Chapter Thirty Three

When Sam had first met his son, Steven had been wary but curious. After their initial first meetings, Sam had left the ball in Steven's court. He'd given him his number and told him to call if he needed anything. Days passed and he heard nothing from him. It took an immense amount of self restraint to not go to the hospital himself. He had waited so long to find him and he wasn't sure how patient he could be.

Eventually however, the call came. Steven's voice was low, cautious. Sam wondered if he was using his phone when he wasn't supposed to from his hospital bed. He had to smile at that.

"I'm going a bit mad here," Steven was telling him in a rush. "They said I can't leave unless someone is able to take care of me."

"Oh," Sam said thoughtfully. "Would you like me to contact someone for you? A friend perhaps?"

"I don't have any friends." Steven said quickly. He didn't seem overly concerned by that but Sam was. "Look, I know we've only just met but could you do me a massive favour?"

"Of course." Sam sat up straighter, pleased and intrigued. "What is it?"

"Could you…" Steven paused, breathing heavy and laboured over the phone.

"Alright?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Yeah, sorry. Bit of a twinge. Could you come to the hospital and sign my release forms? Tell them you'll look after me?"

Sam let this sink in for a moment. "I'd be glad to." He said eventually.

"Thank you." Steven sounded immensely relieved. "I hate hospitals, me. Especially since-" He cut himself off awkwardly. "Could you come by soon? Please?"

"I'll be right there." Sam said, car keys already in hand.

When he arrived, Steven was dressed in ordinary clothes. He appeared to be wearing a jumper far too big for him, navy blue with white pulleys. Steven was playing with the latter when Sam walked in. He glanced up, smiling sheepishly at him.

"You came." He sounded surprised.

"I said I would." Sam replied, picking up Steven's bag from the floor and moving it to rest on the bed.

"I wasn't sure." Steven said awkwardly, pulling the sleeves over his hands and fiddling with them.

"You can rely on me." Sam said, perhaps a little too firmly. Steven looked up at him, blue eyes shining in wonder and something like hope. "Where do I need to sign then?"

They had to wait a while for Steven to be officially discharged. Steven sat on his hospital bed the entire time, twitching and holding himself around the middle protectively. Sam wasn't sure how bad the damage was to his body but Steven almost seemed used to the pain, like it didn't faze him any more. It unsettled Sam, to say the least.

When they were finally given the all clear to leave, Steven refused the wheelchair and walked unsteadily to Sam's car.

"This is fancy." He commented, grinning.

"Like I said, I've done all sorts of work." Sam opened the door for him, popping his bag into the back seat. "So, where's home?"

It turned out Steven lived in a small council flat. Sam bit his tongue, not wanting to appear over-zealous in his concern. He allowed Steven to walk ahead of him, opening the door while Sam carried his bag behind him, other hand outstretched should Steven fall. He didn't let him see.

It wasn't as bad as Sam had expected inside. It was… homely. Sam's eyes were immediately drawn to the pictures of two young children with their happy, smiling faces.

"Your kids?" Sam asked, picking up one of the frames to get a closer look.

"Yep." Steven said, collapsing onto the sofa.

Sam felt warmth in his stomach at the sight of them. Grandkids. He was a granddad. He smiled goofily, feeling elated. When he replaced the picture, he saw Steven looking at him fondly.

Before another word was spoken, there was a sudden knock on the front door. Steven closed his eyes, the set of his jaw informing Sam he knew who his visitor was.

"Ste!" A male, American voice called.

"Could you let him in?" Steven asked quietly.

"Who is he?" Sam asked, halfway to the door.

"My… ex." Steven said carefully. "Not that ex." He added hastily, wincing. "This should be fun…"

The moment Sam opened the door, the American stormed in, barely registering him.

"Doug." Steven said by way of greeting, attempting to pull himself up.

"You're back then." Doug said, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Looks that way."

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

Silence fell. Steven stared at Doug coolly, as if contemplating his next words carefully.

"It was an accident."

"Oh, was it now?" Doug's anger was beginning to seep through. Sam had the distinct impression that he wasn't the dangerous, intimidating sort. He wasn't sure what sort he was though, admittedly.

"Yeah. I was smoking, right and-"

"Smoking!" Doug puffed up self-righteously. "Again? In our deli?"

"Maybe you should calm down a bit." Sam cut in. Doug whirled on him, as if only just noticing his presence.

"Who are you?"

"I'm…" Sam trailed off, looking to Steven for cues. He nodded almost imperceptibly. "Steven's father."

"His… father?" Doug looked between the two of them in astonishment. "You never said you knew who your father was."

"I didn't until about a week ago." Steven replied reasonably. "Listen, I've only just got out of hospital. Can this lecture wait?"

Doug's face flushed. "No, not really. The insurance company will want to know what happened. They won't pay out if it was deliberate."

"Well it wasn't." Steven told him, exasperated. "You do believe me, don't you?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Ste. This past year you've not been yourself. I've been giving you the benefit of the doubt for a while, sticking up for you when others wouldn't-"

"Should I be grateful or something?" Steven cut in, agitated. "I've had a bad year, alright?"

"Well I know that." Doug said, softer now. "But this… this is too far."

"It was an accident!" Steven argued, raising his voice. "What more can I say?"

"Do you even care that the deli's gone? After everything we worked towards to get it up and running?"

"After everything we did? Who provided the money, Doug?"

Doug's mouth pressed into a firm line. "I'm not having this conversation with you. I came here to tell you I'm done."

"Done?" Steven repeated vaguely.

"With all this, us. When the deli's up and running again, I don't want you near it."

Sam couldn't bite his tongue at that. "He has rights." He said firmly.

"And what are you? His lawyer?"

"If need be." Sam said, straightening himself to his full height.

"I have no problem giving him what he's owed but I don't want him in that deli anymore, alright?"

"You know what, Doug?" Steven said, teeth bared. He managed to make himself stand. "I don't want to be a part of that fucking deli anymore, yeah? You can have it."

"Steven-" Sam interjected.

"Don't push it." Steven said bitingly. "You barely know me, right?"

Sam swallowed his protests, nodding.

"I wish things had been different." Doug said, looking drained.

"So do I." Steven said, seating himself again. "But life ain't a fucking fairy tale, is it? Sooner you realise that, the better."

Doug bowed his head, hiding the hurt on his face. "I guess there's nothing more to say then."

"I guess not." Steven mumbled, not looking up. Eventually Doug let himself out.

"Can I get you anything?" Sam asked after a few moments of silence.

"You can leave." Steven said, crossing his arms.

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you." Sam said.

"I don't need anyone to take care of me." Steven said bitterly. "It's not like you'll stick around in the long run."

"I will-"

"Don't bother. Just go, yeah?" Steven looked up at him, eyes dark and rimmed with red. Sam had the impression this wasn't about Doug.

"If that's what you want." He said, disappointed.

"It is." Steven turned his face away, expression hard.

Sam didn't hear from Steven again until a few days later. It was late one evening when Sam was about to eat his dinner. Ready meal for one. He jumped at the sound of his phone, answering immediately.

"Hello?"

"Sam?" Steven's voice sounded strained. "You busy?"

"No, not at all." Sam said, alert. "What's up?"

"I fell… in the bath." Steven said carefully. He sounded like he was in pain.

"I'll be right over." Sam said, hanging up and abandoning his dinner.

The door was on the latch; a point Sam would need to make to Steven later. He hurried inside, calling out Steven's name.

"In here!" Steven replied weakly. Sam located the bathroom, pushing the door open carefully. Steven had managed to get a robe around himself but he was sitting at an awkward angle on the floor.

"I told you." Sam said as he wrapped an arm around Steven's waist and gently helped him to his feet.

Steven winced in pain. "I thought I could cope. Hay's never ask for help." He frowned then. "Usually anyway."

"Spencer's do." Sam told him, helping him out of the room. "Which is your bedroom?"

Steven pointed the way, leaning heavily against Sam. He helped him into bed, pulling the covers over him. Steven leaned back against the pillows, breathing out in relief.

"Thanks. Lucky I took my phone in there with me."

"It was lucky." Sam said, sitting on the edge of his bed the same way he had at their first meeting. "Listen, I don't think I should leave you alone tonight."

Steven bowed his head. "I guess not."

"I'll just close that door," He said pointedly, giving Steven a look. "And then I can make us some dinner, how's that?"

"Alright." Steven agreed. Sam stood up briskly and was halfway out of the room before Steven spoke again. "I shouldn't have sent you away before, sorry."

"You don't need to apologise to me." Sam said dismissively. "I'm just glad you called, even if there isn't anyone else."

"There used to be." Steven said quietly, an odd, glazed look in his eyes.

"Well, there's me now." Sam said, smiling. "I don't plan on going anywhere."

Steven looked up, eyes bright once more. "I'll hold you to that." He said a little unsteadily.

Sam spent the night in the spare bedroom. He left his door slightly ajar in case Steven needed anything in the night. He'd made them lasagne for dinner, his speciality. Steven had been quiet, picking at his food. Sam wanted to ask what was wrong but wasn't entirely sure it was his place to. After dinner when Steven had gone to watch television, Sam had looked at some of his other photos. Slipped behind one of Leah and Lucas was a picture of a man with Steven. His hair was dark, almost black, and he had a moustache. The most startling thing about the photograph was how happy they both looked. The man in the picture must have been in his thirties but with Steven by his side, notably younger, it was difficult to tell. Steven's smile was bright, content. Like he'd been waiting his entire life for a picture like this one. Sam shook himself, feeling foolish for interpreting a simple photograph so deeply.

As he lay in bed, the flat eerily silent around him, he wondered what had happened to this mysterious man and whether he would ever come back for Steven. The poor lad was clearly lonely, with no real friends of his own. Sam thought of Doug and the obvious tension between them. He thought it was safe to ask about him so the next day at breakfast he breached the topic.

Steven shrugged, spooning his cornflakes around his bowl dejectedly. "We weren't together that long, almost a year. We got married, it was a mistake. We got divorced. Not really been the same since." Steven told the sorry tale with limited emotion.

"I can see why. He's not exactly the friendly sort, coming round here and shouting at you when you'd just gotten out of hospital."

Steven shook his head. "He's not really like that, or he didn't used to be. He's just tired of being treated like crap."

"I'm sure you have your reasons." Sam said reasonably.

Steven looked up at him then, smiling for the first time that morning.

"What?" Sam asked, thinking he'd missed the joke.

"You're like a proper dad, defending me no matter what. It's weird."

"Weird in a good way?" Sam asked hopefully.

Steven's smile faltered a little before he replied. "Yeah, I guess. Never had a parent who cared before."

"At the hospital, when you mentioned Pauline." Sam began awkwardly. "You told me you weren't in contact with her."

"Yeah, what of it?" Steven shifted in his seat guiltily.

"I know she's dead, Steven."

Steven looked down at his lap, mouth turned in on itself. "I didn't wanna talk about it."

"Steven," Sam reached his hand across the table to gain his attention. "I understand, you know I do. When my wife… passed away, it felt like my whole world fell apart. I could barely speak to my friends or colleagues about it. I can't imagine what it must have been like, doing it on your own."

Steven glanced up, eyes a little moist. "Did she suffer, your wife?"

Sam blinked, surprised at the question.

"A little, towards the end. They made her as comfortable as possible."

"Did you ever feel like…" Steven trailed off.

"Like?"

"It would have been better to finish it for her? Because of all the pain she must have been feeling?"

Sam stared at him thoughtfully. "It definitely crossed my mind. But she would never ask me to do that. She knew the effect it would have had on me and the rest of my life."

"Right." Steven said shortly.

"Why do you ask?" Sam asked curiously.

"Just wondered, that's all." Steven abandoned his breakfast, scraping his chair back.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Steven paused. "No, you're alright. I have some things to take care of today, could you help me?"

"Yes, of course. What are they?"

"The hospital gave me all these forms; I don't really understand them. Plus the stuff with the deli, I probably need to give a statement."

"Am I really your lawyer now then?" Sam laughed, taking their bowls to the sink.

"You did a law degree didn't you?"

"I did."

"Then you're hired." Steven said with a small twist of his mouth.

Over the next few weeks, Sam began to get to know Steven. They started small at first, getting to know each other on a basic level. Eventually they went deeper, discussing Steven's childhood, or lack thereof, and Sam's attempts to contact him. Even before the DNA test had been done, Steven put an incredible amount of trust in Sam and his opinion.

Sam sorted out all of his paperwork for him, even checking some of their accounts from the deli. Doug wasn't happy with the intrusion but as long as Steven owned the deli, he had no say in it.

They didn't talk about Steven's ex. The most Sam found out about him in those initial first months together were that his name was Brendan and he was in prison for murder. He'd been hard pressed to disguise the shock on his face when Steven eventually let that piece of information slip. They'd known each other for a few months then and Sam could guess by his mood that he didn't want to be pressed on the details.

Six months after they'd first met, Steven asked Sam to move in with him.

Sam hadn't even needed to consider it. Sure, the flat wasn't ideal but Steven was comfortable and happy there so he never questioned it. He took the room that Steven told him had once been Amy's. Sam had already met Amy and the kids by then. Amy had been wary of him at first but when he'd been upfront about his intentions, she'd soon warmed to him.

"I suppose it might be good for Ste, having someone looking out for him."

Sam nodded, feeling as though he was under some sort of test.

"He told you about Brendan I suppose?"

"Yeah, the bare minimum."

Amy pressed her lips together, lowering her voice so Steven and the kids wouldn't hear. "Probably for the best. Them two together was… toxic."

"He obviously loved him though." Sam said, glancing over at Steven holding Lucas in his lap.

"More than he's ever loved anyone, yeah." Amy said thoughtfully. "I suppose Brendan wasn't all bad really, but there was more bad than good in my books. It's for the best that he won't be coming back."

"He won't?"

"Murder charge, Sam. He'll get life, I'm sure of it."

"Who did he kill? Steven never said."

Amy leaned closer now, much warier. "His dad."

After that, Sam stopped worrying about finding out more on Brendan. He wasn't likely to return and Sam was content living with Steven as it was. He didn't want to rock the boat or upset his son unnecessarily. He knew he was in pain though, more pain than he thought Sam was aware of. Sam had only been moved in for a few days when the nightmares started. Or at least, they became known to Sam.

Steven would scream and writhe in his bed, panting heavily as though he was being held down and trapped. He'd whimper in his sleep, repeating Brendan's name like a prayer. It pained Sam to see him that way. Sometimes when Steven would wake afterwards, shaking and crying in fear, he'd beg Sam to stay with him that night. Sam had his misgivings about that; he knew Steven was an adult but he sensed that a lot of his childhood had been stripped away from him. He hated the fact that he was a part of that and told himself it couldn't hurt to do it now and again, when Steven needed him.

It took a long time for Steven to call him 'Dad'. The first time he said it happened after they'd been living together a while. It had slipped out, unprovoked and suddenly laid bare between them. Steven had blinked, surprised at himself. Then he smiled.

"Guess that's it then." He said cheerfully. Sam knew then that things would be okay, as long as they had each other.

Looking back wasn't always easy, especially for Sam. He sat on Steven's bed, still clutching the note in his hand. He'd tried calling him several times but it went straight to voicemail. Brendan wasn't answering either and Sam was acutely aware of the fact his clothes were missing too. He buried his head in his hands, at a loss for what to do next.

A knock at the front door jolted him into action. He leapt up, note still in hand, and hastily flung the door open.

It wasn't Steven at the door. Sam felt his stomach drop, looking at the man in front of him instead.

"Do I know you?" He asked. There was some recognition there but he couldn't place the face.

The man grinned and it wasn't a pleasant smile. "I'm surprised you don't remember me, Sam. It's Terry. Terry Hay. Where's my son?"