Hey, everyone. I'm trying to finish Beyond Routine so it'll be done. So, a few things in here will be spoilers for the end of that.

Anyway, here's a new story! I don't own DM, but I do own Stacy, Kate, Julie, and Annie the dog. I've been planning and working on this story for a few years now, but I've wrestled back and forth with part of the plot, that's why it took so long! I really hope you'll like it. Oh, and someone we all know and love from the first two seasons will be making his appearance! Can you guess who?

Please leave feedback! Thank you. This story takes place at Season 7. Stacy is a reporter, and Kat is a social worker, though she is also working at becoming a hair stylist.

Steve Sloan had just payed for gasoline at the pump when his phone rang. "Hello? Sloan here." Steve answered his phone. "Where? How long ago? Yeah, all right. I'm on my way." Steve said and left.

"I'm glad we didn't wait to eat." Amanda said, biting into her food.

"Oh, me too!" Kat panted. "I'm starving!" The Sloans plus Jesse and Amanda were eating together at BBQ Bob's tonight, along with CJ and Dion but Kat had been late and Steve had called earlier to inform them that something had come up.

"CJ? You really gonna eat all that?" Jesse teased, eying his middle namesake's filled plate of appetizing food.

"Yeah!" CJ retorted. "I'm gonna eat all that!"

"Where are you gonna pack it all, I wonder?" Mark smiled.

"Hey, I'm a growing boy." CJ cocked his head. Everyone laughed and Amanda patted his head.

"You eat all that, where are you gonna have room for dessert?" Stacy asked.

"I'll make room." CJ announced proudly, earning more laughs.

"Momma, can I have dibs on Uncle Steve's dinner, if I want seconds?" Dion asked. Mark cringed.

"We'll see." Amanda smirked.

"I wonder what Dad got pulled into this time." Stacy remarked.

"No telling." Mark shrugged.

"Ahem, copper approaching at six o'clock." Jesse said under his breath. Everyone looked up as Steve came to their table.

"Sorry, I'm late." He groaned, taking his seat. "Did you, uh, save my order, I hope?"

"Right here." Kat said, handing him his plate in one hand and eating with her fork in the other.

"Thanks, hon." Steve said, hungrily gazing into his dinner.

"Well, I guess this means you'll both have room for dessert." Jesse told CJ and Dion.

"So, Steve? What came up that delayed you?" Mark asked and everyone eagerly listened.

"Mph." Steve grunted, trying to swallow his bite of food. "Dad, do you remember a Joe Slighter?" Mark furrowed his brows.

"That last name sounds very familiar." Kat said.

"Joe Slighter...Joe Slighter," Mark said to himself. "Doesn't he who work for Marley's Furnishings?"

"The very one." Steve nodded.

"Now, I remember him!" Mark smiled in recognition. "He came into the ER two years ago."

"Yeah, came in with a hand injury." Jesse added. "He drilled his hand and had to have stitches."

"Right, and he also made some planks for me so I could get outdoors a month later when I had that roller skating accident." Mark said sheepishly. "Said he was trying to return a favor."

"And his wife made cookies too." Stacy said.

"Wasn't he the chairman of Bartell Industries before?" Amanda asked.

"Oh, yes. Very big money man before things went under." Mark agreed.

"Till his business went bankrupt." Jesse added.

"Well, that was not Joe's fault." Mark said defensively. "He was trying to do business the honest way, and he did everything he could to save that company and his workers' jobs. But it just didn't pay off in the end. Wasn't enough to save the industry."

"Yeah. Anyway, he was attacked tonight in his own home." Steve said.

"Is he all right?" Mark asked in alarm.

"Yeah, a knife wound. He was slashed on the arm. Alex says he'll be all right, but the attacker got away." Steve grumbled.

"What do you think he was after?" Kat asked.

"Was it a robbery?" Amanda asked.

"That's what he said it was." Steve replied. "Says a guy in a mask came in and started demanding where the money was. When Joe kept refusing to tell, the guy became berserk and went for him. Fortunately, a neighbor heard the commotion and burst inside scaring off the attacker before he had a chance to do more than just a flesh wound. Neighbor called for help, and that's where I came in."

"What about his wife and daughter?" Mark asked worriedly. "Are they all right?"

"Yeah, they're fine." Steve answered. "Thankfully, they weren't there when it happened."

"You have any idea what money he was talking about?" Mark asked.

"Well, when I asked him about that, Mr. Slighter said that he'd rather not tell me." Steve shook his head.

"That doesn't sound good." Stacy stated.

"No." Jesse agreed.

"That doesn't sound like Joe." Mark shook his head. "From what I can remember, he seemed like a very hard-working, up-standing, family man."

"Maybe if you saw where he lived, you'd think differently." Steve said. "You know, he hasn't been the most popular guy in town since his company shut down."

"Except in the gossip columns." Kat remarked.

"I'd like to have a talk with Joe." Mark said with a grim look on his face. "I just can't believe that someone like him would be involved in anything wrong."

"I'll drive you over there when we're finished eating if you'd like." Steve offered.

"I would." Mark said firmly.

"Can I go with you guys?" Stacy asked.

"You looking for an interview or just mere curiosity?" Steve teased. His oldest daughter Stacy was an investigative journalist for The Los Angeles Times.

"Maybe both." Stacy said. "May I come too?"

"I suppose," Steve shrugged, "though I don't think you'll find anything intriguing."

"How about just for the ride?" Stacy smiled.

While Kat, Jesse, Amanda, and her boys enjoyed the rest of their evening together, Steve drove his father and daughter to Joe Slighter's place. Mark's face grew solemn when Steve turned onto 8th Street. It was a dirty alley between old businesses and in the rougher, more unpleasant part of town. Mark grimaced sadly. "This is where Joe's been staying?" He asked, not wanting to believe what he was seeing.

"Apparently." Steve groaned.

"How sad." Stacy sighed, thinking of the Sloans' large, beautiful, roomy, and clean beach house. She felt a warm sense of gratefulness for her blessings.

"Last I remembered, Joe and his family lived in a house." Mark interjected. "I made a house call to follow up on his stitches."

"Things have changed, Dad." Steve said grimly then pulled the car to a stop in front of a dismal, run down shack adjacent to one of the older brick buildings. Steve turned off the motor. "Well, we're here." He said.

Mark and Stacy both stared unhappily at the structure. "I just can't imagine Joe and his family living in a place like this." Mark said.

"No." Stacy sighed, debating whether she had the nerve to go inside or not. It certainly didn't look inviting. The place smelled like cigarettes and wet asphalt. Mark and Stacy followed Steve to the rustic door. Steve knocked.

"Joe Slighter?" Steve called. "It's Lt. Sloan. Remember, we met at the hospital? I brought someone here to see you." The door opened and a middle-aged man with a bandage on his arm appeared.

"Lt." Joe Slighter said. "What brings you back here? The police were here already."

"I know, but I brought a couple visitors." Steve said. "Your remember my father, Dr. Mark Sloan?"

"Of course, I do." Joe smiled and reached out his hand. "You're the only doctor I know of who's ever become a patient playing around in his own workplace."

"Joe, is that you?" Mark asked, shaking his hand.

"Yes, Doc." Joe nodded.

"And this is my daughter, Stacy." Steve said. "Well, my oldest one anyway."

"Well, hello there, Miss." Joe smiled widely.

"Hi." Stacy smiled nervously.

"Won't you come in?" Joe asked and they all followed him inside. To their surprise, the inside of Joe's dwelling was much more welcoming than the outside. It was clean with very sparse, simple furnishings, but they were there: a small table with a single chair, a very simplistic lamp table with a small lamp on it, a broken down sofa, and an ancient stove, fridge, and sink. There was a tiny hallway with two rooms, a bathroom and a puny bedroom where Stacy and Mark could see a cot on the floor. The place was livable, yet looked so lonely. Joe Slighter had certainly made it his home, yet there was still something too singular about it. It was missing something. "As you can see, Dr. Sloan, I've kind of been slumming it for a while." Joe sighed.

Mark stared unhappily at the man. He had changed so much from three years ago. His ragged clothes made him look homeless, his face was worn with more lines of wear and care than Mark had last remembered or cared to count, and he looked beaten against the wind. The drastic change in this life-filled man startled Mark. "What happened to you, Joe?" Mark asked. "What about your wife and child?"

Joe gazed at the older doctor solemnly. "We're not living together right now." He answered. "Not till I can afford it. I've been living here for the passed two and a half years."

Two and a half years, in this place? Stacy cringed in thought.

"Would you like to tell us what happened?" Mark prodded.

Joe hesitated, then spoke. "Jane and Minnie are living with my sister right now, and I'm sending her money for their room and board." He explained. "I've still got my job, Doc, but it wasn't enough to keep us from hard times. Actually, the whole thing is really my fault."

"Your fault?" Mark furrowed his brows.

"Yeah. It all started when I lent my brother Bill thirty grand of our hard-earned money. That was right after I lost my company. He said he was in trouble again, and if I didn't give him the money, someone was gonna kill him." Joe said dryly. "Jane told me it was a big mistake, but my brother insisted that his life depended on it. I gave him the cash and he left. I've never heard back from him since.

'Almost two years ago, we'd run into some tight months with money. I was working only part-time, and my wife was laid off of her job, not to mention I'd lost all sense of social stature according to the public when I had to lay off my workers. We were barely making ends meet. Then we almost lost Minnie.'" As he said this, their eyes were diverted to a small photo frame on the lamp stand. It had a picture of Joe with his wife and daughter, and they looked so happy. "She was in a major car accident while staying with a friend. The doctors had to fight to save her! She was in a coma for days and with major injuries. It's a miracle she's even alive today, Doc!" Joe's voice broke up.

"We're so sorry." Stacy said. "We didn't know."

"Thanks, Miss." Joe said.

"And after recovery and the horror of worrying about your child's survival, all the medical care bills started bombarding you." Mark stated. Steve just listened and watched as his father gained this man's trust, and hoped that this would help them indicate who had come after Joe.

"That's right, Doc!" Joe huffed. "Two months in the hospital, with the operations, the follow-ups, the tests, the life support, the therapy...we didn't have the money at the time, and they just kept coming and coming. Plus the normal household expenses. And the lousy thirty thousand I gave my loser brother."

"So, what did you do?" Stacy asked.

"Well, my workplace now carries insurance, but only for myself." Joe sighed. "The family insurance we'd had, had expired on us the year before Minnie's accident and we couldn't find another one that would take us." The Sloans all pursed their lips. This part of the story was sadly not a new one to them. "I tried to do extra jobs, but nobody needed or wanted my services. Jane and I finally agreed that we had to sell our home and our car. My sister agreed to let Jane and Minnie stay with her until we get back on our feet, while I've been paying her for their accommodations. They've been living there ever since. This was the cheapest place near work that I could find. I've been trying to put extra money aside, to save up enough so that we can have a real home again."

"Oh, Joe." Mark moaned. "We're so sorry."

"Couldn't some of the people at your church help you?" Stacy suggested. "Well, I mean...do you guys have a church that..."

"The pastor keeps in touch with us." Joe muttered. "The others? They won't have anything to do with us."

"Why not?" Mark sputtered.

"That doesn't sound very charitable." Steve grumbled. "Or Christian."

"For one, Lt., if you won't get offended in me saying so, I don't believe in fighting with people. It's not charitable, and only causes trouble. Many of my former business associates attend the same church that we did. They didn't take kindly to me after Bartell Industries went under. We used to donate a very handsome chunk of money when I had Bartell Industry to lean on, but then that changed. Many in our church frowned on that." Joe continued. "Granted they were very polite and well-wishing when Minnie was hurt, but after we had to sell our home and give up many of our possessions, they snubbed us. We more or less became outcasts in our own congregation because we couldn't make end's meet. And they've made a habit of rubbing it in our noses."

"That's not right." Mark growled.

"No, it isn't!" Stacy declared. "What kind of so called Christian way is that of helping the unfortunate?" She hoped she hadn't offended the man by implying that he was so poor.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." Steve said.

"Don't ask me." Joe shrugged miserably. "But my stupid decision in giving money to my brother didn't help matters either."

"So, where is this money you're saving?" Steve asked. "Do you think that's what the robber was after?"

"I believe so. Or could be the money I lost when we had to close down." Joe replied. "But I don't even know who the man was."

"Joe, are you keeping the money in a savings account?" Mark asked.

"No." Joe shook his head. "No, I am not about to do that! I have a secret place, where I'm keeping the money for our new house. It might take me another year, but we'll have a new home again, someday." Joe said. "Sorry, but I don't trust banks any more than I trust insurance companies. Not anymore."

"You know, you really should keep the money somewhere secure." Steve said.

"It is secure, Lt." Joe retorted.

"Not when someone tries to kill you for it." Steve interjected.

"The good Lord will protect me." Joe stated. "It won't happen again." Steve stared at the older man, unconvinced.

"Did you notice anything significant about this robber?" Mark asked.

"He was dressed in black, I couldn't see his face, he was crazed, and came at me with a knife. That's all I know." Joe huffed.

"Mmm." Mark sighed. They weren't getting very far with helping this guy. "Well, Joe? I'm glad it wasn't worse, but if you think of anything else, please let us know. We'd really like to help you."

"Thanks, Doc."

Steve and Mark spoke to each other, discussing on how to go about this while Stacy slowly approached the older man. "Mr. Slighter?" She asked.

"Yes, Miss?"

"You shouldn't be ashamed for your efforts." Stacy said kindly. "Though we may not agree with everything you do, I believe for the most part that you've done the right thing. Hey," She lowered her voice to a whisper, "we're Christians too. Our dad is a believer, but he's still the toughest guy I've ever known, and he's the best cop in LA. His beliefs don't stop him from doing his job. In fact, I think it helps him do his job better!"

Joe gazed thoughtfully at her. "Thanks, Miss."

"But, to be honest, my dad and the police could help you much better if you cooperated more. They're only trying to protect you, especially with many people out there who blame you for your former company's trouble."

"Not that I don't appreciate it, Miss Sloan. But I don't need it. After I failed my employees and my family, I deserve this. As long as my wife and daughter are safe, that's all I care about. They're the ones the police should be keeping an eye on."

"You know, I actually work for The Los Angeles Times. I'm a reporter there, and let me tell you, it's not easy to be in there and stand up for what's right." Stacy sighed softly, not thinking about what she was saying. She was only trying to offer consolation. Joe's eyes widened, and he looked offended.

"I didn't know you were a reporter!" He exclaimed. Mark and Steve noticed the dismay in his face. "Lt., I don't appreciate you bringing in a reporter with you. Please, ask her to leave."

"Take it easy, Joe." Steve said calmly. "She's my daughter. She wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"Take my word for that." Mark said. "You can trust her, every bit as much as you can trust me or my son."

Joe looked at them skeptically. "I still don't like it."

"I'm sorry." Stacy spoke fervently. "I didn't mean to offend you. And I have no intention of sharing in the news anything you said, if you don't want me to." Joe stared at her suspiciously. "You and your family have had a rough time, and I wouldn't do anything to make things worse for you."

"You vouch for her, Doc?" Joe asked cautiously.

"I do!" Mark smiled warmly. Joe glanced from Mark to Stacy.

"Well, Doc, if you say she's a good person, that's good enough for me." Joe finally relented. "I'm sorry for jumping on your case like that, Miss. If the Doc says I can trust you, then I believe I can." Stacy smiled at him. "But, I must ask you to please not publicize a word of what I've told you guys! The media and even members of our church claimed that I was using Minnie's accident as a stunt to gain public sympathy after becoming a loser. I don't want my little girl exposed to any more ridicule or hurt! She's already suffered enough."

"Don't worry. I won't." Stacy said. "I wouldn't dare print anything to give those people the satisfaction of making you more miserable! I promise that I won't share this in the paper or the news at all!"

"Do you truly mean that?" Joe asked.

"Yes!" Stacy insisted. "Yes, I do. You have my word."

"Thank you, Miss Sloan. You don't know how much I appreciate that." Joe finally smiled again.

"Well, there's not much more we can do for you here." Steve said. "I assure you, we'll try to find out who did this. Here's my card, Joe. If it happens again, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me."

"As you say, Lt." Joe sighed.

"Joe, I'm available if you need anything." Mark spoke up. "I hope you know that. Please don't hesitate to call, even if you just want to talk."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Well, we'll leave you alone now." Steve said, heading for the door.

"Thanks for listening to all my whining, Doc." Joe chuckled, shaking Mark's hand.

"Oh, that's okay." Mark snickered back. "I'm a doctor, that's what I do."

"Oh, Lt.? You'd better keep a sharp eye on that girl of yours," Joe grinned. "The boys'll be giving you trouble lining up to ask her out!" Steve smirked and Stacy shook her head.

"Not really." She smiled.

"I know I do!" Steve declared. "And you should see my other one who looks just like her mother!" Joe smiled.

"Thank you, Miss Sloan, for being so understanding." He said.

"It's okay." Stacy smiled back. She and Mark began to follow Steve out the door when Joe spoke up again.

"Remember, you promised!" He looked at Stacy.

"I'll remember." Stacy said. "I won't tell."

All right, so maybe that wasn't the right thing for Stacy to share given the circumstances, but we've all had 'slip-of-the-tongue' incidents before, right? Anyway, it's gonna come back to bite her...