Rated: PG for mild violence.

Summary: When Steve saves Jesse’s life and loses his own in the process, the

gang struggles to deal with his death.

"You don’t want to do this," Detective Steve Sloan said, slowly walking

towards the man with the gun. The gunman cocked the gun back.

"Oh, yeah? You want to test me?" he said nervously. He looked over at the

table closest to him, where Dr. Jesse Travis and his girlfriend, Susan

Hilliard, had just been so conveniently sitting. He lowered the gun to

Jesse’s head.

"No, I don’t. I’ll get you the money, all right? Don’t hurt anyone while

I’m gone, okay?"

"Just get the money," he growled. His hands in the air to show he was

unarmed, Steve stepped behind the BBQ Bob’s counter. Without making any

sudden moves, he slowly opened the drawer to the cash register and pulled out

all the money. He reached under the counter and took out a paper back, in

which he deposited the money.

"There you go," Steve said, slowly handing the money to the robber. "Now you

can leave and no one got hurt." He looked down at Jesse, who looked more

terrified than ever.

"Yeah, maybe." He turned the gun and pointed it directly at Steve’s chest.

"You’re a robber already. Don’t add murder to the charges." Steve swallowed

hard and slowly walked over to stand near Jesse, the gunman keeping his eyes

on him. The gunman pulled the trigger and Steve jumped in front of Jesse

just in time for the young doctor to get away unharmed. The gunman raced out

of the restaurant and Jesse fell to his knees at Steve’s side to see a large

bloodstain forming in the center of his shirt and spreading with each passing

moment.

"Steve!" Susan cried.

"Call an ambulance!" Jesse ordered. He took a few napkins and pressed them

against Steve’s unconscious form. "Hold on, Steve. Okay?" The detective

showed no response. Jesse checked his pulse. Weak as it was, it was still

there.

"I just called one. It’s on its way," Susan said, hurrying back to her

boyfriend’s side.

"Good," Jesse murmured. The napkins, formerly white, were now bright red

with his best friend’s blood. "This has to stop bleeding if he’s going to

make it."

"It there anything I can do?"

"Get out front and wait for that ambulance!" Minutes passed and no ambulance

had arrived. Precious minutes had been lost while Steve lay in the middle of

the floor of BBQ Bob’s. Suddenly, Jesse heard Steve draw in a ragged breath.

"Steve? Steve, can you hear me? You have to stay awake," Jesse said. He

cradled his head in his hands. "All right?"

"Tell my dad I love him," he murmured. Then, he passed out again.

"Steve? Steve? Come on, buddy. Hold on." He turned and looked out the

front window. "Where the hell are they?!" Jesse roared. Just then, the

blessed wail of sirens sounded in the distance. "Thank God." Everything

after that was a blur. The paramedics arrived and loaded Steve on a

stretcher. Susan and Jesse hopped in Jesse’s car and followed the ambulance.

Just as Steve on the gurney and the paramedics burst into the atrium of the

Community General ER, Dr. Mark Sloan, his father, had just come out of the

doctor’s lounge. Having just gotten off his shift, he wasn’t concerned with

the excitement going on in the ER. When the tall, brown-haired police

lieutenant

was wheeled into the OR, he didn’t take notice. But when Jesse and Susan

burst through the doors after them, he looked up in surprise.

Jesse ran up to him and began to explain things, but he was so upset, Mark

couldn’t understand a word he was saying.

"Jesse, calm down. What happened?"

"Steve... hold-up... BBQ Bob’s... shot... blood... ambulance..." was all he

could make out. "Steve was shot!" Jesse was finally able to blurt out.

"What?! Oh my God. Oh, God. My son. Where’s my son?" He looked around

frantically and spotted the still swinging OR doors. He began to head

towards the door, but Jesse stopped him.

"Mark, there’s nothing you can do. Let’s just go into the waiting room and

we..."

"I have to see my son!"

"Mark, listen to me." Jesse held him squarely by the shoulders. "There’s

nothing you can do," he said firmly. "All we can do is wait and hope for the

best."

He was able to guide the elder doctor to a chair just before Mark’s knees

buckled beneath him.

"What happened, Jesse?" Mark asked, still reeling from the shock.

"We were in BBQ Bob’s when a robber came in and held the place up. Steve

gave him the money and everything, but I guess that wasn’t enough. The

gunman shot at me, but Steve knocked me out of the way and took the bullet

for himself. Mark, your son -my best friend- saved my life."

Mark nodded, still not absorbing everything that has taken place.

"Your son is a hero," Jesse said. "Steve saved my life." Just then, Captain

Newman entered the waiting room.

"We got him, Dr. Sloan," he said. "We caught the bastard and he’s going away

for a long time."

"That doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is my son’s life," Mark said

firmly. Captain Newman lowered his eyes and left the room, just as Amanda

was coming in.

"Mark, I just heard. I am so sorry." Mark stood up and they quickly

embraced.

"That’s all right, honey," Mark said.

"If there’s anything I can do..." Amanda began.

"Just pray for Steve." Amanda nodded.

"Want me to get some coffee?"

"Sure," Jesse said. "Well, I want some at least. I don’t know about Mark.

Mark, do you want any?"

"Okay," he agreed numbly. He closed his eyes and remembered the last time he

got word his son was shot. Steve had been eating in a restaurant when a

busboy opened fire. Steve jumped at him and was shot once in the chest and

twice in the stomach. For days, he had been in a coma, Mark spending many a

night in the chair by his hospital bed. Steve, however, did wake up and made

a full recovery just in time to save Mark from a jail sentence.

All the same emotions raced through him. The anger and hate he felt towards

the gunman. The terror he was sure his son felt just before the bullet hit

him. The fear that he may never see his son alive again.

Just then, Amanda came back into the room,. It wasn’t until she was close

that Mark saw tears glistening on her cheeks and fresh ones pouring out of

her eyes every moment.

"Mark..." she began between short sobs. "Mark, they lost him. They said..."

She couldn’t stop the tears falling down her face and Jesse stood up just in

time to catch her from collapsing. "Oh, God..."

"It’s all right," Jesse comforted her. Mark bolted out of his seat and into

the OR he had seen Steve being taken into. It couldn’t be happening. It

just couldn’t. Inside, doctors were peeling off their plastic gloves and

nurses were wrapping up the equipment. There on the OR table, his son lay

motionless. Blood was everywhere: on the scrubs of the doctor and on towels

that had been used to try and stop the bleeding.

"My son..." Mark breathed.

"Dr. Sloan, I’m sorry. We did everything we could to save your son. He just

lost too much blood too fast," the doctor said as he passed him. "I truly am

sorry."

Mark was stunned. He knew denial was the first step after a tragedy, but he

was sure the doctors were wrong. Before anyone could stop him, he was at his

son’s side, stroking his hair and telling him how much he loved him. He felt

a hand come down on his shoulder.

"Mark, he’s gone," Jesse said quietly. Mark couldn’t remember how he got out

of there and into the doctor’s lounge, but the next thing he did remember was

Jesse’s tear-streaked face close to his.

"Mark? Mark, can you hear me?" He turned to Amanda. "Amanda, I think he’s

in shock. Go-"

"No, Jess. I’m okay."

"No, you aren’t," Jesse said firmly. "I’m going to drive you home. I’ll

take care of things here." Mark didn’t answer and Jesse led him out to the

parking lot.

"My son... my Steve..." was all Jesse could make out on the way to the beach

house. Finally, he came into the driveway. "Jesse, I can’t go in there,"

Mark said. "All his things..." It was then when he finally accepted it. He

was now all alone in the beach house. His son would never come back in the

door carrying some fast food and claiming he brought home a nice dinner.

Mark would never be able to wake

up in the morning and poke fun at Steve eating a doughnut and being a

stereotypical cop.

"Want to stay at my place for a few days?" Jesse offered as he saw tears

begin to form in Mark’s eyes.

"Thank you, Jesse," he breathed.

When Amanda opened her eyes, she saw that she was in a hospital bed. She

struggled to remember what had gotten her there. She had just dropped CJ off

at the day care center... She had stopped at the hospital to get an autopsy

report for Steve... Steve.

Suddenly, she remembered everything. Steve’s being shot and his barely

living body being wheeled into the OR. Getting the news he hadn’t made it

and having to tell Mark. It was the hardest thing she could ever remember

doing was to tell a father he had just lost his son. She remembered being

hysterical and feeling a prick in her arm just before everything went black.

She assumed it had been another doctor

giving her a sedative that had calmed her down. Before she could form

another thought, the door to her room swung open slowly.

"You’re awake," Jesse said as he walked in.

"Is he really gone?" Amanda asked softly. She saw Jesse try his hardest to

swallow back tears.

"Yeah." He dug his fingernails in the palm of his hands, forcing tears away.

Amanda wasn’t as good and before Jesse could do anything, she began to cry

again. In an instant, Jesse was at her side, holding her, telling her it was

going to be all right, that they were going to get through it together and

that Steve was in a better place now.

"It’ll be all right. I promise," Jesse said, holding her tightly. Amanda

wiped her eyes and looked up at him.

"What happened?"

"Someone came into BBQ Bob’s holding a gun and he held the place up. He shot

at me and Steve jumped in the way..." He heard Amanda give a little gasp.

"He saved my life, Amanda. Do you know what his last words were?" Amanda

shook his head. "’Tell my dad I love him,’" Jesse quoted. Amanda chewed

her lower lip.

"Did you tell Mark?" Jesse shook his head.

"I was waiting for the right moment. I dropped him off at my place. Right

now, all he should be doing is trying to get himself together. Mark loved

Steve more than life itself," he said sadly.

"I know. Listen, if Mark needs to talk to someone..."

"He needs a little time to himself right now. But he also needs to know

we’re here for him if he needs us."

Mark sat in Jesse’s recliner and stared out the window. The rain tapped

against the window relentlessly. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed

across the sky. The raindrops rolling down the window mirrored the teardrops

rolling down his cheeks. He was still struggling with the reality of it all.

He closed his eyes and remembered the last conversation he had had with his

son:

"I’m off to Bob’s, Dad!" Steve called from his half of the each house. "Page

me if you need me!"

"Wait!" Mark called. He went down the stairs and saw his son paused at the

door.

"What?"

"Could you ask Jesse if has Friday off?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Well, I know he has the weekend off and I was wondering if this would be the

weekend I taught him how

to ride an ATV. He’s been pestering me forever."

"Friday’s my day off. I’ll show him," Steve said, grinning. He loved to

ride.

"All right. See you later, son. I’m heading for the hospital in a few

minutes."

"Bye, Dad." The door opened and Steve stepped out. That was the last time

Mark ever saw his son alive.

When Mark opened his eyes, he wanted more than ever to be with someone.

Carol. Oh, God, Carol didn’t know her brother was dead. Shaking, he reached

for the phone. He had to let her know, but he didn’t want to make the call.

His hand hovered over the phone and he debated with himself whether or not he

was going to make the call right then. He finally decided he had better tell

her, for putting it off

would only weigh heavily on his mind.

He picked up the receiver, and, knowing the number by heart, called his

daughter in Portland.

"Hello?"

"Carol?"

"Hi, Daddy," Carol said brightly. She had no idea what was happening and

Mark felt his heart break.

"Carol, honey. There’s something very important I need to tell you."

"What? Steve get shot again?" she joked nervously. Mark felt a knife go

through him.

"Yes," he said quietly. There was a silence.

"Is he okay?" she asked softly.

"Carol, he’s gone. They tried to save him, but..." He couldn’t go on as he

heard Carol’s soft crying at the end of the line. "Carol, you shouldn’t be

alone right now. Neither should I," he added as an afterthought. "Come to

the beach house. We can start... planning things."

"All right, Daddy. I’ll get the next flight out."

"Carol, you should wait until morning..." The classic fatherly tone was

dominant in Mark’s voice.

"No, Daddy. I’m coming now." Before he could protest, Carol hung up the

phone, undoubtedly heading for the airport. Mark slowly hung the phone up,

got his car keys out of his pocket and remembered his car was back at the

hospital. He made sure he had change in his pocket and headed outside.

Just then, a bus came up to the curb.

What timing, Mark thought. He got on and bought a ticket, knowing one stop

was a block away from Community General. The doors made a whoosh as they

closed behind him.

Jesse sat on the floor in Amanda’s darkened pathology lab with his back to

the wall. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his face was streaked

with tears. What had happened had been all his fault. Steve had been killed

trying to save him. He knew there was no way he could have stopped the

gunman, but Jesse still thought that Steve’s death was his fault and no one

else’s. He shifted his position so that his legs didn’t fall asleep and

buried his face in his hands.

Just then, the light flicked on and Mark stood illuminated in the doorway.

"Jesse? What are you doing in here?"

"Mark, what are you doing here?"

"I asked first." It was a childish response, he knew, but he was too tired.

"I was just... getting something," Jesse lied, wiping his eyes and standing

up.

"What happened," Mark began, "wasn’t your fault."

"Yes, it was!" Jesse exploded. "If he hadn’t taken the bullet for me, I

would be the dead one and he’d be all right. I should have offered to go as

a hostage or something!"

"Jesse, you’re talking crazy. What happened isn’t your fault," he repeated.

"My son knew you would do for the same for him."

Jesse calmed down. "I would," he agreed. "Mark, there’s something I need to

tell you," Jesse confessed.

"What is it?"

"After Steve was shot, he was conscious for a few moments. His last words

were, "Tell my dad I love him.’" He was quiet for a moment.

"I love him, too," Mark said, his tears now reflecting Jesse’s.

"Now, why are you here?"

"I had to call Carol and tell her about... what happened. I came here to get

my car because she’s meeting me at the beach house."

"Mark, I really wish you wouldn’t..."

"Jesse, I’ll have to go back there some time." He turned and left. Jesse

closed his eyes and fell back against the wall, sinking all the way to the

floor.

Mark turned the key in the lock and opened the door tentatively. He closed

the door behind him and flipped the light on. He stepped into the kitchen

and turned on the light. He sat at the kitchen table for a moment, reviewing

the events of the day.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was walking down the stairs to his son’s

half of the house. He slowly made his way into Steve’s bedroom, sheets and

blankets thrown to the ground as if Steve had just left them where they were

after he got out of bed. He sat on the bed and looked at the night stand.

On the stand was a picture of Mark; Steve’s mom, Kathryn; Carol; and Steve

all together as a family. Mark

remembered it had been taken a few days before Mrs. Sloan found out she had

been diagnosed with cancer.

He sat looking at the picture for what could have been seconds, minutes,

hours, but he wouldn’t have known the difference. The next thing he

remembered was hearing a knock at the door. He stood and walked to the door.

When he got there, a scared looking Carol stood illuminated in the automatic

porch light.

"Daddy?" She fell into his arms and stayed there for a long moment.

Finally, Mark guided the woman back into the house. They sat on the couch

and held each other, crying. They remembered the good times they had shared

with Steve and even some of the bad ones. It was nearly midnight when Carol

finally fell asleep in her father’s arms. As if she weighed no more than a

feather, he lifted her up and

carried her into Steve’s bed. He tucked the covers around her and kissed her

gently on the forehead.

Slowly, he dragged himself up the stairs and into his own room. He changed

into his pajamas and slid under the covers, falling into a fitful sleep.

The day of Steve’s funeral, at least 100 people showed up. Friends, family,

and fellow officers were there. As the casket was lowered into the ground,

the crying grew louder. Jesse, Amanda, Mark and Carol were standing off to

the side. As the crowd began to disperse, Carol clung to her father tighter.

"It’s all right, honey. He’s happy," Mark said to her. He brought his arms

around her. "Could I have a few minutes alone?" he asked. Carol nodded and

walked off with Jesse and Amanda. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, there was a young girl, perhaps thirteen or

fourteen, dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, kneeling down at Steve’s

grave.

Silently, Mark stood behind her. As if she knew he was there, she looked up

at him with tears in her eyes.

"Are you Dr. Sloan?" she asked softly. "Steve’s dad?"

"Yeah."

"He helped me through a lot," she said quietly, looking back at the grave.

"I used to get in a lot of trouble and he stood up for me. My older brother

just got mixed up with the wrong people. He’s the only guy down at the

station that gave me the time of day," she said with a twisted smile. "Now

he’s gone." She looked back up at him. "I miss him."

"I do, too," Mark said, swallowing back tears. The girl touched the cool

granite of the stone and stood up. Her head bowed, she jammed her hands in

her pockets and walked off towards the cemetery gates.

That night, Mark couldn’t get to sleep. He stared at the ceiling for a long

time, his hands cupped behind his head. Finally, he took a sleeping pill, a

strong one, and was finally able to drift off to sleep.

***Where am I? Mark thought, looking at his surroundings. They were blurry,

yet they seemed familiar. He saw his son standing in the center of where he

was. The room sharpened and he realized he was in BBQ Bob’s. Steve was

facing a man with a gun. Suddenly, the gun went off and Steve jumped in

front of the bullet, knocking Jesse out of its path.***

"Steve!" Mark sat straight up and looked around. His room was exactly as it

had always been. He pinched himself. "Ow!" he said out loud. Before he

could form another complete thought, he jumped out of bed and raced out of

the room. He paused in the doorway, feeling dizzy from the sudden movement.

A second later, he bolted down the stairs nearly tripping all over himself.

"Steve?" he called out

hopefully. There was no response. It hadn’t been a dream. His shoulders

slumped and he fell into a chair. He had thought that it might have been a

dream, but his hopes had been dashed. He had accepted his son was dead, but

he wanted to grasp at any straws he could.

"Dad, what are you doing racing through the house at all hours of the night?"

Mark looked up to see his son. The most wonderful sight ever. True, his

hair was messed up and he was in a ratty police shirt and a old pair of

boxers, but it was the greatest thing Mark had ever seen. Mark stood up

shakily. Before Steve could do anything, Mark wrapped his arms around him

and held him for a long time. "Dad, are

you all right?" Mark didn’t answer. He was all right because it had been a

dream. Not reality. His son’s body wasn’t laying cold in the morgue.

"I thought you were dead," Mark whispered stepping back to look at his son.

"You thought what?"

"It was a dream. All a dream," Mark breathed.

"Dad, are you all right? Maybe I should..."

"No, Steve, I’m fine. Go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you up." Steve

turned to go back, but stopped suddenly.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Where I’m at... I’m happy." And with that, his form faded away as if he had

never been there.

"Steve?" he called out tentatively. The door to Steve’s bedroom opened and

Carol stood in the doorway.

"Daddy?" It hadn’t been a dream. Oh, God. Steve was really dead.

"Go back to bed, honey. I just had a bad dream." Carol nodded and went back

into her brother’s room. Mark slowly closed his eyes and a tear slid out

from under an eyelid. Had he really just seen his son? Had he really

appeared to him? Or was it just his mind playing tricks on him? When Dr.

Mark Sloan fell asleep that night, he knew he would never know for sure. He

just knew his son was happy and that someday, he would see him

again.