Disclaimer: ALL characters belong to Viacom, Paramount and CBS. No infringement is intended, as this story is written for fun only. The characters, Detectives Mike Rogers and Tom Larkin belong to Ofelia Reveles. The characters, Katherine Lena (Katie) Sloan and Lena's mom (I gave Lena's mom a name – Eunice Fournay) belong to Emma Gentz. I also borrowed some of Emma's story content regarding the events in Steve and Lena's marriage, Katie's birth, Lena's death, and Steve and Ellen's romance. I however added a new spin: Steve and Ellen have a devastating break-up
This chapter finds Ellen getting together a plan of attack on poor Steve. She is trying to further her career at the expense of the LAPD and Lt. Steve Sloan. Ellen will soon find out that things don't work out the way we plan.
Chapter Five – A Possible Relapse For Steve?
Lt. Steve Sloan looked around the office of his new psychiatrist, Dr. Agnes Aames. The first things that Steve noticed were the framed pictures on the wall of Dr. Aames office. There were paintings of beach scenes, forest animals and castles in far away lands. As he was engulfed in the splendor of the pictures, the receptionist, a Nurse Leslie Perrin, greeted him.
"Good morning, sir. How may I help you?" Nurse Perrin asked.
"My name is Lt. Steve Sloan, and I have a 10 o'clock appointment." Steve replied.
"Oh, yes, I see your name, sir," Nurse Perrin began, "please take a seat. I'll ring Dr, Aames and let her know you're here."
"Thank you." Steve replied as he took a seat in the waiting area.
"Lt. Sloan," Nurse Perrin began, "Dr. Prescott gave us your chart. Has anything changed?"
"Everything is still the same." Steve replied, smiling at the pretty nurse.
"Great," Nurse Perrin replied returning Steve's smile. "That means no paperwork and no writer's cramp." With that comment, Steve and Nurse Perrin shared a brief laugh, as Dr. Aames came out to greet him."
"Lt. Sloan," Dr. Aames began, smiling at the young police lieutenant. "I'm glad to see you."
"Dr. Aames," Steve began nervously, "what happens today and what will our session be like?"
"Well, Lieutenant," Dr. Aames began in a soothing tone, "this will be our getting to know each other session. This is where you'll decide if I'm the right doctor for you."
"Oh, okay," Steve began with a knowing nod, "to see if we have a rapport."
"Yes, Lieutenant." Dr. Aames replied. "Are you ready to start? Would you like a cup of tea before we start?"
"A cup of tea," Steve began, "I didn't realize that psychiatrists offered their patients tea. By the way, you can call me Steve."
"You may call me Agnes, if you feel comfortable with that." Dr. Aames replied, knowing that many people had trouble being on a first name basis with their psychiatrist. "I'll have Nurse Perrin bring in two cups of Chamomile tea. I gave this tea to many of my patients, it seems to relax them."
"Dr. Prescott never offered me tea," Steve replied, smiling at the beautiful older woman doctor.
"I guess it's a male thing," Dr. Aames began smiling back at Steve.
"I guess so." Steve replied returning Dr. Aames' smile.
With that, Steve was led into Dr. Agnes Aames' office and they began their introductory session.
After about two hours, the session ended with Steve feeling comfortable with Dr. Aames as his new psychiatrist. And although Dr. Aames felt their session went well, she felt that Steve was holding on to a lot more than he led on.
"Gene was right!" Dr. Aames exclaimed to herself. "That young man has some kind of strong armour around his feelings. This may take some work, but I'm sure we can penetrate that armour."
"Bye, Dr. Aames," Steve replied, piercing through Dr. Aames thoughts. "I would like to make another appointment."
"What day would you like to come in?" Dr. Aames asked.
"Two weeks from Friday." Steve replied. "Do you have time."
"How does 9am, Friday morning sound?" Dr. Aames asked.
"That sounds great," Steve began, "put me down for that time slot, Dr. Aames."
"Okay, I have you down for three hours." Dr. Aames replied. "I see you're not going to use my first name, huh? It's all right for you to call me Agnes, I have no problem with that."
"I think I'd feel more comfortable calling you Dr. Aames, if that's all right with you." Steve replied, as prepared to leave Dr. Aames' office.
"No problem, Steve," Dr. Aames began, "do you have to go to work today?"
"No," Steve began smiling mischievously, "I took a few days off to terrorize my dad."
"Oh, no you don't," Dr. Aames began ribbing Steve, "my prescription to you is for you to spend that time surfing. And...leave your father alone. What you young people put we parents through!"
"Okay, Dr. Aames," Steve began smiling, "you win...this time."
"Okay," Dr. Aames began waving at Steve as he prepared to leave the office. "Goodbye, Steve, and happy surfing."
"Bye, Dr. Aames and thanks." Steve replied as he left Dr. Aames office.
At The Beach House
As Steve entered the beach house, he was surprised to see Jesse and Amanda in the living room. Mark was in the kitchen busily preparing lunch for the gang. It seems as though they had been waiting on Steve to arrive.
"Hey, Steve," Jesse began happily, "how's everything going?"
"Fine, Jess," Steve began, "how's everything with you?"
"Everything's great." Jess replied, smiling.
"Hi, Amanda," Steve began, smiling affectionately at the beautiful pathologist, whom it loved as a sister. "How's Ron, Dion and CJ doing."
"They're all doing great," Amanda began smiling brightly.
"I have a feeling you have some news you want to impart to us," Steve began to inquire. Steve would have continued, but was gently interrupted by Amanda.
"Patience, Grasshopper, patience," Amanda began smiling affectionately at both Steve and Jesse. "I'll tell you all after we've had our lunch."
"Oh, all right," Steve began, sighing impatiently.
Just then Mark came out of the kitchen with a meatball appetizer, apologizing profusely for the delay in lunch. Mark saw his son and greeted him brightly.
"Hey there, Son," Mark began cheerfully, "how was your day thus far?"
"Dad, it was great," Steve began, knowing all too well that Mark was more interested in his counseling session with Dr. Aames. "Okay, Dad, the counseling went well, but it's too soon to tell, as this was just an introductory session. Kinda like a getting to know you session between the doctor and the patient."
"Okay, Son," Mark began, his countenance crestfallen, as Steve saw through him. "I'm glad that the counseling session went well."
"Dad, it's okay," Steve began apologetically, as he saw his father's expression drop. "You're just an over-protective father, and I wouldn't have you any other way."
"Well, Son," Mark began, his handsome and distinguished features lightening up, "I'm glad to hear you say that. So, I act like a dad on the edge, please remember that I'm just an over protective dad."
"Ha, ha, ha, Dad," Steve began, "very funny." Just then, Steve thought of the prescription for surfing that Dr. Aames gave him.
"Hey, Jess," Steve began, "how would you like to go surfing with me after lunch?" Steve asked, knowing the answer.
"Sure thing, Steve," Jesse replied cheerfully, as he just loved hanging out with Steve. He considered Steve the big brother he had longed for. "I didn't bring my surf board with me."
"I can borrow a surf board from the Negron twins," Steve began, "if I leave now, I can get back before Dad finishes cooking. By the way, Jess, do you happen to know what he's making for lunch?"
"He said it's a surprise," Jesse began, laughing at look of horror on Steve's face. "Relax, Steve, it won't be that bad."
"Yeah, just like the fish head cuisine, huh?" Steve asked, a look of disgust crossing his handsome features. "Amanda, would you like a surfing lesson?"
"No, not today," Amanda began, not sure if she could trust Steve, as he had a mischievous streak. "Maybe some other day, perhaps?"
"It's a deal," Steve began, "just let me know when."
"Hey, kids, lunch is served!" Mark announced confidently. "A meal even you can appreciate, Steve."
To Steve's amazement, lunch consisted of generous sized hamburgers and curly fries.
"Okay, Dad," Steve began suspiciously, "what's the catch? What are you up to?"
"Oh, nothing, Son," Mark began smiling affectionately Steve, "they're gourmet hamburgers."
"Oh no!" Steve exclaimed. "What did I do to deserve this?"
"Steve, what don't you like about gourmet food?" Amanda asked curious to know what Steve had against gourmet food. "Why don't you try the burgers first, and then you can determine if they taste bad." With that, Amanda broke into a fit of giggles, as Steve just glared at her.
"Steve's stomach only approves the slop we serve at the hospital." Jesse replied, ducking under the arm that Steve swung in his direction. "What was that for, Steve? I was only speaking the truth."
As Mark sat at the table truly enjoying the banter among the younger people, he couldn't help but wonder if Steve was truly on the way to recovery, or was this just another ploy to cover up the deep pain he had experienced over that past year and a half. Just then, the phone rang cutting through Mark's thought process.
"Dr. Mark Sloan here." Mark responded into the receiver. "Oh, yes, Agnes, I'll put Steve on. Steve, Son, Dr. Aames is on the line for you."
"Hello," Steve began as he spoke into the receiver, "hi Dr. Aames. "Yes, of course I remember that I have an appointment with you. I'm not some irresponsible child that needs to be reminded of their doctor's appointment. Goodbye!" With that, Steve abruptly and angrily disconnected their call. His reaction to Dr. Aames calling to remind Steve of his appointment caught everyone off guard, especially Mark.
As Mark went over to his son, Steve gave him a glare that clearly spoke volumes. It was apparent that Steve didn't want to be bothered. Steve excused himself and went down to his apartment. He slammed the door with such force it seemed to vibrate the whole house.
"Guys," Mark began to address Amanda and Jesse, "I don't know what that was all about, but I plan to get to the bottom of it." Mark had a lot more to say, but Amanda gently interrupted him.
"Mark," Amanda began smiling affectionately at the older doctor, "you may want to wait until Steve has calmed down. Give him time to sleep on it. Maybe you can speak to him a little later. Or better yet, you may wish to speak to him tomorrow morning."
"Amanda," Mark began pleading with her, "tomorrow would be too late, his appointment is 9:00am in the morning. I really need to find out what's really going on. He seemed to be getting better, but now it seems as though he's going backwards."
"Mark," Amanda began, shocked that Mark felt that Steve was going backwards in his recovery. "You of all people should know that these things take time. Steve likes to keep things locked up in his 'little box'."
"But what could've happened to cause Steve to act like that?" A desperate Mark asked. "What could Dr. Aames have said that got Steve so upset?"
"Perhaps Agnes got to open that 'little box' of Steve's." Amanda replied thoughtfully. "That's only thing I could come up with, Mark."
"I'm sorry, Sweetie," Mark began apologizing to Amanda. "It's just that it pains me to see Steve struggling to get a handle on his true feelings."
For the next five minutes the three friends sat in Mark's dining room sipping hot chocolate. The phone's ringing interrupted their silence. Mark picked the phone up on the fourth ring.
"Dr. Mark Sloan here," Mark responded into the receiver. "Oh, yes Agnes, I'm glad you called back. No, I'm afraid that Steve can't, or should I say won't come to the phone. What happened Agnes? Why was Steve so angry?"
"Mark," Dr. Agnes Aames began sadly, "I don't know. I merely called him to remind him of his appointment for tomorrow, then he just hauled off and accused me of treating him like a child."
As Mark listened on the phone to Dr. Aames, he could hear the sound of frustration in her voice. He decided to lighten the mood and let Agnes know that she did nothing wrong in calling to remind Steve of his appointment.
"Well, Agnes," Mark began in an attempt to lighten the mood, "welcome to the club. Did you know that's exactly what he accused me, Dr. Prescott and Captain Hernandez of?"
"He did?" Dr. Aames asked. "What did you do?"
"Nothing really," Mark began, sadly remembering the rough time Steve had trying to come to grips with Lena's death. "We just let him be for the time being. We just waited until he calmed down enough before we tried talking with him."
"Mark," Agnes began in frustration, "that son of yours has some kind of armour around his emotions. He's a harder case than Gene let on."
"Yes, he does." Mark replied, sadly knowing it was a trait that he passed on to Steve. "I'm sure if anyone would be able to penetrate that armour of Steve's, you can. If I were a betting man, I'd put my money on you."
"Mark," Agnes began, "thanks for the encouragement. I really needed it. Let Steve know that I'll be waiting for him tomorrow, that's if he still wants to see me."
Later That EveningMark went down to Steve's apartment to have a man to man talk with him. He knocked lightly on the door of Steve's apartment, and then slowly opened the door. What he saw next caught him totally off guard. Steve was crouched on the floor, holding a photo of Lena. When Steve looked up at his father, the look that Mark saw on Steve's face nearly broke his heart. Mark noticed that Steve's eyes were red and puffy, as if he'd been crying for a few hours. Mark gently lifted his son off the floor and sat him in the recliner in Steve's living room. Steve turned his head away from his father, as if he were trying to hide something from him.
"Son, do you want to talk about it?" Mark asked as he rubbed Steve's back. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," was Steve's terse reply.
"Steve, Son, I know you're not fine," Mark began, sadly knowing that Steve was experiencing some kind of setback. "You need to come clean with whatever is bothering you. That's the only way you can go on with your life. You need to talk to me. Please confide in me, I'm here to help you. I love you so much and I don't want to see you hurt in anyway."
As Mark continued to watch his son intently, he couldn't help but think that Steve looked like a 6'2" version of the little boy he comforted when his bike was stolen. Steve was content to keep silent, so as not to let his true feelings of sadness come to the surface. Mark decided to break the silence.
"Steve, why don't you take a shower, while I get your bed ready for you?" Mark asked. "I'll make us some hot chocolate, too."
"Thanks, Dad," Steve began, offering his dad a boyish smile. "I love you, too." With that, Steve took a quick shower, while Mark prepared his bed and made the hot chocolate for Steve and himself.
Steve finished his shower and put on his flannel pajamas. As he came into his bedroom, he couldn't help but smile affectionately at Mark. His dad prepared a bed top tray with a large mug of piping hot chocolate, along with four giant oatmeal raison cookies. This scene brought back memories from his childhood.
Steve Sloan Remembers9 year old Steve Sloan came home, his cheeks were wet with tears. Katherine was in the kitchen happily preparing dinner for the family, while Mark was in the living room reading a medical journal and Carol watched cartoons in her bedroom.
Mark turned his head when he heard the front door of their new beach house open. As Steve walked in, Mark's face creased with concern as he noticed Steve's tear stained cheeks.
"Son, what happened?" Mark asked with concern.
"My dirt bike..." was all Steve was able to say to his father. Steve began to sob heavily, causing Mark to engulf him in a fatherly hug.
"Steve, Son, what about your dirt bike?" Mark asked in an attempt to get Steve to finish his comment.
"It was stolen, Dad, that's what!" Steve replied tearfully.
"Calm down, Son," Mark began to sooth Steve, "do you know who stole it?"
"No," Steve began sadly, "three older boys, who were big and mean, they just bullied me and took my bike."
"Son, I'm off tomorrow," Mark began soothingly, "we'll go to the store and get you another dirt bike."
"I don't want another dirt bike," Steve began crying, "I want that one."
"Son," Mark began, smiling affectionately at his young son, "there's no way that we can get that one back. We're just going have to get you a new one, okay?"
"Yes, sir." Steve replied sadly.
"I've got a great idea, Son," Mark began, knowing that the way to Steve's heart was his stomach. "Let me make you a cup of hot chocolate. Oh, by the way, Mrs. Wellington brought some of your favorite cookies over, so you can have a few of them." That last comment drew Mark a glare of anger from Katherine.
"Mark Sloan!" Katherine began with a hint of anger. "You ought to know better than that! If you give Steve those large cookies, you're going to ruin his appetite."
"Kate," Mark began, "remember, this is Steve Sloan, the eating machine of Malibu. Nothing, and I mean nothing will ruin his appetite."
"We'll see about that." Katherine replied. With that comment, Katherine turned her attention back to cooking dinner.
Mark and Steve devoured hot chocolate and the oatmeal cookies. Katherine made her famous 'dinner's ready' made. Unfortunately, Mark was the one with the ruined appetite.
"Dad," Steve began, smiling graciously at Mark, "are you gonna eat that?" Steve gestured toward his blackened salmon.
"Son, you can't still be hungry?" Mark asked incredulously, wondering where Steve put all the food he ate. Steve was very thin for a boy his age. He was also tall for his age.
"Yeah, Dad, I can," Steve began smiling, "I'm a growing kid, don't ya know?"
"Steve, where on earth do you put all the food you eat?" Mark asked smiling affectionately at Steve. "If I ate as much food as you, they'd have to roll me around."
"Daddy!" Carol exclaimed, laughing at the banter between the two Sloan men. "You two are so funny!"
"Honey," Katherine began, "I guess you told me so. Steve's appetite hasn't suffered at all. But your appetite has greatly been impaired by your indulgence in those big oatmeal cookies. I hope you have room for dessert."
"What's for dessert?" Steve asked, hoping it was his all time favorite: Banana Pudding.
"Steve," Mark began, "you ARE kidding, right?"
"Kidding about what?" Steve asked totally clueless as to what Mark was talking about.
"About wanting dessert." Mark replied shaking his head. "You just ate a very large dinner and are getting ready to devour mine."
"Dad," Steve began with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "I told you, I'm a growing kid."
Mark looked over at his son and noticed that his son's countenance had changed from earlier today. Yes his bike was still gone, but little Stevie Sloan was back to his old self, thanks to the food and the fellowship with his family.
Steve was brought back from his reverie as Mark called out to him.
"Steve," Mark began with concern on his face, "are you okay? You seemed so far away."
"Yeah, Dad," Steve began smiling sheepishly, "just reminiscing. Seeing the hot chocolate and the big oatmeal cookies brought back some memories."
"Which one?" Mark asked curiously.
"When my dirt bike was stolen." Steve replied smiling. "You brought me a cup of hot chocolate and some very large oatmeal cookies. Boy was mom mad at you. She said it would ruin my appetite, but your appetite was the one that was ruined."
"Yeah, Kate was quite raw." Mark began smiling at the memory of his dear wife, Katherine. "You, on the other hand ate those cookies, your big dinner and you also ate my dinner. Nothing seems to have changed, has it, Son?"
"Huh?" Steve asked, still clueless about his large appetite.
"You still have a very hearty appetite," Mark began in mock disgust. "I don't know how you do it."
"Do what, Dad?" Steve replied with a look of puzzlement on his handsome face.
"How you can put away as much food as you do, and not gain an ounce of weight." Mark replied laughing at Steve's look of confusion. "Both you and Jess put lots of food away. I guess you guys have the bottomless stomachs." This last comment brought forth some heavy laughter from the Sloan men, something that had been missing for a long time.
Since Steve seemed to be in a much calmer and relaxed state of mind, Mark decided to bring up his reaction to Dr. Aames call to remind him of his appointment tomorrow morning. Mark knew he had to tread lightly where Steve was concerned, but it was worth a try and it was very important.
"Steve, Son," Mark began, treading carefully, "what was all that about with Agnes?"
"What was what?" Steve asked, his tone a bit on the terse side.
"Your attitude toward Dr. Aames when she called earlier today." Mark replied. "What's with the attitude?" Mark knew he hit Steve a bit hard, but there was no other way to approach the situation. Mark knew that Steve was suffering some kind of setback in his recovery. He wanted to let Steve know that the only way he would be able to go forth in his life was to open up to Dr. Agnes Aames.
As Steve remained silent, Mark pressed on while the door was opened, which Mark opened himself.
"Steve," Mark began his passionate plea to his son, "you have to let Agnes in on what you're going through. You're going to have to open that 'little box' of yours. Don't hold back anything, because that would have an adverse on you and those of us who love you. What do you say, Son?"
"I'll think about it," Steve began sadly, "I'm not even sure if I want to continue counseling."
Mark noticed the change is Steve's countenance, and it he knew it wasn't a good thing. Mark then had a thought, perhaps he should see if Steve would consider seeing another psychiatrist.
"Steve," Mark began in exhausted exasperation, "would you like to see another doctor?"
"No, Dad," Steve began with a sad gleam in his eyes, "Dr. Aames is okay, it's just that I may just cancel my counseling sessions all together."
"Steve, what brought this on?" A clearly distraught Mark asked. "Son, in order for you to put the events of the past behind you, you're going to have to stick with your counseling sessions."
"No, I don't!" Steve replied tersely. "Dad, I'm an adult..." Steve would have pleaded his case further, but Mark sadly but firmly interrupted him.
"Steve, you wear that 'I'm an adult' comment like a mantle, and frankly, I've grown weary with it." Mark replied in a firm parental tone, one that Steve wouldn't dare challenge, though he was nearly 34 years old. "If you're really serious about getting on with your life, there won't be ANY problem with you sticking with counseling, now would there?"
"No, sir," a sullen Lt. Steve Sloan replied.
"Okay," Mark began, trying to lighten the mood, "I'm in the mood for some Chinese food, how about you, Son?"
"You paying?" Steve asked smiling slightly, knowing that he had some apologizing to do, both to his dad and Dr. Agnes Aames.
"Yeah, I'll pay," Mark began in mock disgust, but glad to see the small smile on Steve's handsome face. "You're so spoiled!"
"Yeah, because you spoiled me," Steve began, the smile on his face growing larger by the minute. "Remember the oatmeal cookies you fed me before dinner? Mom was really mad at you!" With last comment came heavy laughing.
"Dad, I'm sorry by the way I acted earlier with Dr. Aames and with you a few minutes ago." Steve began with a sheepish expression on his face. "I'll stick with Dr. Aames in counseling. Just remember that I'll need you, Carol, Amanda, Jess, Ron, Eunice and Pierre to be by my side. I'll need lots of encouragement as we get deep into the counseling sessions. There's lots of things I'll need to work out."
"Son," Mark began smiling affectionately at Steve, "you know we'll be right there by your side. Wild elephants couldn't drive us away. If those wild elephants were to stick their snouts out, we'll give them some of our hospital food, that'll show them." The latter comment brought a scowl from Steve, upon the mention of Steve's beloved hospital food.
"And what's wrong with the food at the hospital cafeteria?" Steve asked, give his dad a mock scowl. "The food is quite tasty. Dad, you just have to give it a chance."
"Steve, what has happened to you?" Mark asked puzzled as to how his son could like the stuff the hospital served. "You weren't raised like that. Didn't you like the food your Mom and me made?"
"Yeah, Dad," Steve began smiling affectionately at Mark, "but I like the food at the cafeteria, too." Mark shook his head at Steve in disbelief regarding Steve's love of hospital food, as they prepared to go out to the local Chinese restaurant.
Monday Morning BluesMark awoke with a start. It was 5:30am in the morning and he knew that he had lots to do around the house, as well as run errands around town. Although it was a well-deserved day off, he knew his day was destined to be a very busy one. Mark took a quick shower and then he shaved.
Mark then went into the kitchen, fully expecting to smell coffee brewing, because he thought that Steve had to work today. When he approached the kitchen, he was surprised to see that the coffee maker was quiet. With a sigh, he loaded the coffee maker with the fancy blend that Amanda gave him. It was the Tahitian blend coffee that crazy Randy Wolf left after she left town a few years ago, before Steve met Lena. She was another woman that broke Steve's fragile heart.
As Mark sat sipping the delightful coffee, Steve came bounding up the stairs, fully dressed in his running sweats. Steve handed Mark the newspaper. Steve didn't look read the newspaper until Mark had the chance to read it.
"Good morning, Son," Mark began cheerfully, taking the newspaper from Steve, "did you sleep well last night?"
"Yeah, Dad," Steve began, pouring himself a cup of much-needed caffeine. "I haven't slept this good in a very long time. I'm getting ready for a jog, I should be back in about an hour or two."
"Okay, Son," Mark began, "wait, won't that make you late for work?"
"I'm not due back to work for about another week, Dad." Steve replied.
"And how did you manage to pull that one off, young man?" Mark replied ribbing Steve.
"Well, Dad, if you must know," Steve began, "I had a lot of vacation days left over. I was told I had to use them or lose them. And I refuse to lose valuable vacation days."
"Oh, I see," Mark began peering suspiciously at Steve, "so you just thought you'd take a few days off to terrorize your old man, huh?"
"Well, of course, what else are fathers for?" Steve asked smiling affectionately at Mark. "Well, seriously, Dad, I just thought we'd spend a little father and son time together before Katie came back home."
"Son, I'd love to do that!" Mark exclaimed happily. "I'll peruse the papers to see what movies are playing at the Beach Cinema."
"Hey, Dad," Steve began smiling, "that would be great. I'll pick up some junk food for us for the rest of the week. We know how WE get those wild snack-attacks."
"If memory serves me correctly," Mark began with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "it was you who had the snack-attacks."
"Dad," Steve began smiling wickedly at his father, "now c'mon, you know it was you and NOT me with the big addiction to junk food."
With that Steve left the beach house for a much-desired jog on his beloved beach, while Mark stayed at home waiting for the morning news to start.
As Mark waited for the morning news to come on, there was a knock on the door. Mark went to answer the door. It was a grim looking Ms. Ellen Sharp.
"Hello, Ellen," Mark began cheerfully, "what a pleasant surprise. Come on in. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"Mark," Ellen began subdued, "I came to see Steve and go over this breaking story. I'd like to get his side of the story before we go to print."
"What exactly are you talking about, Ellen?" Mark asked. "And...what breaking story are you referring to?"
"About the detective who's currently living in an expensive beach house in Malibu, all on a cop's meager salary." Ellen replied a bit smugly, even for a patient Mark Sloan's taste. "I wonder if he's even paying his ex-wife a decent child support check, let alone alimony."
Mark Sets The Record Straight"In the first place," Mark began, attempting to keep his temper from flaring up, "this is my home, Steve and his daughter Katie live with me. Secondly, Steve is a widower and he is NOT divorced. Where on Earth did you get your information?"
"I'm sorry, Mark, I guess I seemed to have jumped the gun once again," Ellen began with an apology. "I should have done my homework more thoroughly. Do you forgive me?"
"I guess I can," Mark began, sadly knowing that Steve would find it hard to forgive Ellen, because a story of that nature could possibly cause Steve to be suspended or to be kicked off the force all together. "Ellen, I can't say if Steve would feel the same way, it's going to be hard for me not to forget that you were going to publish a story like that. How could you?"
"I'm a reporter in search of a lead story." Ellen replied, she would have gone further, but Mark cut her off abruptly.
"You thought you had the story to give your journalism career a boost, all at my son's expense." Mark replied coolly.
"Mark, I said I was sorry." Ellen replied as she gave Mark the draft of her story for his perusal. As Mark read the draft, a look of sadness came spread across his handsome and distinguished face. He was glad that Steve was on the beach for his morning jog, because if he had seen Ellen's draft of her story, it would have sent him reeling.
Mark led Ellen out onto the deck in order to continue their conversation. As turned his portable TV on, he was startled to see the breaking report on their local station. The reporter stated that she had a breaking news report regarding corruption among the ranks at the LAPD. As she smiled, Mark swore he'd seen that same toothy grin on a cheetah chasing after its prey on the National Geographic special. Mark sat there in unbelief as the reporter, a Ms. Delilah Stoner, reported the breaking story.
As they sat on the deck, Steve arrived home from jogging on the beach. As Steve approached the dining room table, he spotted a document with Ellen's name on it. He knew it was wrong to read anything that wasn't his, but because Ellen's name was on it, he decided to read it.
As Steve began reading the offending document, a story accusing him of possible corruption, he made the mistake of turning on the morning news, where Delilah Stoner was reporting on the same subject. Steve let out a groan of distress, a groan that was heard by Mark and Ellen.
As Mark and Ellen came inside the beach house, Mark ran to the side of his stricken son. Mark was concerned as Steve seemed to be hyperventilating. Mark handed his stricken son a paper bag and had him breathe inside of it to get a handle on his breathing.
"That's it, Son," Mark began soothingly, "take nice, slow breaths. You're going to have to calm down, Son."
"Dad," a clearly distressed Steve began, "how can I calm down? My name is as good as mud, thanks to this story." With that last comment, Steve turned to see Ellen standing by the patio doors.
"What's she doing here, Dad," Steve began, gesturing angrily at Ellen, "she's the reason my name is mud. My reputation as being a good cop just went out the window, thanks to that 'WOMAN'.
"Steve, Ellen came by here to get your side of the story before she went to print." Mark replied in an attempt to sooth his son's frazzled nerves. "She didn't want to print the story until she had your response."
"Yeah, just bet she did," Steve began hotly. "Why don't you just leave us alone, Ellen."
Ellen was totally shocked by Steve's hot anger, even though the situation warranted it. She watched as Mark unsuccessfully tried to calm the younger Sloan man down.
"You know, Ms. Sharp," Steve began angrily, "all you care about is your big break and you don't care who you hurt in the process. I hope it was all worth your job promotion." With that, Steve got up to leave abruptly. As Mark gently grabbed Steve's arm, Steve pulled out of Mark's grip. Mark saw the deep pain in Steve's eyes as he left for his downstairs unit. Mark didn't go after Steve, wisely deciding to wait until Steve calmed down. Steve's heart was broken, because he began to have feelings for Ellen, even though he wouldn't admit it. And this story tore at the very core of his being.
Mark then focused all of his attention to the beautiful young reporter standing in his living room. He thought he'd ask her an all-important question to get the ball rolling in order to find who had access to Ellen's story.
"Ellen, who besides yourself saw your story draft?" Mark asked in an attempt to narrow the list of suspects.
"The only person, other than myself, would have been Mr. Whitaker." Ellen replied sadly. "Mark, I didn't grant anyone permission to report my story. In fact, this story had a copyright on it."
"Really? Can you really copyright news reports?" Mark asked curiously. "I only thought that was reserved for books and literature."
"You can put a copyright on your news stories, network news reporters do it all the time." Ellen replied.
"So you have no idea how that Stoner woman would have gotten your story?" Mark asked Ellen, curious to know how that story got from draft to the morning news.
"Not a clue, Mark," Ellen began, "you know, Mark, one of my best friends, C.S. Hubing told something very interesting. She told me to watch out for Delilah Stoner." Ellen began to tell Mark about Ms. Stoner.
Last Week At WMON Television StudioC.S. Hubing arrived at her office at WMON Television Studio. She was the station manager and the producer of the morning news. She arrived just in time to hear the heated exchange between Delilah Stoner and Elizabeth Kramer. Neither woman saw Ms. Hubing as they kept arguing over a man and the news anchor's position that was vacant, among other things.
"I've been here longer than you, Delilah," Elizabeth Kramer began angrily, "and I should be the next news anchor."
"Out with the old, and in with the new," Delilah Stoner began snidely, "let's face it sweetie, you're yesterday's news. I'm what men want to see. They don't want nor do they need to see some old has been trying stay young." With that both women went there separate ways, leaving Ms. Hubing shaking her head at the women's behavior.
A Few Minutes LaterA conniving Delilah Stoner could be heard in the corridor of WMON, talking on the phone. She seemed to be plotting to get an exclusive story from someone. She told the person on the other end of line that she would be having dinner with someone that could help her get the story that would boost her career and keep Elizabeth Kramer on the streets a roving reporter. She smiled at the scene she painted in her mind's eye of Ms. Kramer reporting on smaller stories in the cold, while she sat in the warm studio behind the anchor's desk. With that, she disconnected the call and went to the break room.
"I wonder if she was talking with Mr. Whitaker over at the National Scoop?" Ms. Hubing asked herself. "I had better call Ellen and warn her to keep a sharp look out for Ms. Stoner." With that, Cynthia grabbed her cell phone and punched in Ellen's cell phone number. Ellen picked up the phone on the third ring.
"Ms. Sharp here." Ellen responded into the receiver.
"Hi, Ellen," Cynthia (C.S.) Hubing began anxiously, "you need to keep a sharp look out for Delilah Stoner."
"Why?" Ellen asked with concern.
"I think she's up to something, that's why." C.S. replied tersely.
"You don't have to get snippy about it." Ellen replied, hurt that her friend snapped at her.
"I'm sorry, Ellen," C.S. began in an apologetic tone, "it's not you that's got me upset, it's Ms. Stoner."
"What has gotten you in such a tizzy?" Ellen asked, not use to hearing that type of tone from C.S. Hubing.
"I overheard her telling someone that she had a line on a great story," C.S. Hubing replied. "She said she was meeting with someone and that by tonight she should have that exclusive story."
"Yeah, so what does that have to do with me?" A puzzled Ellen asked.
"She's supposedly seeing your boss, Mr. Whitaker," C.S. Hubing began, "what if the story she is referring to is the one that you're working on?"
"What? You don't think that Mr. Whitaker would give her my story, do you?" Ellen asked incredulously. "I had that story copyrighted and Mr. Whitaker is well aware of that fact."
"Well, Ellen, I just thought I'd give you a heads up on the situation that may arise." C.S. Hubing replied.
"Okay, and thanks, C.S.," Ellen began, "I'll be sure to keep an eye on Ms. Stoner. I'll also be sure to keep my story under lock and key." With that, Ellen Sharp and C.S. Hubing disconnected their call.
"Oh, Mark!" Ellen exclaimed nervously. "What if Mr. Whitaker was the one that gave my story to Ms. Stoner?"
"Why on Earth would Mr. Whitaker do something like that, Ellen?" Mark asked incredulously, as he thought that Ellen had an overworked imagination. "That wouldn't be wise of your boss, now would it?"
"That woman could get any man to do anything for her," Ellen began sadly, "and I think that Mr. Whitaker was her latest victim."
"I need you to wait here," Mark began thoughtfully, "I want you to tell Steve what you just told me." Mark would have continued to relay his plan, but Ellen sadly interrupted him.
"Mark, Steve wouldn't listen, nor would he want to hear my explanation." Ellen replied sadly. "Would you blame him? I wouldn't."
"Ellen, it's at least worth a try, isn't it?" Mark asked. "I know my son can be single minded at times, but this is one time he's going to have to hear your side of the story."
"No, Mark," Ellen began, "I'm going to have to go back to the office, so I'll just let myself out." With that, Ms. Ellen Sharp left the beach house and left Mark to his many thoughts.
In Steve's BedroomAs Steve lay upon his bed, he thought about the news report and Ellen. Steve couldn't believe that Ellen would have the audacity to write a story that was so far fetched.
"Why would Ellen do such a thing?" Steve asked himself sadly. "Is she trying to get me kicked off the force? She's not right, and to think I almost fell in love with her."
What Steve didn't realize was that he had fallen hard for Ms. Sharp, even though he tried to deny it. But, there was something else he was not aware of: Ellen also had strong feelings for him as well.
A/N -- I hope you like this chapter and I hope that it's flowing smoothly with the other chapters. If it's not flowing smoothly for you please let me know. This is only my second fanfic, so please bear with me. I should have the Sixth Chapter up in about two weeks or less.