Part Two: Pre-trial Emotions
Traffic along PCH was moving well for a Friday. A fact for which Steve was intensely grateful as he'd been a little behind schedule that morning. A quick breakfast of bacon and eggs between two slices of toast had been devoured while shrugging into his jacket and making his way out to the car. A bottle of water to wash it all down was retrieved from beneath the seat as he waited for a traffic signal. And the paper towel that his father had directed toward him with the sandwich was used to clear his face of any crumbs. It was the breakfast of champions, all in under a minute. Healthy too, if one discounted the bacon and noted the fact that the toast had been unbuttered. He'd be sure to stop by the coffee room for a jelly doughnut after he checked in at the precinct.
Having planned at least the first few minutes of his workday, Steve settled in for the drive into LA. The frantic tension of the morning drained away and his mind relaxed into familiar rhythms. His thoughts turned, predictably, to Amber and the look she'd focused on his father. The threat had been unspoken, and he would be hard pressed to produce any proof. Saying he saw murder in her eyes would hardly impress the chief. Instead, he planned to go back through every shred of information they had in the case file. There had to be something there that they'd missed, something that would help him to eliminate her as a threat to his father. Steve found the situation especially ironic when he considered how very open she had been about her past. . .
"Would you like to go for a walk?" Steve asked as they stepped out of the doors of a restaurant situated along the outskirts of L.A. The meal and the company had been very enjoyable, and as they had both driven separately to the establishment, he was looking for an excuse to extend the evening.
"I'd love to," Amber replied, offering a warm smile as she moved closer to his side. "I was hoping we weren't going to end it so soon. I've really had a great time."
"Me too," Steve replied. "But aren't those the sort of words that you say at the end of the date?"
"Well, maybe it's not an end, but a beginning," Amber challenged and came to a stop. It was still early and the sun was just beginning its descent. Golden rays reflected off of her hair and shone as a gentle breeze blew a lock across her face.
Unthinkingly, Steve reached out and pushed the silky strands away and tucked them behind one of her ears. He didn't resist the impulse to trail his fingers lingeringly along her cheek before letting her go. Something changed in her eyes and some deep male instinct told Steve that she had been very affected by his touch. Maybe nearly as much as he had been affected by the feel of her hair and the warmth of her skin against his fingers. The sensation lingered with him almost like an afterimage.
"To beginnings," he murmured, then leaned in toward her. She stopped him with the touch of a finger over his lips.
"Not yet," she whispered. "There will be more for us. I promise."
Steve straightened away from her, feeling a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry if I pushed you a little too fast," he said. "I, uh. . . sorry." He offered a sheepish grin and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He was unsure of what his next move should be. He only knew that keeping his hands to himself was going to require retraining them.
"Don't be," Amber assured, and looked up at him from the corner of her eye. "This atmosphere is very romantic. And you are very romantic. You can make a girl forget all those serious little talks she has with herself about not getting involved too quickly."
Steve chuckled. "Should I be flattered?" he asked.
"Yes." She reached toward him and wrestled one of his hands from his pockets and entwined her fingers with his. She then pulled gently so that they could continue walking. They headed across a small walkway that led to a planked overlook.
"Okay, in that case, I am." He declared agreeably, tightening his hold gently on her hand.
Amber laughed. "I like you a lot, Steve. And I really want there to be more to our relationship. I won't hide that. I want you to know right off that I'm a girl who comes with a little baggage."
Steve's brow furrowed and he remembered a dozen other relationships that he'd had that had been doomed due to his propensity for selecting the crazies. He wondered if having all the cards out on the table up front wasn't a bad idea. "What kind of baggage?"
"Well, for one thing, I'm my own girl. I won't be hovered over."
Steve grinned. "I don't have a problem with that."
Amber smiled in return. "And I'm an absolute sucker for a guy with dimples."
Steve tried to stifle his smile, but it was impossible. "Okay. I think I can work with that."
Her smile faded. "And I'm grieving." She looked up at him, taking in his reaction.
Steve sobered, taken off guard. He looked into her eyes and saw that she was serious. A sliver of empathy wound through him, causing him to realize just how much it mattered to him that she might be experiencing difficulties. "What happened?" he asked.
She smiled a gentle sad smile. "I lost my mother just over a month ago. She was wonderful. My best friend. I truly think she was the only person who really and truly understood me. She was the only family I had left. I miss her."
"I'm sorry," Steve said. "My father and I are very close. I couldn't imagine. . . " He didn't finish the sentence. It wasn't something he liked to think about. He didn't even want to consider the thought that Mark Sloan wouldn't always be there.
"Oh no," Amber sighed. "I'm not trying to bring you down. It's just that I believe that experiences in life shape us from day to day. What happened a month ago shaped who I am now. I just wanted you to know."
Steve offered a small smile and nodded. "Thanks for telling me," he said, hoping it didn't sound as inane as it felt.
He watched as Amber seemed to shake off the sadness. She then grabbed his other hand and dragged him toward the overlook. "Let's go check out the view while we still have some light."
"Oh, uh, I have a confession to make," Steve laughed, holding back slightly.
"What's that?" she teased.
"I've got this things about heights. . . "
The honking of a passing horn dragged him from his meandering. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he refocused his thoughts on the case. Amber had been very good. She'd twisted him around her fingers and then used him for her own revenge. He couldn't let their remembered chemistry cloud that.
The ringing of his cellular was not a welcome interruption. He retrieved it from an inner jacket pocket, apprehension flickering through him as he wondered who might be calling him on his way in to work and why. "Sloan."
He was immediately assaulted with an onslaught of words from his best friend and business partner. "Slow down, Jess. What's wrong?" Steve tried to focus on the words themselves as he struggled to understand. All too quickly, he got it.
"You heard what?!"
The phone was all but forgotten as he switched the radio dial to the Mike & Jim Morning Show.
-- -- -- -- --
"Fancy meeting you here." Amanda appeared alongside Mark as he climbed out of his car in Community General's Doctor's lot.
"Oh, good morning, Amanda," he greeted her warmly as he juggled his keys, a briefcase and canvas satchel.
"Need some help?" She offered, reaching for the satchel.
Mark relinquished it with an appreciative grin, and at her look of askance toward the brightly colored items inside, added an explanation. "Party favors for a few of the kids on Ward C."
"Ah," Amanda nodded knowingly. "Darryl Tremaine's party. He still calling you grandpa doc?"
"Yes," Mark admitted with a grin, thinking of the energetic twelve year old who was more often than not a resident of the children's cardiac ward. "Can't seem to talk him out of it."
"From what I hear, he isn't the only one," Amanda teased.
Mark wasn't bothered. He knew it had become something of a joke among the nurses on the ward. He would have been more surprised if Amanda didn't know. He made a face at her just the same as they entered the hospital proper.
"I think the experimental procedure is really helping him, Amanda," he switched subjects slightly. "When he first began the treatment, he could barely sit upright. Now he's all over the ward, terrorizing doctors and nurses alike."
Amanda laughed with him. "Do you think the procedures would have saved Amber McPherson's mother?"
Mark shook his head. "It's hard to say. Her condition was so much more advanced."
"Would you have recommended her if you were on that board?"
Mark came to a stop in the corridor. That was a question he'd considered several times during the course of the trial. It was one he still didn't have an answer to. Deciding between a 12 year old boy and a fifty-five year old woman. Perhaps choosing who should have the better chance at survival of a debilitating illness. It was an uncomfortable decision to make.
"You know that if you had been on that board and voted her off that study, Amber would have tried to kill you, along with Drs Paul and Bettinger."
"I know, Amanda. I know. She might have succeeded, too."
Amanda opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by Jesse's frantically approaching person. "Did you hear?" he called still several yards away.
"Hear what?" Amanda and Mark questioned simultaneously.
"What she did," Jesse clarified only slightly. Then, apparently realizing that his audience had no clue as to what he was talking about, he continued. "On the Mike & Jim morning show. They've got this whole poll going about whether or not Steve and Amber should be a couple. It's 75% in favor."
"What?" Mark was stunned.
"Yeah, she was on as a guest this morning."
"She's moves faster than I thought," Mark murmured. "Does Steve know?" Considering his son's reaction to the outcome of the trial, this new incident was not going to go down very well.
"He knows." Jesse nodded in a warning tone. "And he is not a happy camper right now."
"I don't imagine so," Mark said as he hurried off. He needed to talk to Steve.
(to be continued)