allie351-Thank you, I'm glad you like it, I wasn't very sure of myself and how this was
going to go because this story was originally written by me when I was about twelve
and it wasn't very good, and I was afraid everyone having already read it wouldn't
want to read it again because they would think it was bad.
ACME-Rian-Thank you for telling me, I'm a idiot, I completely forgot about the disclaimer, I'm sorry.
Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it!
Forgotten Disclaimer--Hehe, sorry guys, I don't own anyone from Diagnosis murder, (boy
I wish I did though) I also don't own the song from Chapter one, which belongs to Phil Colins.
A/N: please read the Author's note just before this and respond if you get the chance
Your opinion does count!
Chapter Three-A Step
Amanda opened the door to the Sloan beach house and suddenly realized that her best friend was indeed dead. Every where she looked there was some memory of Mark. His spirit seemed to be everywhere. She walked further into the house and wasn't surprised to see Steve fast asleep on the couch, however the six beer bottles lying out in front of him was a bit of a surprise. She quickly cleaned up the area and then moved over to wake him up. She gently shook his shoulder, his usual bright blue eyes slowly slid open to reveal pain filled, hazy, and teary, blood shot eyes.
"Hi," she said softly. She didn't blame him for drinking himself into a stupor.
"Hi," he said in a rough voice.
"Can you stand up?"
"Probably not, since I feel like I'm going to throw up."
"How are you?"
"Horrible, I didn't really sleep."
"When did you finally fall asleep?"
"Maybe an hour ago, how did CJ and Dion take the news?" He asked gently as he rose into a sitting position, allowing her to sit beside him. He leaned forward and rubbed his face.
"Hard, they both cried themselves to sleep, but we're going to talk about it, I think we'll be all right. How are you holding up Steve?" He shrugged.
"Fine, there's a lot of stuff that needs to be done," he whispered.
"Steve, he's gone, and eventually you've got to face that," Amanda said watching him rise from his seat and stammer towards the kitchen.
"I need to call Carol, Jack, Delores…" Amanda got up and placed her finger to his lips.
"Steve, stop it, your dad is dead, I know it's only been a few hours, but you need to let out your grief."
"Amanda, I'm fine," he said softly.
"Steve, I'm not Jesse, and I'm not some dope who doesn't know you. I've known you for seventeen years, since you were eighteen years old. Jack and I are and were your best friends for a long time. You can't push me away, because I see beyond that cop mask you place on every day. I see a man in pain, who is afraid that if he lets down his guard he'll never get it back, am I right?"
"Amanda," he said in a somewhat harsh voice, and then he softened slowly.
"I'm fine really, I really need to make some phone calls, would you like to help me?" He asked gently. She touched his cheek and sighed.
"Of course I will," she said smiling at him. Steve sighed and together they walked into the living room. Steve looked over at Amanda and slowly picked up the receiver, with a large sigh he began to dial his sister's phone number. It rang once, twice, three times, and just before Steve hung up he heard his sister's voice.
"Hello," she said quietly.
"Carol?" He asked.
"Steve, what's wrong?" She asked confused.
"Were you sleeping?"
"Yeah, I pulled a night shift, looks it's not important, what's wrong?"
"Carol, I think you should get here, as soon as you can," he whispered.
"Why, what's wrong?"
"I don't and can't tell you over the phone, please Carol," she took a deep breath.
"It's about daddy isn't it?"
"Yes, please Carrie, come home," he whispered. Carol was speechless by his voice, he sounded lost and sad.
"I'll be on the next plane big brother."
"Carol," he stopped, as Amanda gently held his hand.
"Yeah Steve?"
"I love you," he whispered. Something he hadn't told his sister for years. She paused.
"I love you too," he hung up the phone gently and looked over at Amanda, who smiled gently at him.
"I'll call Jack," she whispered, Steve gently nodded and watched her picked up his phone and dial.
"Hi Jack, it's Amanda. Actually, I've been better. Mark was killed early yesterday afternoon," she paused a moment and smiled gently.
"Thank you Jack, I know Steve would feel better if you were here too," she finished and hung the phone up.
"How am I ever going to survive without him Amanda?" He asked quietly. Amanda turned slightly to face him and smiled softly. Reaching out she touched his cheek, she watched a single tears fall from his eyes. She knew Steve had feelings, but he often hid them while in front of those close to him. So he could protect them.
"You'll survive, we'll make sure you do. When I got divorced you use to come over to my house late at night, do you remember that?" She asked. He nodded gently.
"We would sit on my couch for hours, just talking over ice cream or coffee. You let me cry on your shoulder, you held me. Above all else you never told anyone either. You understood, that was our friendship, you were there when I really needed you. Now it's my turn Steve, you need your friends, and I'm here. Call me or come see me when you need to. I'm here to help you, don't feel you have to protect me, or yourself. I won't think less of you if you cry."
"I'm afraid if I let go, I won't get it back," he whispered. She sighed.
"I know you are, but if you let go now, you'll be able to get it back, you might not later." He nodded and slowly got up from the couch.
"I've got to go," he whispered.
"Okay, Steve, are you really okay?" He sighed and looked at her.
"No, but I'll get there," he said calmly walking out of the house, she watched him until his car pulled away and she shook her head, knowing this would be a long and winding road.