First chap = disclaimers

Hey, thanks for all the reviews!!!!

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Steve groaned as he walked into the small kitchen of the main house. He'd been in the middle of mowing the lawn when it started to rain. The house had been closer than his apartment, so he'd run in there.

"Hello, Steve. Enjoying our lovely weather?" Jim asked from where he was seated.

"Oh, its just wonderful." Steve grumbled a second before his stomach did.

"Hungry? Why don't you grab something out of the fridge? Ms Thronson won't mind."

Steve smiled his thanks and moved to do as Jim had suggested. "Gross."

"Gross?! I did the shopping myself yesterday. Everything in there is the highest quality I assure you."

"Yeah, I'm sure everything is great, but none of it is prepared. I have discovered that I can't cook anything but coffee."

Jim chuckled. "As a confirmed bachelor, I can assure you that I have the same problem. However, I soon tired of the microwaveable meals and soup in a can, so…"

"So?"

"So, I learned to cook eggs."

"You live off of eggs?"

"Eggs are an amazing thing. You can prepare them in hundreds of different ways. From eggs I learned to prepare many different breakfast foods. They are all fairly simple."

"I don't believe you."

"I never could find a true believer. Why don't you grab the eggs and I'll get a pan. I'll teach you the most basic. Scrambled eggs."

A half hour and one dozen eggs later, both men had managed to eat non-burnt scrambled eggs courtesy of Steve. It was a stupid thing, but for a man who thought he could burn water, Steve felt very proud of himself.

"Jim?"

"Yes?"

"What type of person is Ms Thronson." Steve asked as he cleaned the dishes. His "boss" hadn't yet returned from her trip east and he hadn't met her yet.

"Ms Thronson is very—"

"Wet. James. I'm wet. My car quit at the bottom of the hill and I had to walk up to the house."

Steve turned around to see a woman in her thirties. Her dark red hair was plastered to her face and mascara was running everywhere. She looked rather like an Irish Setter who'd just had a bath. He laughed.

"Oh, just who are you Mr. I'm-in-serious-jeopardy-of-losing-my-job?"

Jim smiled encouragingly at Steve's look of strain.

"This is Mr. MacTyre. I hired him for the maintenance position."

"MacTyre? Do you have a first name?"

"Steve." His voice cracked.

"Well, Steve, don't look too stressed. I leave all of the hiring and firing to Jim here. If he thinks you're right, than I do. Just stay out of my father's way when he stays here. He likes to fire the help. It makes him feel like a real man."

"Not a good trip?" Jim asked.

"No, First I had to deal with my obnoxious self-centered sister who wants to be an actress. Then I had to deal with my teenage brothers who want to go into punk rock. Then I had to deal with my youngest brother who just went into his "terrible twos." If THAT wasn't enough, my father's current trollop "Mitzi" Insisted we go shopping together."

Steve looked at her. "Do you want some coffee?"

She smiled. "Jim, I might have to replace you with this guy. I would LOVE some coffee Steve."

Steve returned shortly after with three steaming mugs.

"Well, seems how you just got the once over on my life, what about you? What's your story Mr. MacTyre?"

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Mark smiled artificially as he went about his rounds. It was his first day back since Steve's disappearance and death. He didn't think he'd ever truly smile again, but he owed it to his patients. They didn't deserve his misery.

He'd tried to get into Steve's case. He really had, but it was just too painful. Every time he picked up a piece of paper he'd be confronted with the pain of his son's passing. He had gotten the information on both Steve's case and the one he was working on when he disappeared. Detective Peters had been very helpful when he asked. He said that as an official advisor to the police, Mark should be allowed to view the files.

Mark had given those files to Jesse. He thought that he heard Jesse mumbled something about being surprised that Mark could get a hold of someone so greasy, but he wasn't sure. For once in his life, Mark Sloan was glad to have a mountain of work to do that would keep him away from family business.

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Jesse groaned as he straightened up from his desk in his apartment. He never appreciated he much work Steve put into a case. Jesse had always been a part of a group of four solving a mystery. Steve had done countless murders on his own. Granted, Steve had been trained to do it, but still it wasn't easy.

Mark couldn't help. And Amanda tried, but she still had a job, two kids, and her own pain to deal with. When she wasn't working on those things, she was trying to help Mark cope. That basically left Jesse on his own as the police weren't about to cooperate with him.

With a sigh, Jesse got on his jacket and headed to work.

Two hours into his shift, Jesse became aware of another man's presence. His could almost taste the lard in his mouth. "Detective Peters, what can I do for you?"

"I'm here to talk to Dr. Sloan. We've found his son's killer." Peters smiled at the reaction of excitement on the young doctor's face.  Anyone would interpret Peters' smile as the same as Jesse's, excitement over the capture. In truth, Peters reflected, he was thrilled to have just pulled off his greatest scam.

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Steve eyes his boss warily. She seemed to be thinking over his situation very slowly. He swallowed. She looked at him. He swallowed again.

"Neither of you can tell my father. He'll fire you before he sets eyes one you."

"You don't think I'm a liability?"

"You might be, you might not. Amnesia is a difficult thing Steve, but it is not something that is your fault. I cannot condemn you for it."

A sigh of relief blew out of Steve's lips.

"If you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I'll go change and give Dr. Abrams a call."

"Going to check my story?" Steve asked, incredulous.

"No, I'm calling for my work schedule."

Steve blushed. "I'm sorry, Jim didn't mention you were a nurse."

"I'm not, I'm a doctor."