PART 6:

Steve slowly stirred from his sleep. As soon as full consciousness registered in his brain, he wished for sleep again. His hole body ached. He slowly sat up and let his upper body fall against the wall. He couldn't stop shaking.

He looked around the dimly lit room, trying to remember where he was. His body screaming out to him that it needed something, his brain telling him that he had to get out of there. But what did he need and why did he have to get out of there? He couldn't remember. He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs so he could think. Then it dawned on him. Goodwin and the shot. It slowly started to come back to him. Goodwin kept giving him something last night. He was always coming into the room just as Steve was falling asleep and injecting him with something. That's what he needed to make him stop shaking, that's what his body was telling him he need: that shot.

He wasn't sure what time it was. Hell, he didn't even know what day it was. But he watched the door and waited. He knew that Goodwin would probably be coming by soon to give the shot. He wished soon was now. His whole body was crying out for it now. Sweat ran down his face and stung his eyes, but he continued to watch the door.

Only minutes passed, but to Steve it seemed like hours. Finally he decided to get up and go over to the door and get Goodwin to come to him. He stood up slowly, dizziness overtaking him. Leaning up against the wall, he closed his eyes until it passed. Looking at the door once again, he wiped the sweat from his eyes. The door seemed so far away.

You can do this, he thought to himself.

An eternity later, he reached the door. Steve leaned his head against it and closed his eyes as the dizziness returned. Looking down at the door knob, he tried to turn it – locked.

Banging his fist against the door, he called. "Hey! Is…is anyone out…out there?" He continued to bang on the door.

Steve heard the door being unlocked and quickly backed away, almost stumbling over his own feet. The door flew open and Jackson stood in the doorway looking very angry.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?!" he yelled at Steve.

"Goodwin, I…I need to…to see him. I need…need the…the shot."

"So that give you the right to bang on the door and wake me up?!" Jackson yelled, walking into the room. Franklin appeared behind him, rubbing the sleepiness from his face.

Steve ran his hand through his sweat soaked hair. "You…you have the…the stuff with…with you?"

A backhand across the face sent him falling to the floor.

"This is what I have for you," Jackson said. He walked over to Steve and picked him up the front of his shirt. "I'm going to teach you not to bang on the door this early in the morning." He punched Steve in the face, sending him to the floor once more.

Jackson turned around and looked at Franklin. "You want to join me?"

Before Franklin could take a step into the room, Goodwin walked in. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Jackson looked up. "He decided to wake us up, so I'm teaching him a lesson." He drew back his foot to kick Tom who was still on the floor.

Goodwin stepped forward to stop him. "That's enough. What did he want?"

"He wants the shot."

"Then go get it for him, you idiot."

Goodwin knelt next to Steve. "So, we finally broke you, Sloan; let's just see if we really did.'

Jackson returned to the room with syringe and tourniquet in hand and handed it to his boss.

Goodwin dangled the syringe in front of Steve's face. "Is this what you want, Sloan?"

Steve looked at Goodwin and then the syringe and then back at Goodwin. He slowly raised his badly shaking arm out toward the man.

No! his brain screamed out. Don't give in, you can't give in to them.

"What's that? Did you say something? I didn't quite hear you, Sloan," Goodwin goaded.

"Give me some," he said in a whisper.

Snap out of this, Sloan. Tell him to go to hell.

"What was that? I don't think Joseph and Alex heard you."

"I want some," Steve said louder this time.

Fight, Sloan, fight!

"Please?"

"Please." No!

"That's a good boy, Sloan," Goodwin said, taking the tourniquet and tying it around Steve's arm. "You made the right choice," he continued, sliding the needle into the vein. "And there's plenty more where this came from."

Once Goodwin administered the heroin into Steve's system, he stood up and looked down at the cop. "Now, you just relax, Sloan. I'll be back before I leave to give you more, but you have to be a good boy in order to get more. Can you do this for us, Sloan?"

Steve looked at him and nodded his head yes.

Goodwin laughed. "Look at him now. One of Los Angeles top homicide detectives – a heroin junkie." He laughed again as he followed his men out the door.

Mark walked into the squad room, making his way through the group of officers before finally reaching his sons' desk; he looked at his empty chair. Closing his eyes, he wished that when he opened them Steve would be sitting there like always, and this whole thing would have been a nightmare. He felt a hand on his shoulder that made his heart jump. Opening his eyes he saw Cheryl standing next to him.

"Hey," he said with a smile.

"Hey yourself. You okay?"

Mark's smiled faded. "No, not really."

Cheryl guided him into Captain Newman's office and closed the door behind them. Newman watched as Mark went over to the nearest chair sitting down, he finally let the tears fall.

Newman walked over to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Doctor Sloan."

"I hate not knowing where he is," he choked out. "Not knowing if he's dead or alive."

"Maybe I should keep you away from this case," Newman suggested.

Mark wiped the tears away. "Don't you dare."

"You're too personally involved here."

"Please, I need to be on this case."

"Okay."

Cheryl looked at Newman more closely, realizing that he was still in the same clothes from the day before. "You were here all night, weren't you?"

Newman walked over to his desk and sat down. Taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, he replied. "Guilty."

"I thought you said you were going to go home after you finished some paperwork?"

"I lied."

Mark got up and moved closer to the desk. "What were you doing here all night?"

"I put out Steve's picture to every police station in Los Angeles," he told them. Picking up a file, he threw it across his desk.

"What's this?" Cheryl asked, picking it up.

Getting up, Newman walked to the front of his desk and leaned on the edge. "Found every warehouse, house, and piece of property that both Torres and Goodwin have here in L.A. Figured if they have Steve, they could be holding him at one of those places."

Cheryl opened the file and started looking through it. "I'll get on this right away."

Newman held his hand out to her. "Give me half the list."

"Oh no, you're going home and getting some rest."

"I'm okay. I was able to get a couple of hours sleep on the couch."

Cheryl continued to hold the file in her hand.

"Are you going to tell me you got more than a couple of hours sleep yourself?"

Cheryl smiled. "You know me to well." She looked through the file and handed Newman one of the sheets. "Here, you take this and I'll handle these."

Newman took the list from here and looked it over. "This is probably going to take us all morning. I'm going to get some other officers on this as well. Let's say we meet here at three."

"Sure," she said. "If I find anything or I'm running late, I'll call."

"Same here." Grabbing his jacket, Newman followed Cheryl and Mark out of the office.

Torres sat down t the table across from Goodwin. "You getting me out of here today?"

"Still trying to find a judge."

"Well try harder," Torres said angrily. "I want out of here now!"

"Don't you think I've been trying hard? Seems that every judge is busy with another case."

"You're telling me that there isn't one judge who can listen to this case for maybe just an hour."

"That's what I'm telling you."

Torres ran his hand through his hair. "Oh man, I need to get out of here. There is no way I can wait another two days."

"What's the big deal if you don't get out of here today?"

"The big deal is that everyday I'm in here, I'm losing big money."

"Your operation is still going," Goodwin told him. "I've seen to that, so you aren't losing any money."

"Just see what you can do about getting me out of here now."

"Look, I'm trying the best I can to get you out of here," Goodwin said. "So you wait here two more days, no matter what happens Sloan isn't going to show up and a mistrial will be declared."

"Yeah, but what happens if they police just happen to find Sloan's body? Wouldn't that get me out sooner?"

Goodwin leaned in closer to Torres. "What are you saying?"

"We finish off Sloan now, and the police find his body. I won't have to wait another two days for the mistrial to be called." Torres sat back in his chair and stared at Goodwin.

"You want me to kill Sloan?"

"I can't wait two more days for the judge to call a mistrial," Torres said, sitting up and leaning in closer. "Finish the son of a bitch off. Dump him in the alleyway downtown. You know where."

"Yes I know."

"Good," Torres said with a smile. "It's too bad that this is the price Lieutenant Sloan will have to pay for being the nosey cop he is."