Fire Back
Name:  Dawn Brown
E-mail:  DiagnosMur@aol.com

*	*	*
All Disclaimers Apply.

*	*	*

	Steve Sloan unlocked the door to the beach house that he and his 
dad shared.  He had to work late reviewing some files before he began his 
next case.  It was going to be a difficult one, but the fact was, he had to do 
it.  As he entered the house his father lay asleep on the couch, glasses still 
lay upon his face and the lamp beside him left on.  Steve walked over to the 
closet and hung up his jacket.  After he hung it up, he grabbed a blanket 
and laid it upon his father.  He then proceeded to take the wired-framed 
glasses off of the frail face.  As he turned to shut the lamp off, his father 
stirred and looked up at his son.
	"Steve," he said drearily. "Where have you been?  It's almost 3 
a.m."
	"I had some work to catch up on.  I'll talk to you tomorrow about 
it all, so go back to sleep."
	Mark aroused some and was ready to have a serious talk with his 
son.  "It sounds as if it is something very important.  Is there something 
wrong?  You've been pulling several late nights recently."
	"Dad, I've been asked to do some very dangerous undercover 
work.  I didn't want to tell you until the last minute when I would have to 
leave so you wouldn't be worried any more than you had to."
	Mark's faced dropped.  He could tell Steve didn't want  him to 
know exactly how dangerous the work was he would be doing.  "What, or 
who, does the undercover work have to do with?"
	"You know the recent murders of the three doctors, six LAPD 
officers, and five people related to doctors or officers?"
	"Steve_You aren't really going to go undercover to get evidence 
on the people doing this.  They'll kill you!!"  Mark's eyes widened as he 
stood dropping off the blanket that was upon him and reaching for his 
glasses.
	"Dad, I have to do this for the department and for the families of 
those that have been murdered so far.  If this continues there is going to be 
even more of a risk to others, and even more of a risk to Amanda, Jesse, 
you, and me."  Steve attempted to calm Mark's fears.  None of what he 
said helped the situation, though, and things began to heat up between the 
father and son duo, something that was rarely seen around the household.
	"Son," Mark's voice dropped to a lower range and he spoke 
sternly, "I forbid you to do this.  There is no way on earth I can allow you 
to take such a large risk.  I am your father and you need to listen to me.  
This is very, VERY dangerous!"
	Steve cut his father off.  He was furious at his dad.  "Look!  I am a 
grown man, I am NOT your little boy to take care of any more and you 
need to figure that out.  I can do whatever I darn well please and this is 
part of my job and you cannot stop me!"  He pointed to himself.
	"Fine, Steve, just be out of this house as soon as possible!  Don't 
bother telling me when you leave."  Mark stomped off to his room.  Steve 
trampled down the stairs to his room and started throwing things into his 
bag.  He had a terrible feeling in his gut, but ignored it.  Little did he know 
that this would be the last time he and his dad would talk as father and son 
for a while-- a long while.

*	*	*

	Steve was ready to leave.  He paused for a second to look at a 
picture of he and his father.  It was a photo that had been taken of them 
about a year earlier on the deck of the beach house.  The two seemed so 
happy.  Steve shook his head.  As he reached to grab it, he heard the voices 
of Amanda and Jesse upstairs.  This made him snap back into things and he 
decided to leave the picture at home, because it would be there whenever 
he was able to come home.
	As he approached the top of the stairs he saw Amanda and Jesse 
eating a nice breakfast with Mark.  "Well everyone, it's time for me to go.  
I'll see all of you when I'm done with the assignment."  Steve walked 
towards the door and Amanda and Jesse stood.  Mark stared down at his 
plate during all of this action.
	Amanda approached Steve and gave him a big hug.  She didn't 
know much about the case, but she knew about the spat that Mark and he 
had, and knew that Steve's life could be in great danger.  "Steve, just be 
careful on this case."
	Jesse walked up to his thought of "big brother."  He was afraid of 
what could happen to _Steve_ and didn't want him leaving without 
knowing that he was going to be thinking of him.  Of course, Jesse let him 
know his feelings in a most graceful manner.  "Steve, don't you come 
running back to us without any legs."
	Steve gave him a weird look and almost began to laugh, but didn't 
want to spoil how the comment was meant.  Amanda shook her head at 
what was said.  "Thanks you, two.  I'll talk to you guys when I'm finished 
with this, which hopefully won't take very long."  He looked at his father 
one last time and then walked out the door without saying a word.  
Gradually he made his way down to his car and eventually started it.
	Mark ran up to the door and stood in the framework.  Tears 
streamed down  his face.  As he overlooked the car as it began to drive off, 
in a scared voice, he whispered, "Dear God, please let my son survive all of 
this, please."  Amanda went and put her right arm around Mark while Jesse 
placed his left hand on Mark's back.  They stood watching as the car faded 
in the distance.  Little did they know that it wasn't Steve who would be in 
danger.

*	*	*

	Steve pulled up to the old warehouse.  It was dark and seemed to 
hold mysteries within.  He wasn't too nervous about the whole process, 
because he'd already been accepted into the social ring.  All Steve needed 
to do was get the evidence needed.  It seemed simple enough to him.  He 
took one very deep breath and thoughts of his dad flashed through his 
head.  Quickly he got back to reality and stepped out of his car.
	"Hey," a rough voice, in a sense, greeted Steve, "are you the new 
guy, Jake Starnes?"
	"Yeah, who are you?"  Steve reacted back in the most serious 
manner possible.  It would take him a while to get used to being called 
Jake, his alias, so he'd have to be careful in how he responded to different 
questions and situations.
	"I'll be taking care of you until you are able to talk to Mr. 
Bragherty."  The stranger escorted Steve into the warehouse.  Inside it 
looked like a mansion.  I was obvious that some type of crime money was 
used to fix this place up because of its rough exterior and its very rich and 
luscious interior.  The man eventually stopped at a room and opened the 
door.  "This will be your new home, Mr. Starnes."
	"Thank you," Steve acknowledged.
	Steve made rich observations of the room.  A bed with canopy was 
in the center of the wall.  To the left of it was a night stand with a golden 
lamp upon its top.  An entertainment center with a TV, and large stereo 
system finished out the room's best features.

*	*	*

	"Mark, why don't you go home, you're not doing anyone any 
good, by being so upset and working," Amanda warned.
	"You know Mark, I have to agree with Amanda.  You know Steve 
will be alright.  Just let him have his time to do this, and if you quit 
worrying so much, he'll be home in no time."
	"No, he won't!" Mark blew up at his friends.  "He's my son and if 
anything happens to him I don't know what I'll do.  Why couldn't he listen 
to me!  Why?!?!?"
	"Mark, settle down!  If you are so worried about him why don't 
you attempt to find out where he is like you do with anyone else you are 
worried about?" Jesse offered.
	Mark sank down into a chair.  He looked up and all he could say 
was, "Because, he'd hate me even more than he does now."
	Amanda was worried about the condition Mark was in.  "Why 
don't you let me take you home?  You really need the rest anyway."  Mark 
stood without saying a word, but relayed the message that he was 
accepting the offer.

*	*	*

	"Hey, Mr. Bragherty, that Jake guy is here," Steve's escort 
approached the boss.
	"Well, come here, we need to talk.  Turns out that Jake isn't really 
Jake.  He's some Detective.  Did some follow-up work on him to make 
sure everything checked out.  The LAPD did a pretty good job about 
making sure the background looked like one belonging to a Jake Starnes, 
but I kept digging on him.  You know how those other officers we killed 
were.  Those nosy cops!  The thing is this time I have a sure-fire to make 
sure nothing happens again after this one."
	"What is it boss?"
	"Found out this cop, Steve Sloan, has a father he's very close to.  If 
his dad were to die, he'd kill himself.  Wouldn't that be a shame?  Get rid 
of two birds with one stone.  Also, the father, Mark Sloan, is apparently 
just as nosy as the son from the dirt I've dug up on them.  So, if he were to 
start digging around, too, then we'd have two problems."
	"So what are we going to do?"
	"What we need to do-get rid of the father."

*	*	*

	While this conversation was going on, Steve sat on the bed in his 
room.  All of the electronic toys he had to play with now, still couldn't get 
his mind off of the way he had treated his father the night before.  He only 
wished that he could see his dad and be able to apologize.  He thought and 
couldn't make himself feel any better.  There had to be a way to get in 
touch with him.  Finally, he decided he'd go at that moment, but act as if he 
was going somewhere else.
	"Whatcha doin' out of your room Starnes?"  the helper questioned.
	"I got to take care of some unfinished business."

*	*	*

	Mark entered into the bare beach house.  It was so quiet.  He sifted 
through the mail that had been left.  "Mark Sloan, Mark Sloan," he spoke 
to himself while looking at the names on the letters, "Mark Sloan, Steve 
Sloan, Mark_"  His voice trailed off.  Pictures of his son flooded his head.  
How he wished he had made peace with him.  He finally came to the 
conclusion that he should trust Steve's judgment and that Steve would be 
home soon.  The problem was he wouldn't know just how soon Steve 
would be at his side.
 	Doctor Sloan entered the kitchen so he could pour himself a cup of 
coffee.  He hadn't had a good night's sleep the night before, so he was 
exhausted.  Suddenly a large man jumped out and grabbed the doctor.  
Mark struggled and kicked and did everything trying to escape the tight 
grasp.  Nothing worked though.  The man tied his feet and hands together, 
then placed duct tape over Sloan's mouth.  Placing the body in the middle 
of the room, he proceeded to soak the room in gasoline.  As with all the 
recent murders, the man went over and knocked Mark in the head.  The 
last thought he had before blacking out was in hopes Steve knew that he 
loved him and always had loved him.
	The mysterious man walked over to the door, and then set the 
house afire.

*	*	*

	Steve drove quickly so he could get back to his undercover work 
he had already stopped at the hospital to find that his dad had gone home 
for the day.  He was already feeling better because he would be able to get 
this off his chest.  As he drove his car up the coast, he could see smoke 
building up in the sky.  As he got closer he drove quicker.  His stomach 
tightened.  It was the beach house where he'd last seen his father.  He 
dialed 911.  As soon as he parked his car, Steve was running up the steps.  
Kicking in what was left of the door, he made his way inside.  Nothing 
could be seen.
	"Dad?  Dad?!?!?" he yelled hoping, praying for a response.  All that 
was heard was the cracking of the flames from around him.  Somehow he 
made his way to the center of the room where he tripped.  Burns patched 
different spots on his body already and the sting from hitting the ground 
made things worse.  He turned to see what he had tripped on.  There lay 
his father.  He grabbed the body in a hurry to get out.  The way he ended 
up leaving was out the back door.  The flames were worse towards the 
front.  As Steve ran out the back and down the stairs all sorts of emergency 
equipment pulled up to the house.  Steve lay his father down on the warm 
sand.  Slowly he peeled the tape off of his mouth, and then cut the ropes 
off of his arms and legs.  Finally he was able to examine what his dad 
looked like.  Burns covered the body and he wasn't breathing.  A deep 
gash penetrated his head.  Steve held his father in his arms.  "Dad, you 
can't leave me now, you can't!  I love you!"
	Paramedics soon stepped up and put Mark on a stretcher.  As they 
rolled him away they did all in their capability to rescue Mark.  Steve 
wanted to ride with his father, but as he tried to stand, he collapsed down 
into the sand and a second ambulance would carry him to Community 
General Hospital.

*	*	*

	"Steve, Steve_" Amanda gently nudged at the body lying asleep.  
The only connection that was had in all of this was Steve's attempt to go 
undercover.
	Slowly Steve stirred.  His eyes were squinty and everything in the 
room was very hazy.  He couldn't make out anyone or anything in the 
room.
	"Welcome back, Steve," Jesse greeted.
	The voice registered at Steve.  More and more became clear.  "Hey, 
Jesse."  Finally, he got to the point where everything that had happened 
began to run through his head - the fight, being undercover, the fire, and, 
his father.
	"Where's my dad?" he asked wearily.
	"He's in ICU," Amanda answered quickly, with a very worried 
expression on his face.
	"Why do you sound so worried?  Is he going to live?"
	Jesse took over while Amanda backed away.  "It appears that he 
will live, but there may be either some extensive brain damage, or he could 
have amnesia."
	"Amnesia would be better of the two, right?"
	"Possibly not.  He could have permanent amnesia or short-term 
amnesia.  We won't know until he wakes up, Steve."
	"He doesn't know that I love him - he didn't know before I left," 
Steve said in a monotone voice.
	Amanda was there to help soften his worries.  "Steve, he knew.  He 
always has known, and one fight didn't make him think otherwise.  He said 
a prayer for you as you left, and nothing will ever stand in between the love 
that you and your father share.
	Steve sat up in his bed.  "Take me to my father's room."
	"Steve, you're not ready to be moving around.  You really need to 
stay in here and rest longer," Jesse warned.
	"I want to go to my dad, NOW!" The seriousness in Steve's face 
caught all by surprise.  They couldn't believe it.

*	*	*

	Steve peered over his father's bed.  Machines of all types were 
connected to him monitoring all types of conditions he could be suffering 
from.  His frail body seemed so helpless and nothing would ever be able to 
bring him back.  He looked serene and peaceful.
	"Oh, dad, I am so, so sorry," Steve began.  "I didn't mean to walk 
out on you the other day.  I wish I could do it all over again.  Never in my 
dreams would I have imagined that your life would be in danger because of 
all of this, especially after the fuss you put up about me getting hurt during 
this case."  Steve brushed back some hairs out of Mark's face.  He then 
grabbed hold of his father's hand and lay his head on the hospital bed 
beside his dad.  Soon after, he fell asleep.

*	*	*

	A ray of light peeked through the blinds of the windows in Dr. 
Sloan's room.  Steve raised his head in a timid fashion, not knowing what 
to expect out of the day.  He rubbed his eyes then glanced at his father's 
face.  The pale face, the face of the man who had raised him, the face 
where that contained eyes that were wide open.  Steve looked away as his 
thoughts ran back through his head.  Eyes open!  He turned back towards 
his dad.  Jesse stepped in at the time.
	"Dad, are you okay?"  he asked in a panic.  Jesse crossed to the 
other side of the bed to begin an examination.  Steve continued to talk, 
"Come on dad, answer me."
	"Who are you?"
	The blank look on Mark's face tore straight through Steve's heart.  
His own father didn't know who on earth he was.  Jesse cut in.
	"Hello, Mark Sloan, I am Dr. Jesse Travis," his voice seemed to 
quiver out because of his feelings for Mark and Steve.  "That right there is 
Detective Steve Sloan, your son.  Do you remember anything?"
	"What's my name again?"
	Steve quickly exited the room.  He leaned back against the wall and 
gradually sank down until his head was buried between his knees with arms 
covering.  Jesse followed out soon after as Amanda approached from down 
the hall.  Jesse kneeled down next to Steve.
	"He'll be okay.  He's still alive isn't he?"
	"Yeah, my father's alive and he doesn't know who I am.  It's as if 
he were really dead."
	"Give it time, Steve," Jesse started, "he could end up remembering 
everything.  The only way he'll have a chance, though, is if you attempt to 
help him."
	"Hey, guys, what's wrong?" Amanda's face showed the exhaustion 
she had suffered over the past twenty-four hours with all of the excitement.
	Steve tried to tell her, but broke down into a long-last cry.  Jesse 
stood and looked straight at Amanda.  "Mark's awake."
	"He's awake?  That's wonderful.  Why are you upset then?"
	Jesse looked down at the ground.  "He has no clue who any of us 
are, and I'm afraid that it may stay that way."
	"Steve, I'm sorry," she bent down next to him and put an arm 
around him.  Jesse went to Steve's other side and sat down next to him, 
gently squeezing his left arm.
	"Thanks, guys, for being here through everything."
	Amanda was choked up, but Jesse acknowledged, "Hey, this is 
what a family is all about."  Small grins graced everyone's faces before they 
went back in the room.

*	*	*

A few days later_
	
	Mark was being released from the hospital.  Steve had been staying 
there the whole time and hadn't even bothered going to the site of the fire.  
He'd stayed by his father's side the whole time.  They talked as if they 
were just meeting one another and Steve knew no progress was being 
made.  Amanda and Jesse had gathered up money from people at the police 
department and from hospital personnel and purchased items for the father 
and son.  Also, they collected enough money for a month's rent at a local 
apartment complex so they'd have somewhere to stay.
	"So, Mark, you ready to go home?" Steve addressed his father.  
The whole thing of being called dad and Mark had been confusing him, so 
Steve switched over to Mark for the sanity of his father.
	"I guess so," he paused before finishing his sentence to think of his 
son's name, "Steve."  Steve had tried to get used to Mark not knowing 
who he was, but each time it didn't get better, but instead the feeling in 
Steve's gut got worse.  He just kept faith that eventually all would be okay.
	"Hey, are you guys happy about leaving this place?" Jesse asked.
	"Hi, Jess, we're ready to take this one day at a time," Steve 
hesitantly answered back.
	"Well, your car was brought up here by one of the officers  the 
other day.  It's parked out front, so you can jump on in and go."
	"Thanks."  The two walked away from Jesse as he looked on.  Out 
of the doors and into the bright California sunlight they walked.  After 
getting into the car, Steve took a quick inventory of the events that had 
occurred over the past few days and then started the car.  The car ride to 
the apartment was a very long, silent ride.  Steve had no clue what to say, 
as well as Mark who looked at each building and everything surrounding 
with uncertainty in his eyes.  It was weird not being able to go home.  
Steve hoped that Mark would remember something and thought that 
maybe he would crack and say something like "where are we going," or 
"this isn't the way home," but nothing of the sort would be said.  Soon they 
pulled up to an apartment building.  It wasn't anything big or fancy, but it 
would hold them just fine for the time being.  When the apartment was 
originally rented by Amanda and Jesse for the Sloans, they told Steve that 
they would only get something small just in case something were to happen 
to Mark just because of all the stress that had been put on his body over the 
past week and with his amnesia, they warned it may end up being an 
apartment for one.
	"Here we are dad_I mean Mark," Steve quickly corrected himself.
	"I'm feeling tired.  Is it alright if I lie down?"
	"You can do anything you want, because this is where we are living 
now."  It was awkward for Steve to be saying that, but it was true and he 
need to accept that fact.  He didn't show it, but he was thinking of how he 
wanted to kill the people that did this to his father.  Steve escorted his dad 
to his room and helped him get ready for a nap, quickly he exited back into 
the living room and then stared out of the patio door window.
	The phone began to ring.  Steve snapped out of his stare out of the 
window.  He picked up the phone.
	"Hello?  Sloan residence."
	"Yes, Steve, this is Captain Bernhard."
	"Oh, hi, what do you need?"
	"Actually, we just finished our investigation of the beach house, and 
was calling to tell you that you can go to the house and try to salvage 
anything that you can find that you would like to keep.  If you want, I can 
pick you up and take you there myself."
	"I can drive myself," he said in a dry yet timid voice, "I'll talk to 
you later, Captain.  Good-bye."  Steve left to go to the beach house, 
hoping to clear his mind.

*	*	*

	The two men sat in the warehouse.  An afternoon edition of the Los 
Angeles Times lay on the table.  The headline revealed that Dr. Sloan had 
been released from the hospital.
	"Boss, what are we gonna do now?"
	"Well, as long as he has amnesia, we're in the clear.  Detective 
Sloan won't be doing anything for a long time while he's trying to protect 
his father.  He's not stupid enough to try anything else."
	"You know, his dad could remember things any time now, and 
Jake, I mean Detective Sloan will be coming after us ready to kill."
	"I hadn't really thought about it kid.  You're right.  I guess what 
we'll have to do is come up with a plan to get rid of Detective Sloan.  The 
doctor is nothing without him whether he has amnesia or not."

*	*	*

	Steve parked his car beside what was left of the beach house.  
Amazed at what the fire had done, his gaze would not leave the ashes.  He 
walked up to it and started sifting through it.  On top it appeared that 
nothing survived, but as he dug deeper he began to find things.  The first 
thing he found unhurt was his father's clarinet.
	"Who would have thought that this clarinet would have survived so 
much over the years," a slight grin appeared across his face before going 
back to seriousness.  "Hopefully he'll survive along with you."  He took the 
clarinet and laid it down in the sand.  Then he started back through.  There 
were some books, and other odds and ends that had decorated the house, 
but nothing of great sentimental value were to be found.  Eventually he 
made it to the area of where his own room had been.  Again, nothing that 
could surpass the sentimental value of the clarinet.  Just as he was about to 
give up he tripped and fell over some of the rubble.
	"Why me?!?!?" Steve asked himself as he saw that there was a little 
bit of blood trickling from a where he had cut his head.  He tried to wipe it 
off, but his eyes caught hold of what appeared to be a gold frame.    
Reaching over and brushing off some of the rubble, Steve picked it up.  
The glass to the frame had been broken, but the picture remained just fine.  
He began to cry.  It was the picture of him and his dad in front of the beach 
house that he had paused to look at before he left for the undercover job he 
was being sent out to do.  The problem was, Steve couldn't help but smile, 
though, because he remembered the day the photo was taken.  All he could 
hope for was that everything would be better.

*	*	*

	"Hey, dad, I mean Mark, sorry!" Steve greeted once he made his 
way back to the apartment.
	"Hi, Steve," Mark said in a bland voice back.  
	"Mark will you look at this picture and see if you can remember 
anything about it?"
	"I don't recognize it."
	"Come on, keep looking, there has to be something about it 
familiar!" Steve kept beckoning.
	"I'm sorry, but I don't know a thing about it."
	"You have to!" Steve screamed at him.  Mark's jaw began to shake.  
He then crossed the room to the window to look out. "Steve, can I ask you 
a question?"
	"Sure, what is it?" he said after calming and as he looked up from 
some other things he had brought back from the destroyed home.
	Mark's eyes began to water and his voice cracked as he shouted, 
"Why can't I remember anything?  Why can't I remember who I am, what 
I'm doing here, and why can't I remember who you are?!?!?"
	Steve stood and ran over to his father and held him in his arms.  
"Give it time, just give it time and things will begin to seem normal to you 
again."  Steve felt bad for blowing up at his dad now, but it felt good to 
actually be able to hug him.  "Hey, you want to go get something to eat?"
	Mark looked up at his son, and nodded.  Steve exited the apartment 
first so he could check the mail.  As Mark followed behind, he sneaked out 
the photo that Steve tried to get  him to recognize and took it with him.

*	*	*

	"Okay, they just pulled away.  I'm going into the apartment and am 
going to wait for them," Bragherty spoke over the walkie talkie.  A fuzzy 
voice awaited on the other end.
	"What are ya planning on doing?"
	"Steve is so destroyed right now, he won't be able to take me, and 
Mark has no clue who the heck he is so it really won't matter.  Look, I'll 
see you after the job is done."  Bragherty took off, broke into the 
apartment and hid waiting for the Sloans to get back.

*	*	*

	"Steve, thanks for dinner," Mark said.
	"Well, it wasn't anything much, only pizza," Steve downplayed 
everything, with a big grin on his face because of some things that were 
worked out during dinner.
	"I still appreciated it.  I think I'm going to go on a walk."
	"Just be careful and don't wander too far from here, okay?"
	"I'll be fine.  Not like I could get in any worse condition than I am 
now," Mark replied back with a small smile appearing on his face.
	Steve walked up to the apartment and Mark walked down the 
street and sat on a bench with his eyes intently set upon the photo of him 
and his son.  It was as if he remembered it, but he didn't.  Or at least he 
couldn't remember if he did know the picture or not.

*	*	*

	Steve opened the door to the apartment.  A man jumped out 
wearing some of the new clothes that had been bought for Steve.  He 
shoved the door closed and with a large knife in his hand he stood in front 
of Steve.
	"Well, well, Jake Starnes!"
	"What do you want, Bragherty?"
	"Oh, I forgot, you're not Jake, you're Detective Steve Sloan, 
LAPD.  And your father is the famous Mark Sloan.  It's terrible that he 
doesn't know who you are, isn't it?"
	"You tried to murder my father!" Steve ran at the guy and shoved 
him into the wall.  Bragherty turned and went straight back at him with the 
knife.  Steve was stabbed in the shoulder.  

*	*	*

	Amazingly enough, at the time Steve was stabbed something 
happened with Mark. He looked at the picture and touched it then felt an 
urgency that he needed to go to the apartment.  Soon, he was sprinting up 
the stairs as if he was running for his life - or his son's.

*	*	*

	Steve managed to keep the struggle up with the man.  All around 
the room they fought.  For some reason Steve's mind wandered to the 
knife as he finally recognized it had come from the kitchen at the old beach 
house.  Steve was able to get in several good punches, and even a couple 
of times make the knife cut the offender.  Bragherty had the better end 
though, and was able to stab Steve several times, but wasn't getting him 
where he could kill him.  Steve finally collapsed near the door.  The man 
walked over ready to finish him off, but with perfect timing and grace Mark 
flung the door into Bragherty and dropped the knife.  Bragherty finished 
pulling the door and pulled Mark in.  The two men struggled. 
	"Leave him alone," Mark yelled in rage.  Their fighting continued.  
Bragherty was losing control over himself, because of his weariness.  Steve 
tried to push himself up, but didn't have the strength, no matter how hard 
he tried.  Then, in the next moment when Steve looked up, in a slow 
motion Bragherty collapsed, but as he fell to the floor he was able to knock 
Mark off balance.  Mark came down quickly and smacked his head on the 
coffee table leaving him unconscious on the floor.  Steve slowly made his 
way to his father's side, taking the longest minute that he'd ever known to 
get there.  Mark's eyes fluttered open and he grabbed the coffee table to 
bring himself up.
	"Dad, I mean Mark, are you okay?" Steve asked, but the pain made 
him wince as he talked.
	Mark rubbed the spot where he'd hit his head.  "Shhh_be quiet 
and take it easy.  I'm fine.  And, don't call me Mark, you know how much 
I hate for you to call me Mark since you are my son," he said with a serious 
look on his face.  Steve forced himself up and wrapped his arms around his 
father.  Mark returned the embrace.
	"Welcome back, and thank, God, you're alright, dad."
	"Thank God for answering my prayer that you weren't killed.  Now 
lay back down.  And what do you mean about welcome back?"
	Slowly, Steve began to become groggy, but he still tried to finish 
saying what he needed to say.  "I'll explain that later.  Dad, I am so sorry I 
walked out the other day.  I love you so much and didn't mean to leave like 
that."  Steve closed his eyes and slept.
	Mark ran his hands through Steve's hair and whispered back, "I 
love you, too," before kissing him on the forehead.

*	*	*

Two weeks later_

	The sun shone as bright as ever.  Carefree as can be Detective 
Steve Sloan and Doctor Mark Sloan strolled along the beach in front of the 
beach house-or what was soon to be the beach house again.  Steve's left 
arm was held in a sling.  Mark stared down at the sand.  In front of them 
were all of the workers trying to rebuild the house.
	"Man, it's hot today," Steve shouted over all of the noise pollution 
from the machines, with sweat dripping down his face.
	Mark looked over at him.  He was having a hard time hearing 
Steve, and mistook what he had just said.  He shouted back at him, 
"Mannix, didn't shoot anyone!"
	"What about Mannix?" Steve looked at his father puzzled.
	"What did you say?"
	"Come on this way," Steve placed his right hand on Mark's back to 
guide  him further down the beach to get him away from the noise.  Finally 
they reach a place where it isn't quite so loud.
	"Now, dad, what were you saying about Mannix?"
	"You said Mannix shot today."
	"I didn't say Mannix shot today, I said_," he stopped himself and 
began to laugh.  "Nevermind." Mark started to laugh too, realizing that 
there had just been a terrible mix-up.  Suddenly he turned serious.
	"Did I really not remember anything?"
	Steve looked down at the ground, "No, sir, you didn't.  You had no 
clue where you were, what was going on, or who anyone was."
	"I didn't even remember you?" Mark looked over at his son.
	Steve raised  his head and looked into the sky.  He took a deep 
breath then answered in a shaky voice by saying, "No, not even me."
	"Oh, Steve, I am so, so sorry.  I can't believe that I would be able 
to forget the most important thing in my life.  How could I forget you!"  A 
tear left a trail down his cheek.  Steve wiped it from his face.
	"Not your fault," he said trying to lighten things up, "I could 
understand you not remembering me, because there are times I don't want 
to remember things in my life myself," he finished with a smile on his face.
	Mark shook his head, "I still don't remember everything.  Sort of 
like when you started the whole "I love you" thing at the apartment.  It was 
so uncharacteristic of you, or of what I at least remember."
	"Before the whole incident where you did lose your memory, you 
and I were in a very large fight about the case I would be working on.  I 
walked out without saying bye to you and you wouldn't speak to me.  I 
regretted it so badly, that I came back to apologize and that's when I found 
the house on fire."
	"You could have died," Mark said very solemnly, "Thank you 
and_and_and I love you so much Steve!"  He grabbed his son.  Steve 
held on as tightly as he could to his dad.
	"I love you, just as much, dad."  Letting go of the embrace, Mark 
walked up close enough to the ocean to have his feet barely in it.  Looking 
out he realized how special "home" was to him.  Steve stood about a foot 
diagonally behind him.
	Mark finally broke the sweet silence.  "If you didn't say Mannix 
shot today, what on earth did you say?"
	Steve looked at his father and just laughed.