Don’t own em – Wish I did! (Well, at least Steve Sloan that is). All general disclaimers apply so don’t sue me.

This is just a short little story I wrote last year after seeing It’s a Wonderful Life for the ninth thousand time. Being the Christmas season, I felt it would be a good time to put this on Pammie’s page so we all can remember that even in the darkest times, you have to remember all the good in your life!

Enjoy and Happy Holidays!!

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Mark Sloan slowly lifted the x-ray to the light. He carefully studied every inch of the medical record, hoping he had missed something, anything, that could change the diagnosis he had to give to the family of John Harrington. Mark let out a long, hard sigh. Lowering the x-ray to his side, he slowly crossed the room and sat himself behind his desk. Mark took off his glasses as he leaned back in his chair and painfully closed his eyes.

How was he going to tell Samantha and Bob two days before Christmas that their father would not be here to see another holiday. And how could he face Little John, John's grandson, the apple of his grandfather’s eye. Mark had promised LJ that his grandfather would be around to see him open his Christmas presents this year.

Mark lifted himself upright in his chair. He adjusted his tie. "I'm a professional," he told himself, "I have an obligation to the family." He leaned back in his chair again and sighed. All the years he had been a doctor, all the times he had to give families bad news, it never became any easier. He thought of the time that his son Steve, a policeman, once told him the hardest part of his job was when he had to inform a family that a loved one had died. He remembered when Steve was a rookie and asked his father if that part of the job ever became easier. Mark’s reply to his son was "I hope not." He meant it then and he meant it now. No matter how many times Mark had to give families bad news, he had hoped it never became any easier. He never wanted that part of his job to become routine.

Mark Sloan had known John Harrington the better part of his life. They went to medical school together, got married a year apart, had children at the same time. They even lost their wives within 2 years of each other. This was going to be one of the hardest, longest days of Mark's life.

Mark walked the hallways of Community General Hospital toward the intensive care waiting room. He stopped at the nurse's station which was a few steps short of the doorway to the room. Taking a deep breath, he said a silent prayer to God to give him the strength to get through this.

Mark opened the door to find the family of John Harrington scattered around

the room. They had been keeping a vigil at the hospital ever since John Sr. had suffered a massive stroke two days earlier. Little John, who was coloring on the floor, was the first to spot Mark. "Dr. Mark, can I see my grandpa now?"

Mark bent down and patted LJ's head. "Not right now, LJ."

The little boy stood and walked toward his mother. "But you said I could see him today?"

Samantha picked up her son. "LJ don't bother Dr. Mark right now. I'm sure

you will be the first one he will call when grandpa wakes up."

Mark looked for an empty chair. He pulled it over to where the family was sitting. He looked at Samantha and Bob. "We need to talk."

Bob wiggled in his chair a bit and looked at his sister and his wife. "Okay, Doc, go ahead."

The older man nodded toward LJ who was still in his mother's arms. Michael, Sam's husband, stood. "Come on LJ. Let's go get a soda so Mommy and Uncle Bob can talk to Dr. Mark."

As Michael took LJ by the hand and led him out of the room, Mark turned to face Sam and Bob. Seeing Mark swallow hard, the younger man felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He knew this wasn't good. "Mark, you’ve known us your whole life. You can't hide anything from us. He's not going to make it, is he?"

Mark lowered his eyes to stare at his hands. "It was a massive, massive, stroke. I was hoping for a miracle. But now, your dad is, ah, ............"

"He's never coming out of the coma, is he Mark?" Samantha stated as she finished Mark's sentence.

The older man shook his head no. Bob stood and circled the room. "Now what?"

Mark looked at his friend’s son with a puzzled look on his face.

"I mean, what is the procedure? Do we have to sign papers to take him off life support, that sort of stuff?"

Mark's face turned a bit paler at the abrupt way Bob made that statement. The young man allowed himself a grin. "Come on, Mark. You, of all people, know how our dad was. No beating around the bush. He would never want to be hooked up to machines any longer than necessary. He was too full of life to want to linger that way. He always said that if this ever happened……."

Bob wiped his eyes. "He raised us with the same values. He would expect nothing less from all of us. We know what we have to do – what he would want us to do."

Mark grinned himself. "Yes, that certainly was your dad."

Samantha wiped a tear from her eye. "My dad would like to donate his organs.

He always told us that."

"I know, Sam."

Bob walked over and patted Mark on the back. "Mark, you were one of my dad's best friends. He always said you were one of the finest men he ever knew, plus a hell of a doctor. We know you did everything you could and so does Dad."

Mark walked toward the door. "I'll have the appropriate paperwork in order for you to sign." The young woman rose from her chair. "Mark, can we see him one last time?"

"Of course, Sam." Mark held the door open for Sam, Bob and Bob's wife Marisa. They slowly followed him down the hallway to John's room. The group moved close to the bed. Samantha, not afraid of all the tubes that were stuck in her father's body, sat on the edge of the bed and held her father's hand to her face. Bob put his hand on his little sister’s shoulder. Mark decided to stand at the doorway, letting the family have their final moments alone with their father.

.

"Daddy, it's me, Sam. We know you have to leave us now. I just want you to know we are all here, and it's okay for you to go. We know you’re tired. You can go be with Mom now......."

As Sam spoke, Mark's eyes welled up with tears. Overcome with his own grief,

Mark left the room and headed for the doctors' lounge. He entered the empty

room and slammed the door behind him. "This isn't fair," he thought to himself. "It isn't fair."

Mark sat in that lounge for what seemed like an eternity. A nurse entered and addressed the older man. "Dr. Sloan, the Harrington family has finished all the necessary paperwork and would like to see you."

Mark slowly exited the room and came across the family at the nurses' station. He walked over to them and put his arm around Sam. Michael and LJ appeared from around the corner and LJ ran to his mom. "Can we see Grandpa now?"

Sam knelt to face her son. "LJ, grandpa is very sick, honey. He is......"

As his mother spoke, the little boy started to shake his head no. "But, you promised, you promised!"

He ran to Mark and grabbed at his pant's leg. "You said he'd be all right, you said it!"

Mark knelt to try and comfort the boy. "LJ, Grandpa was trying......"

"No!" he screamed at Mark.

"You lied! You lied to me! You told me he'd be all right. You’re a doctor, why can't you fix my grandpa? That’s what you do. You’re suppose to make people better!"

Michael grabbed LJ and carried him out of the hospital. Sam turned and hugged

Mark. "He doesn't understand Mark. It's not your fault."

Bob turned and handed the nurse the signed paperwork and turned to Mark. "We're wiped out Mark. We better be getting home. Tomorrow I will call with the arrangements."

The two men shook hands. Mark felt a tightness in his stomach as he watched the family slowly walk out of the hospital.

When Jesse and Amanda entered the Doctors lounge, they both came to a abrupt halt when they took one look at Mark's face. Amanda sat next to Mark and took his hand. "John Harrington?"

Mark shook his head yes. Jesse walked over, handed Amanda a cup of coffee and sat down.

"Mark, you did everything you could. You've hardly left this hospital in two days."

"That doesn't make it any easier, Jesse. I went into this profession to save lives."

"You can't save them all, Mark."

"I know Amanda, but why is it, I can't ever save the ones I love?"

Amanda shot Mark a puzzled look. The older man stood and walked toward the window. "The night my wife died, I swore I would never practice medicine again. Here I saved countless lives but could not save her. Now, John. It makes you wonder why bother."

As Amanda was going to respond, both Jesse's and Mark's names were being paged over the loud speaker to come to the Emergency Room, stat. The three raced out of the room. When they arrived they found two ambulances filled with people from a traffic accident.

Jesse raced over to a woman who was strapped onto a gurney. He yelled at the paramedics to bring her into room one. Mark and Amanda ran over to the other gurney and were faced with a little girl, no more than five who was badly injured in the wreck, her small body limp. As they were wheeling her into room two, a young man, raced in behind them, his face covered in blood. "That's my wife and my daughter, please help them, please!"

Amanda tried to calm the man. "It's okay, sir. We'll take good care of them."

Amanda motioned to a nurse. "Take care of him."

By the time Amanda reached room two, Mark and the others were trying everything humanly possible to save the little girl, but it was not too be enough.

Amanda watched for what seemed like an eternity as the emergency room team struggled to breath life into the little body. She finally walked to his side. "It's over Mark."

"NO!"

Amanda gestured to the other doctor in the room. "Call it."

The doctor looked at his watch. "10:25pm."

Mark flung a piece of surgical equipment across the room, shattering a glass door. "This isn't fair!"

By the time Amanda was able to calm down Mark and lead him out of the room, Jesse had already informed the man that both his wife and daughter were gone. Mark went to offer his condolences to the man, who was clearly in shock.

"She begged me to take her to see the decorations. I told her, Honey, Daddy is tired, but she kept saying, 'You promised.' She was so excited. She was born during the Christmas holidays, you know. Maddie, my wife, said to me, 'Come on, Pete. Let's take her tonight. It's a beautiful night."

The man stopped and put his head in his hands. Mark tried to comfort the young man, gently patting his shoulder. "Why? Why did that man have to drive drunk? Why couldn't he call a cab? Why didn't a friend try and stop him from driving? Does he know he took away my whole life? Does he?!"

An older couple raced into the waiting room and headed straight to the man.

Tearfully he embraced them. "Mom, Dad, I lost them."

"Dear God!" the women screamed as she hugged her son.

Amanda took Mark by the arm and led him away to where Jesse was standing. "Mark, why don't we go get......."

"I'm leaving." Mark said abruptly.

"I don't belong here anymore."

The ride home from Community General to his Malibu beachfront home seemed

longer then usual. Mark slowly drove Pacific Coast Highway, taking in the salty air and the spectacular views, but neither could change what he was feeling tonight. This was, by all accounts, one of the worst days of his life.

For an unknown reason, Mark felt compelled to pull over into an empty parking lot. Clearly exhausted from the last two grueling days, he sat in his car for a moment to reflect on his life. He thought of all the times he had let his friends and family down. He remembered the time he came home and heard Carol crying in her bedroom and Steve trying to comfort her because her dad, the busy doctor, missed yet another school play. Or the time Steve broke his arm falling out of the tree and was treated by another doctor because he was too

busy treating another patient, and of course, the night his beloved Katherine was rushed to Community General. He was in surgery and didn't even know what had happened until hours later, and by then it was too late.

Out of the corner of his eye Mark spotted a little church. He left his car and walked toward it. Finding the front door open, he entered. The statues and the candles in the empty church gave Mark a feeling of uneasiness. He walked to the front pew and sat, lowering his head into his hands. Kneeling forward, he closed his blood shot eyes and cupped his hands to pray. "God, I know it's been a long time since you've heard my voice calling to you. I guess when all is well, you tend to forget to give thanks. I know we all come to you in times of need and that's selfish, but God, I am at a crossroads. I don't know if I can do this anymore. If I can't help the people that are important to me, then why should I bother? I always felt being a doctor was a calling but, in doing so, I have hurt people I care about, and that's a horrible feeling. I don't like this God. I wish I never became a doctor, then maybe I wouldn't have hurt the people I love."

Mark looked up at the statue of Mary that seemed to be staring back. "I wish I were never born."

Mark entered his house, threw his jacket toward the chair and missed, watching as the garment slithered onto the floor. He didn't bother to pick it up. He could care less. Tired hands undid his tie as he walked pass the beautiful Christmas tree that Steve had picked up day’s earlier, stopping only as he approached his answering machine. Two messages. He listened to Amanda's message asking him if he was all right and then Steve's, who informed him he was working late on a stakeout and didn't know if he would be home in time to be able to trim the tree as they had planned.

He left his living room and entered the bedroom. He fell onto the bed and lay there exhausted. He didn't even feel like changing into his pajamas. He just wanted to lie there and close his eyes for just a moment. He just needed a minute to himself. Just a minute’s rest.

A sharp noise startled Mark from the deep sleep he so desperately needed. He looked to see a strange man standing there playing his clarinet. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" the man asked.

The man let out another toot from the clarinet. "I never did quite master the art of playing this thing. That was always on my list of things to do. You know that list you never seem to get around to."

Mark, half scared, half astonished, stared at the man. "Who the hell are you, and how did you get in here?"

"I guess we need to be formally introduced. I'm Walter."

"And that means to me?" Mark asked as he started to rise from his bed.

The man shook his head and let out a slight laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, you don't know, that's right. I'm Walter, your guardian angel. I am here to grant you your request."

Mark shook his head as if to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He stood up to face the man. "Look, I don't know who you are but my son is downstairs and he's a police officer and......."

"Oh, you don't have a son. That's part of the agreement."

The blood in Mark's veins suddenly went cold. He thought to himself that if this man was going to kill him, he would not go down without a fight. Walter walked toward Mark's window for a better look at the view. "You know something, Mark. It really is beautiful here, so peaceful. The sound of the wave crashing on shore, breaking the quiet of the night. It’s a great place to be able to reflect on one’s life."

As the man spoke with his back toward him, Mark grabbed a cane and took a swing at Walter's head. The cane went through Walter as if he weren't there. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you. The big guy doesn't like that kind of violence."

Mark fell back on his bed in astonishment. "Look, you can take anything you want, I don't care. Just leave me and my son alone."

Walter walked over to Mark and sat on the edge of the bed. "Mark, you don't get it. I was sent here from God to grant you your wish. I'm not here to hurt you."

"What are you talking about? What wish?"

"You wished you were never born. So, poof, you were never born. You never got married, you never had children, never became a doctor. Period."

Mark slowly rose from the bed. Rubbing his face, he tried to take this all in. He slowly let out a laugh. "This is a prank from Steve right? He must have talked to Amanda and Jesse and they told him the rotten day I had and he thought he would get me. We'll I'll show him."

With this, Mark bolted out of his bedroom with Walter trailing behind. He rounded the corner expecting to see his son and friends waiting. "Come on, Steve, I'm on to you."

Mark checked the upstairs rooms and headed down to Steve's apartment. "I

don't know what you’re talking about Mark. There's no one else here but you and me," Walter yelled as he tried to catch the doctor.

Bolting down the stairs, Mark threw open the door to Steve's apartment and stopped dead in his tracks. The rooms were empty. Nothing. No furniture, no clothes. Nothing. Mark circled the room that had been Steve's living room.

"I told you Mark, no son," Walter said from behind him. "No son, no daughter, no wife, no hospital, no nothing." Mark sank to his knees.

"Think about it, Mark. How could this have been a prank from Steve and your friends when only you, me and the man upstairs knew what you wished for?"

The older man sat there for an indefinite period of time. Slowly, he stood and walked back up the stairs to his own apartment. At least in his own apartment, his world seemed a little more real. Dazed, Mark reentered his bedroom and sat on his bed. Walter, trailing in behind Mark, picked up the clarinet again. Mark looked at the odd-looking man. "What are you doing here? Why were you sent to me?"

Walter bounced up, grinning from ear to ear. "I thought you'd never ask! I was sent by the big guy to show you what life would have been like if you were never born. You think you screwed up people while you were alive? Wait to see what their lives would have been like if you hadn't been around."

"This can't be real. It can't be!"

"Oh, but it is, Mark Come on. I'll show you."

Walter put the clarinet back in its stand and stuck out his hand. Mark reluctantly took it and watched as the room went black.

When things came back into focus, Mark realized he was in a prison cell. He thought for a moment that he recognized the man who was sitting with his back to them. Walter nodded his head to Mark. "Pity, poor man. Waiting for his last meal. Going to the gas chamber tonight for killing his wife. He claims he didn't do it, but no one would listen."

The sound of footsteps echoed in the prison hallway until the guard, carrying a tray of food, stopped at the door. The guard opened the prison cell door and placed the tray of food on the table. "Here's your last meal, Karn, I hope you enjoy it."

The name struck a cord with Mark and then the man turned and Mark instinctively knew who it was. It was George Karn. Mark shouted out as if to signal the guard. "Hey! Hey Guard! Wait this man is innocent. We proved it!"

"No Mark, you proved it. You were the only one who believed that Mr. Karn didn't kill his wife. You were the one who stitched him up, hid him in your house and found the real murderer. But that, of course, was before you wished you were never born. Since you don't exist, neither does the overturning of the conviction."

Mark watched as George Karn ate his last meal in silence. Mark walked and sat next to George. He turned when he heard the cell door opening. A priest carrying a bible took the seat on the other side of the table. "My son. You are in your final hours. I feel it would be better if you confessed your sins before……"

Mark was astonished at what he was hearing. "Father, with all due respect, George didn't kill his wife."

"Mark, they can't hear you. No one can but me"

"But this is not right. They can't kill him."

"Oh, they can and they will."

The prison guards handcuffed Karn and led him out of the cell. "Had enough yet, Mark?"

Mark looked puzzled. "Enough?"

"Enough to convince you that you did the right thing with your life."

Mark shook his head. "This was only one good thing I did. I screwed up more times then that."

Walter shook his head. This was going be a long night.

The angel snapped his fingers and he and Mark were transported to the seedy end of town. Bums and homeless people were scattered about. They watched as people fought over scraps left in the garbage pails. Mark shook his head in disgust. "Why am I here?"

Walter headed toward a bunch of bums standing around a garbage pail fire for warmth. The angel rubbed his hands together over the open fire as if to warm them. "Do you remember a few years back there was a person going around killing homeless people for their organs?"

"I remember. So what, he's still out here killing homeless people?"

Walter continued on his walk until he came to a bum lying against a building. "Not just killing any homeless."

The man stirred and faced the pair. Mark looked closely. His eyes widened when he realized who the homeless man was. "Walter? Walter Mason?"

"Yep, that's him. God, I love his name."

Walter looked up at the sky. "Sorry, big guy. I know, I know, I have to stop using your name like that."

Walter turned to Mark. "He hates when I use his name to describe a feeling I have."

The homeless Walter stood up and walked toward the fire.

"He's not homeless anymore. He cleaned up his act. He got a job. I don't understand."

"You helped him clean up his act. You helped get him a job."

Mark started to realize what Walter was trying to show him. The homeless man walked past the crowd by the fire and made his way down an abandoned alley. Halfway down, Mark spotted a man with a knife standing behind a dumpster. "Walter, look out, he has a knife!"

Mark tried to scream to the man he once helped save, but it was too late. The

man plunged the knife into Walter and with a grunt, he doubled over and fell to the ground.

The echo from Mark’s screams were the only things that cut through the quiet of the chilly, midnight air.

Mark opened his eye’s as a mist seemed to engulf them. He looked toward Walter who was lying on a cloud. Mark stood angrily. "Are we done yet? Are you done playing with me?"

Walter stood. "Playing with you? No. I'm trying to help you."

"Help me, by tormenting me?"

"No, by showing you all the good you did in your lifetime. Before you permanently get your wish, I want you to be absolutely sure this is what you really want."

Mark tiredly rubbed his face. "I know I helped people. But it was the ones close to me I seem to hurt the most."

"Is that what you really think, Mark? Do you think your friends and family would have been better off without you?"

Mark didn't answer. "Well, you’re wrong. Dead wrong!"

Mark and Walter appeared in the bright sunshine. The angel trotted across the street, almost playfully. He signaled to Mark. "Come on, Doc, we haven't got all day!"

Mark rolled his eyes and took off after him. They stopped when they reached a car wash. Out of breath, Mark rested his hands on his knees. "This is what I ran to see? A car wash?"

Walter put his finger to his mouth. "Shush. Just watch. You'll see."

Several men were scattered about cleaning cars as they came out of the machine. "Hey Travis, you missed a spot."

The man flung a clean rag and Jesse Travis caught it. Mark Sloan looked in horror seeing his young friend, his protégée, cleaning cars. Mark walked closer to see his friend up close. He was unshaven and wore old, ragged clothes. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"No joke, Mark. Hey, it's the only job a convicted felon can get when he first gets paroled."

Mark turned. "Paroled?"

Walter walked over and ran his hand across the bumper of a car. "Yeah, it's really a sad story. He had a promising career as a doctor and then he prescribed the wrong medication to a basketball player and bang, he's off doing 5-10 years for manslaughter."

Mark angrily waved his hand. "Now wait a minute, Jesse didn't........."

"Didn't what Mark? Didn't do it? I know that. You know that and Jesse knows that. But everyone else thinks he did. All the evidence pointed to him."

"But I proved........."

"Bingo!" Walter cried out.

"You proved his innocence."

Mark walked away, not wanting to hear another word. Walter knew he was close to getting the man to admit he wanted to live. He knew it was going to take something big, something awful to get Mark to admit he was wrong and wanted his life back. The angel shook his head almost as if in disgust. He was going to have to show Mark the one thing he was hoping he wouldn't have to. "I didn't want to have to do this to you Mark, but you leave me no choice. You think people are better off without you, think again."

Mark found himself standing in a military cemetery. Storm clouds filled the sky as he noticed that there was a funeral going on up the hill. "Must be an important person" Mark thought to himself, having seen all the people and the honor guards standing there - even a twenty-one-gun salute. "Come on Mark."

As the two men drew closer, the bugler started to play taps as the soldiers started to fold the American Flag. When the one soldier stood and turned to give the flag to the woman sitting there, Mark's faced turned white as a ghost. The man was handing the flag to his wife Katherine. Mark didn't have enough time to take it all in before the minister spoke. "Eternal peace to our son, Steven, who gave his life for his country."

Mark turned in horror. The congregation stood and Carol helped her mother to the waiting limo. Mark dropped to his knees at the foot of the open grave. "No, no this can't be! It just can't be!"

Walter put his hand on Mark's shoulder. "I'm afraid it is."

Mark looked at the headstone and bolted up. "Aha! You did it! You finally screwed up! Hah, I got you now! This grave says he died in 1974. Steve came out of the Army in 1972." Mark felt triumphant for the first time.

Walter sat. " Do you remember when Steve first came out of the Army? He was very undecided what to do with his life. He even thought about reenlisting, but you talked him out of that."

An icy chill took over Mark's body. He didn't like where this conversation was going. "After a while, Steve took the test and became a police officer. But with you not being there to talk him out of reenlisting............"

Mark's eyes filled with tears. "No, please tell me it's not so............."

Mark found himself transported to the middle of a rice field, somewhere, he figured in Vietnam. He watched as military people scattered about. It was hot, humid and sticky. Mark felt sweat starting to form on the back of his neck. "Hey, Stevie," someone yelled and Mark instinctively turned to see his son, in full fatigues, coming out of the makeshift barracks.

A smile formed across his face as he saw his son young again. Mark had almost forgotten what a good-looking kid Steve had been. In this intense, bright sunlight, Steve looked even more blond and his blue eyes sparkled. Steve walked to meet his friend.

"Okay, Stevie, this is the deal. We do this last tour, we head to the showers, get in our dress whites and head on down to the officers quarters tonight."

"You know Mike, you’ve got a one track mind."

The man slapped the back of Steve's head as the two men shared a laugh. The commanding officer came out of the barracks carrying a clipboard. "Okay listen up. We have one more sweep of this place and then we are out of here. There are still a lot of mines out here so be very, very careful. I want to go back with the same amount of men I came in here with."

"Do you mean in one piece, sir?" Mike yelled out.

Steve rolled his eyes as he jabbed Mike in the ribs. "Colins, why am I not surprised you would say something like that?"

"Let's do it!"

The men grabbed their gear and spread out. Steve and Mike took the front right side. They walked several hundred meters, stopping every few minutes to check their footing. The troop traveled for what seemed like an eternity to Mark, who was trailing his son's platoon.

Finally, Mike Colins decided to break the tension. He turned to Steve. "So, like I was saying, Stevie, we get a few drinks, have a few laughs and.........."

The two men froze in their tracks as they heard the click under one of their feet. Mike’s face went a ghostly white as he stared down at his leg. "It's me, Steve. Oh God, Steve, what am I gonna do!!?"

Steve threw down his weapon. "Stay calm, Mike. For God's sake, stay calm!!

Steve threw his head from left to right, searching for something, anything that could take the place of Mike’s foot on the mine. He noticed a large rock that was lying nearby. Steve turned to Mike. "Slowly take your foot away and I will put the rock on the mine."

"But Steve..."

"Just do it!" Steve screamed.

Mike eased his foot off the mine as Steve's trembling hands tried to arrange the rock over the top. In a flash, Mike took his foot off the mine and the two bolted. The rock swayed as the two men tried in vain to get as far away from it as they could, but it wasn't going to be enough and an explosion rocked the earth, sending all to the ground, including Mark and Walter.

When the smoke cleared, Mark was flat on his back, trying to catch his breath, every inch of his body aching. Mark didn’t know how long he had been lying there but decided he had to pull himself together. He carefully pulled himself up to a sitting position. That's when he saw the captain and the others standing over two bodies on the ground. The men, some crying, others shaking their heads, started to walk away. "Don't go over there Mark.," his guardian angel warned.

"Like Hell."

Mark ran until he reached his son. He stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes focused on what he was seeing. Steve was lying on the ground, blood covering the better part of his body. The life just ran out of Mark Sloan's body and he felt himself grow weak. He fell to the ground next to his son. He gently picked up Steve's head and placed it on his lap. Tears began to stream down Mark's face. He looked up at Walter. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I don't want this! I never wanted this!! I never thought this could happen! Please, Walter, you have to help me! I want my life back! I want my son back! Please, I swear I will never again question why I was put on this earth. Please, please Walter help me, please.................................."

Mark Sloan bolted straight up in his bed, sweat covering his face, his hands clutching his pillow until his knuckles were white. He sat there for a moment to catch his breath. He finally took notice that the room was filled with sunlight. He reached for the alarm clock on the nightstand. Six AM.

He cautiously climbed out of bed and looked around for anything, any signs that life was as he knew it. He walked through his bedroom and picked up the pace until he found himself racing through the house, nearly knocking over the Christmas Tree that stood in the hallway.

"Steve!" he screamed, his voice echoing throughout.

"Steve!"

Mark ran down the stairs and as he reached the door, it was flung open and a half-asleep Steve Sloan appeared. "Dad, what's the matter?"

A smile began to form on the face of Mark Sloan. "Dad, are you alrig.........."

Before Steve could finish his sentence, Mark grabbed his son and held him as he never had before. "I thought I lost you, Son."

Steve grinned. "Don't worry Dad, I'm not going anywhere."

Mark held on for a few more minutes. "Dad, You’re trembling. Are you sure you’re all right?"

The younger man led his father into his apartment. Mark paced the room, making sure everything of Steve's was where it should be. Steve returned from the kitchen and handed Mark a glass of water. "Do you want to talk about it, Dad?"

Mark drank down the water and handed Steve the empty glass. He walked close to Steve and gently fixed his son's tousled hair. "I'm all right now. It was just a bad dream, that's all."

Steve put his arm on his father's shoulder. "Dad, your exhausted. You've had a really rough couple of days. It's no wonder you had a bad night."

Mark shook his head. "Your right. I need a few days to get myself in order, but I do want you to know how much I love you and I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you."

Steve smiled as he rubbed his hand over the morning stubble that had formed on his chin. "That's great, Dad, but couldn't we have had this conversation at... let's say nine a.m.?"

Mark playfully smacked Steve's head as Steve headed for his bathroom. "Let me wash my face and change and you can tell me all about it, Dad."

Mark nodded. "I'll put the coffee up."

Steve laughed. "Maybe you should think about switching to decaf!"

Mark took the stairs heading to his apartment two at a time. He rounded the corner and looked at the tree, admiring it for the first time. As he ran his fingers through his gray hair, he looked down and realized he was still dressed in the clothes he had on the day before. He let out a slight chuckle. "Hell of a dream," he mumbled to himself.

He went into the kitchen and started the coffee going. He slowly started to unbutton his shirt as he left the kitchen, making his way toward his bedroom. Upon entering, something silvery caught his eye. Stopping, he saw his clarinet, which he kept in his living room, lying on the bed. A big red bow tied to the front. He thought of the last person he saw playing it. With a rather confused look on his face, Mark picked it up. He turned to look around the room to make sure he was alone. "Couldn't be" he said to himself.

"It was just a bad dream, that's all."

Mark put the clarinet back in its stand, never taking his eye off the red bow. He walked toward the very same window that Walter had looked out to admire the view the night before. He looked up at the sky. "If that really was you Walter, thank you, thank you so much. I owe you one."

THE END