of Alison, leaving her side to help Emma, unable to prevent himself from responding to the strong feelings in him that she invoked. He did not know what to do, but he did know that he had to do something.
So each day, when there was no one else around, he sat lost in an emotional turmoil.
Steve stood in the hospital corridor and waited. His father would be by in about an hour to take him home but there was something he needed to do first. As he stood his mind drifted back to another time, another place, a scene he had relived a thousand times
He had paced nervously up and down the corridor, rehearsing over and over what he was going to say. His stomach was beyond tying itself in knots instead he just felt like he was going to be physically sick, the nerves were so strong. He had never felt like this about anything or anyone before. By the time Emma had appeared he had worked himself into a state, but simply one glance at her beauty as she approached, was enough to cause a sense of calm to settle over him.
He had known from the moment he had seen her that there was something special about her. For the first couple of weeks she had spent her time nursing him back to health, remaining professional, but he knew that she felt it too. As he grew stronger the spark between them had grown and she had asked to be reassigned, not wishing her job to be compromised.
Once she was no longer his nurse they had spent every spare moment she had together. She helped him fight his demons, deal with the grief and guilt that he had felt for the loss of his friend and, most importantly, she had given him a reason to go on living in his moments of deepest despair.
Now he stood, barely eight weeks after meeting her, watching her walk towards him and knowing that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
He smiled that smile that melted her heart and took off his uniform cap.
She smiled back at him but the smile did not reach her eyes. Steve dismissed it, he was going to have to go back tomorrow and finish his tour of duty, of course she was going to be sad, but he only had a few weeks to go and after that they had their future together.
"You look beautiful, " he said, stepping closer, "You always look beautiful," and he kissed her a deep passionate kiss, she melted into his embrace.
Then he stepped back from her, taking a deep breath for what he was about to do.
She placed her hand on his arm. "Steve wait..." she said quietly stopping his action. "There's something I need to tell you."
Steve looked at her suddenly frightened by what he saw, by the anguish in her tone. He knew that he was not going to like what was to come.
"I should have told you long before now," she continued hesitantly, "but the time never seemed right, at first it didn't seem important and then when it was it was too late."
Steve looked deep into her eyes. "What? Tell me , you're scaring me."
"Back in England," Emma replied, tears brimming in her eyes, "I'm already engaged, I have a fiancee."
Steve stepped back as though he'd been physically slapped. He looked at her, his face reflecting a mixture of hurt and betrayal and then he turned away. Not wanting her to see the stinging tears that were forming in his eyes.
They stood in silence for several minutes before Steve spoke, "Do you love him?" he almost whispered.
"Pardon?"
He turned back to face her "I said do you love him?"
Emma hesitated, "I.... care for him."
"That's not what I asked."
She thought for a moment. "No," she admitted, a tear rolled down her cheek.
Steve grasped at the spark of hope that this admission allowed. "But you do love me." he stated. It was not a question, he knew the answer. "Then break the engagement, marry me instead, come back home with me. I'll take care of you." the words poured out desperately. It was not the proposal he had intended.
"It's not that simple," She replied.
He moved back towards her. "Then make it that simple." He pulled the engagement ring from his pocket and opened the box offering it to her. "Marry me." he repeated.
She looked at the ring. "It's beautiful." There was a long pause. "but I can't take it, I'm sorry."
Steve gazed into her eyes, "But I love you."
"I know," she said softly, "but that's not enough. The change it's just too big a risk, I'm sorry." She folded her hand over his closing the box. "I'm truly sorry," and she turned and began to walk away the tears falling freely down her cheeks.
Steve couldn't begin to describe the pain he felt. It was as though someone had ripped out his heart. He could hardly bear to watch her walk away from him, walk out of his life. "Emma," he called out unwilling to let her go without letting her know that he would always love her.
Reluctantly she turned to face him one last time.
"I want you to know that if you ever need me, I will be there for you."
She closed her eyes and nodded, unable to find the strength to speak, she turned once more, praying that he would not call her back again as she did not think she had the strength to turn away from him for a third time.
Steve stood and watched her go, gripping the ring box tightly in his hand.
Even now Steve could hardly bear the emotions that the memory invoked. He lifted his hand to wipe away the tears in his eyes. There was a gentle cough behind him.
He turned to find Emma standing there. He had been so lost in his reminiscences that he hadn't heard her approach, had no idea how long she had been there.
"Beautiful as ever," Steve said smiling at her.
Emma smiled back, "You always did start every encounter with flattery," she said.
"It wasn't flattery, I always meant it," Steve replied
"And now?"
"I still mean it."
Emma stared at him. "Why am I here?" she asked. Steve had called and asked him to meet her on one of the corridors in a deserted part of the hospital.
"It seemed..... appropriate" Steve stated "We need to talk,".
Emma had known this was coming she just hadn't wanted it quite so soon. "I know," came the soft reply.
Steve took a deep breath. "I love you, I have always loved you and probably always will ..." he paused his eyes searching hers. "And I know that you love me."
Emma did not speak she just nodded, waiting to see where this was leading.
"But you told me once that that was not enough, I didn't understand at the time. I don't think I've understood for the last thirty years." He paused again, before adding softly "but I think I do now."
There were tears running down Emma's cheeks, a small part of her had hoped for a 'happily ever after' with Steve but the more realistic part had known that she had made her choice thirty years ago and there was no going back.
"The differences between us were too great, the adjustment too much. It was true then and I think it's true now." Steve had had plenty of time to analyse this, knew that what he was saying was true. So why did it still hurt so damn much. He fought back the tears, then he reached into his pocket, somewhat awkwardly with his bandaged hand and took out a well worn ring case. "I wanted you to have this," he said, opening it to reveal the still shiny ring within "I brought it for you and even though it never meant what I wanted it to, I've always thought of it as yours."
This time Emma took it and stared at it for a few moments before closing the case and gripping it tightly in her hand.
"I'll still always be there for you if you need me." Steve said, Emma nodded and smiled.
This time it was Steve who turned and walked away.
Later that evening Steve sat on his favourite spot on the beach staring out at the crashing waves, savouring the fact that he was still alive to enjoy the spectacle of the sun setting over the water.
He knew that he had company before she reached him, had known that Alison was coming out to see him and had asked his father to tell her where he was. Mark was surprised. He had always viewed the log on the beach at the edge of the dunes as Steve's private spot, where he went to sit and think when he wanted to be alone.
As Alison approached he indicated the space beside him. "Take a seat."
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, they just sat and watched the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon.
"You overheard me tell agent Harris that I still loved Emma didn't you?" Steve asked. It was a simple question not an accusation. Steve had had a long time to think this through and knew that to get a truthful answer he would have to be direct
Alison was slightly startled by this as an opening to the conversation but she answered nonetheless. "Yes."
Steve turned to look at her. "I'm sorry that must have hurt," he said gently, pausing briefly before continuing. "I've done a lot to hurt you over the past couple of weeks." He turned his gaze away, picking up a stick and drawing random patterns in the sand at his feet.
Alison watched him, sensing the guilt, "It's all right," she said.
"No," Steve's hand stopped moving, he looked up at the shoreline. "It's not all right, you deserve better than that."
She watched him again as he stared out at the white spray, still visible in the fading light.
"I was with someone else when I should have been with you." The guilt now edged his voice. "I have no right to expect you to forgive me for that." He paused and swallowed. "I don't know if I can forgive myself."
It took Alison a few moments to reply, she needed to word her answer carefully. "There's nothing to forgive. You did what you did to help someone you cared deeply about. I wouldn't expect anything less."
"But.."
"No," Alison interrupted. He turned to face her. "All of it is in the past now. I just need to know what is in the future. Will you see her again?"
"No," Steve answered truthfully, he had made his decision, Emma was a part of his past.
"And me?" she said softly. "Do you want to see me again?"
Steve smiled at her and stood up taking her hand. "Come on let's go for a walk."
Mark watched Steve walk back up the stairs on to the deck, his movements were still slow and stiff but the worst was over. He had been getting worried, it was Steve's first day at home and he didn't want him overdoing things. Jesse and Amanda were there they had all waited dinner for his return. A small celebration at having him home again.
Mark was surprised to see that he was alone. He had expected Alison to be with him. He looked closely at Steve's features to see if he could judge his mood.
Steve smiled at his father, somehow he had known that he would be watching and waiting for him, worrying about him as usual. "Hi dad," he said casually.
"Alison not with you?" Mark asked innocently unable to temper his curiosity.
"No, she headed home," Steve looked off down the beach before turning back. "but don't worry she'll be coming back."
Mark smiled, "Come on in and get yourself cleaned up, dinner's waiting."
Steve hung back a moment looking up into the stars of the night sky, feeling more content than he could ever remember, knowing that he could finally lay his past to rest and move on. Then he turned to join his family inside
THE END.
Author's note:- Okay finally finished. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think And once again :- thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone who has left/ leaves a review, every one is greatly appreciated.
Judith