Mickey leaped and ducked behind a wax figure, just a second before the chair thrown at him smashed against the wall.

So much for that safe date I promised Minnie.

She'd been uneasy about going out with all the recent thefts in town, but he'd said well, who'd stick up a wax museum. Apparently, Peg Leg Pete would.

Figures.

Looking around, he felt a little relieved when a silhouette very similar to his peeked out from behind Elvis. From the look on her face, Minnie was thinking the exact same thing. She started to crawl toward him, but he shook his head and motioned for her to stay there. He couldn't take this walking lump down if he didn't know she was safe. She frowned but moved back, and Mickey turned back to Pete and immediately saw an opportunity; his back was turned.

"Y' better hope I don' git m' hands on y', mice!" he growled as Mickey crept toward him quickly and quietly. "I'll lick y' both!"

The moment he turned, Mickey lunged and socked him in the jaw.

"Not if I lick y' first!" he snapped, leapfrogging over the bulky cat. "C'mon, y' big palooka… pick up the lard and start fightin'!"

When Pete's temper was up, he got careless, and Mickey always took full advantage of it. Sure enough, scrambling to his feet, the burglar threw a wild punch which the mouse quickly dodged. His small size was always a plus in situations like this one.

"You're gettin' slow, Pete!" Mickey called, smirking. "'Course, y' always were slow!" He leaped to dodge another swing; his plan was to wear his opponent out, then get close and take him down. But once he landed, his foot hit a wet patch on the floor. It flew out from under him and he fell flat.

"Oof!"

He just saw the "Caution: Wet Floor" sign, which had been completely obscured until now, before a hand closed around his leg.

Uh oh.

"Now I'll show y' slow, ya little rat!" Pete snarled as he lifted Mickey by that leg.

"Let go, y' big lump!" the mouse snapped, struggling. His enemy's face twisted into a nasty grin.

"Oh, I plan t'," he growled. With that, he started wringing Mickey like an Olympic weight thrower.

Meanwhile, Minnie had been listening from her hiding place, and growing more and more worried; from the sound of the conversation, Mickey might be in trouble. To her horror, her fear was confirmed with a sickening crack and his cry of pain. She poked her head up just in time to see Pete hurl Mickey into a group of figurines.

Minnie winced as they smashed apart when he hit, then gasped as they came crashing down on him.

"Mickey!" she cried, leaping out of her hiding place. Pete grinned and turned.

"Well, that was satisfyin'… His eyes widened and he stumbled back. The normally petite female mouse was glaring up at him without a trace of fear, her fists clenched and shaking, her eyes burning with white hot rage.

"You touch him again and I'll KILL you!" she snapped.

Significantly less confident but convinced he could take a girl, Pete lunged only to have her fist smash into his jaw. He fell like a pile of bricks, and Minnie stood shaking over him as the adrenaline pumping through her veins faded. She immediately looked at the wrecked figures that fell on Mickey and felt a wave of panic; nothing had moved.

"Mickey!" She raced over and grabbed one of the figures. Straining, she lifted it off him and gasped in alarm. Mickey was lying where he'd fallen, his eyes closed.

"Oh no… Mickey?" When he didn't respond, she pulled him into her arms and gently stroked his forehead, her throat tight with fear and worry.

"Mickey, wake up!" she said urgently. "Can you hear me?"

To her intense relief, he groaned softly and slowly opened his eyes.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Minnie breathed.

"Minnie… you okay?" he muttered groggily. Minnie hugged him close.

"I'm fine."

Mickey groaned again, "Unh… man, I feel like I've been hit by a bus." Minnie grinned slightly.

"Close… you were thrown by one." She looked him over. "Are you all right? Can you move?"

He shook his head a couple times to clear it, and then he looked up at her and smiled reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm okay… just got the wind knocked out a' me." He started to sit up, then winced and grabbed his left leg, yelping at the sudden, sharp pain. Minnie gasped, putting a hand on his back.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed. Mickey winced again, clenching his jaw hard.

"I think my ankle's broken," he hissed.

Just then, Pete muttered and started stirring. Minnie swallowed hard; she didn't like the idea of making Mickey walk, but she definitely didn't want him around when his assailant came to.

"We'd better get out of here," she said tensely. "Do you think you can walk?" Mickey's face went a little pale, but he bit his lip and nodded.

"I… I think so," He tried not to lean too heavily on her as she helped him up; he could tell she was already worried sick about him and he hated to upset her more, but his efforts weren't very successful. Minnie saw him grow even paler as he tried hard, and mostly failed, to muffle grunts of pain as they started down the hall. She took his arm and draped it over her shoulders.

"Here, you can lean on me." Mickey clenched his teeth as he tried to put more weight on his foot.

"Y' don't have to…" he started, but she interrupted sternly.

"You can't walk on that leg. Please, do it for me." Mickey hesitated, then sighed and leaned against her, taking all the weight off his injury. The pain lessened, but he felt guilty for making Minnie do most of the work. She grabbed her purse as they passed the spot she'd been hiding and ducked into the first door they got to, which turned out to be a restroom.

Minnie helped Mickey sit back down before locking the door; even hobbling on one foot it was obvious he was in pain and she didn't want him standing any longer than he had to. She pulled out her cell phone and called the police. Chief O' Hara answered,

"Hello, Mouseton Police Department." Minnie spoke quietly, so Pete wouldn't hear if he was looking for them. Both she and Mickey were good friends with O' Hara, so she knew that he'd recognize her voice.

"Chief, we're at the wax museum. Pete broke in and attacked us. You better get here before he gets away. Please hurry… Mickey's hurt."

After receiving a reassurance that help was on the way, Minnie hung up and turned her attention to her boyfriend. He was holding his ankle, wincing. Carefully pulling his shoe off, she gasped at how swollen and painful it looked. Mickey smiled tightly.

"It's not that bad," he said, trying to sound like it. Minnie smiled sadly.

"I wish we had some ice," she said. "It might help the pain." Then she got an idea. She hurried to the sink, grabbed some paper towels, and ran cold water over them. Then she returned to Mickey and gently wrapped them around his hurt ankle.

"Better?" she asked. Mickey sighed and relaxed a little; it did help some.

"A lot… thanks, Min," he said, then smiled and took her hand. "You can make anything feel better." Minnie giggled.

"Aw, thanks, Mickey. You're welcome, anytime. Now just keep it still." She began looking him up and down. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Pete threw you hard." Mickey smiled and hugged her.

"I'm fine… nothin' some rest won't take care of."

Soon, they heard sirens, then people running and shouting outside. Mickey smiled grimly.

"I hope Pete didn't get away." Minnie glared. "At least it'd give me a chance to get my hands on him. I want him to pay for doing this to you." After a few more moments, they heard Chief O' Hara calling their names. Minnie gave her love a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Stay here… I'll be right back." She unlocked the door and peeked out to see the chief standing close by.

"We're here, chief." O' Hara looked grim.

"Are you all right?" She nodded, and O' Hara looked at Mickey. "What about you?" He nodded as well.

"I'm fine. Did y' get Pete?" The chief looked put down.

"Sorry. We're still looking, but… it looks like he gave us the slip." He gave Mickey a slight smile. "But don't worry about that… you better get to the hospital and get that ankle taken care of."

Minnie walked over and helped her boyfriend up, supporting him.

"I'll take him." O' Hara had a cop follow the mice out, just in case, but Minnie got Mickey back to his car without incident. After thanking their escort, she helped him get in, making sure his ankle moved as little as possible.

As Minnie drove, she couldn't stop glancing at Mickey. It was clear that he was in a lot of pain, but dealing with it quietly, so he wouldn't worry her. It never ceased to touch her heart to see how considerate he was, even in situations like these. When they reached a stoplight, she reached out and rubbed his arm comfortingly.

"Hang in there, sweetie… not much further now." Mickey tried to smile at her.

"It's okay, Min." Minnie smiled back as the light turned and she started driving again.

"I know… I just don't like seeing you like this." Leaning over, Mickey lifted her hand and gently kissed it.

"Don't worry, doll… I'll be fine."