Ten Thirteen
Prince St, Manhattan
2 pm Thursday 14 December 2006
Mike Logan was so tired.
Wheeler wouldn't leave him alone. "Come on Mike look at me, look at me, you just look at me, Mike, Mike!" She had his hand in a crushing grip and when he tried to ignore her she slapped his cheek, then pinched it, hard. "Mike, Mike, Mike, dammit!"
She sounded upset. It pissed him off that she wouldn't let him sleep, but she was his partner, and she sounded upset, so Logan made the effort and opened his eyes.
Wheeler was milk white under her freckles, eyes wide. There was blood on her face. "What?" Logan tried to say, but his tongue was thick and numb in his mouth.
"Hang on, Mike, you just hang on, you look at me, come on," Wheeler said fiercely. "I got you, I got you, you stay with me, stay with me, Mike, Mike!"
There were sirens in the distance. Logan couldn't tell if they were coming closer or fading away into the darkness that had inexplicably fallen over the street in the middle of the afternoon. Seen that, Logan thought, colder than cold. Seen the sky go dark. He struggled to ask Wheeler what it was this time, what building was burning, falling, what nightmare the city was living. But he was too tired. So tired. Someone else was going to have to deal with it.
"Mike!" Wheeler screamed in his face. She pinched his cheek again and then took his face in her hands. "Open your eyes, Mike, look at me, look at me. Mike!"
Won't take fuckin' no for an answer, Logan thought wearily. Fuck this.
"Don't you quit on me, you son-of-a-bitch, don't you do it, Mike, Mike, Mike" Wheeler's voice cracked on the ragged edge of hysteria. Oh, Jesus, Logan thought, fuckin' rookies, can't get a moment's rest without them needing baby-sitting.
He made a Herculean effort and opened his eyes again. Wheeler's face was inches from his, her eyes wide and wild. Calm the fuck down, Wheeler, he wanted to say. Get it together. You're a cop. Fuckin' act like one. What the fuck is worth all this drama, anyway?
None of those words would come out of his mouth. He managed to make a sound, and Wheeler's eyes filled with tears.
"That's it Mike, that's it, hang on, stay with me, hang on, I got you, I got you Mike, you look at me, look at me, Mike, come on now," Wheeler ordered, pleaded, cajoled. She was almost invisible in the gathering dark but Logan felt her hands on his face, smoothing back his hair. "Don't you quit on me, don't you dare. I'm right here, Mike, don't you, don't you dare! I'm right here. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me..."
She was his partner. You don't leave your partner on their own, not on a New York street gone midnight in broad daylight. You don't leave your partner when they need you.
Logan tried. Even after he couldn't see her at all in the dark he tried.
So tired.
"Mike!"
He tried. Knew he was failing.
Sorry, Wheeler. Sorry.
Gone.
.oOo.
