Steve wandered along the pier, lost in thought. He still had the newspaper tucked under his arm, but he did not need to read the article again. He was replaying every moment contained within it in his mind.

He could see the dark and dingy room he had been held in. He could hear the shouts of the guards. He had memorized every sound that filtered into his room over the weeks he had been held in the compound and could tell that these shouts were different. Something was happening.

Then he heard the gunfire and explosions. The room - no, the entire building - had shook and Steve had been sure that it was only a matter of time before he would be killed.

Steve could feel himself being dragged back into that nightmare. He could smell the filth of the room and smoke from the explosions outside. He forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths and focus on the water and the feel of the solid wood of the pier underneath his feet.

After a few moments, his heart rate slowed and smells disappeared. He reminded himself that he was remembering what happened, not reliving it. He forced himself to continue, and remembered that he had crouched against the far wall as the shouts and gunfire had moved inside the building. He could hear his captors screaming in their own language. An explosion just on the other side of the door jolted him even further.

Then the door had burst open and Shane had entered, though Steve did not realize it at the time. It was funny, Steve thought. He had never considered the fact that he might be rescued. From the moment the raid had started, he had simply assumed that whatever was going on would only result in more pain for him. Or maybe a final release from his months of torment.

So he had shrunk back when Shane had entered the room. It had taken awhile for Steve to understand that it was Shane. Thinking back, he wasn't even sure he believed it until he saw Shane in the military hospital the following day.

Other than the moment where Deakins was shot, the remainder of the rescue was still a bit of a blur. Maybe that was because the article was light on those details as well. All it said was that the group had escaped by helicopter and been taken to a military base on Cyprus. Steve had a vague recollection of being on the helicopter. He did, however, have a clear recollection of the doctors on the military base and the way they had tied him down.

Steve shook his head and cleared his thoughts again. It was over and he was home. Thanks to Shane. The thought came unbidden and unwelcomed. He honestly did not know how to reconcile Shane's participation in his rescue with all that had happened since.

He took a seat on a nearby bench and opened the paper to the article. He saw Jack's byline and shook his head again. He remembered how Kayla had been surprised when he had told her that he had not been the one who had talked to Jack. He supposed he could hardly blame her. She probably would not be the last person to ask him that question.

But it simply was not true. After all, he had not talked to Jack since the day Jack had stopped by the apartment. Steve had told Jack not to do the story and he had agreed. 'Don't push it,' Steve had said. That was more than a week ago.

Then Steve remembered. Kayla said Jack had brought him home from the Cheating Heart the other night. Steve remembered dimly Jack sitting down. But there's no way I said anything. I was too far gone to remember my name, let alone what happened with the ISA.

I'm just not responsible.

Steve knew himself. He had given Shane his word. As stupid as this whole secrecy thing was, Steve was true to his word.

But someone had talked. And Jack had pursued the story even though Steve said not to. After Steve had said that his life was not for public consumption. But Jack couldn't leave well enough alone.

Steve felt his anger stirring a bit. Even if he did not give a damn about ISA secrecy, he did not want all of Salem knowing that he had been locked up for months in a closet and tortured. Now, whenever he went into a store or a restaurant, that's what people would think. And what about his future? Who was going to want to hire him now? Steve doubted Abe Carver would give him a chance.

Maybe I need to tell Jack what 'don't push it' really means.

Steve stood and walked quickly up the steps of the pier to where his car was parked. Within a few minutes he was pulling into the Spectator parking lot. He walked inside and went directly to Jack's office, ignoring the looks from the employees as he stormed through. He opened the door to Jack's office and walked in without knocking.

But Jack was not there. Steve yelled Jack's name, hoping he was in the adjoining bathroom, but got no response. Steve walked over to Jack's desk. He could see the papers strewn about the desk and spotted one with the words "Johnson rescue - 9/12/91 draft" written across the top in Jack's handwriting. Steve picked it up.

It appeared to be a draft of the article that had appeared in the paper. He was about to put it down when he saw a notation. "Check quote on tape."

Steve put the paper down and rifled around the desk some more. Just to the right, under some loose pages, he saw a mini tape recorder. It was silver and surprisingly small.

He felt a flash of unease, but he grabbed the tape recorder and pushed the play button. Now he would find out who talked to Jack.

"-where. The building where I was being kept was just a trailer and it rocked with all the explosions."

Steve froze.

"where I was being kept. . . ."

The voice was his own. Slurred words. Drunk. But it was him.

"So then Donovan dragged me out of that room." His slurred voice came through. Steve could hear noise, even music, in the background. "I wasn't pretty to look at, that's for sure. Half-starved and all beat up."

Steve snapped the tape recorder off. In his mind's eye, he had an image of Jack pulling something from his pocket. Was it silver?

I gave Shane my word.

Steve took a deep breath. I'm going to kill Jack. There was no question now that his brother had secretly recorded Steve's drunken rambling at the Heart, and had used that information to write the article. He remembered how Jack had told him that the paper was in trouble and how he needed a big story. I guess he got that story after all, Steve thought bitterly.

Shoving the tape recorder in his pocket, Steve stormed out of the office and ran smack into Vern Scofield.

"Steve," Vern said, glancing around. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Jack." Steve's voice was low and angry. "You know where he might be?"

"Umm . . . no . . . I don't know where he is."

"Well, when you see him, tell him his brother is looking for him and wants to talk to him immediately." Steve glared at Vern. "You got that?"

"Sure thing," Vern replied quickly. "I'll tell him as soon as I see him."

Steve gave a short nod and stormed off again. His little brother had a lot of explaining to do.