Mike had an odd feeling the minute they pulled up to Victor Cruz's bungalow. From the outside, nothing looked amiss, but the older detective could not mollify the unsettled nerves in his stomach. It had been too long since his partner went to check the back of the house, and Mike knew it. The Lieutenant knocked on Cruz's door one more time, but did not bother to wait more than just a few seconds.

He knew that Steve went down the gangway, so he carefully looked around the corner to see if his partner was in sight. Seeing no one, Mike drew his gun and headed down the path to the back porch. Rounding the corner, he saw the back door wide open. Mike shouted his partner's name, but heard no response. The nerves in his stomach were now in overdrive.

SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF

For a split second, Steve thought he was lying on an incredibly hard mattress or perhaps an uncomfortable sofa. Perhaps he'd had too much to drink and was sleeping it off somewhere. Was he still in Tahoe? Berkeley perhaps? The excruciating piercing pain in the back of his head told him that it was more than a hangover. He ran his hand across the back of his head and groaned.

He managed to roll over on his side. His head was swimming and he still hadn't opened his eyes. Suddenly he heard footfalls coming his way.

"Steve," he heard a concerned voice nearing. Mike grabbed his wrist and tried to pull his partner's hand away from his head.

"Let me look. Who did this to you?"

The memory was coming back to him now. He tried opening his eyes, but the light was too bright.

"Steve, can you hear me?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Now what happened?"

The fog and confusion had only just begun to clear. "Hang on, I need a minute."

Mike looked over and saw Victor Cruz lying in a pool of blood. He hurried over to check his pulse and found nothing. "Cruz is dead. I'm going to call this in and get an ambulance."

"Not for me. No ambulance," Steve responded. "Just give me a minute."

"You need to get to a hospital. You're acting like you might have a concussion or worse, a skull fracture. What happened? Did someone hit you in the back of the head?"

He was beginning to have a clearer picture of the events of the last few minutes. "Yeah, I came in through the back door. It was quiet and kind of eerie. I decided to walk through and unlock the front door for you. When I saw Cruz on the floor, that was it. Someone clubbed me from behind."

"Did you see anyone?"

"No, not at all."

"Was there just one attacker?"

"I don't know. It was so quiet. The back door was open, so I called out to Cruz. There was nothing, no noise, nothing."

Mike needed to get help. "Stay put. I'll be right back."

"Okay, but no ambulance."

"Steve, you need a doctor. What - am I supposed to carry you to the car and drive you to the hospital?" the concern outweighed the sarcasm in his voice.

"Just give me a minute. I'll be able to walk."

"Just give you a minute? That's the third time you've said that." Mike countered.

Steve sat up. His head was spinning. "See, I got that far." He forced back the bile that was threatening to come out.

"Okay, no ambulance, but as soon as I get a unit over here, I'll have one of uniforms drive you to the hospital."

"Deal."

SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF

Two hours later, Mike entered the Emergency Room of St John's Hospital and found the receptionist.

"I'm looking for Steve Keller. He came in here a couple of hours ago."

"Yes, room four."

It was déjà vu. Mike flashed back to the last time he was at St. John's with Steve. It was a month ago when he drove Steve here after getting word that Connie had been gravely injured. Mike shook his head at the memory and coincidence. It was even the same emergency room number. What was the chance of that happening?

He found the room and knocked on the door. "Come in." It was Steve's voice and he was alone.

"How are you doing? Have you seen the doctor yet?" Mike asked.

"Yes, they took me to x-ray. We're waiting on the results, but I'm feeling better."

"Oh, you are, are you? How's the headache?" Mike was dubious.

"It's there."

Mike noticed how pale the young man looked. "I'd feel better if you had more color."

"I probably would too," Steve replied with a weak smile.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, when Steve finally said, "It's the same room, you know."

Mike looked down. "Yes, I thought that, too. I'm sorry."

"Me, too. I just want to get out of here." He looked around ostensibly planning his escape. "What if I leave right now. What would happen?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. I can't stand to be in here. Can I just go into the waiting room? You can tell them where I am."

"Come on, Steve. Hang in there for a few more minutes," he gazed at his partner. "I'll go find someone and see how long it will be. Would you feel better if there was another room available?"

"I don't want to be a child about this, but yes. It's a bit overwhelming to be here."

"I understand. Just hang in there and don't leave."

Mike walked out and quickly found the ER doctor headed his way. Mike flashed his badge and asked if he was the doctor on duty who was treating Steve.

"Yes, I'm Doctor Rubenstein. I was just on my way in to see Mr. Keller."

"Great," Mike turned around and walked back to Room 4.

"Steve, the doc is here."

Steve nodded as the doctor grabbed his chart. "Well, Officer, you are very lucky. Your x-rays look good. Your pupils look good, too. I would say you have mild concussion. We won't admit you, but we will give you some instructions that you should follow over the next 24 hours."

"Okay, that's fine. Can we leave?"

The doctor noticed Steve was breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating. "Mr. Keller, what's the matter?"

"Nothing. I'm just a little anxious to leave."

"It looks like a full fledged panic attack. Have you had this before?"

"No, sir. I'd just like to get out of this room, please. Can I wait in the ER waiting room? I'll be better there," Steve didn't wait for an answer, but left Mike and the ER doctor standing in the room.

"What was that about?" the doctor asked.

"He lost his girlfriend in this same room about four weeks ago. She was killed by a serial killer. It was too much for him to be here."

"I remember that now and I understand. Okay, I'll have the nurse bring out the discharge papers and home instructions. If there are any problems or complications, you get him back here. And we'll try to keep him of this room if he does need to come back."

SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF

"I'll drive you home," Mike said as they left the hospital.

"Sounds good to me. Thanks," Steve countered. "What happened with Cruz, anyway?"

"Gunshot to the heart. He was dead before he hit the floor," Mike relayed.

"We were just there. Damn it, I can't believe someone got to him when we were just there." The frustration of not being able to save someone else in peril showed clearly in Steve's voice.

"No one heard or saw a thing. They left right under our noses, too."

"I'm sorry, Mike. I'm sorry I let them get me."

"It wasn't your fault. They weren't expecting us, and they needed a way to get out of there. The only way out was the back, so they went for it."

Steve sighed.

Mike continued, "The instructions the nurse gave us said that you need to wake up every three hours tonight. You can either stay at my place or I can call you and if you don't answer, I'll know to come over."

"You don't have to do that. I'm fine."

"You have no choice on this. It's one way or the other. Or, I could call Maya and she could stay with you." Mike teased with the last comment.

"Don't you dare. After the worry and stress I caused her the last three weeks - and I was right there with her. The last thing she needs is to get a call from you."

"Okay, Buddy boy. Which is it then?"

"Call me," Steve said quietly. "And for the record, don't call my sister on my behalf unless I'm dead or dying, okay? As many times as I get into scrapes around here, she surely doesn't need to know more than she already does."

"She worries about you. Imagine how much more she'd worry if she knew how many trips I've made with you to the local ER. Not that I'm happy about that."

"She wouldn't be surprised. She's been with me a few times to the hospital in Tahoe."

"You know, come to think of it, I recall you coming back from Tahoe with an injury or two."

"Yes, but those aren't in the line of duty."

"No, but prey tell, what are those injuries in the line of?"

"Nothing decadent, so get your mind out of the gutter. A couple of times, I've taken a good tumble while skiing. Another time was on the baseball field. You've known me for a few years now. Haven't you figured out I'm a bit accident prone?"

"If it weren't for bad luck…" Mike led.

"I'd have no luck at all," Steve responded with a sigh.

"Ain't that the truth, Buddy boy." Mike thought to himself.