A/N:  I am very sorry that this has taken so long to be posted. For some reason my brain went into hibernation after the exam and has only just woken up again. I hope that you like the chapter and I will do my best to see that it won't be so long before the next one is posted.

Chapter 8

The sun was well over the horizon before Steve woke the next morning. He lay, the wine red quilt pushed down to reveal his well muscled torso and exceptionally flat stomach, staring up at the ceiling his mind trying to remember what he had been dreaming about.  After a while though, he gave up trying to catch the tantalising wisps that had been his dream for he knew that the more he tried the less likely it was that he would remember. Throwing off the quilt, Steve padded to the bathroom to get ready for the day. The whale watching tour he was going on was later in the day because, to his amazement, he had been able to book a place the previous evening when he arrived at the hotel.

Breakfast eaten, Steve decided to go for a walk. The motel he had stopped at was only a few metres away from the beach and Steve made his way onto the golden sand. He had changed into a pair of denim cut-offs and a pale yellow vest top and he walked slowly along the sand, unaware of the many female admiring glances that were being cast his way.

One woman, a leggy blonde,looked up from the book she was reading. Tipping her sunglasses down her nose she peered over the top of them and pursed her lips in surprise.

"I don't believe it," she exclaimed quietly to herself.

Laying the book down, she uncurled herself from her chair and made her way across the sand towards the slowly retreating figure.

Steve, in a world of his own, did not hear the approaching woman and jumped when he felt a hand touching his arm.

"Steve?" a tentative voice spoke.

He turned towards the sound but, because she was standing so close, he was unable to clearly make out her features. There was a tantalising hint of familiarity to the voice and Steve frowned as he tried to place it whilst he took his, now customary, step backwards.

Puzzlement creased Randy's face, she couldn't figure out what was the mater with Steve. She knew that on their previous encounter she had irritated him, hell she irritated everyone, but she thought he had liked her a little. Steve's frown and his step backwards had thrown her a little.

"Lt. Sloan," she spoke a little more formally this time, "it's Randy Wolf, don't you remember me?"

"Randy!" Steve's happy exclamation cheered her somewhat, "I didn't recognise you just then."

"If you can't see me when I am standing this close," Randy joked, "maybe you ought to get your eyes tested."

When Steve didn't immediately come back with a pithy retort, Randy looked into his face and her smile faded.

"What's the matter, Steve?" she asked.

"I did have my eyes tested," Steve responded quietly.

"And……………?" Randy prompted, after a long pause.

"They found a serious problem," Steve answered, "it's called macular degeneration."

"What does that mean?" Randy asked.

"It means that, eventually, I will become legally blind."

Randy didn't know everything about Steve, but she was aware enough to realise that the surge of pity she felt needed to be ruthlessly suppressed. Hooking a hand round Steve's arm, she said,

"Let me buy you a coffee and you can tell me all about it."

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"So," Randy said, a few minutes later, "what's going on?"

They were sitting, away from the hustle and bustle of the beach, on a huge rock each holding a large coffee. Taking a large gulp from his, Steve told Randy everything that had been happening over the past couple of years. To Steve's surprise, his story included a great deal about his feelings over that period. He spoke about things that hadn't told anyone else, some things that he hadn't even internally verbalised. When Steve finally fell silent, Randy looked at him.

"So what do you intend doing with yourself?" she asked.

"I don't know," Steve's answer was succinct.

"You must have had some thoughts," Randy persisted.

Steve could feel the tension building across his shoulders and up the back of his neck, a feeling he clearly recalled from his previous encounter with Randy. It was an episode from which he had barely escaped with his badge intact. He sighed, knowing that Randy was not the sort of person to give up easily.

"Randy," he said, taking another sip of his coffee, "I've been too busy coming to terms with my decreasing eyesight."

Randy snorted inelegantly.

"Bull," she said, "you've been wallowing."

"I have not been wallowing." Steve snapped. "I have been living my live, taking everything day by day."

"Yeah, that's what I said," Randy answered, "wallowing. You have been using the 'day by day' mantra to avoid thinking about the future."

Steve couldn't think of anything to say and Randy continued on into the silence.

"So, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"My doctor tells me that I will have to give up my drivers licence soon," Steve began, "so I decided to take a solo trip while I still can."

"Steve," Randy protested a little, "you are still going to be able to see."

"I know," he replied, "but once my licence is gone I'm not going to be able to just take off whenever I want."

"So, you won't be able to be Mr. Spontaneity anymore," Randy said, "not that I recall it being a prominent part of your personality before."

Despite himself, Steve smiled. He had forgotten Randy's propensity for cutting through, as she had so delicately classed it, the 'bull'.

"Maybe you're right," he acknowledged.

"I know I am! I know I am!" Randy responded, irritatingly smug, "So what are you planning to do whilst you are here?"

"This afternoon I am going on a whale watching trip," Steve answered, "but after that….I haven't planned anything."

"Great!" Randy enthused, "we can spend some time together and begin to sort out what you are going to do with the rest of your life."

Realising that he had more chance of getting out of the way of a tidal wave, Steve mentally gave up and smiled.

"Shall we have dinner tonight?" Randy continued, determined not to let Steve off the hook.

"I look forward to it," Steve replied, "7.30 at the motel entrance okay?"

"Great," Randy stood, bent down and gave Steve a gentle kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you later."

Steve continued to sit on the rock long after Randy had disappeared. As much as he hated to admit it, Randy had made a lot of sense. Whilst he didn't totally agree with her assessment that he had been wallowing he had, to a certain extent, been using the 'day to day' as a way of not thinking about the future. Well, the future was here and he had run out of excuses. Looking at his watch, Steve realised that if he was going to make his boat trip, he needed to get moving. Standing up, he began walking in the direction of the motel.

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Much later, tired but exhilarated, Steve entered his motel room still slightly damp from the ocean and whale plumes. For many years he had promised himself a whale watching trip and it had lived up to all his expectations. The large female, and her new calf, had lain motionless on the surface of the ocean, giving everyone in the boat a chance to touch them both. Steve had been concerned that, with his failing eyesight, he would have some difficulties. It hadn't occurred to him that, because of their vast size, whales would not 'disappear' through his central vision.

Dropping his camera bag onto his bed, Steve continued on into the bathroom shedding his clothes as he went. When he had booked in, he had been pleased to find a shower rather than a bath. Although he had been able to have a decent wash at the last motel he still preferred a shower, he felt cleaner. Stepping into the cubicle, he pulled the Perspex door closed behind him and turned on the water. The strong jet of water hit his skin and cascaded down his body, following the contours of his hips and down his legs to run between his toes before disappearing down the drain. Closing his eyes, Steve turned around and around until every particle of skin was wet, before lathering himself with his favourite shower gel.  Clean, he repeated his slow pirouette under the water making sure that no stray scrap of lather remained. Turning the water off, Steve stepped out of the shower and wrapped a large towel around his waist before moving back into the bedroom to dry off.  Looking at his watch, Steve saw that he still had an hour before he was due to meet Randy so he decided that he may as well take the time to recruit his strength. He'd need all his energy to cope with whatever Randy had to throw at him.

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Laughter rang out across the restaurant and many of the other diners looked around to see who was making the joyous sound. They saw a beautiful blonde laughing at something her companion, a handsome, well tanned man, had just said to her.  Smiling, they all turned back to their meals.

"Oh, Steve," Randy fought hard to regain her composure, "I just cannot imagine Jesse doing that."

"Trust me, Randy," Steve replied wiping his own, laughter stained, eyes, "It took days to get the colour out of his hair. He had to spend three night shifts looking like Ronald MacDonald."

As their laughter died away, Randy's eyes took on a more serious tone.

"So, Sloan," she said, "you have spent the whole meal regaling me with tales of your dad, Jesse and Amanda, but nothing about you or what has been happening to you."

Steve sighed, he should have known that he would not be able to get through the entire evening without the third degree. Concisely, without any emotion, he detailed the events of the past couple of years. From the accident at Jesse's, through his initial diagnosis, ending with his last meeting with Jonathan and his trip.When he finished speaking, for a short while there was silence whilst Randy marshalled her thoughts.  Locking eyes with Steve, Randy said to him,

"Steve, that was almost like listening to you talk about someone else. It was clinical, impersonal."

"What do you want from me, Randy?" Steve was niggled that, as always, she had managed to hit the nail right on the head.

He had been clinical, it was the only way that he had been able to cope over the past few months. He knew that it looked to the outside world that he was coping and, on a certain level, he was. But in order to be able to cope, he had locked his fear away in a small corner of his brain and kept a 24/7 guard just in case someone tried to use the key. Not only had Randy found the key, but she had sneaked past him and, if he wasn't careful, she would have the door unlocked and his fear would be free.

"I want you to be honest about how you feel," she responded.

Clink.

Steve heard the key turn in the lock and the door opened. Tears, totally unlike those of a few moments ago, formed in his eyes and he whispered,

"I'm scared, Randy."

"What of?" Randy opened the door a little further.

"Of going blind."

"But you told me that you would still have some sight," Randy continued.

"But I can't be a cop anymore, Randy," Steve said, "and being a cop is all I have ever known."

"So?" Randy was terse, "Plenty of people have a mid-life career change. What's stopping you?"

"I've never wanted to be anything else," Steve answered.

"That's no answer. Try again."

Restraining an impulse to get up and walk away, Steve looked across the table at the woman in front of him.

"I honestly don't know, Randy," he said, "I haven't given it much thought."

"Then think about it now. What do you like doing?"

"Surfing. Riding my motorcycle. Two things that will really be enhanced by having restricted vision." Steve responded, somewhat sarcastically.

Unfortunately the sarcasm did not, as he had hoped, shut Randy up.

"Hmm, a show of emotion. Maybe there's hope for you yet, Sloan. Okay, let's try another tack. What part of police work did you enjoy the most?"

"Catching the bad guys," Steve's irritation with Randy causing him to resort to a somewhat childlike expression.

"The actual physical act of catching them? You know running them to ground or the fact that, once convicted, they were off the streets and paying for their crimes?"

This time it was Steve's turn to be silent. In all the years that he had been a cop, no-one had ever asked him to analyse his choice of profession.

"I guess," he said eventually, "I like knowing that I have made a difference, that I have helped someone begin the healing process after a loved one is murdered. Yeah, I like knowing that I have made a difference."

"Okay, this is good, now we are getting somewhere." Randy said, "So is being a cop the only profession where you can make a difference?"

"Of course not," Steve answered, "My dad makes a difference in people's lives every single day."

"So……….."

"I'm a bit too old to become a doctor, even if I wanted to. Which I don't," Steve replied.

"Well, duh!" Randy's response was delightfully inelegant.

There was a welcome pause in the conversation provided by a waiter bringing their desserts, two huge ice cream sundaes. Finishing his first, Steve placed his spoon in the dish and sighed.

"It's a long time since I had one of those. We don't serve them at Bobs."

This was something that Randy hadn't heard about, "Bobs?" she questioned.

Steve explained how he and Jesse had bought Bobs after Caitlin Sweeney's bombing of Community General and how well the restaurant was doing.

"Sounds to me like you have a pretty good thing going outside of the force already," Randy commented.

"I don't know, Randy," Steve answered thoughtfully," but, if you will pardon the pun, you have given me a lot of food for thought."

"I won't charge a fee this time," Randy joked, reaching out to take Steve's hand and was a little shocked when he pulled it abruptly away, "What's up?"

"Nothing," Steve denied.

"Yeah, right." Randy answered, "That wasn't a 'nothing' , that was definitely  a something. Give, Sloan."

Steve didn't answer, he simply looked down at the empty sundae dish. A flash of inspiration struck Randy.

"Steve, "she spoke softly, continuing only when Steve raised his eyes to hers, "how long is it since you made love?"

Again there was a long silence, broken only by the sound of their joint breathing before Steve answered, "I haven't slept with anyone since I was diagnosed."

"Oh, Steve," and it was the tone in Randy's voice that finally broke through Steve's carefully built defences.

Tears came, again, unbidden to his eyes and a solitary one escaped to run down his cheek. Quickly, Randy pulled him out of his chair and only pausing long enough to leave money to pay the bill, she guided him out of the restaurant. 

Her arm firmly tucked around Steve's waist, Randy steered him in the direction of his room. As Steve opened the door, Randy began to pull her arm away but he stopped her, saying,

"Don't go, Randy, please. I don't want to be alone."

Randy looked up into his eyes, not quite sure of what he was asking.

"Stay with me," Steve spoke again, reaching out and cupping her softly flushing face in one of his large hands, "I want you to stay with me."

"I don't want to stay if this is out of self-pity," she answered not moving a muscle, although it cost her a great deal not to, "If I stay, it will be because it is what we both want."

For a long time Steve didn't speak, then he leaned down and covered her lips with his in a kiss that was so gentle and yet so full of yearning. Randy threw all her reservations about staying out of the window and wound her arms around Steve's muscular torso.  Eventually lifting his head, Steve took hold of Randy's hand and they moved through the opening into the room. The only sound heard was the click of the door as it closed behind them.