SUMMARY: When a routine raid goes horribly wrong, Steve is the one left to blame. And certain people wants him to pay. Dearly. A Steve whump, of course.

A/N: This particular LOD story takes place after Season 5. A bit of warning, though. The repercussion may not be to your liking.

-AC12AC12AC12AC12AC12-

It was a Friday night, a night when the officers from AC-12 would usually gather at their favorite pub after a tough week at work to share a few pints among them. Tonight was different, though. There were no AC-12 officers in sight, except for DS Steve Arnott who sat alone at one corner, nursing a tall glass of what his gaffer would call a cat's piss.

It was one of Steve's worst days of his career. A routine raid on an isolated industrial estate near Derby had gone horribly wrong. Instead of apprehending the OCG connected to an arms dealing ring, they had discovered that the target buildings were completely empty. To make things worse, the main building where they initially thought was the OCG headquarters had been booby-trapped with explosives.

In the end, two AFOs were dead and three badly wounded. Several AC-12 officers managed to escape with minor injuries, including Steve. He got a long scrape to his elbow after being knocked down to the ground when the first explosive detonated. Luckily, he and his fellow AC-12 officers had been standing clear out of the explosives' direct hit, but the AFOs who was the first team to breach into the building had received the full blast head on.

Steve knew he was to be responsible for the entire fiasco. It was him that had suggested the raid on the industrial estate following the intel given by the CHIS who had been contacting him during the last previous week. Several information fed by the CHIS previously had been rock solid, which helped AC-12 to unravel the mysterious network of this particular OCG. The AC-12 was also getting closer to nick the high ranking police officer who had been in cohort with the dark operations from the very beginning.

However, Steve had never suspected that the latest intel was merely a lure for the police force to walk into a deadly trap. The CHIS, a UCO who simply called himself Benny, had been misleading him the entire time. In truth Benny was a bent copper who was playing for both sides. A triple agent.

Steve felt like a fool for his total naiveté. On top of that, he felt guilty as hell. Two lives were lost and several dedicated police officers were injured because he had trusted the wrong man.

In the aftermath, it was as if a dark cloud had come looming over the AC-12 headquarters. The entire workforce had become dejected and edgy. Tempers were high among the senior officers, especially Superintendent Ted Hastings. Naturally, Steve had been at the receiving end of the gaffer's wrath. Unlike his usual self where he would retort his own defense whenever Hastings reamed him out, Steve had simply stood still without uttering a single word. And that had angered the gaffer even more.

"Go on! Get out! And take this with you!" Hastings had shouted, throwing the folder containing the case report back at Steve. It landed near his feet, papers strewn everywhere. "And don't show your face to me until you get this sorted, you understand? Now get out!"

Schooling his features so that his true emotions wouldn't show, Steve had calmly bent over to gather all the papers before he walked out of the gaffer's room. Outside, his fellow co-workers were openly staring at him, some even sent him accusing glares. He had ignored them all as he returned to his desk where DI Kate Fleming then accosted him.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say?" she had asked him in a low voice, her face a cool mask.

"What is there left to say, ma'am?" he had replied, "We've lost two lives. Nothing I say will bring them back. But I claim responsibility on the whole mess. The intel came through me from Benny. I should've vetted through his background more diligently."

"Yes, you should have," Kate hissed back in frustration. "And this thing you called a mess is actually a disaster. It's John Corbett all over again, Steve. You were supposed to tell me the first time Benny contacted you. But, no. You kept it to yourself for days. If you had come to me earlier, we could have done a thorough research on him and we might have discovered Benny's true intent."

"Ma'am, I've gone through all this with the gaffer. He basically told me the same thing. You can't make me feel any worse than I am now."

Kate had given him a hard stare when she said next, "I had to personally deliver the news to two poor women about their husbands who just died in the line of duty. The only thing I didn't tell them was that this incident could have been avoided if the officer responsible had done his job properly. Feel any worse now?"

It was as if an arrow had struck Steve straight in the heart, those words hurt him that much. However, he had said nothing in response and just watched silently as his partner walked quickly away.

Afterwards, he had spent hours compiling the reports of the disastrous raid. By the time he had finished, it was already past 8.00 in the evening and everyone else had left for home. Not even a single person had uttered any word to him. He couldn't help feeling like a pariah. Outside, the wonderful summer day had already turned dark and gloomy, befitting his mood.

Feeling utterly miserable, Steve raised his beer glass and downed the entire content. He then closed his eyes as he tried to erase the memory of the upsetting scenes at the industrial estate, but it kept replaying in his mind. The loud explosions, the force of the blast. Worst of all, the bleeding bodies on the ground.

Not knowing what else to do to lessen the heavy feeling, he decided to just return home. To his empty flat, to his empty bed, accompanied by his empty heart.

Nodding his goodbye to the barkeep, Steve got off the stool and walked towards the exit. He fished out his mobile phone to call for Owen Jones, the taxi driver who had driven him home for years every time he went out for a drink at the pub. He had left his service vehicle at the AC-12 headquarters earlier, thinking that he would be too drunk to drive afterwards. That was not the case now, however. After one glass of beer, he was still fully sober. Or at least sober enough to remember every detail of the disastrous thing that had transpired during the day that he felt like weeping.

Outside the pub, Steve stood on the sidewalk as he waited for Owen's taxi to arrive. His mind was meandering elsewhere, not giving any attention to his immediate surroundings. And that was his biggest mistake. He didn't suspect any foul play when a black van slowed to a stop at the curb, not until three men wearing balaclavas stormed out of the van and converged around him.

Before Steve could react, he was suddenly grabbed from behind, pinning his arms to the sides. Someone clamped a hand over his mouth, smothering his cries of protest as they dragged him towards the van. He kicked and jabbed with all his might but a hard fist clouted him upside the head, stunning him to a daze. The next thing he knew, he was harshly thrown into the van.

"What the hell?" Steve angrily cried out loud as the van sped away with its tyres squealing.

"Shut up!" One of the men growled in response with a flying fist. It hit Steve square in the temple, causing him to see stars. Undeterred though, he slammed his own fist against the man's nose.

"Fuck! The son of a bitch broke my fucking nose!" the man cried out in anguish, grabbing his face. The other two men instantly reacted with full aggression. All Steve could do was cover his head as they rained down kicks and punches on him.

The thrashing went on for a full minute, but to Steve it felt like eternity until the van suddenly braked to a stop. The men quickly grabbed hold of his arms and legs before chucking him out. He rolled several times before landing onto his back.

Through his bleary vision, Steve stared at the dark sky. There were no clouds tonight, so the stars were in abundance, twinkling merrily like jewels against a black velvet. And then the beautiful sight was completely blocked by the four dark clad figures surrounding him.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he managed to ask with panting breath, close to losing consciousness. "Why…are you doing this?"

"Why? Because of you, two of our mates died today!" one of his attackers finally spoke.

Steve's blood instantly ran cold.

Their dead mates? The two AFOs? Jesus Christ. These men are all police?

"You useless cocky son of a bitch!" the other man shouted. "You think you're Anti-Corruption you can get away with it? Eat my boot first, you bastard!"

And then they started kicking him again. Steve had to hunch over as their booted feet pummeled all over his torso without mercy. Some even landed on his head that he went in and out consciousness several times.

When they finally stopped, Steve lay sprawled at their feet, coughing up blood. Still, he forced himself to defiantly look up at them. "This…will not bring them back…alive. You're making…a big mistake…"

"No matter. It's done," said the tallest of them all. "This will be a lesson to you, son. Your negligence has cost lives. Do us all a favor and quit AC-12."

"Don't…tell me…what to do…" Steve hissed back as he held his injured side.

"Stubborn, aren't you?" The man scoffed. He then gestured at his friends. "Let's go, guys. He gets the message."

The men walked back towards the van, but one of them stayed behind and continued to glare down at Steve.

The tall man called out, "Hey, Mac. Let's go!"

Mac? Now that was a stupid mistake, Steve thought. They shouldn't have mentioned names because I can find out who they all are.

From the way his eyes were drawing to a slit, Mac noticed the mistake too. Instead of correcting his mate, Mac leaned closer to Steve. "The dead AFOs, one of them is my best friend. He's like a brother to me. And you kill him!"

"I'm sorry he died…but I didn't kill him…" Steve said. "It was an unfortunate incident due to a miscommunication—"

"You kill him!" Mac screamed, "And you're gonna pay!"

"Mac? Come on, man. That's enough," the three other men were saying, but Mac didn't seem to be listening. Instead, he grabbed Steve's belt buckle to undo it before pulling down the zipper of Steve's pants.

"Hey, Mac. What are you doing, man?"

Steve began to shake with fear. He didn't know what Mac intended to do, but he understood that it was nothing good. With the remaining of his strength, he frantically shoved the man away. But Mac was bigger and more muscular. He easily flipped Steve onto his stomach before yanking down his pants and boxer briefs.

"Mac! Stop it!"

And then the tearing pain came. It was so sudden and sharp that Steve couldn't stop himself from crying out. While Mac repeatedly jerked against him, Steve bit his lip as he desperately groped about on the ground, searching for any object that he could turn into a weapon. His hand suddenly made contact with a small rock. He quickly grabbed the rock and slammed it backward, feeling great satisfaction when it connected with Mac's face.

Mac broke away with a cry, holding his bruised jaw. Growling with rage, Mac took the rock and slammed it against Steve's temple. Steve crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Mac raised the rock to hit him again but strong arms quickly grabbed him.

"That's enough! You're gonna kill him!"

"He deserves to die," Mac shot back, shrugging off their arms.

"No, he doesn't! He's a police too, Mac. He's one of us," said the tall guy who then stared in dismay at Steve's lifeless body. "Shit, Mac. What have you done?"

"Justice. He fucked with us, I fucked him back."

"This is not justice," one of them cried out. "This is madness, Mac!"

Another man was shaking his head. "Yeah, I agree with Ned. I think we've gone too far. I thought we just wanted to scare him, that's all."

"Our friends died because of him!" Mac shouted. "So we just sit back and let him go unpunished?"

"Who are we to punish him? We're police officers. We're not juries and judges. Besides, he's just a cop who got his information wrong."

Mac stared at his friends in disbelief. "Then what the hell are we doing here in the first place?"

"I don't know, man. I just don't know anymore."

"Come on, guys. Let's get out of here before anyone finds out," the tall man said, rushing back towards the van.

"What? And leave him like this? He would die," the man called Ned said, his eyes widening in horror. He never thought that things would quickly get out of hand. They hadn't plan it to turn out this way.

"Move it, Ned! Come on!" the tall man shouted from the van.

After a brief hesitation, Ned gave Steve a last glance before he ran towards the van which then left the scene like a bat out of hell.

Silence reigned afterwards, except for the occasional sound of chirping crickets from the nearby bushes. Slowly, a stout figure emerged from the shadows. It crept forward towards the prone body, cautiously looking to the left and right.

Kneeling down beside Steve, Owen Jones the taxi driver instantly broke down in despair. "Oh, lord…great lord...Sarge, what have they done to you?"

Owen had just turned around the corner into the street of the pub, just in time to see those men drag Steve into the van. Against his better judgement, the taxi driver had discreetly followed the van for a couple of miles towards an abandoned carpark behind a shoe factory that had long closed down. Parking his taxi out of sight, Owen had crept along the shadows towards their voices. The awful things he had witnessed in the carpark had turned his stomach that he nearly lost his dinner.

Trembling, Owen reached over to place the back of his hand against Steve's nose. When he felt the soft whisper of exhaling air, he sighed out loud with relief.

"Thank God…Oh, thank God!" Owen quickly took out his mobile phone to dial triple nine. "Hang on, Sarge. Please hang on. I'm getting you some help. You'll be fine. Just hang on, son."

As he reported the incident to the dispatcher, Owen had to look away from Steve's battered body; the left eye that was swollen shut, the large bump on his temple, his bleeding nose and lips. And most of all, he had to look away from the blood pooling between Steve's bare thighs. Instead, Owen carefully picked up one of Steve's limp hands. Mindful of the bloodied knuckles, he gripped it gently.

Owen was still holding on to it when an ambulance and several police cars arrived amidst blaring sirens and flashing lights minutes later.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: Stay tuned for the next chapter.

"If loss of life can be avoided, it should be avoided." – DS Steve Arnott.

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* ABBREVIATIONS:

AC - Anti Corruption

AFO - Authorized Firearms Officer

CHIS - Covert Human Intelligence Source

DI - Detective Inspector

DS - Detective Sergeant

OCG - Organized Crime Group

UCO - Undercover Officer