The House of Cards

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction, written, and hopefully read, strictly for enjoyment. The main characters of Mark, Steve, Amanda, and Jesse, as well as Ron Wagner and any others that you recognize are from the series Diagnosis Murder, and as such are the property of CBS/Viacom. Anyone that is new belongs to me.

A/N This is the sequel to The Thrill of the Chase and follows on almost immediately from that story.

Once again I have to mention my loyal band of beta readers who help me iron out the rough bits. Ladies, you know who you are and I hope you know how much your help means to me. Thank you.

Chapter One

"Let me go! No … please … let me go!" The scene swam before his eyes, the room seemed far too long to be real but he knew it was. The stones, he recognised the stones and the table and chairs which had always been just out of his reach. All that was there – it had to be real.

His wrists were restrained, he could see the metal glint in the sunshine, but how could it be sunny if the room was dark? He pulled and fought against his chains he had to get free, had to get to his dad.

"Dad … no … Dad." He could see him, the other side of the room, he was lying on the ground, and she was there, a gun in her hand which she was pointing at his father.

"DAD! … NO!" He shot up in the bed, sweat pouring off him, unable to stop the uncontrollable shaking of his body or the agony his movements caused.

"Steve, it's alright. I'm … I'm coming, Son." Mark made his way, finally, into the bedroom, his breath coming in short gasps as he leant against the doorframe for a moment.

"Oh, God." Steve ran his left hand over his eyes and then flopped back down in the bed totally exhausted by his dream. His right shoulder shouted its displeasure and a cry of pain escaped him.

Mark walked slowly across to the bed where his son lay and sat in the chair which was next to it. He reached out and took the younger man's hand into his own and held it tightly knowing that it was going to be another long night for both of them.

ooo

"I just wish you didn't have to go back is all I'm saying." Amanda sat at the table in the doctor's lounge, a cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of her, talking to the tall, good looking man opposite her.

"I know, and I don't want to either, but I have no choice." Ron grimaced; the phone call had been short and not at all sweet.

"Wagner?"

"Yes, Sir." Ron had been surprised to get the call from his superior officer at five in the morning, especially as he was still on vacation. He was awake but only just.

"I see you've made the papers." The voice showed that his boss was not a happy man. "Maybe you would like to bring me a copy."

"Yes, Sir. I'll be on the afternoon flight." The sound of the other phone being disconnected had told him that the call was over.

"I'll miss you."

"Honey, you know I'll miss you too. But it's my job. I can't ask you to move, not again, and even though I've put in a request nothing's come of it yet." Ron opened his own pre-packed plastic sandwiches and looked at them long and hard. Finally, knowing that until he got back to his apartment in Virginia it was this or airline food, he picked one up and took a bite.

As he washed it down with a mouthful of his coffee Ron saw Jesse coming along the hallway and watched as he too came into the lounge.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Jesse grinned as he spoke, knowing he was far enough away from Ron to have a good head start for a trauma suite.

"Jesse." Amanda just beamed but then looked serious. "How were they?"

He had just finished his daily house call to Mark and Steve and Jesse sat down at the same table and looked at Ron's lunch. "Are you gonna eat that?"

"Yes. So how are they?" Ron purposely took a slightly larger mouthful than usual and almost choked as he saw the disappointment flash across Travis's face. But then the moment was over and Jesse began to talk.

"Still not good. Steve had another nightmare last night, and Mark isn't well enough to be worrying about anyone other than himself. Not that he would agree. I'm gonna go sleep there tonight, at least that way if the dreams return Mark won't be hurrying down a hallway when he should be in bed himself."

Amanda smiled; she would take a shift but CJ and Dion needed her, and with Ron going back to Quantico after a very pleasant two week vacation she had to stay home. But during the day, while the children were in school, she would visit and help in any way she could.

"I suggested that Steve see James Barrington." Jesse watched Amanda's face as he spoke and saw the amazement there.

"And how did he take it?"

"Oh, just how you would expect Steve Sloan to take the suggestion that he goes and sees a shrink. But they won't let him back to work without at least one visit so he knows he has to go."

"Well, he has another month at home before you'll even think of letting him back to desk duty so he has plenty of time to go see him and you have plenty of time to look for a new job!"

"Oh ha ha!" Jesse tried a half hearted laugh and then grimaced. The comment was almost not funny.

ooo

The sun was shining down on him as he sat on the deck and with a sigh Steve changed his position just slightly so that he didn't ache quite as much as usual.

Every part of him had been injured except for his legs and each time he even breathed his ordeal came back to him.

He knew that Jesse was right; he needed to go see a shrink. Carefully shaking his head Steve thought that decision over. He'd seen them before, the LAPD was careful to monitor the mental health of its officers, but it had never been voluntary. Now though, when he had so much guilt and fear weighing him down, he knew that there was no other choice than to open himself up and let someone know how he was feeling. He couldn't tell his dad or Jesse, Amanda and Ron weren't an option either, so it had to be a stranger. At least this time the stranger should be able to help him.

Carefully, knowing that there was no time like the present, he reached out for his cell phone on the table next to him and speed dialled the number for Community General Hospital.

ooo

James Barrington looked at the man across the desk from him and waited as he composed himself. It was clear that Lieutenant Steve Sloan was still suffering physically from his ordeal, whatever that ordeal had been, and he didn't want to distress him any more than he clearly already was.

Slowly Steve got his breathing back under control. He hadn't wanted to use a wheelchair or a cane and had made his way painfully and slowly from the parking lot to the therapist's office under his own steam. He wasn't sure, however, if he would be able to make the return journey in the same manner.

There was a carafe of water on the desk in front of him and Steve looked at it, wondering if he could actually lean forward and pour out a drink and grew furious with himself that such a basic task was beyond him.

"Would you like a drink, Lieutenant?" James Barrington's voice was deep and even, it reflected his personality and his appearance almost totally. A tall black man he was obsessive about both his dress and his physique. Both things were apparent with no more than a cursory glance at the therapist but there was something more there, a compassion which was visible both in his eyes and in the way that he greeted and dealt with everyone who crossed his path.

"Thank you." Steve looked up and saw a man that he knew he should be able to trust; but the problem was he wasn't sure that he could trust himself to do so.

The room was quiet for a minute or two more as Steve drank his water and carefully considered what to say first. Finally, he looked up with a sad smile.

"I have no idea how to start this."

"Very few people do, Lieutenant. I have the basic information which you kindly filled in on the form I sent you, so if you prefer I can take some of that and ask you questions to start the ball rolling as it were."

Steve nodded his head. The form had arrived two days earlier and he had sat in the guest room of the beach house and read through it. The covering letter had said that although it wasn't common practice he, Doctor Barrington, preferred to have some information before the first consultation and would Mr. Sloan please complete and return the enclosed sheets as soon as possible.

He had found it a cathartic process just writing down the basic information. One of the benefits of being left handed was that most people assumed you wouldn't be so. The thugs who had beaten him up had, for the time being, destroyed his right arm, but he was still able to write, to shave, brush his teeth, do all the normal things because of their mistake and being able to fill in the form increased his self esteem just a little.

Now those sheets were sitting on the desk in front of his counsellor and with his heart pounding ridiculously loudly in his chest Steve waited for the first question.

ooo

"All I'm saying, Mark, is that if Steve can find it within himself to go see a therapist then perhaps you should too." Amanda put the cup of hot coffee down in front of her friend, sat next to him at the large round dining table at the beach house and took a sip from her own drink.

"I don't need to see anyone; I just need to get back to work. I'm going stir crazy here!"

"Mark, you aren't ready to go back to work yet, and you know it. You had major surgery, an infection that wouldn't go away, and an experience so traumatic that no one can empathise with you." As soon as she said it Amanda knew it had been wrong.

"Well, if no one can empathise with me, there's no point in me going to see anyone now is there?"

"Mark, you know what I mean. We were there, we saw you, how much you were suffering, but however much we love Steve, he isn't our son. You need to talk to someone, someone who doesn't know him, doesn't love him like you do or we do and begin to come to terms with the fact that not only did you almost lose your own life, but you almost lost your son too." Amanda had fought to keep her voice strong and firm as she spoke, knowing that if she wavered then Mark would see the weakness she was feeling, the difficulty she herself was having with all that had happened. Her own problems were not going to intrude at the moment, she wouldn't let them.

"I know that. Do you think I don't know that? I look at him, trying to just take one breath after another and I see the agony he's in. I know he nearly died and if he had I wouldn't have been there. I would have woken up and he would have gone. I can't explain how that feels to anyone else because no one else knows what he means to me."

The stubbornness in his eyes had told Amanda not to pursue the topic and so instead she had taken another mouthful from her coffee and looked out at the crashing surf. Realising that she had some good news she turned again and smiled.

"I got an e-mail from Ron this morning."

"That's nice. How is he?" Mark dragged his mind back from the thoughts which were constantly running through it, pushed the picture of his son, beaten, both mentally and physically, away and tried to concentrate on what his friend was saying.

"He's been trying to get a transfer to California, to the Los Angeles Field Office without success for a while. There still isn't a full time vacancy but he has been seconded here for six months as a training officer. Isn't that wonderful?"

"What? Honey, I'm sorry, what is he training for?" Mark pulled himself back just in time to hear that something about training was wonderful.

"No, Mark." Amanda was hurt, she tried not to be, but he wasn't even listening to her. Then guilt took over and worry too. Maybe he couldn't concentrate on her words. With a smile that she didn't really feel Amanda began again, watching Mark's every reaction.

This time he heard each word and really was pleased for her. Mark had seen the way that she had leant on Ron, had gained strength from his just being there. He hoped that the six months would turn into something permanent and she would get the happiness and stability in her life that she deserved.

"I'm really pleased for you, Sweetie. Maybe we could have a meal here to welcome him. Just barbeque from Bob's. It would be nice to relax for a while."

Now the smile on Amanda's face was broad. "That would be just great. Thank you." She leant over and kissed him, knowing that although they weren't earth shattering, they were plans; plans for the future and they were worth celebrating too.

ooo

"Lieutenant, there is no disgrace in feeling vulnerable. Considering what happened to you, I would be far more concerned and surprised if you didn't feel that way."

Steve couldn't meet the other man's eyes. The telling of his story had been hard, far harder than he had expected, and so far they were still on the first day, the day when he had been taken, bound and finally gagged before being driven through the burning heat to God knew where.

"But I'm a cop. I let my guard down …" He paused a moment, raising his voice caused his chest to hurt but it was difficult not to shout right now. "She took me without a fight."

"Because you didn't want your father to find you dead in your apartment. You've explained that. It seems a very logical reason to me. By the time you got to your destination you were exhausted, disoriented, and suffering from thirst and hunger." James stopped talking. He didn't want to give his opinions; he wanted the man in front of him to do that. But he had already learnt that he had to open the doors and then hope that Steve Sloan would go through them. None of this was going to be easy, for either of them.

"I thought the journey would never end." Steve paused and closed his eyes and as he did so he was back in a place he now knew to be Beatty, Nevada.

"Get out of the truck, Lieutenant." The voice had startled him after the silence of the past hours. He felt hands on his upper arms and then he was hauled unceremoniously out of the area between the two sets of seats where he had spent what seemed like an eternity.

There were two houses across the street from where he was standing on legs which were protesting strongly and he looked towards them desperately trying to see any signs of life.

"Don't even think about it – they're vacation rentals, but it's so hot here that they're empty right now. The agent told me that it's another two weeks before he has anyone booked for either of them."

Her words, triumphantly thrown at him, had made his heart fall a little further. There were no other buildings of any type that he could see, but his muscles were so stiff, so set into untenable positions, that he had very little view of anything.

The muzzle of the gun was forced against the back of his neck again, his gun, the woman, Melosa, she had said her name was, had tossed her own weapon into the glove box of his truck saying that his was far nicer and that she would use that from now on.

"Get in the house." He had staggered as she pushed him towards the building and he had heard the gun being cocked in readiness to blow his brains out.

The instant coolness had been so welcome that he had wondered why he had fought coming inside. He watched as she took his ID and his cell phone and carefully put them in the cabinet underneath the television and he had realised that her attention was diverted. He backed away making his way towards the door he had just entered through, but as he got to it, as his hands grasped the handle, she turned.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She had looked first at him and then at a door almost opposite where he was now standing. "I would make for that part of the house if I was you."

"And did you?" James Barrington had seen the indecision in Steve's eyes and, not wanting him to stop talking, had asked the question hoping it would spur him on.

"Oh yeah. I may be a grown man and a cop but there was no way I was gonna let this woman send me back to my dad in a box." Steve paused for a moment and then carried on.

"I made my way across the room, looking around all the time, trying to see if there was any way to escape. There wasn't. When we got to the second door she pressed the gun against my head again and then unlocked the cuffs." Steve stopped speaking and looked up into the eyes of his therapist who saw confusion there.

"What happened then?" James asked the question softly, wondering if the man in front of him actually knew.

"She … she opened the door, I remember that but she must have hit me or something … because the next thing I remember I was in chains." He began to shake; the memory of being manacled to the wall was too much to think about. A heaving gasp escaped him and Steve dropped his head into his hands, unable to carry on any further.

ooo

Phone calls had been made, times and dates agreed upon and Mark had something to look forward to. That had been part of the problem he decided, he'd had nothing planned, nothing but endless days at home recuperating from something that he didn't understand and didn't want to think about. But now he had friends coming, just like they usually did, they would come in two days time, with food and they could sit and relax, talk about things which didn't bring him out in a cold sweat.

Also though, he knew if they did stray into difficult areas that, between the five of them, they would be able to handle it far better than any therapist could. With a smile he looked over at Amanda and wondered at her resilience. She was beautiful, graceful and she worked with dead people. He knew he was stereotyping, but she had misled many people over the years, not the least of them Ron Wagner. But Mark knew they were perfect for each other and he also wondered where he himself would be without her. He hoped he would never have to find out.

ooo

The phone call to say that his cab was waiting had come while Steve had still been composing himself ready to finish his session. That had been done in a friendly manner. He was embarrassed by what he saw as a show of weakness, but also reassured by the feelings of release that were already making themselves apparent.

To his own amazement Steve had arranged for an appointment the following day and another one the day after that. He had then left the doctor and made his way very slowly towards the elevator.

It had been empty when it arrived on his floor and, grateful for the lack of an audience, Steve had slumped against the back wall and tried to compose himself before his journey back to Malibu. His feet were throbbing and sore, and he knew that when he got home he would need to treat them carefully, he wasn't a sandals man, but right now they were all he could stand to have on his feet, other than fluffy slippers. Jesse had brought him a pair of pink pigs, which he had gleefully unwrapped for him and put on over his bandages, while he was still in the hospital. He had thanked him for them and vowed to lose them at the earliest opportunity but they were still at home and he was looking forward to putting them on as soon as he could.

The elevator slowed for his floor and Steve took as deep a breath as he could manage to ready his body for one of its final assaults of the day. The doors opened and he thought his heart would stop. For just a moment he stood, face to face with Melosa Arriaga.