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Beach Rescue

Episode 24 written by Allison
Original air date: ?

Disclaimer: The characters in the following fan fiction do not belong to me. They belong to CBS and Viacom and other powers that be. I am only using them for the purpose ofwriting this story. No money is being made from this writing it is for entertainment purposes only. And now on with the show...

The sun beat down on the golden Malibu sand as Lieutenant Steve Sloan of the LAPD jogged along the beach. His face glistened with sweat and he decided he'd turn for home when he reached the break-water four hundred yards further up the beach.

But as he approached the start of the rocky outcrop he heard a woman's piercing scream and looking out towards the sun-dazzled water he saw a woman on the deck of a small cruiser, waving her arms distraughtly and calling out. She was pointing into the water and shouting: "Someone please help. My little girl is in the water. She can't swim!"

Steve lowered his eyes to the surface of the water and adjusting his vision to the sun glinting on the surface spotted two small arms flailing in the surf. Stopping only to kick off his shoes Steve ran into the waves and dove into the water, swimming powerfully towards the little figure.

Despite his swimming abilities by the time he reached the child she had drifted beyond the breakwater to where the waves were stronger and untamed.

Reaching out he shouted: "I've got you, you're going to be ok". He grabbed the child round the waist and held her tightly. The little girl looked at him with wide, frightened eyes and he tried to smile reassuringly despite the water washing over them.

Holding firmly to her he felt them both being driving by the current towards the black, jagged rocks of the breakwater. Hearing voices he realised that a crowd was watching the drama unfold from the walkway on top of the rocks.

Suddenly a huge wave pounded against his body, propelling him the last few feet to the rocks. Instinctively he turned his body so his back was between the rocks and the child and cried out as he was thrown against the unrelenting stones.

As the waves pulled them seaward again he felt them both being sucked under and kicked hard with his legs to get their heads above water again. A second wave caught them and again he crashed into the rocks, pain stabbing through his arm and side as he twisted to keep the girl's head away from the sharp outcrops.

Scrabbling with his feet he managed to catch hold of a foothold under the water and gingerly climbed up with the aid of the pushing waves. Hands were reaching down from above but he knew if he turned too soon and was pushed forward the child would be hurt. Again he let the tortuous waves push his torn body against the rocks, scrabbling to move as far up as possible and then turning at the last moment to heave the child up to the rescuing hands.

Mercifully they caught her and the weight was taken from his arms as he fell once again onto the rocks. His chest ached as he fought for breath, salt water gagging him as he inhaled. Shouts from above encouraged him to save himself and taking a breath he scrabbled up the rocks again as hands reached out and grabbed him from the punishing waters.

He dropped to his knees on top of the breakwater, fighting for breath. Water dripped from him onto the concrete, turning red where blood from his wounds mixed with it. Someone dropped a beach towel over him and pulling his legs under himself he sat on the ground and looked around him. The little girl was being carried along the pathway and he could hear her crying which was a good sign since it meant she had more breath than him right now. As the adrenaline that had surged through him, enabling him to complete the rescue, rapidly dissipated from his body, he drew up his knees and putting his arms on top of them lay his head down.

Dr Mark Sloan was sitting on the deck of his beach-house reading a medical journal and sipping iced-tea when local beachboy Mickey ran breathlessly into the yard and yelled: "You gotta help doc! A kid's fallen into the sea."

"Good Lord Mickey!" exclaimed Mark. "Let me get my bag and I'll come with you."

Grabbing his black medical bag he hurried after the boy, arriving on the breakwater as a group of men carried the little girl to her waiting mother. Her mother scooped her child into her arms and held her tight. Dr Sloan knelt beside them. "I'm a doctor ma'am - would you like me to take a look at her?"

The mother looked at him and nodded gratefully, gently prising the little girl's arms from her neck and turning her to face Mark.

"Hello there" he smiled. "I hear you've been having an adventure."

The little girl thought this man had a funny face when he smiled and she stopped crying and nodded shyly. Mark opened his bag and pulled out his stethoscope. "You know what this is?" he asked. "This is to listen to your heart and your breathing. Want to hear?"

Again there was a shy nod. He reached out and put the stethoscope on the child and held the listening end against his own chest. Her face lit up with wonder and she laughed. He laughed with her and taking the scope back put it on properly and said: "Now that was my old heart, let's hear what yours is doing."

He gently sounded the girl's chest and back, listening to her steady heartbeat and alert for any rasping or gurgling from her lungs. She was clear. Taking the scope off he took her hand and asked: "Do you hurt anywhere dear?" The little girl shook her head. Her mother smiled gratefully at him. "The poor man who saved her put his body between her and the rocks to stop her being hurt. He was so brave. I'd like to thank him."

Mark nodded. "I can understand that but I think you'd be best to get the little one down to Community General for a proper check over. I'm sure you can thank him later."

"Yes, yes of course," she said. "Thank you so much doctor."

"You're welcome" said Mark as she walked off holding the little girl's hand.

As he watched her go a hand touched his shoulder and he turned to see one of the lifeguards from the beach. "You'd better take a look at her rescuer Mark," he said. "He took quite a beating on the rocks."

"Oh, right Joe," said Mark, straightening up and making to head down the breakwater. The lifeguard restrained him for a moment with a hand on his arm. "Mark, you ought to know...."

Mark stopped, surprised. "Know what Joe?"

The lifeguard grimaced. "The rescuer is Steve!"

"Wha....?" Mark gasped. He looked along the concrete strip to where he could see someone sitting on the ground surrounded by concerned onlookers. He rushed along till he reached the group which parted as he approached.

Steve was sitting on the ground, his knees drawn up and his head on his forearms. A towel was draped over him.

"Steve"" called Mark, kneeling in front on his son. "Are you alright?"

Steve slowly raised his head and focussed on his father's worried face. "I'm sore dad, just sore and I'd like to go home."

Mark reached out to move the towel but his son's strong hands pulled it tighter. "You have to let me check you over son" Mark said.

"Yea, later," grunted Steve. "Just take me home dad."

Mark knew better than to argue with his stubborn son and sighed. "OK, but I look you over as soon as we get there."

Joe the lifeguard helped Steve to his feet and Mark saw from the stiff set of Steve's jaw that he was trying to hide his pain. Slowly they made their way back to the beachhouse, a concerned group of friends from the beach accompanying them to their gate. Mark followed his son into his downstairs apartment and Steve turned in the hallway and said: "Give me a minute to change Dad."

Mark shook his head. "No way. You can live a little longer in wet shorts. Into the bedroom, I want to check you out now!"

Steve's shoulders sagged and he turned and trudged into his room.

"Right" said Mark, "Lie down and let me see the damage."

Steve sat gingerly on the bed and pulling his legs up slowly lay down, sucking in his breath and closing his eyes as he made contact with the sheets. He heard his father gasp and looked up. Mark was staring at Steve's right arm and side where the towel had fallen off. His jogging vest was ripped and bloodstained, his bare arm torn and bleeding.

Opening his medical bag he pulled out a pair of scissors. Steve's eyes opened wide. "Dad, what're you going to do?"

Mark smiled. "Relax. I'm just going to cut your vest off. There's no way you can wear that thing again."

Steve closed his eyes as his father clipped at the shirt. When he was finished Mark said: "Right son, think you can roll over till I examine your back?"

"Hmmm" said Steve, gritting his teeth as he rolled onto his stomach.

Mark gently eased the cut shirt from his son's body and gasped at the sight that met him. "Oh Steve, your back's cut to shreds." He reached out and gently probed his son's back. Steve moaned with each touch. "You ve got a couple of cracked ribs that I can feel son," said Mark. "You know that little girl's mom told me what you did - how you put your body between her and the rocks to protect her. That was such a brave thing to do. I'm really proud of you son."

From somewhere in the pillow Steve's muffled voice said: "Thanks Dad."

Mark sat down on the bed beside his son and pulling out his cellphone started to punch the buttons. Steve's head came round sharply. "What're you doing?"

Mark looked wearily at his son, knowing how he was going to respond. "I'm calling an ambulance to take you to the hospital."

Steve struggled onto his good elbow. "No way Dad. Just stick a dressing on it. I'll be fine."

Mark paused, his finger hovering above his phone. "Steve, this is too serious for me to deal with here at home. You need proper medical attention."

Steve's lowered his head as if his neck wasn't strong enough to support it then looked up again. "Then take me in your car Dad."

Mark sympathised with his stubborn son but didn't give in. "You're still bleeding badly. Have you any idea what that would do to my car's upholstery."

"Dad!" yelled Steve.

Mark laughed softly. "Apart from that sitting in a car, leaning against these wounds would put too much pressure on them. You've put up your usual good fight now shut up."

With that he turned back to his phone and completed the call. When the paramedics arrived Mark showed them into Steve's room and one of them knelt beside him and said: "OK Steve, we're just going to move you over to the stretcher."

Steve huffed and forced himself to sit up. "I don't need to be carried," he said angrily, pushing himself off the bed to a standing position. Immediately a wave of dizziness swept over him and he swayed as he fought to keep his balance. The two paramedics caught him and as they lowered him onto the stretcher his father leaned over and said: "Stick to policing son. Leave doctoring to me."

With that he turned to the medics and said: "Probably best to transport him three-quarters prone, that way he won't be putting too much pressure on the wounds."

The medics agreed and moved Steve into a position where he was partially lying on his abdomen. Mark pulled a pillow off the bed and gently slid it under his body to give added support then the medics covered the bleeding wounds with field dressings before moving him out to the ambulance.

Dr Jesse Travis was waiting for them when they arrived and ordered Steve to be taken into a Trauma room while he paused briefly to get information from the paramedics and Mark about his condition.

"My God Steve, what does the other guy look like?~ Jesse joked as he approached his friend.

Steve grunted. "The other guy was the ocean so I was never likely to win."

Jesse peeled the field dressings off and grimaced at the ragged tears in Steve's back. "From what I hear you may not have won but a little girl did. That was a pretty amazing thing you did out there buddy."

"Mmm" said Steve. "Remind me of that about three o'clock tomorrow morning when I'm screaming for pain relief."

Jesse sighed. "I know pal. But pain relief I can do right now." He turned to a nurse and ordered the medication then returned to examining his friend.

X-rays revealed Steve had two broken ribs and deep lacerations that needed suturing on his back, arm and side. Despite his demands to be treated and sent home Jesse insisted he spend one night in the hospital. "You've got broken bones, horrendous cuts and you're in shock. There's no way your going home tonight Steve," he said.

Feeling himself being sucked into the system and having little energy left to fight it Steve gave in and allowed himself to be admitted, bandaged and wheeled to a hospital room.

It was early evening when he was wakened by the sound of his door opening. His father stepped into the room and smiling affectionately came to the side of his bed and asked: "How you feeling son?"

Steve grimaced. "Like I was hit by a train," he growled.

Mark patted his arm sympathetically then said: "You up to having a couple of visitors?"

Steve looked up expectantly. "Visitors - who?"

Mark smiled. "Let me show you."

He walked over and opened the door, motioning whoever was outside to come in. The woman from the beach walked in, holding the hand of the little girl he had rescued. Despite his pain he smiled, glad to see she was well.

His father ushered the two over to the bedside and said: "Steve, this is Marcy Graham and her mom Alicia."

Alicia Graham reached down and took hold of Steve's good hand. "I want to thank you for everything you did today. You saved Marcy's life while all I could do was stand there helpless. I can never repay you."

Steve gripped her hand and smiled. "You don't have to. I did what had to be done. I'm just glad it worked out."

Marcy put her small hand on his arm and patted him gently. "Thank you Mr Sloan" she said in a quiet voice.

Extricating his hand from Alicia's he reached out and stroked the little girl's cheek. "You're very welcome. And call me Steve."

His father cleared his throat and Steve looked over at him. "Steve, there's one more visitor here who'd like to see you. A photographer from the local paper. They're writing a story about your heroic rescue and have asked for a picture of you with Marcy and Alicia to go along with it."

"Aw Dad," Steve grimaced. "I don't think so."

"Oh please," begged Marcy, gripping his arm again.

He looked at the little face, eyes pleading with him and his heart melted. "Oh alright then, if you insist."

After the picture was taken Alicia and Marcy sat with Steve for a while and talked. He finally got round to asking how Marcy had ended up in the water and saw Alicia's eyes grow dark.

Tossing her blonde hair back from her face she said: "Our boat was deliberately rammed! And it was obviously timed to coincide with Marcy being at the edge of the deck."

"What!" exclaimed Steve. "You mean someone did this on purpose? Do you know who it was?"

Marcy looked up at him, tears in her eyes and said quietly: "It was Daddy."

Steve was confused and looked to Alicia for an explanation. She swallowed hard and said: "My husband and I are divorced. I got everything in the settlement, including Marcy. We were divorced because of his....indiscretions." She paused and looked at Steve to see if he understood. He nodded. She continued: "It started with him being in the wrong but as time went by he twisted the whole thing round and in his mind it became all my fault that his marriage had been destroyed. He swore he'd destroy everything I had in return. Two weeks ago there was a fire at our house. We managed to catch it in time and only one room was damaged. But I'm sure it was him. Then today I actually saw him steering the speedboat as it sped away after the crash. I don't know what to do. He's turned into a maniac."

She stopped and lowered her eyes to her lap, sobbing quietly. Steve reached out and brushed the hair back from her face, realising suddenly that it was a very beautiful face and said: "Have you told the police?"

She looked up and shook her head. "There was no point. It would only be my word against his and what use is the word of a spurned wife?"

He sighed. "Well one thing's for sure. You can't stay on your own till this is sorted out."

He looked over at his father, sitting in a corner of the room and an unspoken agreement flitted between them. Steve reached out and took Alicia's hand. "Why don't you come and stay with us at the beachhouse for a week or so till we do some digging into this?"

"Oh I can't impose like that!" gasped Alicia, looking round at Steve's father. Mark Sloan smiled warmly. "You are both more than welcome my dear. We love having house guests and it'll be a joy to have a child around the house again. Why don't you come home with me tonight and then when this big lunk gets out of here tomorrow you can go round to your house and collect some things?"

That agreed Mark and the girls left the room, saying their goodbyes to Steve as they went. Steve lay back on his pillow, smiling to himself. His dad might be looking forward to having a child about the house but he was looking forward to having an attractive divorcee there. With that thought he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

At a beach-bar in nearby Santa Monica a man sat down with a cup of coffee and flicked open the newspaper he had been carrying folded under his arm. He was about to put his cup to his lips when he saw the picture on the downpage lead and the headline above it: LAPD Cop Saves Child from Drowning Horror. He stared at the picture of the injured man sitting up in a hospital bed with the child and her mother beside him. Putting his cup down with a force that splashed coffee onto the table he growled to himself: "Bitch! I'll get you next time."

Steve was released from hospital late the next morning and when he walked into the beach-house with his father he gasped at the delicious aroma of cooking in the air. "Something smells good" he said appreciatively, heading into the living room.

Hearing their arrival Alicia came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel and came straight over to Steve and grasped his hand. "I am so happy to see you on your feet again. How are you feeling?"

Steve grinned. "Oh a little sore, but I'll be alright."

A movement at the kitchen door caught his eye and he looked up in time to see half a little face staring from the other room. He laughed: "Hiya half-pint, how you doing?"

The whole face appeared and Marcy came shyly into the room, smiling at Steve. "I'm very well thank you." She said quietly.

Steve walked over to her and ruffled her hair. "And a whole lot drier than you were yesterday huh?"

She laughed and blushed and Mark said under his breath to Alicia: "I think Steve's got an admirer."

Alicia laughed too and taking Steve by the arm said: "We've been busy preparing a special meal to welcome you home so out you come and sit."

She led him onto the deck and he exclaimed when he saw one of the deck chairs had been padded up with soft cushions for him. He allowed her to help him into the seat, smiling at her in thanks.

Mark, watching from the door, thought to himself: "I think Steve's got another admirer too," and grinned to himself.

The meal Alicia had prepared was enjoyed by everyone and when it was finished Steve said: "Alicia, why don't I take you over to your place to pick up some things?"

She frowned. "Steve, are you up to driving?"

"Yea, I've got to do it sometime" he said. "Marcy can stay here and play with Dad if you like. The two of them are about ages with each other."

Mark made a face at his son then said to Alicia: "I'd be happy to look after Marcy. But you two be careful."

"We will Dad" said Steve standing and heading into the house with Alicia to get the keys to his truck.

Alicia let them into her apartment and quickly packed two cases with clothes and essentials. When she was ready to leave Steve took one of the cases, unable to carry the other because of the injury to his arm.

As they stowed the luggage in the truck the driver of a car parked nearby watched attentively. As Steve's truck pulled away he put his car in drive and followed at a distance. When they finally arrived at the beachhouse the driver stopped across the street and watched as Steve and Alicia pulled out the luggage and headed into the house. He snarled to himself: "What's this Alicia - shacking up with a cop now. I don't think so."

There was no sign of Mark or Marcy when the pair got into the house and Steve assumed they were out on the beach somewhere. He followed Alicia into the guest bedroom and grunted as a pain shot through his back as he dropped the case he was carrying onto the bed. Alicia was immediately beside him, her hand on his arm, concern on her face. "Steve are you alright?"

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "Yea, yea, I'm fine. Just forgot for a minute I couldn't move as fast as I used to."

As he finished the sentence he realised they were standing very close together and the look of concern on her face had turned to something else. Reaching out with his good arm he put his hand behind her neck and pulled her face towards his, opening his lips to meet hers as they melted into a kiss. The need for air finally forced them to separate, but he didn't take his hand away from her neck. Instead he said huskily: "I enjoyed that. Can we do it again?"

"Oh yes," she sighed, her lips parting to meet his again. It was only when he began to feel a deeper sense of passion sweep over him that Steve thought he'd better break things up and pulling out of the kiss he said breathlessly: "Maybe we'd better stop there for now before we forget where we are."

Her cheeks were flushed and she nodded. "I agree, just so long as you take up where we left off later."

Just then he heard the voices of his father and Marcy and smiling at her said quietly: "You got it." And headed out to the living room.

Mark noted the direction Steve had arrived from and the colour in his cheeks and smiled to himself. "Everything go alright back at the house?" he asked.

Steve nodded. "Yea Dad, no problems. Didn't see anyone else whole time we were there."

Noting his father's amused look he flushed slightly and pointing to the guest bedroom stuttered: "I was just helping Alicia with her cases."

Mark patted his son's arm. "Sure you were." He said, his moustache twitching.

Steve felt the flush travel up his neck to his face. Damn, he was a grown man and his father could still make him feel like a schoolboy. He turned away and walked out to the deck to watch the ocean.

Later that night when Marcy was asleep in bed and Mark was engrossed in one of his journals Alicia and Steve walked out onto the beach, she with her arm looped companionably through his. After a while they reached the water's edge and Steve turned to face her, reaching out with one hand to stroke her cheek. "It's later" he said quietly, alluding to their earlier conversation.

"I know" she said seductively, reaching up to put her arms round his neck and gently pressing her lips against his. Without interruption this time the kiss went on for minutes, his lips moving from hers to trace down her neck before returning. Finally breaking away he said almost in a whisper: "You don't have to stay in the guest bedroom you know."

She smiled. "I know that Steve and I'm flattered but you have to be honest with yourself. You're not well enough to exert yourself right now."

He laughed at the marvellous way she put it. "I guess you're right," he said, then putting his arm round her shoulder added: "But when I am you'll be the first to know."

It was her turn to laugh but the sound died in her throat as a shot rang out and Steve dropped to the sand at her feet. "Oh my God!" she cried, falling to her knees beside him.

"Steve, Steve, can you hear me."

A groan came from the figure huddled on the beach then his voice spoke, husky and filled with pain: "Keep down Alicia, keep low. I'm hit but I don't know how badly."

She heard the whisper of the waves as they rolled onto the beach and looking round saw the lights of the Sloan's beachhouse several hundred yards away. Then the shadows moved and a figure stepped out of the gloom, feet away from her, and she saw the pale moonlight glint on the blued metal of a gun in his hand.

"Peter!" she gasped. "What have you done?"

"Is he dead?" the man asked. She shook her head. "Pity!" he said. "But I wasn't aiming for him, it was you I meant to shoot."

He walked over and kicked Steve roughly in the back. "You, loverboy, get up!" he ordered.

Steve moaned and pulled himself onto his knees. Alicia put his arm round her shoulder and helped him stand. She could hear his rasping breath and said: "Steve, is it bad?"

Her ex-husband shouted: "Never mind that. Get moving. Back to the house."

With that he gestured towards the beach-house and they started to slowly move towards it.

Mark heard the upstairs door opening, which surprised him a little since he half expected Steve to take Alicia to his apartment. Putting down his book he stood to greet them as they walked into the living room then gasped in horror at the tableau before him.

Alicia was supporting Steve whose shirt front was covered in blood. Beside them stood a wild-eyed man with a gun in his hand.

"Oh my God Steve!" he yelled and rushed to support his son, concerned eyes turned to Alicia for an explanation.

"He's been shot Mark" she said. "My ex-husband did it."

She and Mark both glanced at the gunman for a second before moving together to help Steve down onto the couch. Steve's face was deathly pale and half his shirt was red with blood. Mark looked at Alicia and said: "Alicia get my medical bag from my bedroom please and some towels."

"No-one's going anywhere," growled the gunman.

Mark looked at him with deep concern in his eyes: "For pity sake man. He needs attention. Do you want to add murder to what you've already done?"

The gunman sneered. "I'm planning to add murder to it," he confided. Then gesturing with the gun he said: "OK, go get the bag." Then as she brushed past him he grabbed Alicia's arm and snarled: "If you try to escape I'll kill them both, understand."

She nodded and hurried out of the room, returning seconds later with Mark's bag and towels.

Mark pulled open Steve's shirt and wiped blood from his chest, glancing up at his son's face to check his condition. Steve's eyes were closed and his breathing was ragged. "Steve, Steve, stay with me son!" he said, patting him lightly on the cheek. "Come on son, you've got to stay awake."

Steve moaned and opened his blue eyes, wanting to do what his father asked but feeling oh so tired. He focused on his father's face and rasped: "Need a drink Dad. Why don't we all have a drink."

Mark was taken aback. "Steve, are you alright," he said, "you're not making sense."

Steve nodded: "Just some water Dad but the rest of you should maybe have something stronger to steady you. Remember that nice bottle of Ket you were keeping for a special occasion."

Mark finally clicked and smiled: "Oh yea, I'd forgotten about that. Don't worry about that just now son, let's just get you patched up."

But the gunman had heard the exchange and said: "What's he talking about? You got a bottle of something stashed away? Why don't you open it. He's right, we could do with something to help us relax."

Hidden from view Mark felt Steve's hand squeeze his own and looking down at his son said: "Just lay quiet for a moment Steve and I'll get it. Let me just get a dressing out of my bag first. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a field dressing and tearing it's sterile packaging open laid it over the wound on Steve's chest. Then he rose stiffly and said to the gunman. "Don't panic, I'm only going to the cabinet over here OK."

The gunman nodded. "OK, but stay where I can see you."

Mark opened the drinks cabinet and unscrewed a bottle of Scotch he'd been keeping for no other reason than neither Steve nor himself were particularly fond of whisky. Nevertheless he poured three glasses of the amber liquid, then a small glass of water from the mini-fridge in the cabinet for Steve. Hurrying back to the couch he handed Steve the water and one of the whiskies to Alicia. Then he returned for the other two and handed one to the gunman who snatched it and drained the glass in one swallow, gasping as the alcohol burned his throat. He laughed: "That's better."
Then he looked round: "So is nobody else drinking?"

Alicia took a sip of the liquid and coughed as she swallowed. Mark pretended to drink from his glass then put it down and turned to help Steve take a sip of water. There was a thud behind him and Alicia gasped. Mark looked at Steve and smiled before turning round. Peter was lying out cold on the floor. He hurried over and took the gun away, handing it to Steve, who even injured, was better with the firearm than he would have been.

Just then Marcy wandered into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I heard a noise mom," she said, then stared at the figure on the floor. "Why's daddy sleeping on the floor?" she asked.

Mark grinned at her. "Because Uncle Steve is so clever," he said.

Alicia looked from one to the other of them. "I don't understand what just happened" she said.

Mark smiled: "When Steve said I had a special bottle of Ket stashed away he wasn't talking about whisky. He meant I had a bottle of Ketamine in my medical bag. It's a sedative. I just poured it into Peter's drink and waited for it to take effect, which happened a lot quicker than I expected because he guzzled the whole lot down at once. Now, if you'll excuse me I've a son to get to hospital."

"Aw Dad" came the groan from the couch.

Next morning Alicia gently opened the door to Steve's hospital room. He was lying asleep and she frowned as she saw the drip attached to his arm. In a chair nearby Steve's father was snoring quietly and grunted awake as he sensed someone in the room. Focusing on Alicia he smiled: "Hi there. Come sit."

She perched on the bottom of the bed and studied Steve's face for signs of discomfort. Mark Sloan smiled as he saw her concern for his son and said quietly: "He's going to be alright you know. The bullet lodged in muscle tissue. He'll be sore for a while but he'll survive."

She looked over at the doctor. "He's been through so much for Marcy and me. I can't believe how much he's suffered because of us."

"I'd do it again if it meant you were alright," a hoarse voice said from the bed.

She gasped: "Steve, you're awake."

He smiled that beautiful Sloan smile he shared with his father. "I haven't talked in my sleep since I was a kid." He looked round. "Talking of kids, where's half-pint?"

Alicia's heart leapt at his use of the silly nickname. "Marcy's sleeping in the doctors lounge. Everyone's spoiling her rotten."

Steve laid his head back on his pillow and said: "Quite right too."

A week later Steve was discharged from hospital. He was sitting on the deck watching the ocean and wishing he could be out there with the surfers. But he knew he'd have to wait a while yet and winced at the thought of what the salt water would do to his wounds.

His dad came out of the house carrying a jug of iced tea and pouring Steve a glass asked: "You feeling ok out here?"

Steve sighed. "I feel great dad - just wish I could be out there" he said gesturing towards the waves.

Mark sat down and laughed. "I don't know what your hurry is. Look what happened last time you were in the ocean."

"He saved a life, that's what," said a voice from the top of the stairs. Steve looked up and smiled: "Alicia, how're you doing?"

Alicia came onto the deck, followed by Marcy and hugged Mark before going round and kissing Steve. "We're doing just fine. We're settled back home and it's so good to know we're safe at last - thanks to you."

Steve moved his head to look round Alicia to Marcy. "Hey half-pint. Don't I get a hug?"

Mark and Alicia laughed with delight as Marcy rushed over to Steve and threw her arms round his neck. He grimaced as her small body pressed against the bullet wound in his chest, but nevertheless put his arms round her and enveloped her in a bear-hug. Then pulling her back slightly so he could see her face he said: "You are the best fish I've ever pulled out of the sea!"

She grinned happily and planted a huge kiss on his cheek.

Holding her with one arm he reached and took Alicia's hand in his. "I wish you were still staying here, now that you don't have to hide from anyone," he said.

She smiled seductively and said quietly; "I'm ready to work on that plan if you are."

He squeezed her fingers and raising his eyebrows smiled knowingly at his dad who raised his eyes skywards in a "here we go again" look.

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