'Steve what are you still doing up?' Mark asked in surprise, almost dropping the glass of water he'd gotten out of bed for.

Amanda and Jesse had left a good couple of hours ago and Mark himself had retired pretty soon after.  And yet Steve, who surely needed the rest more than any of them, was still slumped on the couch, a single lamp illuminating the pages of the Egyptology book that was open on his knee.  Although the book was open, he didn't appear to be reading it, instead Mark observed, he was gazing off into the distance, seemingly lost in a world of his own creation. 

At the sound of his father's voice Steve looked round, startled by the sudden intrusion.  Putting down his glass, Mark looked at him with concern 'Are you okay?  It's after midnight you know.'

'I know' Steve sighed deeply 'And I promise I'm going to bed soon.  I just needed some time to think'

Mark gave him a look 'You know you'll think a lot better after you get some sleep' he said pointedly.

 Steve's eyes met those of his father and he held up his hands in surrender, 'Okay Dad, I get the message'.  He smiled resignedly 'You're not gonna quit badgering me until I put down this book and go to bed are you?'

Caught red handed, Mark grinned sheepishly 'How'd you guess?'

Steve raised an eyebrow 'Lets just call it police intuition' he replied dryly.  Shutting the book he placed it on the coffee table in front of him and rubbed his eyes wearily.   When he looked up; his face wore the bemused expression that had become characteristic over the last week.  He sighed 'Do you really think Peterson was killed with a blow pipe?'

 'I'll tell you what I do think' Mark admitted 'The Egyptian connection is just too strong to be a coincidence'.  Still sleepy he yawned widely  'The killer is trying to tell us something Steve, I just don't know what it is yet'.

Mirroring the yawn, Steve stretched and ran a hand through his hair irritably 'You know I've been sitting here for the last two hours going over everything and it just doesn't make any sense'.  He groaned 'The harder I try to work it out, the more confused I get'. 

Mark smiled sympathetically – he knew it was all part of the process.  Inevitably, it was only by first working through all the wrong answers that you eventually stumbled on the right one.  But he also knew that there were times when you just couldn't see the wood for the trees.  Sometimes if you took a break and came back to it, you'd find that the answer had been staring you in the face all along. 

He opened his mouth, intent upon sharing these words of wisdom with his son, but Steve was preoccupied – the distant look on his face suggested he was deep in thought, a frown suggested that he wasn't enjoying the experience.

'Something in particular on your mind son?' Mark prompted gently.

Steve looked up and let out a long breath 'I just keep on coming back to Dr. Schwenk' he said resignedly.

'An Egyptologist?' Mark asked, dropping heavily into the armchair opposite his son and pulling his dressing gown around him.  Steve obviously had something he needed to get off his chest, and tired as they both were, it was clear that neither of them were gonna get any sleep tonight until he did.

Steve nodded 'Egyptologist and a specialist in the occult' he said meaningfully.

Their eyes met and Mark raised his eyebrows 'You think he could be the killer?'

Steve sighed 'It's probably nothing but …'

'But what?' Mark prompted.  Something was obviously bothering Steve about this man Schwenk, but whatever it was, for some reason he was finding it difficult to put it into words.

'When I spoke to Schwenk today he was trying to warn me about something' Steve said slowly. 'But I didn't pay any attention.' He paused, remembering the cheesy theatrical declarations.  Was he really going to go through with this?

            'Go on' Mark urged.

Steve coughed, suddenly embarrassed.  Looking down at the book in front of him he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.   Finally he met Mark's interested gaze and smiled ruefully.

'Okay' he sighed 'But promise me you won't laugh.'

Bemused Mark nodded.  Steve was obviously uncomfortable, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

'When I spoke to Schwenk today' Steve said slowly 'the guy started talking about ancient rituals and powerful magics.' He paused before finally admitting sheepishly 'I think Schwenk was trying to convince me that the murders are related to the unleashing of some …. I don't know, some dark and mysterious power.'

There he'd said it, he felt ridiculous, but at least he'd got it off his chest.  He shrugged his shoulders and looked at his father 'Obviously I just assumed the guy was nuts' he finished reasonably.

'And now you're not so sure?' Mark had to admit he was intrigued.  Steve was one of the most rational and sceptical people he'd ever met, always had been.   Even at six it'd taken a hell of a lot of persuading to convince him that Santa Claus really did exist.  'You think there could be something in it?'

'No!' Steve scoffed, immediately defensive.  But under the intense scrutiny of his father's gaze he finally cracked 'Okay, okay' he sighed 'I can't believe I'm saying this and I'm only gonna say it once, but …. ' he paused uncomfortably 'you don't really think there could be …..'

'….. something supernatural going on?' Mark finished.  He looked at Steve intently 'Do you?'

There was a moments hesitation, so slight that only a father would pick up on it, and then Steve recovered 'Absolutely not' he said emphatically.  'C'mon Dad' he groaned 'it's ridiculous, forget I even brought it up.'

Mark didn't answer.

Noting the silence, Steve was suddenly aware that rather than laughing at the absurdity of their current topic of conversation, his father was fascinated by the possibility that they may be dealing with something out of the ordinary.  In contrast to Steve himself, Mark had a penchant for exploring anything magical or mystical.  Any possibility of an unexplained phenomenon, illusion or slight of hand and he was in his element.  Steve had accompanied his father to enough magic shows in the past to realise that this was right up his street.  He groaned, he should have known!

He had no desire to encourage his father's interest in the exploration of potential supernatural forces – not that much encouragement would be required.  Mark's eyes were already sparkling and Steve could almost see his mind working over time, conjuring up endless possibilities for research and exploration.  But noting Mark's ill-concealed excitement, Steve couldn't help but see the funny side.

 The response was so predictable, so familiar, that immediately Steve felt better, his natural cynicism reasserting itself with a vengeance.  Boy, it was amazing what sleep deprivation could do to a guy, he thought, shaking his head wryly.  Up here, alone in the dark with that damn book of his father's; he'd begun to allow his mind to play tricks on him, to entertain all sorts of ridiculous possibilities.  Now, seeing his father behaving exactly as he'd known he would, everything seemed reassuringly normal.  In the light of day so to speak, he couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to get so spooked, even if it had only been for a moment. 

Devoting any time to Schwenk's dire protestations was ludicrous.  Evil incantations, vengeful spirits, ancient curses - they belonged to his childhood, when free time was whiled away engrossed in the latest Saturday morning adventure serials.  Where they did not belong, he told himself sternly, were homicide investigations with the LAPD.

            Still amazed at his own uncharacteristic flight of fancy, Steve continued his thoughts out loud, keen to reaffirm his sound judgement, whilst simultaneously drawing a veil over the whole embarrassing incident.

'Those stories about alien encounters, flesh eating bugs' he rolled his eyes heavenwards to indicate his obvious scorn 'obviously written by hack reporters with too much time on their hands' he paused and grinned at his father confidently 'Am I right?'

'Right' Mark agreed thoughtfully, although his attention was elsewhere.

'If I can see it, it's real.' Steve said cheerfully.  Warming to his theme, he  blithely failed to notice the lack of conviction in his father's response.

 'It's just an every day homicide, nothing we haven't dealt with before' he continued firmly, nodding emphatically to himself.  'Amanda's re-running those tox screens and I'm sure that this time around she'll be able to …..'

 'You know' Mark interrupted thoughtfully, finally coming out of his reverie 'there are definitely things out there that modern science still can't explain.' 

Steve groaned, his good mood deflating rapidly 'Oh come on Dad, don't go all Fox Mulder on me now.'

'Steve' Mark persisted seriously 'I see it all the time in medicine.  Sometimes things just happen, and as much as we'd like to we can't find a satisfactory explanation'.

Steve groaned 'There's nothing mystical about it Dad, you just don't have the technology yet' he smiled assuredly 'And once you do, mystery solved'.

'Why are you having such a hard time with this?' Mark asked

'Why are you not?' Steve threw back 'Come on Dad, I can't believe you're taking this seriously'.  His father was a trained scientist, a specialist in modern medicine.  How could a man with his experience and qualifications, be taken in by hokey superstition and folklore?

Mark refused to rise 'Steve' he said patiently 'Have you ever really read anything about Ancient Egypt?'

Steve was bemused 'Aside from this book?' he joked, then realising his father was being serious, decided to humour him 'Not since grade school – why?'

'Well' Mark let out a breath 'There are so many mysteries still to be solved – for instance we have no idea how they managed to erect those magnificent pyramids. The man power it would have taken, not to mention the logistics - given the technology available at the time it was surely a physical impossibility' He smiled wistfully 'And yet there they are!'

As much as he was willing to indulge his father, Steve certainly wasn't in the mood for a history lesson, he raised his eyebrows inquiringly 'And your point would be?'

'That sometimes we have to accept that there are things we don't fully understand.  But just because we don't understand them doesn't mean that they don't exist and that they can't affect what we do'.    Mark looked at his son keenly 'Steve, Ancient Egypt was a civilisation built upon beliefs in the supernatural and the power of the unknown.  The culture is riddled with curses, which if triggered, are said to invoke the wrath of the gods.  The native people went out of their way to ensure that they were protected'.

'Dad, are you really trying to tell me that you think Peterson and Summers stirred up the wrath of the gods' Steve was nonplussed 'May be I'm not the one that needs to get some rest here' he muttered meaningfully.

Overhearing, Mark smiled 'May be' he agreed  'But you know there are many people, including learned scholars, who believe that, that's exactly what happened to Lord Carnarvon when he excavated the tomb of Tutankammen'.  He paused thoughtfully 'What I'm trying to say is that perhaps Peterson and Summers stumbled upon something in Cairo that they shouldn't have'.  He paused solemnly 'Perhaps they disturbed something that they shouldn't have disturbed'. 

Reaching the end of his rather sombre tirade Mark beamed cheerfully 'You know, I think tomorrow I'm gonna read up my Egyptian curses!'

Steve sighed shaking his head ruefully.  When his father was in this kind of mood there was no reasoning with him.  Right now he was way too tired even to try.

 'You do that Dad' Steve said wearily 'Me, I think I'd better go have another talk with Dr. Schwenk' he yawned again and catching his father's eye added hastily 'right after I get some sleep.'

Mark smiled and getting up from the armchair patted Steve on the shoulder, 'Don't stay up too late son, you really need to get some rest.'

'Don't worry Dad' Steve groaned, finally letting his head loll back against the couch 'I'm going to bed right now' He smiled 'Besides, after all the food and drink you plied me with tonight I can hardly keep my eyes open.'

Mark grinned 'That was the plan!'  Picking up his glass of water he headed back towards his bedroom 'Night son.'

Steve smiled 'Night Dad.'

Pushing himself up from the coach, Steve clambered to his feet and stretched, yawning widely.  Catching sight of the impassive face of the sphinx on the book's front cover, he smirked, 'Ancient curses! Wrath of the gods!' he muttered under his breath, 'Yeah, right!' He grinned; next his father would be trying to convince him that Santa Claus existed.  Meaningfully he turned the book over, so the sphinx was face down on the coffee table.  Shaking his head ruefully he made his way downstairs to his apartment below.

Two hours or so later and Mark Sloan rolled over in bed - something had awoken him.  Surely Steve wasn't still up?  As he became more alert he realised it was the telephone in Steve's apartment downstairs.  Groaning Mark waited for Steve to answer, but the ringing continued insistently.  He switched on the bedside light, blinking against the sudden brightness and picked up his watch from the chest of drawers. 

'3am!' he sighed 'So much for Steve getting a decent night's sleep'.  As it was becoming apparent that the caller wasn't gonna quit, Mark struggled into his dressing gown and slippers and stumbled downstairs 'Steve must really be exhausted to sleep through this' he muttered to himself.

'Dr Sloan' he spoke into the phone.

'Mark?  It's Tannis'

'Hi Tannis' Mark said in surprise.  He yawned 'What's going on?'

She was all business 'Sorry to disturb you this late.  Is Steve there?'

'Yeah, honey he's sleeping' Mark told her.

'Lucky him!' Tannis replied dryly 'My night has been a little less peaceful'.

As she filled him in on the details Mark winced.  Once Tannis had rung off, he sighed deeply, shaking his head sadly.  Replacing the receiver he reluctantly headed towards Steve's bedroom.  Pausing at the door he could hear his son's breathing, slow and regular, a sure sign that he was in a deep sleep.  Quietly Mark entered, pausing for a moment just inside the door. 

The light from the hallway cast shadows across the room, illuminating Steve where he lay.  Lying on his back with one arm resting across his chest, the other flung out to the side, the posture was open, relaxed and utterly unguarded.  Mark smiled; in sleep Steve was a complete contrast to his waking self. 

He was all too aware that his son had a tendency to bottle things up.  Although he respected Steve's privacy and would never impose, he often worried that his son kept too tight a reign on his emotions; his defences forever up.  Jesse, Amanda and Mark himself had all come to depend on Steve's strength, but he seldom chose to unburden himself.

  Noticing Steve's powerful shoulders prominent against the down pillows, and so different to his own physique, Mark chuckled softly to himself 'the strong, silent type' that's how he'd heard the nurses at the hospital describe his son.  To Mark the description was apt.  He was aware that Steve was considered quite a catch.  He'd seen female heads turn when his son graced the corridors of Community General.  That Steve seemed refreshingly unaware of his effect on women, Mark had no doubt only added to his appeal.

He sighed, Steve looked so peaceful he was loathed to drag him back to the gruesome reality Tannis had described on the phone.  Still Steve was no longer a child for him to protect.  These days their roles had reversed and it was much more often Steve who protected him.  Approaching the bed Mark softly called Steve's name, his son was a cop and he had a job to do - besides Tannis was waiting.

In the depths of sleep Steve slowly became aware of a familiar voice calling his name.  Irritably he turned over, hoping fervently that whoever it was would leave him alone.  'Steve!' The voice was more urgent now.  With great effort, as if swimming through treacle, he tried to force himself to focus on the voice.  A sudden firm hand on his arm made him flinch, jerking him awake.

'Sorry son' Mark apologised 'Didn't mean to startle you'.

'Dad?' Steve asked in alarm, then realising Mark was in no immediate danger mumbled in confusion 'What time is it?'

'Just after 3' Mark sighed sympathetically 'Sorry Steve, but Tannis just called'

'Archer called here?' Steve blinked in surprise 'I didn't hear the phone ring'

'No well, you were in a pretty deep sleep' Mark said gently.

'I must have been' Steve groaned rubbing his eyes and privately wondering exactly how many beers he'd sunk to make him crash out like that.

'It's hardly surprising son' Mark stated 'You were exhausted'.  He sighed  'I just wish I could have let you sleep, but I'm afraid it's bad news' he paused

'There's been another murder.' 

Author's note: Having read this through I realised that some people might mistakenly interpret some of the content of this chapter in relation to religious beliefs – please don't.  I'm not trying to make any comments about religion; this is just a story, so I hope no one is offended!   Thanks to everyone who is reviewing and please keep reading!