It Was Worth It!
"Say, you're a bit quiet today, aren't you?" Mike Stone enquired as they cruised the streets of San Francisco.
"Am I?" Steve Keller replied. "Nah, it's just you're talking a lot today." He shot a cheeky grin across the car and swallowed a twinge of pain. He had woken with a niggly toothache. Aspirin had so far offered no relief and he hadn't had the opportunity to stop somewhere and pick up something stronger.
"Me? I'm not the one who does all the talking around here," Mike protested, going along with the joking, but still concerned that Steve was on the quiet side. "You weren't up till all hours of the morning with some young lady, were you?"
"Now, Mike, that would be telling," Steve retorted, enjoying the badinage. It took his mind off his misery and kept his tongue from poking the sore tooth.
"You can trust me," Mike assured his younger colleague. "I wouldn't tell anyone."
"No, of course not," Steve jibed. "You can't deny that you told Norm, who told Lee, who told Bill, who told…"
"Are you trying to say I gossip?" Mike interrupted.
Before they could really get going, the radio chose that moment to call. "All units in the vicinity of Mission St and Fremont St, fracas in progress."
"That's just round the corner," Steve noted, all joviality draining from his face. He spun the wheel and hit the siren as Mike put the Mars light on the roof and responded.
"Inspectors 81 responding."
It wasn't hard to find the fracas. There was a huge crowd of people gathered around the combatants and Mike and Steve had to shoulder their way through. Several members of the public took exception to them usurping their 'ringside seats' and pushed and punched and kicked at the cops. A flash of their badges usually sorted the spectators out.
There were two huge guys slugging it out in the street. Traffic was snarled up all around, unable to get past the people rubber-necking. Cops were now running from their cars towards the problem, but for the moment, Mike and Steve were alone and both of them were shorter and slighter than the two fighting men.
"Hey, that's enough! Police! Stop!" Steve reached out to grab the arm of the nearest man, but his actions had no discernible effect upon him. Steve went back in for another try, as Mike carefully rounded the fight to try his luck with the other man. "I said stop!"
This time, there was a reaction, but it really wasn't what Steve had intended. The big man simply changed his target from the man he had been fighting to Steve. The first punch was the only one Steve remembered as it piled into his face. His head snapped back sharply and he fell to the ground, unconscious. The man didn't miss a beat as he turned back to his original opponent.
By now, there were several other cops on the scene and somehow, the two men were brought under control and cuffed. Mike, panting from the scuffle, tipped his fedora back and wiped the sweat from his brow. Only then did he see his partner, stretched out on the street, the by-standers now huddled around him, since the fight had stopped. "Steve!"
Pushing his way to Steve's side, Mike saw that the younger man was already stirring back to consciousness. Blood was pouring from Steve's mouth and nose. Steve rolled over and groaned. "Easy, take it easy," mike instructed.
"What hit me?" Steve mumbled. His jaw was swelling rapidly as his partner winced on his behalf.
"Goliath," Mike replied, turning Steve's head towards him. Steve looked at Mike for a second before turning his head, but it was long enough for Mike to see the uneven pupils. "You need the hospital, buddy boy." Mike turned his head. "I need an ambulance."
"Mike – no!" Steve objected, but his denial would have had more strength if he wasn't then promptly sick. Wiping his mouth on the handkerchief that Mike handed him, Steve leaned back against his partner's arm, looking utterly wiped out.
It took a few minutes for the ambulance to arrive. By then, Mike realised that Steve wasn't seriously hurt. He was clearly concussed and that would mean a few days off work, but his nose didn't appear to be broken and there were no other signs of injury.
"That his?" asked an attendant, gesturing to the vomit, as Steve was eased onto a stretcher.
"Yeah," Mike replied with distaste. He could cope with most things, but vomit was about the last straw for him.
"There's a tooth in there," the attendant said and put on a glove to remove the said tooth from the mess. "We might be able to save it," he shrugged. "You riding along with us?"
"I'll meet you there," Mike replied. He made his way through the thinning crowds to the car. He had read of teeth being knocked out in fights, but had never seen the proof – until now. He bit down a smile. It wasn't really funny. Steve would be upset and his mouth would be sore. With no one to see as he drove to the hospital, Mike indulged in a sympathetic laugh.
Just to get it out of his system, of course.
"Boy, that bruising is coming up fast," Mike commented with grisly relish as he was allowed in to see his partner. Steve was propped up in bed and his whole face was swelling. "Gonna have a couple of great shiners, too," he noted.
"You needn't sound so pleased about it," Steve muttered. His head was pounding, he wasn't allowed to lie flat and he could barely open his mouth to speak.
"It could have been much worse," Mike reminded him soberly. "There's nothing broken." He winced slightly, remembering the tooth. "I'm sorry you lost a tooth."
Oddly enough, that comment brought a brief smile to Steve's battered face. "Yeah, he knocked it right out, roots and everything," he agreed, sounding pleased.
"That's not a good thing," Mike remarked.
"It is," Steve insisted. He peered at Mike through swollen eyelids. "I had an abscess on that tooth and he's saved me the cost of a dentist's visit! The abscess came out on the roots." Again the brief smile crossed his face. "Believe me, it was worth it!"