First chap=disclaimer

Lisa, Veroon, Barrionette, Karen Faye, and Timmy: Thanks for the reviews!

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Steve moaned as he blinked his eyes open. All he saw was a tire. For a minute, he was confused; then it all came flooding back. He supposed he was fortunate that he was awake at all given that the thugs had used ether. He highly doubted they had any medical training, let alone enough to know how much ether to administer. He could never have woken up even without being dumped into the ocean. As it was, he'd gotten lucky. They hadn't given him enough.

Furiously, he worked against the ropes they had binding him. Every minute he worked was a minute closer to the time Sal was going to dump him in the water. He had no idea how long they'd been out or where they were going. All he could see was that it was still dark out. He could hear the rumbling of thunder and feel the first few drops of rain on his face. He could see nothing on the deck except that which was closest to him. A convenient flash of lightening enabled him to get a good view of the items surrounding him. Apparently, they had been smart enough to stick him in the middle of the pile so any unexpected ships would not notice him as they passed. Hidden with him were various containers, some with warning labels. Not only were they murderers and con artists, but they were dumping toxic waste in the ocean.

As he struggled he could feel the blood begin to seep out of the abrasions on his wrists. Ignoring the pain, he twisted and pulled on his bindings harder. If he was bleeding, so be it. He could at least leave blood stains on the boat to link him to it. Maybe his Dad would have one of those inspirational thoughts of his and figure the whole thing out.

His Dad. A worse pain than that which was located on his wrists assaulted his heart. In his mind, he could still see his father's face contorted in pain. Each time someone close to him had died, his father had gotten that look. Sometimes it was worse than others. Carol had been the worst time. She had been even worse than when his mother had passed away. His father had said that a spouse might die before you, but you never expect your child to. With horror, Steve realized that his death would most likely be the worst. He would be the last of the family. His Dad would be destitute without him.

With renewed vigor he worked to get free. He didn't notice the wind pick up. He didn't notice the driving rain that poured down. All that existed in the world were his bindings and his father. With another twist, he felt the rope pop. He was free! Quickly, he brought his sore hands down to numbly untie his ankles. He stood up stiffly and turned to see the encased driver's cabin where Sal was. From his vantage point, he could see the dim glow on the horizon that stated that stated that dawn was near, though, he did not know dawn of which day. Taking a deep breath, he willed his cramped legs to move forward.

As the wind howled, Sal never once looked back to check his prisoner. With the ruckus the storm made, there was no way his captor could hear his footsteps.

A grinding noise interrupted Steve's progress. He stopped. His eyes widened as the deck began to pitch upwards. Desperately, he struggled to stay on the ship. As the trash began to slip into the water he clawed to hold onto the slanted deck. As he clambered at the planks his hands became scratched. Finally, the angle became too steep. A scream escaped his lips as he plunged in the tumultuous brine.

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A soft smile crossed Jackson's façade as he hung up the pay phone he'd just been called at. It was time to go pack up Sloan's things to send to his father.

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Mark sighed as he tried to concentrate. It had been three days since he'd last seen Steve. He'd called home on Wednesday night saying that he wouldn't be home for dinner. Mark kicked himself for not noticing that Steve hadn't come home at all that night. He hadn't even noticed that he wasn't there on Thursday morning because he'd been called in on an emergency for one of his patients. He didn't realize his own son was missing until Cheryl called on Thursday afternoon looking for him.

They hadn't found him that night. On Friday morning, they'd found his truck abandoned off a road in the country. Today was Saturday afternoon, and they hadn't had any information since the previous morning.

The poor detective that had last seen Steve was distraught. Det. Peters said that Steve had been working late on the Garlin case. According to him, Steve said that he had an idea and wanted to look at the pier again. Peters had followed him down there as it was also his case. They'd looked around and found nothing. Peters said he went home while Steve took one more look around. He was never going to forgive himself for leaving Steve there alone.

In truth Mark was more than distraught. He was inwardly panicking. He'd chased away Amanda and Jesse when they tried to help him. He'd sat holed up in the beach house since Thursday night. Then, he couldn't take anymore of the silence that Steve's absence created. He couldn't bear to listen to the sound of a neighbor's vehicle go by and hope that it was Steve. So, he'd gone to his office to worry.

A soft knock caused his head to rise.

"Dr. Sloan? There's a package here for you. Its marked urgent so I brought it in as long as you're here."

Mark waved away the orderly and picked up the package. Blandly, he tore it open. Steve's badge fell to the floor. His gun followed with a piece of paper attached to it. Actually relieved to see a ransom note, Mark quickly unfolded the paper. At first, all he could manage was a faint choking sound. Then, his breath wheezed out. His breath became louder until it began to stir his vocal chords. His whimper grew and grew until it was a full blown scream.

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  Steve groaned as he laid across a piece of wood. He'd managed to grab the wood and stay afloat after Sal had sped away. The rain had stopped momentarily, but he could see another bank of clouds rolling in. He didn't know whether to hate the storm for tossing him around, or love it for providing him a tiny amount of non-saltwater. Fortunately, Sal hadn't exactly been that diligent in staying far away from shore. Steve had been able to spot land about two hours after he'd been dumped. With as much strength as possible, he'd swum towards the shore he'd seen. He was pretty close now. Gathering his stubborn streak for all it was worth, he continued his journey.

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He was close now, close to the shore and close to a phone to call his Dad. The storm had picked back up, but that didn't deter his heightened spirits. Abruptly, the surfer's sense that he'd honed over the years informed him of an approaching wave. Glancing behind, he saw it head towards him. He did his best to protect himself, but the wave was too powerful. His life-saving board whipped around and hit him on the head. Reactively, he grabbed for the board again in hopes of staying above the water.

He couldn't think straight. His mind was as numb as his body. He was going to die, alone. Another wave hit, and he didn't care. The board was yanked away, and grazed his temple as it left. He wasn't awake to feel the waves deposit him on a rocky beach.