Note: This story is the third in what is coming to be called "The Amy Series." In order to understand this particular story, it is recommended that you read "A Most Peculiar Birthday Present" and "Resurrection." As far as we know, this is the first multi-authored DM fanfic, written by two ambitious girls in Illinois and Indiana. Happy reading! Torn Apart Written by Courtney Felix ("You Don't Have to be Afraid," "Scripted," "Santa Claus Isn't Coming to Town," and "Out Cold.") and Jana Tropper ("A Most Peculiar Birthday Present," "Resurrection," "Murder X 2," "Final Curtain," and "The Loss.") Steve was about twenty yards ahead of Amy. Ignoring the stitch in her side, she sped up and tackled him from behind. Taken by surprise, Steve fell face first in the sand, Amy nearly landing on top of him. She picked herself up and raced down the beach so she could be seen from the beach house as Steve spat sand out of his mouth. Steve, quick to react, stood up and chased after her. Having longer legs, he caught up to her in no time. He picked her up and carried her to the edge of the water and swung her as if he was going to throw her in. "Put me down!" Amy struggled and kicked to be released from Steve's strong grip. In one swift motion, Steve threw her into the water. She came up sputtering and choking. After about a minute of this, he began to get worried. "Amy, are you all right?" In a few moments, he was at her side, knee-deep in the Pacific Ocean, where she was still gasping for breath. Before he could say anything more, she jumped on him and pushed him under the water. In a fit of giggles, she attempted to run back to the beach house where Mark was observing all of this from the safety of his porch. Steve surfaced and grabbed her from behind and began to drag her back into the salty water. Mark laughed out loud at the two from the porch. He heard the door behind him open, and Amanda came outside. "Hey, Amanda," Mark greeted her, eyes still watching the two play-fight. "Hey, Mark. Looks like they're having fun." Amanda sat down and, with an amused smile, began to watch as well. "I think Steve's been a lot more relaxed since Amy came here," Mark said thoughtfully. "I agree that he's definitely changed." Seeing the look on Mark's face, she added quickly, "For the better." "Mark! Help!" Amy's panicked cry came from somewhere in the splashing and Mark chuckled to himself. "Mark! Amanda! Anybod-" Her final word was cut off as she was dunked beneath the water by Steve. Moments later, they both emerged from the ocean, sopping wet from head to toe. "Don't you dare come into this house wet," Mark warned. "Are we just supposed to stand out here and drip dry?" Steve asked from below them. "I'll get you some towels." Mark disappeared into the house and Amanda saw him handing towels to the wet, laughing occupants of the bottom half of the beach house from above. She walked back inside and descended the stairs as Steve, Mark, and Amy came into the house. "I'm changing into some dry clothes," Steve declared, face wet from the water and tears of laughter. After the wet ones changed into dry clothes, they all sat down at the table for a late lunch Mark had prepared spur-of-the-moment. The phone rang from downstairs and no one heard it on the first ring. On the second ring, however, Steve heard it, excused himself and raced downstairs to answer it. "Hello?" he answered on the third ring. "Steve Sloan?" a female voice said from the other end. "Yes?" "This is Paul Higgins from Child Services. I am to understand that an Amy Porter is in your custody?" Steve's throat tightened. "Yes." "This call is to inform you that Amy has been placed in a foster home. A planned meeting with her foster parents is set to be tomorrow at noon in Griffith Park. It is recommended that you attend with her." His words seemed rehearsed, as if he made calls like this all the time. "It will be at the picnic table near the north end of the park. Are the both of you available?" "Yes," he said once more. His mind was slowly accepting what he knew was inevitable. "We'll be there." He heard a click at the other end of the line and he numbly hung up the phone. He stared down at the receiver. After so long, he never thought anyone would take Amy away from him. But the call proved him wrong. "Are you okay?" a voice came from behind him. He turned to see Amy at the foot of the stairs. "Yeah. Fine," he lied. He forced a smile. "Who was it?" "We'll talk about that later. Let's go finish lunch first." Amy narrowed his eyebrows at him, but bounded up the stairs ahead of him in child-like innocence. She had no idea that her life was going to be turned upside down in the next few days. Later that night, Steve knew he had to tell her; he could put it off no longer. He was sitting on the couch watching TV when Amy came into the room, dressed in her pajamas. "Move," she said. "I want to go to bed." Steve looked up at her sadly. He patted the spot next to him, indicating for her to sit. She looked at him warily for a moment, but then shrugged and plopped down next to him. "Better make it quick, Steve. I am sooooo tired..." She crossed her legs at her ankles and hung them on the arm of the couch. She leaned her head back against Steve's shoulder. "I... Well..." He paused, struggling for words. "Remember the phone call I got earlier?" "Yeah, you said we were gonna talk about it. Who was it?" "Paul Higgins," he answered honestly. "Some Army buddy of yours or something?" "No, he's from Child Services." A silence hung over them like a storm cloud. "They're taking me away from you." It was more a statement than a question. "I'm afraid so." Another silence followed, but Amy took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm just not going," she said simply. "They can't make me. I'm staying here with you." Now he turned her to face him. "Amy, it's not that simple. Legally, you aren't mine. I agreed to have you stay here until they found a foster home for you." Her shoulder's slumped and her green eyes saddened. "After all this time... How can they do this?" "They can do anything they want." He sighed. "And I can't stop them." Amy turned so her head rested against his shoulder once more. "They can't. You can't let them, Steve." Amy swallowed hard and tried to deny that all of this was happening. There was some big misunderstanding. Soon, the stress of the day and the stress of the newfound information fatigued her to the point that she fell asleep against his shoulder. Once Steve realized this, he gently moved her from his shoulder, and laid her back into the pillow. He slowly covered her small form with a blanket that was draped over the edge of the couch. When he was finished, he looked down at her sympathetically. She didn't deserve to be going through this: any of it. Not the hurt nor the pain nor the anger. Feeling that he was defeated and could do nothing about it, he sulked to this bedroom. "Now, this may be a little uncomfortable, but it is a regulation that the foster parents meet with their foster children before they are released into their custody. This will be a short meeting and I will be over by the fountain," Higgins was saying. "Their names are Anita and Roger Parker." Amy kept her eyes focused on the ground, but never moving more than an inch from Steve's side. The man turned and left just as the picnic table came into view. A couple was sitting there, a man and a woman. As they got closer, they saw that the woman had to be just shy of forty, but she was barely Amy's height. Her brown hair has wisps of gray in it, somehow making her more attractive. She had warm, soulful brown eyes that immediately reminded her of a puppy dog. Amy realized she didn't hate this woman, just the fact that Amy had been selected to be her daughter. The man, on the other hand, was not what Jesse would call a typical "comp geek," but completely different. He had a tall, thin frame and wore no glasses. He had piercing blue eyes that had always been watching her like a hawk. In some ways, he reminded her of her own father. Perhaps that made her resent him even more. Finally, they sat on the bench across from them awkwardly. None of them knew quite what to say. "Hello," Mrs. Parker said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Hi," Amy said shyly. Almost subconsciously, she scooted closer to Steve. "We've been waiting for so long..." the older woman said. "We found out we couldn't have children and then when we found out about you... after being on those awful waiting lists forever..." She swallowed, seemingly choking back tears. "What she's trying to say is that we can't wait for you to become our new daughter," Mr. Parker interrupted. Amy slid her hand into Steve's, who held on tightly. As far as Amy was concerned, she was Steve's daughter, not these strangers'. Amy clutched Steve's hand tighter and listened to the entire conversation without really hearing it. Before she knew what was happening, Steve was leading her back to the car. She vaguely heard him talking to her, but he couldn't make out the words. She was still numb from the shock of meeting people that were soon to become their parents. They were taking her away from the one person that cared about her, the one person that was there for her no matter what the circumstances. They were taking her away from Steve. "Amy..." Steve began. They were now in the car driving back to the beach house, a place she couldn't call home for much longer. "By placing you in a foster home... This is for your own good, Amy." "So you don't want me to stay with you?" What was going on? Didn't Steve care about her any more? "Amy, I do and you know that. But... what these people are doing... it's for the best." Inside, his heart and mind were at war. His mind said that she'd be better off with two parents. They could show her more attention and she could even have her own bedroom. Sure, he had offered to convert the guest room into a bedroom, but she had always said she liked her couch better than any bedroom she had ever had. But his heart told him that he was crazy if he let her go. She was a daughter to him, even if it wasn't biologically. He knew that no matter what he told her, they'd both end up getting hurt. "Listen, we still have one more day together. What do you want to do?" She ignored him and brought her knees up to her chin. "How about I'm really bad and they'll get so sick of me that they won't want me anymore?" Amy suggested, looking back at him. "Then they'll think I raised you to be that way. We can still see each other. We can call and we can write..." "That's not the same." "I know, Amy, but we have to make the best of an uncontrollable situation." "Not fair," she muttered. "I get absolutely no say in this." "Neither do I, but it's not always happy endings. I wish this one was." Amy kept looking out the window. "Me, too." They went through the actions of the rest of the day as if everything was okay and pretending nothing was going to happen was a whole lot easier. Amy, Amanda, Mark and Steve were eating lunch upstairs the next day when there was a knock at the door. Steve came down the stairs to answer it. The door was opened to reveal the man from the day before and a woman neither of them recognized. "I'm Paul Higgins and this is Barbara Sampson," the man said, gesturing to the woman. "We're from Child Services." A knot tightened in Steve's throat, his mind grudgingly accepting what he knew was inevitable. "We'd like to take her to her foster home now so...," Sampson continued, her face showing no emotion. "I'm not going. I'm staying here with Steve," she insisted. "Amy, please don't make this any harder than this already is," Sampson pleaded. "You new foster parents are very excited about you moving in." "I'm not going," Amy repeated. "You can't make me." "Could you give us a minute?" Steve interrupted. The two at the door left and Steve shut the door behind them. "What do you mean, "Could you give us a minute?'" Amy asked. "You're not going to let them take me away, are you?" Steve stood in silence. "Steve?" "I can't do anything to stop it. I would if I could and you know that." He knelt down in front of her. "Amy... there's nothing I can do." Amy gritted her teeth and forced the tears back. Finally, she could no longer and a waterfall of tears came pouring out. Steve hugged her and held her. "Steve, I don't want to leave you," Amy cried softly into his shoulder. "I don't want you to go either, Am, but I have no choice." He held her by the shoulders and looked at her. Amy could have sworn she saw tears well up in the corner of his eyes, but all evidence was blinked away. He brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and continued. "We'll still see each other. I promise. You know you can come over and visit whenever you want to." He hugged her again and stood up. Silently, she picked up her bags and walked to the door. She paused in the doorway and looked back. She raised a hand and waved. Steve waved back. And with that, she was gone. A few moments of silence passed and the man came back in the house. "Mr. Sloan, in the best interest of Amy, no contact between you two will be allowed for the time being." Steve stared at him in shock as he went on. "Amy will need to adjust to her new life and than after a time period has passed, it will be up to the foster parents if they will or will not permit contact." With a nod of his head, he left. "They aren't going to let me see her," he whispered. Another silence hung over the room and Amanda stepped down from the stairs and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Steve turned to look at her and forced a weak smile. "From the moment you accepted to take her in, you knew this day was going to come," Mark said from the stairs. "I didn't know it was going to hurt this much." The car ride to the Parker house was quiet. Mr. Higgins first dropped off Mrs. Sampson back at the adoption agency and then drove on towards the Parker's house. "I'm sure you'll get used to the adjustment, Amy," Higgins said, struggling to make conversation. Amy snorted, but didn't answer. "Mr. and Mrs. Parker can't have children and when they found out about you, they jumped at the chance. If you act like this, you'll upset them." "I'll upset them? What the hell do you know about being upset?" Amy exploded. "You just dragged me away from the people I care about most in the entire world, one of which has saved my life on two separate occasions. When you lose your mother to cancer, watch your brother get murdered by your uncle and have your father run off after you helped get him released from jail, you can tell me about being upset! Until then, you don't know what the hell you're talking about." She stopped and took another breath before continuing in a softer tone. "I know you're just doing your damn job, but I'm sure you can pull a few strings and let me stay with Steve. Why can't the Parkers get another kid? Since you're so sure I'll 'upset' them, why do you even bother?" She breathed heavily from her outburst. Higgins drove forward in silence. He had gotten very little background information on the girl other than the fact she had no known family and had been staying with a police detective for the past eight or nine months. He had no idea she had witnessed the murder of her brother. "I'm very sorry to hear about your family," he said simply. "But I don't think the Parkers would approve of this much cursing." Amy counted to ten silently and refused to let her anger get the best of her. She shook her head and stared out the window as a huge mansion loomed up ahead. "Here we are," Higgins announced, pulling in the circular driveway. "Bull," Amy muttered. "This is it, Amy. Your new home." True, Amy was impressed with the size and grandeur of the place, but she'd rather stay with Steve than in Buckingham Palace. A pleasant looking couple came outside and stood on the huge front porch, the man with his arm around the woman, who had her hands together as if in prayer. The car stopped and both Higgins and Amy stepped out. She grasped her backpack with her things in it tightly, for it r anything at all. The two of them entered the house, Mrs. Parker firmly grasping Amy's hand as if she was scared Amy was going to run away. Immediately, a maid raced up to greet them. "Is this Amy? It's a pleasure to finally meet you," the maid said in a light British accent. "I'm Daphne and if you ever need anything, just let me know." I want to go home, Amy thought, but she didn't say it out loud. "Daphne, show Amy up to her room, please," Mrs. Parker requested. "Yes, Mrs. Parker." Mrs. Parker turned to Amy. "Why don't you get settled in and we'll have dinner in about an hour?" "Fine. Great. Thanks," Amy replied. She might as well have the words written on her head, for she knew she'd be using them a lot. Daphne walked up the large staircase at her side. "A bit overbearing, isn't she?" Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow. "A bit," she confessed. "She's just excited. She and Mr. Parker have been trying to have children for years, and they just found out they couldn't. Mrs. Parker was just devastated and they've been trying to adopt for the last few months." "Why not someone else?" Amy muttered under her breath. "Hey, don't look at it as a bad thing. I mean, how much did you like it where you were before?" Daphne asked. The maid obviously thought she had been in a short-term foster home before coming here. "I had it pretty good. Steve's been a surrogate father since Dad ran off and Mark and Amanda and Jesse are great. They always have been." Her voice began to break, but she composed herself and continued. She told Daphne about her mother's death and her brother's murder. She told her about her uncle getting off scot-free for months before he was caught. She told her that her father had run off the moment he was released from prison and how he didn't give a damn about his last living relative. Daphne didn't even mind that she swore. It felt good to have someone care about what she was saying. Finally, they reached the door to her new bedroom. "Here we are," Daphne said, almost in pride. It had been a long time since Amy had had a bedroom. The room was decorated entirely in blue. "We were expecting a boy, but I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Parker would change it to another color if you'd like." An empty toy chest sat in the corner, waiting to be filled with toys. The bed was huge with racing stripes down the sides. She smirked in spite of herself, knowing that when her older brother was a kid, he had loved racecars. Amy glanced out the window and realized she must be on the second floor, at least. The backyard was huge with a swimming pool and a trampoline and what looked to be a newly built playset. Way back at the edge of the estate were tennis and basketball courts. "That's all right; blue's my favorite color," she lied. Black was actually her favorite and then green and then blue. Steve knew that, but the Parkers obviously didn't. "I'll give you some time for yourself and I'll come back to see you in about forty-five minutes. Okay?" the maid asked brightly. "Whatever," she mumbled. The door closed behind the maid and she was alone. Amy put her backpack on the bed and fished out the most important thing to her. A green wooden picture frame held her favorite picture. Amy closed her eyes and remembered the day it was taken. "I don't know where it went, Steve," Jesse said, moving a bush to the side. It was nearly noon and Jesse and Steve had been engaged in a "serious" game of catch. The ball had flown into the brush on the side of the beach house. "Jesse, how can you be so uncoordinated?" Steve laughed. "We had to be thirty feet away from the house." Amy crept around the corner, holding the garden hose. Jesse had his back to her and she sprayed him full force in the back of the head. "What the..." Jesse shouted. He turned to face her, but got a full stream of water in his face instead. Meanwhile, Steve sneaked around the other side of the house, in order to catch Amy from behind. He waited until she dropped the hose from laughing so hard at Jesse's wet dog impression as Jesse shook his head, sending sprays of water all over. Steve reached around and wrestled the hose out of Amy's hand. Holding her arms up defensively, she backed away as the water covered her. She ran right into Jesse, who held her in place by the shoulders. Amy was able to get out of his grip and she began to race toward the beach. Jesse took off after her. Amy came to a dead stop at the water's edge and Jesse, moving too fast to slow down in time from hitting her, rammed her from behind and they both fell in the water. Amanda and Mark came from inside the house wearing amused looks. Jesse and Amy staggered back towards the house and went inside to find towels to dry off with. Mark, Amanda and Steve stood underneath the porch. Big mistake. While inside, they each filled a bucket with ice cold water and stood above the others, unmistakably dry. But not for long. Suppressing giggles, they poured the water over the trio's heads and then fell back into chairs in laughter. Later, with everyone wet and shivering, they all gathered on the porch with the sunset behind him. Using the timer on his camera, Mark set it up so that the picture was supposed to be a nice one, minus the fact they were dripping wet. A fly flew into Jesse's face and he swatted at it. In the process, Amanda got hit in the back of the head and she turned around and gave him a dirty look. Jesse stepped back and Amy got knocked into Steve's arms by accident. Mark put his hand to his forehead and kept it there. The camera went off, but it didn't capture your normal Kodak moment. Amy smiled at the memory and set the frame on the small nightstand near her new bed. She took out a few other things and then wondered where to put her toothbrush. She saw a door in the corner of the room and opened it curiously. Inside was her own bathroom. Almost afraid to touch anything, she set it on the countertop and closed the door. There was a knock at her door. "Dinnertime!" Daphne's singsong voice came from the other side. Amy took a deep breath and tried to get herself to fake it for now. When Steve and Mark ate dinner together that night, the doctor noticed his son was being unusually quiet. "Want to talk about it?" Mark asked. "What's there to talk about? I lost her," Steve replied sullenly. "Steve, you didn't lose her. I'm sure Amy's foster parents will let you see her soon," Mark assured him. "How soon? A few weeks? A month? A year?" Steve tried to remain calm. "I can't let her go. Not without a fight." He stood up and stalked out of the room, not even bothering to finish his meal. In a flash, Mark was at his heels. "What do you plan on doing?" Mark asked as Steve picked up the phone. "I'm going to adopt her. Permanently." "Steve, that's a big commitment. Besides, it's already too la-" Steve cut him off. "Dad, this is something I've put a lot of thought into. In the days before Coleman kidnapped her, I was looking into it anyway and had already started talking with her social worker about it. I dropped it for a while because I was so intent on finding her, remember?" Mark did remember. For days, Amy had been held against her will, leaving Steve, Mark, Jesse, and Amanda to think she was dead after a bomb blew up a house she was supposed to have been in. A cadaver from the medical clinic had been planted in the house and was presumed to have been Amy. After a long, long week, she was returned to Steve, who had kept an even closer eye on her since then. Amy never noticed, or if she did, she never let on. It wasn't until then that Mark realized the fear and haunted look in Steve's eyes when she told him she was going to a friend's house or when she left to baby-sit someone. "Dad, I'm doing this," Steve said quietly. Steve laid in bed that night. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't sleep. He turned over and looked at the picture Mark had taken of himself and Amy. Even in the dark, he could see her smile. He could see every feature of her face so perfectly. He grinned. Then, his grin faded when he thought of how long it might be before he would be able to see her again. He turned again, this time laying on his back and looking up into the ceiling. He cupped his hands behind his head. He wondered how Amy was doing. He wondered if she was missing him as much as he was her. How he wished that he knew she was fast asleep in the next room. He vowed to himself that he would bring her home. Amy stared at the ceiling. Dinner had been uncomfortable. The Parkers struggled for conversation, but she gave one-word answers that made it clear she wasn't in the mood to talk. Obviously downcast, the couple retreated up to their room, as did Amy. Amy stared at the phone beside her bed, toying with the idea of calling Steve. It would make her feel a lot better just to hear his voice, even if he couldn't be with him. The bed felt strange, perhaps due to the fact she always slept on Steve's couch but maybe because the entire house was a museum. You could look, but not touch. Amy was sure that no one in the house would hear her if she called him. She reached for the phone, but her hand pulled back when she heard a small noise near the door. So maybe she didn't have as much privacy as she thought she did. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what Steve was thinking at the same moment. Amy opened her eyes and momentarily wondered why she wasn't on the couch at the Sloans'. Then, it all came back to her. She let out a long breath and said good morning to her picture of who she considered her real family. She smiled as she looked at what Mark had told everyone would be the perfect family photo. She was still studying the picture when she heard a small knock at the door. "Come in," she called. Daphne poked her head around the door. "Hi," Amy said with a smile. "Good morning. Are you ready for breakfast? We can fix anything you'd like." Amy thought for a second. "I'll just have whatever the Parkers are having. I don't want to be too much trouble," she said. "Are you sure?" "Yeah, positive. I'll get dressed and will be down in a few minutes." Daphne nodded, left, and closed the door behind her. Amy swung her legs over the side of the bed. She wondered if she still had to make her bed. "Isn't that the whole point of servants?" she asked herself. She happily left it unmade and walked over to the backpack that she had been able to bring with her. She unzipped it and pulled out her favorite pair of jeans and a t-shirt that Steve had bought for her. It was black and on the back was written "Undercover Cop" in white letters. Amy adored it. She examined herself in the mirror. She was satisfied. She walked out of her room and headed for the stairs. She looked down the long staircase. Suddenly, she felt as if she should run down then singing songs from "Annie." She giggled at the thought. She made her way down the stairs humming "Tomorrow." As she got to the bottom, she realized she didn't remember how to get to the dining room. Had she and Daphne turned right or left? She couldn't remember. She didn't want to call for someone for fear of looking stupid. So, she decided to try and find it on her own. She turned to the right. There must have been ten doors on one side of the hallway alone! How would she ever learn her way around this place? She missed the two-story beach house where she, at least, knew where the dining room was. Amy went back to the staircase after having no luck with any of the doors. She sat on the bottom step and pulled her knees up under her chin. She hoped Steve was working on a plan to get her out of there. She heard footsteps coming from behind her. She turned around to see Mr. Parker coming near her. He was wearing a nice suit, and suddenly she felt very underdressed. "Had breakfast yet?" he asked. "Actually," Amy confessed. "I couldn't find the dining room." Mr. Parker smiled and held out his hand, wanting her to take it. She grasped it, tentatively, and he showed her the way. Mr. Parker led her to a large room with an enormous table. There were three places set near the door. Mr. Parker walked right in and sat down. Amy followed him, slowly, still not quite sure where she should sit. She chose the place one away from him. He didn't seem to notice her uneasiness as their breakfasts were being placed in from of them. Amy let out a sigh of relief to see that it was only eggs and toast. After Daphne had left, she had wondered whether she had said the right thing. A minute later, Mrs. Parker came in and sat between Amy and her husband. She looked so adoringly at Amy. Amy tried to ignore her, but she couldn't stand to have people watching her while she ate. She looked at Mrs. Parker, quickly, who was still staring. She flashed a quick smile and then went back to her eggs. "Amy, sweetie," Mrs. Parker began. "Sweetie," Amy thought. The only person who had ever called her "sweetie" was Mark. She missed him. She missed being able to wake up and hear the sound of his voice singing along to the radio upstairs. She missed being able to sneak up after Steve had gone to bed and watch television with him or have him tell her a story as she rested her head on his shoulder and he ran his fingers through her hair until she would fall asleep. She missed his smile and... "Amy?" Mrs. Parker asked. Amy snapped back to reality. "Have you been listening to me?" "I guess not. I'm sorry." "I was just saying that if you'd like to, we can go shopping. Doesn't that sound like fun? Just a girls' day out." Amy tried to look sincere when she smiled back. She hated shopping, unless it was for CDs or new sports equipment. Then, she could really get into shopping. "We could find you some cute little dresses," she heard Mrs. Parker say. Suddenly, Amy had a sneaking suspicion that she would be forcing a lot of smiles that day. After breakfast, Daphne cleared away the dishes and Mr. Parker headed off to work. Amy heard snippets of what he was talking about during the meal and got the impression he worked for a computer company. "Comp geeks" as Jesse would call them. Amy laughed silently to her herself remembering when the two of them would be at BBQ Bob's, Jesse behind the counter and Amy spinning herself dizzy in one of the counter seats. The two of them would stereotype everyone in the place and suppress wild laughter when the customer came to pay. They got a few odd looks, but it was worth the snickers they got after the person left. "Now, Amy, where would you like to go? We can shop anywhere you like," Mrs. Parker offered. "How about..." She rattled off a dozen or so store names and they all became one word. "Um, where ever you want to go." She wasn't sure what to call this woman. Mrs. Parker would seem too impersonal, but she definitely wasn't going to call her Mom. "How about a nice trip to the mall?" "All right. Sounds great." She didn't like the way Mrs. Parker always wanted to hold her hand, but Amy couldn't bring herself to shake her off. Soon, they were in the Parker's limousine headed for the mall. Conversation didn't come too easily, but Mrs. Parker kept it rolling with endless questions. "How was your old school? You'll like the new one. Of course, you'll have to wear a uniform, but that's not really a big deal. The uniforms are blue. Daphne told me that your favorite color is blue. What a coincidence! So, would you like a blue dress? Well, maybe not. You seem like a t-shirt and jeans sort of girl. But you will need some dresses for when we make our public appearances." From listening to her, you'd think that she was a movie star. But being a member of "high society," she was probably required to make a few of her "public appearances." "I know a really cute one I saw at the mall last week. It was a light blue with lots of pretty pink flowers." God, Amy thought. Pink. Pink was her least favorite color. Steve would have known that, she couldn't help thinking. The limo came to an abrupt halt and Amy flew forward in her seat. The door opened and a man in a dark black suit helped her out. She was tempted to say, "Thank you, James," but kept her mouth shut. The whole mall experience was different with Mrs. Parker. She was used to walking slowly with Amanda and window-shopping. When they would go in and shop around, she and Amanda would find the most hideous things and try them on. They showed them off to each other and laughed at how they looked. Mrs. Parker dragged Amy through the mall, still holding her hand. They went in all of the nicest shops, where Amy couldn't even see anything she remotely liked. She felt odd in those shops with a tee-shirt and jeans on. She knew the people in the stores were staring at her. Finally, they neared the bookstore. Amy grinned; she loved going in there. She could always find something new. "Mrs. Parker," Amy began. "Oh, please, dear, call me Anita," she insisted. "Can we go..." Amy started and pulled on her hand. "Look!" Mrs. Parker gasped. "Dear, that would look adorable on you!" "But, couldn't we just..." "Come on, you must try it on!" Again, Amy had been beat. She saw the dress Mrs. Parker was talking about. It was the same one she'd talked about in the car. The one with pink flowers. Amy tried to look sincere as she tried the dress on. Sure, it fit, but it wasn't her style. Amy stepped out of the tiny dressing room. "Darling, it looks wonderful!" she cooed. Then, she turned to the cashier that was helping her. "We'll take it." Amy started to protest, but Mrs. Parker scooted her back into the dressing room. "Come on now, get out of that, we have a lot more shopping to do!" she cried delightedly. Amy was glad that one of them was having fun. Steve walked through the mall. A lead he was following there turned out to be no help at all. He grumbled as he pushed his way through the crowds. He checked his watch. He still had quite a while before he had to be at Amy's social worker's office. He decided to head to the food court and get a burger and some fries. He waited in line, paid, and sat at one of the tables. He watched as people walked by. They all looked so happy with their bags and boxes. Then of course, there were the little kids who couldn't stand being there and screamed and protested the whole time they were shopping. Steve looked back to his food and took a sip of his coke. He looked back up in time to see a young girl with a woman who seemed to be dragging her along. They had a few bags and the girl was carrying a box. He didn't take much notice until he saw what was written on the back of the girl's shirt: "Undercover Cop." "Was it really her?" Steve asked himself. He stood up to try and get a better look, but he'd lost them in the crowd. Sighing in defeat, he finished his food and headed for the appointment. Steve sat nervously in the small waiting room. He wasn't sure what he would learn about the couple. It probably wouldn't be anything that would help him win Amy back. He swore softly at himself for even coming in. As he sat, he became more and more certain that the whole trip down had been a waste. "Steve Sloan?" a woman asked. Steve stood and smiled at her politely. "Yes, that's me." "Right this way, please." "Thank you," Steve said and followed the woman into a small office. She sat and motioned for Steve to sit in the chair that was placed in front of her desk. He did. "I'm Carla, Amy's social worker. Now, I understand that you have some concerns with Amy's being placed into the Parkers' care. Would you care to explain?" She asked him. Steve smiled in spite of himself. "I'm not so sure that I can put it into words," he began slowly. "Well, as you know, Amy's been living with my father and I for almost the past year. When I'd first been given temporary custody of her, I began looking into adoption. Then, something happened, and I had to give up on that for a little while. You see, after so long, I never thought that they would take her away from us." Steve leaned forward in his chair. "Do you think that there is any way that we can get her back?" Carla leaned back in her chair, slightly intimidated by Steve. She opened the file that was sitting on her desk. "Mr. Sloan, when you took Amy in, you did know that it was just temporary, correct?" "Well, yes, but..." "When you began looking into adoption, did you talk to Amy about it?" "No, I wanted to surprise her." "I see. Mr. Sloan," Carla folded her hands on the desk and leaned toward him. "Look, I didn't come here to be interrogated. I came to find out the facts about where my daughter has been taken!" Steve let the words slip out. Carla didn't let Steve get to her. She'd dealt with these types of people before. "Sir, I can assure you, that Amy has been placed in the very best of care. Now, please you must comply with the regulations that have been set for Amy's sake." Steve left the small office frustrated. As he'd predicted, the afternoon had been unproductive. "I don't believe this!" Mr. Parker exploded. He threw the envelope down on the floor and Amy looked up from the chair she had been sitting in. "Anita! Anita, come in here!" Seconds later, the delicate woman entered the room, looking a bit pale. "What is it, dear?" Anita asked softly. "That Steve Sloan is bringing us to court for custody of Amy!" Silently, Amy cheered. Steve hadn't just been sitting around all this time. "Don't worry, darling, we can hire the best lawyers. We won't lose Amy." Anita smiled to Amy, as if to reassure her. But inside, Amy was still clinging onto one thread of hope, which was quickly thickening into rope, that she'd be back with Steve again. The ride to the courthouse was silent. Mr. Parker actually drove the three of them in one of their many cars. He made sure to select a showy one; a red Mercedes-Benz. Mrs. Parker sat in the front seat, nervously playing with the radio dial. She looked over at Mr. Parker. She began to feel uncomfortable around him and tried to spend as much time as she could in her room, away from him, away from his wife, away from all the gawking and annoying maids. A time to be alone and think. Finally, the car came to a halt, bringing her out of her thoughts. Silently, the three of them walked up the hundred or so stairs. She knew that they'd each have time to talk to the judge personally. That was it. She'd just tell the judge how much she and Steve cared about each other and how they looked out for each other. The judge would understand. Suddenly, the day was looking a whole lot brighter. "Dr. Sloan, please have a seat," Judge Warner offered. Mark sat down in the large leather chair, finding it already warm. "Thank you," Mark replied. "Now, I am to understand you are Detective Sloan's father?" "Yes." "Can you tell me if there has been any changes in your son's lifestyle since Amy has moved in?" "Actually, Your Honor, there has. In a short amount of time, Steve has taken on the responsibility of being a parent. And I must say he is doing really well. He helps her with homework when he gets home from work and just this weekend, I pulled up in the driveway to find them in a game of one-on-one." Mark smiled at the memory of Steve and Amy playing basketball. Although Steve had the strength and the height, Amy definitely had the speed. She'd try and fake him out and then, if that didn't work, bounce it right through his legs and, nine times out of ten, recover it on the other side. "Has this caused any extra stress in his life?" "Well, of course it has. He worries about her a lot. Much like the way I worry about him," he added with a rueful smile. "We fathers have it hard," Judge Warner smiled. But his smile vanished when he remembered the conference was for business, not pleasure. "Does your son ever leave Miss Porter at home by herself?" Mark thought for a moment. "Well, sometimes he isn't home when she gets back from school. But I'm there once in a while." "Has she ever been injured in any way during the time she was alone?" "I don't know. I really can't think of any times." The judge wrote something in his small cramped writing at the bottom of the page. "Have they gotten into any arguments?" "Well, of course. Everyone gets into arguments." Mark wasn't sure where this was leading. "Has your son ever had to punish Miss Porter?" "A few times, I suppose. For staying out late or not calling when she stayed at a friend's house." "Do you know how he punished her?" Mark grinned to himself, remembering the infuriated Amy arguing with Steve about her punishment. "She wasn't allowed to go to her friend's house for a week and she didn't get to go to the Laker's game with Steve and a friend of his." "Dr. Travis?" "Yes." "Have you ever noticed any strange markings or bruises on Miss Porter?" "Why, no. She is awful clumsy once in a while, but none that really stand out in my mind." Mark all of a sudden made the connection. "Your Honor, if you think my son would ever do anything to hurt Amy..." "I'm just trying to figure out what's best for her, Dr. Sloan." "I don't believe I have any more to say," Mark said curtly. Disgusted, he got up and left the room. Steve stood outside the judge's chambers. He, once again, straightened his tie. He glanced at his watch. He couldn't believe how long his father was taking. He hoped everything was going well. Things just had to be going well. He wasn't going to let himself lose Amy. Suddenly, the door swung open. Mark trudged out not even glancing at his son. Steve watched as his father walked quickly down the hall. Very quickly, he became very nervous. What had caused Mark to react like that? His palms became sweaty and he could feel his pulse quicken. "Lt. Sloan, we're ready for you now," the guard at the door said. Steve nodded. The judge smiled warmly as Steve came in. Steve nervously wiped the palms of his hands against his pants. He took a seat. "Well, Lt. Sloan, I'll be interested to hear what you have to say today. There's no need to be nervous. This conversation is strictly between you and I. Now, do you have anything to say before I begin my questions?" Steve shook his head. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible so everything could get back to normal. "Okay, well here we go. How long has Miss Porter been living with you and your father?" "Nine months, I believe." "Would you say that the past nine months have been a good influence on Miss Porter?" "I'd hope so. She's changed a lot since the first time I met her." "How so?" Judge Warner asked. "Her whole personality has changed. She's funny, witty, and outgoing. It could just be the fact that she didn't know us and didn't really open up to us all that much at first. Ever since the incidents with her family..." Steve stopped, losing his train of thought. "What?" the judge asked. "I don't know," Steve answered, shaking his head. "Lt. Sloan, how many times has Miss Porter been hurt since she's been in your care?" "What are you talking about?" "Please, just answer the question." "I'm not sure, I haven't exactly counted," Steve answered with sarcasm. "What kind of hurt are you talking about? Like household accidents or bigger?" "There were bigger things than just household accidents?" the judge asked. He quickly scribbled something into his notes. "Children do have accidents, you know," Steve commented, not enjoying where the questioning was headed. "Yes, I realize that," the judge said. He was still writing something down. Steve suddenly began to feel very uncomfortable. "Now, it has come to my attention that while in your care, Miss Porter was kidnapped. Is this true?" "Yes," Steve answered quietly. "Has her personality changed any since that incident?" Steve thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so. She's a strong kid, judge. She's been through some very trying things in her life, but she always bounces back and tries not to let things get to her." "I see," Warner said. "Those are all the questions I have for you, would you like to say anything now?" Steve leaned forward in his chair and looked straight at the judge. "I don't know what kind of thing you're trying to pull with me or my father; I saw the way he stormed out of here. I don't believe you're after the real truth. You're trying to twist our words into something completely out of context. If I don't get Amy today, I will get her the next, or the next. I'm not going to give up so easily on this case, Judge Warner. You can count on that." Warner sat back and looked at Steve. "Thank you, I'm through." Jesse shyly walked into the judge's chambers. Judge Warner smiled warmly at him. "Maybe this won't be so bad," Jesse thought. The judge nodded towards a chair and Jesse sat. He fumbled his hands nervously as he waited for the judge to finish writing some notes. "Keep calm," Jesse told himself. "This is for Amy's good. Don't screw up." Jesse had just finished his thoughts when Warner put his pen down. "Now, Mr. Travis..." "Um, doctor," Jesse corrected. "Oh, I'm sorry. Dr. Travis, what is your relationship with Miss Porter?" "Friend," Jesse answered. "And with Steve Sloan?" Judge Warner continued. "Friend and business partner." "What kind of business do you co-own?" "BBQ Bob's," Jesse said. "It's a rib restaurant." "I see," the judge said and jotted something down. "I have to assume that Miss Porter has been to this establishment." Jesse nodded. "Has Lt. Sloan ever left her there with you?" "Well, sure. She likes to help out on the days that we're shorthanded. She and I also play this game with the customers. Well, not really with them..." "She works at your restaurant?" the judge asked. "No, well, yes she has, but not regularly," Jesse said realizing he may have made a mistake. "I see. Dr. Travis, do Miss Porter and Lt. Sloan get along well?" "Yeah, of course. At first they really got on each other's nerves..." Jesse stopped before he could say anything else he might regret. "Aren't you going to continue?" Judge Warner asked. "I'd rather not," Jesse answered. "Thank you Dr. Travis, I have no more questions." Amanda entered the small room smiling. "Please, Dr. Bentley, sit down," Judge Warner said. Amanda sat and looked at him, still smiling, waiting for what would come next. "I understand that you have a son," the judge began. Amanda nodded. "How old is he?" "Four," Amanda replied. "Do you trust Lt. Sloan with him?" "Of course, Steve is wonderful with CJ." "Is Lt. Sloan aggressive with your son?" "What do you mean by aggressive?" Amanda asked. "Do they rough house?" "Yes." "Has Lt. Sloan ever had to punish your son?" "Once or twice," Amanda answered quickly. "I don't understand what..." "Has he ever spanked or smacked your son?" "No." "Then what method did he use as punishment?" "Time outs, I believe." "You mean you don't know?" "No, not really. I didn't ask..." "Then, how do you know Lt. Sloan didn't hit him?" "Because I know Steve and he wouldn't do that," Amanda answered. "Thank you, Dr. Bentley, that will be all." Quietly, Mr. and Mrs. Parker entered the judge's chambers. Mrs. Parker held her husband's hand for dear life. "Please sit," Judge Warner said, not looking up at them. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments before the judge finished what he was writing. "I know how uncomfortable this must be for you, but it'll be much easier if you try and relax." Both Parkers sighed. "Now, I understand that Miss Porter has been in your custody for a short period of time." "Ye ... ' ' " " - - (tm) (c) (r) * 1/4 1/2 3/4 s," Mr. Parker answered. "How has Miss Porter been acting since she came to arrive?" "She seems a bit withdrawn, but my wife and I think it's because we're new to her." "I see. Does she ever get upset or angry with you?" "Not really. She doesn't talk much and she seems a little depressed. We think it could be from the abrupt change." "Are you aware that Miss Porter's previous place of residence was that of a police detective?" "Yes, but we weren't told much outside of that.." "And that she had been staying there for approximately nine months?" The couple was startled. "We had no idea she was there for such a long period of time. No wonder she doesn't like the change," Mrs. Parker spoke up. "Well, I have also been made aware that she was kidnapped and seriously hurt at least one time under Lt. Sloan's care." "My goodness. The poor girl. We knew she had a violent past, but we had no idea... The counselor told us she had been both physically and emotionally abused, but this..." Mrs. Parker put a hand over her mouth and her husband put an arm over her shoulder. "Do you believe you will give Miss Porter a good home and a healthy environment to grow up in?" "We like to think so." The couple smiled at each other. "Thank you. No further questions." "Hello there, Amy," the judge smiled warmly. "Hi," she said shyly. "Don't feel uncomfortable. This isn't a formal trial. It's strictly off the record." "Whatever." She sat down in the brown leather chair shakily, not knowing what to expect. "Now, I just finished talking with Mr. and Mrs. Parker. They seem like very nice people and they're pretty upset that you won't give them a chance." Her guard flew up and stood in place. "I want to stay with Steve." "I see. Does Steve mean a lot to you?" "Everything. Him and Mark and Jesse and Amand-" "Does Steve mean a lot to you?" Amy swallowed. "He's all I've got. He means everything to me." "Do the two of you get into a lot of arguments at home?" "Sometimes," she said softly. "Has he ever hurt you?" Amy looked at him for a moment. "No, never." The judge looked at her critically and noticed the hesitation. "Are you sure?" "Of course I'm sure!" Amy could feel the anger take her over. "Amy, if Lt. Sloan has ever done anything..." "Steve has never hurt me or tried to hurt me. Since Billy died, he's all I've had. And now the stupid adoption people are making me stay with complete strangers." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Everything was fine before and now they had to go and change it." "Amy, it's my belief that the Parkers are very nice people and that you haven't given them a fair chance." "They might be nice people, but they aren't Steve." She crossed her arms in front of her and sank down in the chair. "Amy, these people can provide you with a lot more than Detective Sloan can," Judge Warner said. Amy was now infuriated. "Financially, maybe. But nothing more than that. No matter how much they want to, they can never be my parents. Steve cares about me. He's there for me no matter what." She said the last three words with force. "And the Parkers can't replace that. Have you actually met them? They'd be glad to have any kid. Steve cares about me for me." Without waiting to be dismissed, she stalked out of chambers. Back in the courtroom, everyone was sitting down, slightly agitated. The judge had been in his chambers by himself for a long time. Finally, he emerged and reentered the room. "The decision I've made wasn't an easy one. But along with the legal issue, there are the moral questions involved. I feel that the decision I've made is for the best." He took a deep breath. "Amy is to remain in the custody of Mr. and Mrs. Roger Parker," the judge announced. "You can't do this!" Amy shouted, standing up. "You can't separate us like that!" The judge ignored her and continued. "Any kind of contact between her and Lt. Sloan will be prohibited for one full year. After that, the Parkers have the decision whether or not to permit contact." Amy shook her head numbly. "I hate you," she whispered. She directed it to all of them, the judge, the Parkers, even the lawyers. Either no one heard her, or they didn't give enough of a damn to respond. "It's going to be all right," Amanda whispered to her. "No, it isn't," she whispered back. She shot a desperate look over to Steve, but he would not meet her gaze. He just looked down at his hands that were folded in his lap. Mark whispered something to his son, no doubt a bit of reassurance. Then he pointed at Amy. Steve looked up at her, with more emptiness in his eyes than she had ever seen before. "I'm sorry," he mouthed to her. She swallowed hard and refused to let herself cry. Fingernails into fists. No more tears. "No," she murmured. She felt a strong hand on her shoulder and looked up into the joy-filled eyes of Mr. Parker. She pulled away and stepped backwards. "Can I say goodbye?" she asked softly. Mr. Parker looked uneasy. "Amy, I don't know..." "Please?" She used the same look on Mr. Parker as the one she had used on Steve into letting her sleep over at a friend's house, only this time, it was genuine. "Just one last time." "Well, all right. I'll give you a few minutes." He nodded and his wife took his arm. They left the courtroom, and the judge retired back to his chambers, leaving Mark, Amanda, Jesse, Steve and Amy alone in the room. "So I guess this is it, huh?" Amy asked shakily, fighting the urge to cry. "Yeah," Jesse said softly. "I'm going to miss you guys." Amy chewed her bottom lip. "We'll miss you, too," Amanda said. Tears filled her eyes and she hugged Amy close. "Aww, come on, Amanda. Please don't cry. Amanda, come on." Amy squirmed a little and shot a desperate look to Mark over her shoulder. Amanda straightened and backed away. Then it was Jesse's turn, then Mark's. Finally, Amy found herself face-to-face with Steve. Well, almost, but Steve was about a foot taller than her. She looked down and noticed that he had his fingernails dug deeply into the flesh of his palm. She saw a small trickle of blood come out of his hand and finally lifted her head to his gaze. She felt his arms come around her and she buried her head deep in his chest. She never wanted him to let go. Steve whispered something, but Amy couldn't understand what. It sounded like, "I'm getting you back," but she couldn't be sure. Finally, he let go. Amy couldn't remember getting out of the courtroom or into the Mercedes, but she remembered crying herself to sleep. Steve stormed through the front door of the beach house. Jesse followed, a little more calmly and quietly. He shut the door and followed the sound of Steve's heavy feet. "How can they do this, Jesse?" Steve asked, the anger seemingly gone from his voice. "I don't know, but Steve..." Jesse began. "How can they take away the one person that I care more about than anyone in the world?" he asked. This time, anger once again was rising in his voice. He began pacing around the room. Jesse could only watch and sympathize with his friend. "I won't let it rest here. I can't let it rest here." "Steve, what are you talking about?" "I have to get her back," he replied. "Whoa, will you stop and listen to yourself? Listen to what you're saying! Do you know what you're talking about?" Steve had stopped and was listening to his friend. "Of course I know what I'm talking about!" he yelled. Then, through clenched teeth, he continued. "I'm getting my daughter back." "You're talking crazy. The court won't let you see her, the Parkers won't let you see her. I know it hurts, but you've got to let her go." Steve looked as if he had just been slapped and began to leave, but Jesse caught his arm. "She's not your daughter anymore." "No," Steve argued. "No, I'm not going to let them beat us. Not this time. Not after all I did to get her back before." Jesse glanced nervously at the door. "I wish your dad was here. Maybe he'd be able to talk some sense into you. I'm sure as hell not getting through." Steve stood defiantly over Jesse. Jesse gulped, realizing he may have made Steve mad at him. Jesse was sure he was going to get hit. "I'm going to bed," Steve said, slowly. "Good night." Jesse breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Steve trot down the stairs to his apartment. He stood there momentarily wondering what he should do. He shrugged and plopped himself down on the couch to watch TV. Soon, he was asleep. Steve stalked into his bedroom and slammed the door. He couldn't sleep, not now. Instead, he paced. He thought about various schemes and plans to get Amy back, but all of them sounded like something off of "Mission: Impossible." He almost smiled at the thought of stealing into the night, wearing all black, and helping Amy escape out of her window. About 11 o'clock, he thought he heard his father come home. He'd decided he'd done enough thinking, worrying, questioning, and planning for one night. He changed clothes and slipped into bed, but not before setting his gun out on the night stand by the picture of Amy and himself. He touched the frame gently and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to come. At around midnight, the phone rang. Steve was trapped somewhere between awake and asleep when it rang. He was, however, able to snatch it up on the third ring. "Sloan," he mumbled groggily. There was no response. "Hello?" Still nothing. "Hello?" Then, a click. He put the phone back on the cradle, mumbling something about pesky prank calls and fell asleep. Amy couldn't fall asleep with all the anger in her. Her last chance of being allowed to stay with Steve had been snuffed out. She hated the judge, hated the Parkers, hated the lawyers, hated them all. The only person who actually cared about her enough to fight for her had been severed from contact with her. A noise from in the hallway jarred her from her thoughts. Curiosity getting the best of her, she stepped out of bed and opened the door. No one was in the hallway, but she could hear muffled arguing coming from the Parker's bedroom. Figuring that maybe they were in a fight, she decided to creep back to bed. She moved to close the door when she heard the all-too- familiar sounds of gunshots. Amy froze in place, unsure of what to do. She didn't have to wait long, however, because the master bedroom door flew open and out came a masked figure. The figure advanced at her and she backed into her room, slamming the door shut. Moments later, the door flew open. The figure made a move to grab her, but Amy struggled away and headed blindly for her bathroom. She felt bullets rip into her arm and an incredible pain in her head. The last thing Amy remembered was staring up into the all-too-familiar pair of blue eyes. Steve hadn't been able to get more than ten minutes of sleep before he'd wake up in a cold sweat. He decided there was no way he was going to get a decent night's sleep, so he started his day at 4:30 in the morning. Rubbing his eyes, he staggered into the living room. He forced himself not to look at the couch. The couch Amy was supposed to be sound asleep on. When he entered the kitchen, Steve opened the refrigerator and took out the orange juice. He poured himself a glass and sat down at the kitchen table. He looked up and saw a picture of him and his mom when Steve was ten years old propped up against the vase of flowers on his table. The two of them were standing on the porch with Katherine's arm around Stevie's shoulders. Little Stevie looked like he had rather be anywhere else. "I messed up, Mom," he whispered. "I messed up and I lost her and I don't know how to get her back." Katherine's smiling eyes gave him no answer. He touched the frame. Steve closed his eyes for a moment and rested his head on his arms, planning just to give his eyes a rest. Soon, he drifted off to sleep. Just then, Mark came downstairs and entered the kitchen. He saw his sleeping son with the photo of him and his mom tucked under his arms as he slept. He grinned sleepily. His son shifted and sighed. All of a sudden, Mark heard a ringing from the living room. The doctor turned and walked into the room, and saw Steve's cell phone on the side table. He picked it up and answered it. "Hello?" "Sloan?" The voice on the other end seemed confused. "This is his father," Mark said, smiling to himself. "I'm sorry, Doctor. May I speak with your son?" It was then Mark realized the voice was Chief Masters. "He's asleep right now. Is it important?" "Yes, very." "All right then. Hold on a second." Mark went back in the living room and found Steve waking up. "Dad? What are you doing in my kitchen?" Steve asked rubbing his eyes. "And why do you have my cell phone?" "You have a phone call," Mark said sheepishly, handing Steve the phone. Steve took the phone from him. "Hello?" A pause. "Yes, Chief." Another pause. "Are you sure there are two bodies?" Steve suddenly paled. "W- Where?" Another silent moment passed. "All right. I'll be there in about ten minutes." He hung up the phone. "Steve, what is it?" "I just got called in," he said numbly. "Parker place on Rollins Street. Dad, there are two bodies." Mark had never seen Steve so frightened before in his life. "I'm coming with you." Steve agreed quickly and grabbed his keys and badge. "Where's my gun?" he wondered out loud. He began to search for it. He thought he left it on the night stand, but it wasn't there. "You never learned to take care of you things," Mark sighed, shaking his head. "And you'd lose them. Some things never change." "Dad..." Steve began. It almost brought a smile to his face. Almost. Steve continued searching, but it was futile. Finally, the worry of what had happened to Amy outweighed the worry of where the gun was at that moment and Steve and Mark left for the crime scene. For the entire ride there, Steve nervously drummed his fingers on the top of the steering wheel. He kept asking Mark whether or not he thought it could be Amy. They finally pulled up into the driveway. Steve flashed his badge and was waved in. A tall lanky man was ordering everyone around. "Steve Sloan, homicide." He went up to the man. "I was just called in. What happened here?" He hoped the man didn't detect the shakiness in his voice. "We've got a murder-suicide here." He looked down at his clipboard. "It seems that Mr. Roger Parker killed his wife, Anita, and then threw himself over the balcony." "Anyone else in the house?" "Their daughter surprised him and I guess he tried to kill her. She was shot in the arm several times and she has a mild concussion. Should be all right, though. An ambulance was called and they took her to Community General. It left about five minutes ago." Steve let out a sigh of relief, but there was still an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. "If you'll excuse me, I have twelve officers here and they're anywhere but where they're supposed to be." The man turned on his heel and left. "Steve, I'm going to take a look around," Mark said. His son nodded and spotted a woman in a maid's outfit sitting on a chair in the corner. Tears were streaming down her face. "Hi there," Steve said, walking up to her. She looked young, perhaps in her middle twenties. "Can I ask you a few questions?" She nodded reluctantly. "Can you tell me your name?" "Daphne," she said softly. "Daphne, did you see what happened?" She nodded again. "I- I heard an awful scream and then there were gunshots. I ran to the bedroom. Mrs. Parker... She... she was... and I slid open the balcony door and Mr. Parker was just... laying there. It- it was so awful." She looked up at him and continued. "I ran to Amy's room and she was just lying on the floor. There was all this blood and I called 911. I was so scared." Steve put a hand on her shoulder. "The girl. Do you think she..." Suddenly, Daphne smiled. "You must be Steve," she smiled, wiping tears from her eyes. "How did you..." "You're the only cop who would have cared about what happened to her." Steve's smile matched hers. "Yeah, I do. But keep it down. I'm probably not supposed to be here." "I know," Daphne said. "I listened to her fall asleep, you know. She was crying. She misses you something awful, Steve." Steve looked at the ground. "I miss her, too." He opened his mouth to say something else when his dad tapped his shoulder. "Steve, can I talk to you for a minute?" Mark asked. "Sure, Dad. Daphne, I'll be back in a minute." The young woman nodded and Mark took Steve to another room so they could talk privately. "Steve, I just called Community General and they were bringing Amy in. I talked to Jesse for a minute." A knot tightened in Steve's stomach. "He said she'll be fine." Steve let out his breath in a whoosh of air. "So what did you find out from the maid?" Steve told Mark everything Daphne told him. Mark narrowed his eyebrows. "What do you think, son?" "I'm not sure. I don't know of any motive. I mean, they had money, a daughter..." My daughter, Steve thought angrily. "I can't think of anything that would cause Parker to snap." "Something bothers me. Let's go over the order of events. Parker shoots his wife and Amy sees it. Then he shoots her and jumps over the balcony. A maid hears the scream and finds the wife and then she opens the sliding glass door and sees Parker... That's it!" "That's what?" "Parker didn't kill his wife, shoot Amy, or commit suicide. The Parkers were murdered." "Do you mind telling me how you plan to rationalize this?" "For starters, why would Parker have shot Amy for witnessing the murder if he was going to commit suicide?" "He wasn't planning on suicide and he panicked." "All right. Suppose that's what happened. But then the maid heard Parker scream on the way down, right? Then she came in the room and found the wife. She raced over to the balcony and slid open the glass door." "And..." "And that's the killer's confession. Let me show you." Mark went back into the master bedroom, his son at his heels. "Steve, just go on the other side of that door and close it behind you." By now, several of the officers had taken notice. Steve picked up a glove from a box lying on the dresser and opened the door carefully. "All right. Steve, say something." Steve made a gesture that he couldn't hear Mark. "What?" He opened the glass door. "What?" "Close the door again and say something." By now, everyone was watching the father-son team work. From inside, everyone saw Steve's mouth moving, but no one heard any sound. Suddenly it all dawned on them as Steve came back in. "There's no way that Parker could have closed the door and then jump because the scream was heard. He was pushed off and the killer closed the door behind him when he left." Steve looked around at all his nodding colleagues, half- expecting them to burst into applause. "The Parkers were murdered." Just then, a young officer who had been searching a dresser came up with a note attached to the side. Steve got a look at it. "'If I can't have her, no one will,'" Steve read. From behind him, he overheard the man in charge say something to another officer about finding a gun in the bushes and having the serial number being run. At least they had a few leads as to who did this to the Parkers... and to Amy. Mark came up from behind him, breaking him from his thoughts. "Want to go question a potential witness?" Mark asked slyly, Steve knowing full well he was talking about Amy. "Sure," he grinned. As they were leaving, Mark spotted two maids gossiping near the door. "Did you hear about the note they found?" one of them asked. "No, what?" the other replied. "'If I can't have her, no one will.' Maybe Frank did it." "The man Anita's been seeing? Yes, that sounds plausible." "But it is a real shame..." Their voices faded away as the two of them walked down the hallway. "Hmmm..." Mark hummed. "Sounds like it could be a good lead." "Maybe. Or a red herring." The first voice Amy heard when she woke up unmistakably belonged to a tired, but relieved Jesse. "Hey, Amanda. Page Steve and tell him Amy's waking up." "Thank God. It's about time," she heard Amanda say. A door opened and closed as her vision began to clear. "Jesse?" she murmured groggily. "Welcome back to the real world," he greeted her. He waved a hand in front of her face. "How many fingers do you see?" Amy groaned as a wave of pain burned through her head and her arm throbbed violently. "She wouldn't know that anyway," she could imagine Steve joking. She felt a pang in her heart. Steve. She missed him. "I've got one for you." "Now that's the smartass answer I expect from you," Jesse joked, marking something on her patient chart. "What happened?" "I was hoping you'd tell me. Susan and I were in the ER supply closet... uh... counting tongue depressors when I got paged to ER. Stat, to be specific." Amy almost smiled. She knew there had been some kind of tongue depressing going on in the closet, but she kept her comments to herself. "Anyway, I get there and you're on the gurney. You know, you really have to stop getting shot at. It's bad for your health." "I'll keep that in mind." "So what happened?" "All I remember is hearing something by the door and then going to the door. I remember opening the door, but I don't remember going into the hallway." "Short term memory loss isn't uncommon with a head trauma like that. You have a mild concussion." "A mild concussion? It feels like my head is in pieces. And my arm feels like... it just hurts, Jesse." Jesse's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Amy. I can probably give you some medication for it if you want me to." "That'd be great, Jess," Amy sighed. She turned her head away and Jesse left the room, turning off the light as he left. She stared out the window, but the blinds may as well have been drawn, for it was night and she was on the top floor. Moments later, Amy heard someone enter her room. She immediately sat up in her bed. "Who's there?" she asked. Suddenly, the light was turned on. "I'm sorry. I didn't know this room was occupied." Amy squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light. She saw a teenager standing close to the door. "That's okay; I was wanting someone to talk to anyway," she said and smiled. She relaxed and leaned back against her pillows. "You work here?" "Yeah, for the past year or so, probably. I'm Chrissy," she said and sat in the chair beside Amy's bed. "Amy," Amy said and reached across the bed to shake Chrissy's hand. Chrissy gladly took it and shook it. They sat awkwardly in silence for a few moments. "So," Amy began, "what do you think of the docs around here?" "They're all great. A couple of them even helped me out when I was going through some tough times. You'll probably know them. Dr. Sloan, Travis, and Bentley?" "Yeah," Amy brightened up, glad to have something in common. "They're all helping me out right now. Things seem about hopeless though." "What's the matter?" Chrissy asked. "Are you in some kind of trouble with Steve? You know, I can go and rough him up a little bit," she joked, raised her fists and punched at the air. Amy grinned but didn't make any comments. "Well, whatever kind of trouble you're in, they're the best people to go to get you out of it. No matter how bad things seem, they'll always be there for you." With that, Amy lost it. The tears came flowing out of her eyes. She covered her face with her hands. Chrissy sat dumbfounded. She hadn't meant to make the kid cry. "I'm sorry," Chrissy stammered. "I didn't mean to upset you." Amy composed herself. "That's all right," she sniffed. "You couldn't have known that I would be upset by that. The thing is, that I'm not really supposed to be around any of them. See, Steve's been taking care of me for almost a year now. It was only supposed to be temporary, but I'd wish every day that he would come home and tell me that I could stay with him forever. To make a long story short, I was placed in a foster home. Now, the court says I can't have any kind of contact with him at all." "Geez, I'm really sorry. I had no idea. I do know what you're going through though. Child Services took me away from Jesse. I was devastated. They still let me see him, but I must not have been with him as long as you've been with Steve and Mark. Let me tell you, being with foster parents isn't all that bad. Granted I'd rather be with my mother, but they do place you with really nice people." She checked her watch. "Listen, if you want to talk any more, buzz one of the nurses and they can find me. Say hi to everyone for me, okay?" Amy nodded. Chrissy got up from her chair and went back to the door. "Good night, Amy," she said, turned the light off, and closed the door softly behind her. Amy turned her head away again and closed her eyes. If Jesse didn't get back with the meds soon, she'd pass out from the aching pain. She was just about to drift off to sleep when the door creaked open again, as if the intruder was trying to be as quiet as possible. Figuring it was Jesse about to put to medicine in her IV, she didn't bother moving. "I should just shoot you and not have to worry about it happening a third time," a deep voice said from the doorway. Amy grinned broadly without even looking over to see who it was. "I have a mild concussion," she said, turning in her visitor's direction. "Oh, God. Not you, too," Steve said. Amy narrowed her eyebrows. "Nevermind. You weren't sleeping, were you?" "No, just resting my eyes." She looked down at her hands and then back up at Steve. "It's good to see you again, you know." "It's good to see you, too," he replied in an equally soft voice. "So... what's it like having the house all to yourself again?" Amy asked, smiling a bit. Steve sat down in the chair nearby and slid his hand into hers. "Lonely," Steve confessed. "Me, too. I mean, there are lots of people there, but... I don't know. They don't care about me like you do." She chewed her lower lip and looked a little embarrassed. "This is probably illegal, you know." "Yeah. I know." But Steve didn't move. "But I won't tell if you don't," he grinned. "Deal." They shook on it, but didn't let their hands go. "Officially, I'm here to see if you saw anything." He looked at her expectantly. "I've been getting some of my memory back, but all I remember is opening the door..." She closed her eyes as if trying harder to remember. "And then I saw her." "Her?" "Anit- Mrs. Parker. She looked kind of... dead. She was by the door and there was a lot of blood." She looked up at him. "That's all I remember." "Did you see anything else? Anyone else?" "Blue eyes..." she murmured, looking up into Steve's pair. She closed her eyes again, picturing the eyes of the man dressed in black. Could the eyes have been Steve's? They were so familiar... When she opened her eyes, Steve was right above her, a concerned expression in his eyes. No way, Amy decided. Those weren't Steve's eyes. They couldn't have been his eyes. Steve cares too much about me to do anything like that. Doesn't he? Mark walked the halls of Community General. He only had fifteen minutes of his shift left and he was fishing for something to do. He made his way, slowly, to Amy's room. He opened the door and peeked his head inside. She smiled when she saw him and waved him in to come sit and talk with her. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Better, once Jesse showed up with the medication. My arm aches, but I can deal with it. Oh, um, I'm supposed to tell you hi from Chrissy. She came in here and talked to me last night before Steve did." "Steve was here last night?" "Yeah. Why, is something wrong?" "No, no, sweetie. Not that I'm really surprised either. He misses you a lot. This has been pretty tough on him. But don't you worry about anything, we'll get this all straightened out. So, when do you think Jesse will send you home?" "He was saying tonight, but I don't want to go back to that house. It was like a museum, Mark. Did you see it?" Mark nodded, interested in what she had to say. She went on, "The first morning, I forgot where the dining room was and I sat on the steps until Mr. Parker came down the stairs and led the way. I was going to call you guys, but every time I would go near the phone, I'd hear some kind of noise outside my room. Oh! And Mrs. Parker bought me a pink dress! Pink! Well, its not really pink, but it has pink in it. Anyway, you guys know how much I hate pink. She told me it would be nice to wear for our 'public appearances.' They actually call them public appearances and not just going out or something..." Mark listened and smiled as Amy talked. He could tell it was the first real conversation she'd had in the last few days. He also noticed that she referred to them as if they were still around. Someone had told her, hadn't they? He thought, but couldn't remember anyone telling her about the Parkers. "Amy, sorry to interrupt, but you do know that both of the Parkers are dead, don't you?" "I kind of figured, but I was knocked out and no one ever really said anything. I saw Mrs. Parker and she looked dead, but I wasn't sure about Mr. Parker. Thanks for telling me though." Amy said and smiled a little. "Look, hon, my shift is over, so I'm going to leave for a while. You rest, okay? And page me when you get home tonight," he got up and walked to the door, looking back to wink at her. Back in the hallway, Mark ran into Daphne. He smiled politely and started to walk on. "Dr. Sloan?" Daphne asked. "Yes," he answered. Daphne sat down in one of the chairs outside the room. Mark sat next to her. "Dr. Sloan, I can't do this to Amy. She misses you all so much," Daphne said, her accent light. "I'd like you to take her back to your house. She's not really happy with us anyway. I've talked to her Social Worker, and she doesn't completely agree, but she's willing to go on my judgment." "Well, of course we'd love to have her back. Does this mean having to go back to court and settling all of this again?" "I'm not sure. I would think not. I think that you and Steve have a good chance of adopting her, if that's what you are thinking about. I'm sure the courts won't want to go through all of this again. I'll have her things sent back over to your house tonight. I hope that will be okay with you." "Yes, that should be fine," Mark answered. He couldn't believe they were going to get her back as easily as they were. "Thank you very much. Are you going in to see her, now?" Daphne nodded. "Will you tell her? I'd like to find my son and tell him." "Absolutely. Thank you for understanding, Dr. Sloan." Steve opened and closed the door quietly, so as not to wake his father. He headed for his bedroom, when he saw something on the couch that surprised him. Amy sat curled up at the edge of the couch, positioned as if she was trying to keep herself awake, but failed. Steve slowly walked over to her, still in shock. He knew Amy was supposed to have been discharged today, but the last place he expected her to be was his couch. He reached out and gently touched her cheek as to assure himself she was really there. She was. Steve looked back at the soft recliner near the fireplace. He debated with himself whether or not he should sleep there that night, as he has so many nights after Amy had been returned to him for the first time. He had waited until she was asleep, sneaked into the living room and slept in the chair. He had always woken up before she had each morning, and, to his knowledge, he was never caught. Little did he know that Amy would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night just to check and make sure Steve was still there. Before he could decide, Amy's eyes slowly fluttered open. She looked around the room a bit, as if she wasn't quite sure of her surroundings. Her eyes finally rested on Steve. "Sit," she whispered. Slowly, Steve sat down next to her. She turned herself so her head rested on his shoulder near his neck. Her brown hair just barely touched his chin. He brought an arm around her and felt her breathing slow down and become deep and even. He held her tightly for a moment and fell asleep himself. Steve woke early that morning to a pounding on the door. He opened his eyes and smiled, seeing that Amy was still peacefully asleep in his arms, safe. He smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head lightly before he got up to answer the door. The pounding became stronger as he climbed the stairs. He met his father at the top. "Who is it?" Mark asked his son quietly. Steve shrugged. He opened the door to find a pair of police officers waiting on the front stoop. "Steve Sloan?" they asked. "Yes," Steve answered. One officer took him by the shoulder and turned him around. He grabbed one of Steve's wrists and pulled it behind his back. Steve felt the cold hard metal hit his wrist as they put the cuffs on him. "Steve Sloan, you are under arrest for the murders of Roger and Anita Parker. You have the right to remain silent..." Amy wandered up the stairs at that point. "What's going on?" she asked sleepily. She saw the officers at the door with Steve. "It'll be fine, Am. Don't worry," Steve said as the officers were dragging him away from his family. Amy looked at Mark, who was just as shocked as she was. He took her by the shoulders. "Come on," he commanded. "We have work to do. We can't let them do this." Mark shut the door and led Amy into the kitchen. One month later... "The prosecution calls Dr. Jesse Travis to the stand." Jesse swallowed, fixed his tie for the hundredth time and slowly approached the stand. He was sworn in and he fixed his tie. Again. "Now, Dr. Travis, is it true you were at the defendant's home the night of the shooting?" "Yes," he squeaked. A few giggles were heard in the courtroom and he cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Now, can you explain to me the exact events of that night?" "Well, Steve and I went back to his place. He was pretty upset that he lost Amy, so I told him he ought to go to bed and he went down to his room and did." Jesse blushed a little. "And then I fell asleep on the couch." "Are you sure you saw the defendant enter his bedroom?" "I didn't see him, but I saw him go down the stairs and heard his bedroom door open and close." "And then?" "And then, I woke up a few hours later, realized where I was, and drove myself home." "What time would you say this was?" "About eleven." "And was the defendant home at this time?" "I'm not sure, but I never heard anyone open or close the door and I'm a pretty light sleeper." "Thank you, Dr. Travis. No more questions." "Dr. Sloan, if you'd please take the stand?" Steve's lawyer requested. Mark smiled slightly and sat down in the chair after being sworn in. "Now, Dr. Sloan, what's your relationship with the defendant?" "I'm his father." "And I understand that you share a house with him?" "Well, sort of. You see, he has the lower unit and I live in the upstairs unit." "I understand." He cleared his throat. "Where were you on the night of the murders?" "I was at work. I'm the chief of internal medicine at Community General Hospital." "And what time did you get home?" "Well past three." "Was there any indication your son was in the house?" "After I got home, I heard a door open downstairs. I know it was the bedroom door because it has a characteristic squeak to it. Anyway, when I got down there, Steve had fallen asleep at the kitchen table. His phone rang and he was called to homicide at the Parkers," Mark finished. "I see." If the lawyer said, "I see" or "I understand" one more time, Mark was going to go nuts. "So there was no one at..." He paused to correct himself. "Conscious to provide Lt. Sloan with an alibi at the time of the murders?" "No," Mark replied grudgingly. "No further questions, Your Honor." "I'd like to call Miss Amy Porter to the stand," the lawyer declared. Shyly, she stood up from where she was and walked down the aisle, her head bowed. She sat down on the stand and the bailiff swore her in. "Now, Miss Porter," the lawyer began. "What is your relationship with the defendant?" "He's my dad. Sort of." "Your biological father?" "No, but as good as one." She smiled weakly over to Steve. "How did you come about to stay with Lt. Sloan?" "When I saw someone get shot in a gang murder, I had to be put into protective custody." "Lt. Sloan's?" "Yes. And then I stayed with him until they placed me into a foster home." "Mr. and Mrs. Roger Parker?" "Yes." Even though Steve was more than ten feet away, he could see her shaking. "Now, can you tell the jury what happened the night of the murders?" Amy nodded. "Well, I was trying to fall asleep, but I couldn't. I heard a noise near the door, so I decided to go see what it was. I opened the door and I heard arguing coming from the Parker's door. I didn't think it was any of my business, so I started to go back to bed when I heard the gunshots." She took a deep breath. "I was scared, but I didn't move. Then the door opened..." "The door to the Parker's bedroom?" "Yeah, and this guy..." "Are you sure it was a male?" "I don't know. He- or she- was wearing all black and had a ski mask on. It was more likely a male though. Anyway, well, 'he,' for sake of argument, came at me." "Was he trying to grab you?" "I don't know. It happened really fast, but I think so. But then I tried to back away and hit him with something, but he shot me in the arm and I hit my head really hard. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed." "Was there anything strange about the killer that you noticed?" "Blue eyes..." she murmured. "Excuse me?" "I remember blue eyes," she said, a little louder. "Detective Sloan's blue eyes?" "No." "So you're sure it can't be him?" "Yes." "What makes you sure?" "Because I know Steve and he wouldn't do that." The lawyer actually grinned. "Anything concrete that will hold up in court?" He was still grinning, but now it was more of a sneer. "Objection," Steve's lawyer shouted standing up. "On what grounds?" the judge inquired. "Bantering the witness. She's a witness, not a lawyer. It's our job to get the evidence, not hers." "Sustained. Mr. Flynn, please watch your tongue and tone." "I'm sorry, Amy." The lawyer almost looked sincere. Almost. "Now, what was it that Steve said to you on the phone?" "The phone?" She narrowed her eyebrows. "I would like to enter Exhibit A. The Parker family phone bill. It shows there was a call made to the Sloan household at 12:02 the night of the murder. A mere half hour before the murder took place." Amy kept her mouth shut, for he hadn't asked her a question. "Did you place this call?" "Yes," she said meekly. "But I thought there was to be no contact between you and Lt. Sloan?" "I needed to hear his voice one last time," she said, voice barely above a whisper. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the jury members whisper to one another. "What was said between the two of you? Did you tell him that the Parkers were asleep and to come and get you? Maybe that's what happened. Maybe Steve came to get you and the Parkers got in the way. And now to protect him, you fabricated the entire 'man in the ski mask' story. Is that true?" His face was now inches from hers. Steve started to stand up, but his lawyer grabbed his arm and shook his head. "No, that's not what happened!" Amy screamed back at him. The entire courtroom silenced. she glanced up at the judge, who looked equally shocked and ready to send her into contempt. "I'm sorry, Your Honor," she said quietly. "Then what did you say?" Mr. Flynn asked, obviously disappointed that Amy didn't break down and confess. "I called him and hung up before I said anything." "You had an opportunity to talk to him. Why didn't you take it?" "I heard him answer the phone and I wanted to. I really did. But I didn't want to get him in trouble either so I hung up." She sniffed and lifted her chin. "Chin up," Mark had always told her. She looked Mr. Flynn straight in the eye and he seemed a bit taken aback. He obviously wasn't used to having his intimidation tactics not work. "I see. So you called him, didn't say a word, and about a half hour later, someone completely different breaks into the house and murders the Parkers and shoots you in the arm?" Amy's hand traveled to her arm, still in a sling. "Yes," Amy answered defiantly. Flynn looked outright surprised. "No further questions." Steve's lawyer tried his best, but it was an uphill battle. Not only did he have motive and opportunity, but Steve's gun had been used in the murder, giving him means. Steve's lawyer requested that he didn't testify and, unlike his father, complied. He knew that anything he said would be used against him. The jury broke for deliberation and returned a mere hour later. The foreman walked up to the judge and handed him a sheet of paper. Expressionless, he read it, thanked the foreperson and handed the paper back. He returned to his seat and remained standing. "If the defendant would please rise?" the judge requested. Steve and his lawyer stood. "Detective Steven Sloan: for the murders of Roger and Anita Parker, you have been found guilty," the foreperson announced. Steve felt his knees buckle beneath him, but, by some miracle, was able to stay standing. "I believe you care about Amy a great deal," the judge started. "I do," Steve murmured, feeling numbness take over his body. "But what you did to get her back is inexcusable. You murdered two innocent people and ended up causing injury to someone you loved." Love, Steve corrected in his mind. Present tense. Still do. "I believe it was not premeditated, but an act of rage. I have no choice but to sentence you to life in prison without parole. Case dismissed." He slammed the gavel down and excited murmurs began to spread throughout the courtroom. He turned around, knowing he had precious minutes before he would be taken out of the courtroom. He saw Jesse and Amanda in an embrace, Jesse undoubtedly telling Amanda they'd find some way to get Steve out. Mark was standing up, looking right back at Steve. His eyebrows were narrowed in pain, knowing that this might be the last time he'd get to see Steve as a free man. Finally, Steve's eyes rested on Amy, who was still sitting next to Mark. Mark sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. Then, he whispered something to her. All of a sudden, Amy shrugged Mark's reassuring arm off and darted into the aisle. Before anyone could stop her, she was at the gate just in front of the floor. She hesitated for a moment, but then burst through them and into Steve's arms. He was only able to hold her for a minute before a policeman grabbed his arm and led him away. "Steve!" Amy cried out. He turned to look at her, but before anything else could be said between the two of them, he was guided through another door and disappeared from sight. It had been nearly an entire week before Amy was allowed to see Steve again. Mark had warned her that the adoption people may take her away from him, now that his son was a convicted murderer. But since no one had come yet, Amy was pretending they weren't coming at all. It was just a lot easier that way. Amy followed Mark down the long halls of the prison. She was happy, yet sad. She was happy because she was finally going to see Steve again, but she was sad because she could only stay a short time. Mark stopped outside a door and told her to stay there. She nodded and watched as he disappeared inside. Mark closed the door behind him. He saw Steve sitting behind a sheet of glass. He smiled at his son and sat down. "Hi." "Hey," Steve said, awkwardly. "I brought Amy with me," Mark said. "Where is she?" Steve asked. "Waiting outside the door. She misses you a lot. Probably more than I do," he paused. "Wait, that didn't come out right." Steve grinned. "That's okay, Dad. I knew what you meant. Can I see her? They don't give m much time, you know." "Sure, I'll tell her to come in," Mark said and rose from his chair. He stepped back out into the hallway. Amy stood up and brushed her jeans off. "I think he wants to talk to you," Mark said. He stayed outside as she walked into the room where Steve waited. Steve looked up as Amy walked into the small room. "Hey, Am. How are you?" "Fine," Amy answered. "You?" "Well, I've definitely been better." "Yeah, me too." Amy said. "Steve, what'll happen to me if we can't get you out of here?" "I don't know." A low buzz signaled that their conversation was being cut off. A large security guard came in and took Steve by the arm. Amy pressed her hand against the cool glass and Steve did the same so that their hands would have been touching had the glass not been there. "We'll get you out," Amy promised. "I won't let you down." "You never have." Amy say on the end of the couch, staring out the window. It had been good to see Steve again, but she felt a deep feeling of guilt. She shouldn't have said anything about the blue eyes and couldn't help thinking he was in jail because of her. She was so deep in thought, she didn't hear the doorbell ring the first time. When it rang a second time, she stood up and walked to the door. She opened it and looked at the man who stood before her. He was no one's definition of handsome, but there was a certain ruggedness that made him seem so. He had intense blue eyes that followed every move that was made. His brown hair was carefully combed, as if he had been a teenage boy going on his first date. Finally, he raised his eyes to hers. "Amy?" he murmured. "Dad?" "Amy, I can't believe it's you..." he breathed. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "I'm here to take you home," he said, offering his hand for her to take. Immediately, she thought of Steve. But Steve was in jail. Before she knew what was happening, she had closed her hand around his. He said something to her, but she was too numb with shock to hear what was going on. "Let's go home." "Home?" "Home." Mark hummed along with the radio as he watched dishes upstairs. "Take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty," the radio sang. Mark grinned to himself, remembering when the song had come out and felt a stab of sadness when he realized he was listening to the oldies station. "Age is just a number," he told himself, still feeling a smile on his face. As he scrubbed away the previous night's spaghetti sauce, he looked out the window. Across the street, he noticed an old, white, beat-up Oldsmobile Eighty-eight. He smiled, the color reminding him of his Jag and all the times it broke down. Curious now, he squinted to see the license plate. PAX CBS. He narrowed his eyebrows, figuring it had to be something it had been given to the owner randomly. He shrugged as he hummed along to the next song. He was so preoccupied with the music, a glass slipped right out of his hand and fell to the floor, shattering into millions of tiny pieces. "Oh, darn it," he muttered. He began to pick up the larger pieces and put them into a paper towel. He then threw the towel away and swept up the small pieces as best he could. When he was finally able to get back to watching the dishes, the song had ended and the car across the street was gone. Mark grumbled through the rest of the dishes and then threw the towel in the sink as if it was some sort of consolation for the lost glass. He made his way into his living room and heard nothing coming from downstairs. Curious as to what Amy could possibly be doing that was so quiet, he slowly ventured down the steps and into Steve's living room. He narrowed his eyebrows. No one there. He looked into each room, trying not to panic. She probably just went for a walk or something, he told himself. That's when he noticed the door was wide open. Figuring she was probably down by the beach or something, he closed the door. He turned to go back upstairs when he saw a yellow post-it note attached to the lamp. It read: Mark- Dad came and got me. He promised we're going to be a real family again. Tell Steve I said goodbye. Love, Amy "She what?!" Steve exploded. The guard behind him made a step towards him, but Steve waved him away, a silent promise to behave. "Steve, I was watching dishes when I came downstairs and found this note." Mark held the note up to the glass. Steve read it quickly. "Honest, I didn't know she left." "I know, I know." Steve rubbed his eyes. "But her father abandoned her after she helped get him out of prison. Why would she go back to him?" "I don't know, Steve. So much has been happening to her in such a short period of time. No one really knows what she was thinking." "Is there any way you guys can keep an eye on her?" Steve looked worried, deep lines in his forehead. "I don't think so. For all we know, he could be using an assumed name. But we'll try, okay?" "Okay." "All right, let's see here." Mark pushed the glasses up his nose and skimmed the computer screen. There had to be thousands of Porters. Finally, he narrowed it down to twenty-seven Richard Porters that resided in apartment buildings. A few more clicks of the mouse and he was down to a dozen. Quickly, a flashback of the car that had been parked outside flashed through his mind. Could it be? Without thinking it out, he quickly typed in the license plate he had seen: PAX CBS. Sure enough, it was registered to a Richard Porter of 4586 Main Street, just twelve miles from Community General. On a sheet of paper near the computer, he jotted down the address and the telephone number. He quickly signed off-line and picked up the phone. He pressed in a well-remembered number and heard a sleepy ER doctor pick up the phone. "Hello?" "Jesse, I need you to do me a favor." Jesse sat in his parked car just outside the apartment complex he had seen Amy and her father walk into. It was late afternoon and they had been inside for nearly an hour. Finally, the front door opened and Amy and Richard came out. Amy was gripping her dad's hand as if he was a life preserver and looked up at him with child-like admiration. Jesse sank down in his seat to make sure they didn't glance across the street and see him. He was pretty sure Richard would have no idea who he was, but he knew Amy would right away. Together, they slowly walked to the white car, dented and a bit banged up. "Let's escape under the cover of afternoon in the most conspicuous car in the city," the young doctor mumbled to himself, chuckling. Richard paused at the door as if he was deciding something. After a long moment, he and Amy began to walk down the sidewalk. Jesse waited for them to disappear around a hedge before he quietly slipped out of his car and followed them at a safe distance. Amy spun around suddenly as if she thought someone was following. Someone like Jesse. Jesse ducked to make sure he wasn't seen by Amy or her father. He'd been following them for quite a while. They'd been walking for the most part of the last hour. He wished he knew what they were talking about. Why had Amy agreed to go back to him? Had he really changed? Jesse stopped and watched as father and daughter entered an old warehouse. He jogged to the entrance. He looked for any other kind of way in but the door. He saw none, and quickly slipped inside. He was relieved to see that they'd moved on to another part of the building. He walked along a row of lockers, he came to a flight of stairs that looked to him like they led to offices. He quickly climbed them hoping they wouldn't make any noise. He got to the top, undetected. He reached for the door knob, praying that it was unlocked. He sighed as it slid open easily. He didn't dare try to find any lights. He looked into each of the offices trying to find something that might help him. He opened to door to the very last office to find that it was a security station. It had about ten different TVs set up for each security camera. Jesse looked at them trying to find Amy and Richard. On one of the last sets, he saw them. He sat down in the chair in front of the desk. He swiveled it around so that he could watch them. Once again, he wished he had sound. Amy watched her father, cautiously. He was walking circles around her and was talking about how proud he was of her and what a mess he'd made of himself. She'd tried to fit a word in, but he never let her. Finally, Richard kneeled down beside her on the floor. "Amy, I am so sorry to have left you. Can you forgive me?" Amy nodded her head, slowly, not sure what was coming next. He reached his hand out and put it on her shoulder. His other hand, he reached into a box and pulled out a gun. "I'm sorry, baby," he cried. "I love you." Then, he pulled the trigger and dropped lifelessly to the floor beside her. Jesse watched the whole thing from the monitors on the floor above. As soon as Richard had pulled the trigger and Jesse heard the gunshot, he ran out and began searching the warehouse for Amy. He had no idea where they were. It could take him an hour to find her. "No," Amy breathed. "No, Daddy!" she cried. She lifted the hand that was on her shoulder to her cheek. "No," she repeated. She dropped his hand to the floor. She buried her face in her hands and cried. She let all her emotions flow. All the things she'd tried to keep bottled up came pouring out of her. She would never be able to see Steve again, her father had just killed himself in front of her, and all the horrible things she'd witnessed over the past year came rushing back to her. She looked around. She didn't know where she was. Then, her eyes rested on the gun that her father had used. She took it out of his lifeless hand. It was her turn. "I have nothing left to live for," she whispered. "I can end this all right now." She lifted the gun in front of her and cocked it. Slowly, she raised it to her temple, and, as her father did moments before, she pulled the trigger. Jesse frantically kept on with his search. He had to find her, he just had to. "Amy!!" he screamed. "Amy! Answer me!" No answer came back, just the echo of his own voice. At the end of one of the aisles, he saw a lump in the middle of the floor. He raced to the end of the aisle to see Richard and Amy both lying motionless. "He's not answering his cell phone," Mark said, setting the portable phone back on the on the table. "I don't think I like that." "Maybe he got close and turned it off," Amanda suggested. "Maybe..." Mark murmured. "But still... something isn't right." "Oh God," Jesse breathed, looking down at the motionless pair. Amy was draped over her father, a gun dropped a few feet away from her hand. A steady flow of blood poured out of Richard's head, creating a puddle of red on the ground. He knelt down next to them, trying to register what had happened. Shakily, he reached out and touched his finger to Richard's wrist. No pulse. Shaking even more, he pressed his fingers to Amy's throat. "What..." Jesse's eyebrows knitted in confusion when he found a strong pulse, elevated at the most. He craned his neck and saw a ring of blood on her temple, rather than the entry wound that should have been there. He looked a the gun and opened the chamber and saw there were no bullets. "There was only one bullet," Jesse murmured. "Only one..." Despite what had just occurred, he grinned broadly. The grin was more out of relief than happiness. Slowly and carefully, he rolled Amy off her father's lifeless body and checked her pulse again. It was still strong, but it was becoming rapid. Fearing she might go into shock, he shook her gently. "Amy?" he whispered. "Amy, can you hear me?" "Daddy?" she murmured. Jesse shook his head. "Stay awake, okay?" "Steve?" She closed her eyes and lapsed back into unconsciousness. Amanda and Mark hurried into the Community General ER. Jesse had just called and told them what happened, but a lot of the conversation had been jumbled and staticy, due to the low battery of Jesse's cell phone. "Richard," "shot," "Amy," and "hospital," was all they could make out. They sped through three stop signs and two red lights to finally arrive at Community General about twenty minutes later. Amanda and Mark were just about to ask the nurse at admissions to page Jesse when Amanda spotted him turning the corner. In a flash, they were at his side. "What happened?" Mark asked, out of breath. "Well, I was walking down the hall and you two..." Jesse began. "To Amy!" Amanda shouted at him, exasperated. "Oh. I followed them to this abandoned warehouse but I lost them. Eventually, though, I found the security room where there were all these surveillance TVs and saw them. Richard was talking to her and then he just shot himself." Amanda gasped and Mark covered his mouth with his hand. "Anyway, I took off and went looking for her. When I found her, she had the gun in her hand and was draped over her father." "Oh, God, no..." Amanda murmured. "She tried, but there had only been one bullet left and it is currently lodged in Richard's head. She's pretty shook up, but she should be all right." The two other doctors let out sighs of relief. "Phone call, Sloan," the guard said, rudely swinging open his cell door. Steve looked up at him and slowly walked down the hallway, two guards at each door and two just behind him. Finally, he was pushed into a bleak, white room with a gray telephone sitting all by itself in the middle of a table. A large mirror, undoubtedly a two-way, hung on the wall opposite. Slowly, he picked up the phone and immediately heard his dad's voice. "Steve?" "Yeah, Dad. What happened?" He felt a forboding feeling of dread come over him. "Steve, Jesse followed them to a warehouse. He lost them but was able to watch them on the surveillance monitors. Richard shot himself and Amy took the gun out of his hand as Jesse bolted out of the room." "Oh, God..." Steve breathed. "Is she all right?" "I'll let her tell you herself." The phone shuffled. "Steve?" Amy whispered, her voice considerably quieter than her usual loud tone. "Amy, are you all right?" he asked softly. "Yeah. I guess so. For the most part." "Are you sure?" At this point, he heard her soft crying at the end of the line. "Daddy promised we were going to be a family together. Like before. But then we went to this place and he... and he..." She sniffed and her voice became steadier. "He told me he was the one who killed the Parkers and he set it up to look like you did it. He said he loved me and I was his little girl and he wanted me back so we could be a family again." "Did he tell you these things?" "Mmm hmm. And he wrote them down because he said I would need it. He said he was a bad father and I deserved a good dad like you. He said to tell you thank you for raising his little girl and he's proud of me." She began to cry again. "Steve?" "Hmm?" "I love you," she whispered. "I love you, too, Am," he whispered back. At that moment, all he wanted to do was hold her, hug her, stroke her hair and tell her that everything was all right, that he was there now and he'd never let anyone hurt her ever again. But he couldn't. He was over 30 miles away, locked in a prison for a crime he didn't commit. The guard glared at him impatiently and gave him a look. Steve just ignored him as he heard the phone shuffle as if it was switching hands. "Steve?" Suddenly, Jesse's voice was on the line instead of Amy's. "Hey, Jess." "I just gave her a sedative. She was getting too upset. She's falling asleep now." There was a pause. "Sleeping like a baby. Probably the best thing for her." "Yeah." The guard made a noise and moved towards Steve. "Listen, Jess, I have to go now. Tell Dad and Amanda I said hi, okay?" "All right. And Steve?" "What?" "We'll get you out of there." There was a click and the guard grabbed Steve's arm roughly. "Time's up," he growled. "I'm coming," Steve muttered, breaking from the man's grip. When back in his cell, he sat on his sorry excuse for a bed and rested his chin on his hands. He heard a low moan from his cellmate on the bunk above him. "What's wrong with you?" Steve asked. "I feel like shit, all right?" Steve closed his eyes and remembered the time he had stayed home from work when Amy had a 102 fever. "Come on, Amy. Time for school," Steve called from the kitchen. He slid his watch onto his right wrist and checked the time. If Amy didn't get up soon, she'd miss the bus and he'd be stuck giving her a ride to school. "Amy, I'm not kidding!" he shouted to her as he walked into the family room. He paused beside the couch where her small form laid motionless. "Amy!" He threw back the covers to see her side. He shook her shoulder. "Amy?" Amy rolled onto her back and looked up at him. Her face was flushed and she looked a little sick. "You all right?" "It's so cold in here," Amy said, pulling the covers up to her chin. "I'm not going to school. Go away." Steve laid the back of his hand to her forehead and jerked it away in surprise. "You're burning up," he said. "What tipped you off?" she muttered sarcastically. Even her smart comments came out weak. "I'm getting a thermometer. Don't move," Steve ordered, pointing at her for effect. "I was thinking about talking a walk," she mumbled, pulling the covers closer. Steve came back into the room and stuck the thermometer in her mouth. She coughed and spat it out. "A little warning?" She coughed again, this time a dry cough from deep in her throat. "Lay back and rest." He poked the thermometer in her mouth once more and when he pulled it out, it read 102. "Well, you definitely have a temperature. No school for you today." "So cold..." she murmured. "I'm staying with you." "No... go to work. Mark'll be home later. I'll be fine. I'm just sick." Steve shook his head. "I'm not leaving you here alone. I'm calling you in sick and then I'm calling myself in sick." "But you aren't sick," she protested weakly. "So I'll lie. They aren't going to check on me." He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Okay?" Without enough energy to protest further, she nodded and closed her eyes. When he came back, she was sound asleep. She had stayed that way for most of the day, with brief spells of consciousness, in which he entertained her by telling her stories about his father and his antics. She laughed when she had the energy, but mostly just slept. Steve stayed with her all day, never leaving her side. Steve smiled at the memory and noticed his cellmate was staring down at him. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked in a gruff voice. "Just remembering something." "Yeah. Pretty much all you can do in here. Sure as hell not going to make memories. So, pardon the expression, but what are you in for?" "Two counts of murder and attempted murder," he said, almost with a grin. For some reason, he never thought that'd be the answer if he was ever asked that question. "But I didn't do it," he added quickly. "That's what they all say." He chuckled a little. "I'm in for twelve counts of armed robbery." "Twelve!?" Steve stood up and peered over the top of bed. "Yeah, them cops are pretty dumb, huh?" He turned and looked at him. "We're not all bad," Steve said, sliding into his bed underneath. "You're a cop?" There seemed to be a hint of hostility in his tone. "Was." "Tables have turned, haven't they?" He laughed right out loud. "Can't believe it. A real cop in the prison instead of outside." The other prisoner paused for a moment. He jumped down from the top bunk and looked at Steve. "So," he began, "what made you turn dirty?" His smile spread from ear to ear, apparently enjoying every minute of the conversation. "A girl," Steve answered. "So, they're definitely going to let him out?" Jesse asked, as he went over Amy's patient chart one last time. He looked up at Mark, who was staring off into space. "Mark? Mark? Earth to Mark. Come in, Mark. Over." He made a static noise in his cupped hands. Suddenly, Mark turned and focused on his young friend. "What, Jesse? I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention." "They're letting Steve out, right? I mean, they have to." He paused for a moment. "Right?" "It looks that way. We have Amy's testimony and the police found a signed confession in Richard's apartment. I don't see how they can keep him." "I can't believe they put him away to begin with." "Well, with the evidence at hand..." "You know, they should make a TV show about your life, Mark. I mean, what other father-son pair has both been convicted of murder when neither of them has done it?" "They tried that before. Remember Dr. Danger?" Mark shuddered at the memory. What an awful show, he thought. "Yeah, but a good one this time," Jesse grinned. "Listen, I'm going to go get Anmy now so we can discharge her. Come with?" Mark nodded and followed him out. As Mark walked down the hall, he grinned to himself. His grin faded as he thought of Amy. He knew she hated sympathy, but he couldn't help it. Everything she had gone through in the past time had to have been unbearably hard. He was pretty sure Amy would never give up and do something drastic like kill herself, but she had to be feeling like... He wasn't even sure how he'd feel in that type of situation. Going through all that loss and trauma in a short period of time had to be taking a toll on her in some way. Medically, she'd be fine with no long term damage. There had been no trauma to her head to cause her to black out; it had been the emotional shock and expectancy of a bullet that had done it. Also, the bullet wound to her arm had almost completely healed and, luckily, there was no nerve damage. It was too bad he couldn't say the same for her emotional well-being. By the time he finished his thoughts, they were at her door, Jesse somehow having snagged a wheelchair along the way. "Your chariot awaits, madam," Jesse announced, bowing deeply with a broad sweep of his hand. Amy, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed quietly, stood up. "I can walk fine, Jess," she said. "I know, but it's hospital policy. You've been in here enough times to know that." Amy's shoulders slumped in mock defeat. "I hate you," she muttered carelessly, dropping herself in the wheelchair. Mark chuckled as the three of them turned to leave. "Oh, it's not me you hate. Just my ability to thwart you." Jesse grinned broadly as he looked down at her. Mark was surprised at how she had seemed to brighten up in the past few days. After a traumatic event like she had just experienced, it was a surprise she hadn't expressed any symptoms of depression. "When's Steve getting out?" Amy asked quietly. "Soon?" "We hope so. With the written confession and..." Mark stopped, not sure if he hould go on. Finally, Amy looked up at him and mustered up her most adult voice. "Is he getting out?" she asked evenly. Mark nodded. Amy smiled and sat back in her wheelchair. "Can't wait," she whispered to herself. Steve walked out of the doors and stepped into the sunlight. He squinted as he looked around for his father's car. He spotted it and saw Mark leaning against the hood. He smiled and began walking toward his father. Soon, he could be home. He could put the whole mess behind him. "Hi," Mark said. "You ready to go home?" "You have no idea," Steve answered. Mark opened the passenger side door and Steve slipped in. Steve watched as his father walked around the car and got in on his own side. Mark slid the key into the ignition and started the car. He checked his mirrors and began to drive away. "I'm sorry, Steve. Could you put your visor down? The sun is coming in right on my face." "Sure, no problem," Steve said. He reached up and pulled the passenger visor down. The mirror attached reflected something in the back seat. Steve moved the visor more and saw Amy in the back smiling from ear to ear. "You guys set me up," Steve said to the two of them. Amy and Mark only smiled. The car ride was very quiet. Then, Amy finally said something. "Do you guys think we could rent a movie tonight?" Steve caught her eye in the visor mirror. "It's great to see you again, too," he told her. Then, he reached behind the seat with his right hand. Amy placed her small hand into his. 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