Olsen had tracked his colleagues down in the moderately busy Surgical Ward waiting room. Haseejian saw him coming, picked a cardboard cup of coffee off the floor and held it out.

"Thanks," the captain mumbled, stifling a yawn as he sat on the empty chair between Haseejian and Devitt, prying the lid off and taking a big sip.

"How is he?" Devitt asked.

Olsen bobbled his head. "Worried… but he's okay. He still looks like hell."

"You told him the truth?"

Olsen took another sip of the very welcome coffee. "Not all of it. He doesn't need to know all of it yet."

Devitt nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. So, are you going to go home like you promised?"

Olsen smiled. "After we hear about Mike… Okay?"

Chuckling, Devitt nodded again. "Okay."

The older captain took another sip of his coffee. "Oh, ah, almost forgot. Steve asked to see you."

Devitt frowned. "Me?" He managed to put a lot of trepidation into that one word.

"Yeah, you. I told him you'd go up and keep him company."

"You did?"

"Yeah. He said he wanted to see you."

"He did?"

Olsen froze, staring expressionlessly without blinking.

Devitt swallowed nervously. "Ah, yeah, I'll go up and see him… when we've heard about Mike…" he answered hesitantly, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the operating rooms.

Hiding behind his coffee cup, Olsen swallowed a smile.

# # # # #

It was a little more than a half hour later when a young doctor wearing blue scrubs got their attention; as usual, it was easy to spot the cops in the waiting room. All four gathered around him, dispensing with introductions.

"The lieutenant is going to be with us for a few days, but considering what he just went though, he's doing fine and he'll make a full recovery. He'll have a helluva scar but…" The resident smiled reassuringly, then held up a small plastic bag with a slightly misshapen bullet. Healey took it with a grateful nod. "There was quite a bit of… extraneous damage done to his skin and the muscles just under the skin… I was told the person who was, ah… looking after him tried to remove this with a knife…" He smiled grimly. "The bullet was pretty deep but it didn't hit anything important, thank goodness, and it was easy to get out. But the wound is infected. That's what happens when an obviously unsterilized instrument is used, unsuccessfully, and the wound isn't cleaned or dressed properly. Fortunately, it's a low-grade infection and we've already started him on antibiotics. It should clear up without any complications but we'll keep a close eye on him for the next couple of days. And it seems he was injected a number of times in the upper right arm with an unknown substance, so we'll be keeping an eye on that as well."

"Yeah," Healey interrupted with a quick nod. "It's on the way to our lab."

"Hopefully it's nothing more than water, but I'd appreciate it if you'd give us a call and let us know what it is as soon as you find out. It will dictate how we go about treating him."

"Of course," Healey promised.

"Good. He also has a sizeable contusion right at the back of his head," he pointed to the same spot on his own head, "but it's minor, he's not showing any signs of concussion but, again, we'll keep an eye on that as well." The doctor smiled, his eyes bouncing around the group. "So, any questions?"

"When can we see him?" Haseejian managed to blurt out before the others.

"Well, he's in Recovery right now and probably will be for the next hour or so till he's awake, then we'll give him something for the pain and move him to a room on the fourth floor." He shrugged. "From what I hear, he's had a pretty rough couple of days so depending on how awake and alert he is, well, you might be able to see him then, but no promises."

"The fourth floor, hunh?" Olsen asked and the doctor nodded. "Who, ah, who's the person responsible for room assignments?"

# # # # #

Devitt pushed the door open, stepping into the small room hesitantly, hoping to find the occupant asleep. Steve was sitting up against the raised bedhead, staring at the door.

Pasting a big smile on his face, the captain strode with a confidence he didn't feel towards the bed. Steve looked even worse than he remembered; the bruise on his face was in full bloom and both his eyes were black circles. He looked positively awful and Devitt couldn't suppress the wince that briefly washed over his face. "Oooo," he commiserated, "that looks painful…. How do you feel?"

"I think it looks worse than it feels… but it doesn't feel great," Steve mumbled through his wired jaw. "My ribs are worse…"

Devitt nodded sympathetically. "So, ah -"

"How's Mike?"

The captain started, surprised by the swiftness and near ferocity of the question. "Ah, oh, well, ah, we just talked to the doctor and he's gonna be fine. They're gonna want to keep him here for a couple of days but he's doing good…" He smiled encouragingly. "That's, ah, that's one of the reasons I'm here."

Steve's brow furrowed.

"He's in Recovery right now but they're gonna move him to a room soon and, well, Rudy pulled some strings… and evoked the spectres of the Chief and the Mayor, although I don't think that was really necessary," he chuckled, "and they're going to move you into a double room with him." He paused to let the news sink in. "Is that okay with you?" he asked with a smile and slight chuckle.

Steve didn't exactly smile but the worried lines on his battered face softened somewhat. He swallowed heavily. "Does he know about me yet?" he asked softly.

His smile disappearing, Devitt shook his head. "No, not yet. None of us have had a chance… and we probably won't before he gets up here…" He shrugged helplessly. "Sorry…"

"It's not your fault," the younger man said quietly. Devitt raised his eyebrows and bobbled his head slightly, looking down. "Just like what happened to me wasn't your fault either…"

The captain's head snapped up, frowning.

"I should've waited for you… to handcuff that guy. He was bigger than me… and full of adrenaline…. I should've waited for you to get down to me, hold him at gunpoint… but I didn't… and I'm paying the price for that, like I should be… not you…"

Devitt looked at him silently for a couple of seconds. "Would you have waited for Mike?"

Steve frowned, not really sure what Devitt was asking. "Probably not… and then it would be him standing here feeling guilty instead of you…" He smiled as best he could. "And I would still be lying here…"

Chuckling softly, Devitt relaxed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Steve's smile faded. "Roy, Rudy didn't go into any details about what happened to Mike…"

Devitt looked at him soberly for several long seconds. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Inhaling deeply, the captain took his hands out of his pockets and stepped closer to the bed. Pushing the overbed table away, he sat on the edge. "Well, It all started late Tuesday afternoon… about the same time that, well, that this happened," he began carefully, gesturing at Steve and raising his eyebrows.

# # # # #

The relaying of the events of the past two days wasn't quite finished when a couple of orderlies arrived to move Steve's bed down the corridor to a larger room. Devitt gave them a hand, bringing Steve's clothes and putting them in the small closet. "This room has a bigger window," he joked as he hung the tweed jacket, slipping the wool tie around the hook. As he crossed back to the bed, he frowned.

"I know you're probably not going to want to shave for a couple of days, but do you want me or one of the guys to run past your place and get your razor, maybe some other stuff?"

Steve nodded carefully. "That would be great. I'll make a list. My keys are in my -"

"Jacket pocket, yeah, I felt them." Devitt looked at him with a wistful smile. "So, do you want me to continue?"

Frowning, disturbed by what he had already heard, the younger man nodded.

"Okay." Devitt sat on the edge of the bed again; it was easier for Steve to see him and, though he was trying not to show it, Mike's determined partner was in a lot of pain.

Devitt was still sitting on the bed when the door was pushed open and a nurse set the doorstop then, pulling an IV pole and holding an IV bag aloft, backed into the room, followed by a hospital bed guided by two orderlies. The cops watched silently as the bed was maneuvered into position under the head panel and the wheels locked. The nurse set the IV pole close to the wall on the right side of the bed and hung the bag, leaned over the patient for a couple of seconds then, with a look and quick smile at the other two men in the room, flipped the doorstop up with her foot and let the door close behind her.

Devitt glanced at Steve; Mike's bed was raised only slightly and he knew the younger man couldn't actually see his partner very well from where he was lying. He got to his feet and moved closer to Mike's bed, stared at it for a couple of long seconds then retreated and sat again. He shrugged almost apologetically. "He's out… like really out. He needs the rest though, believe me."

Steve nodded as the captain smothered a yawn. The younger man almost smiled. "I think you do too," he said softly and Devitt looked at him sheepishly. "I'm okay," he continued, his eyes drifting towards Mike's bed, "we're okay…."

Devitt looked at the other bed as well. "Listen, ah, don't you want me to tell him -?"

"I'll tell him," Steve interrupted quietly. "When he wakes up, I'll tell him."

Frowning, Devitt stared at the younger man; he looked skeptical. "Don't forget he doesn't know you're in here, let alone that you got hurt. It'll scare the hell out of him if he hears your voice but he can't see you. You really want to do that to him?"

"Don't worry," Steve said softly, "I won't do that to him. I promise."

Devitt stared for another long second then nodded once. "Okay," he whispered, patting the younger man's leg as he got to his feet, trying to suppress another yawn. "It has been a hell of long day," he chuckled quietly, "almost thirty straight hours now, I guess…" He glanced at the other bed then fixed Steve with a sad but warm smile. "I'll, ah, I'll see both of you tomorrow."

With a valiant attempt at a warm smile of his own, Steve nodded. Devitt stepped to Mike's bed, watched his sleeping colleague for several very long seconds then crossed to the door, glancing back at Steve with a wink before he left.

Steve looked across at the other bed. He could see the blanket over his partner's body and a bit of the left side of his head but the rails were up and he could see nothing else. He laid his head back on the pillow; he was very tired. Talking to Devitt had taken a lot out of him, physically as well as emotionally. He almost couldn't believe the hell his partner had been through, how terrifying it must have been to be wounded, alone and in the hands of a psychotic woman and her slow-witted son.

It seemed almost impossible what they had both been through these past two days. Hell, it seemed that since they had caught the Goodman murders things just kept getting worse and worse for the two of them, like they were cursed. And, as far as Mike was concerned, the Goodman case wasn't finished, and it wouldn't be until he he could prove that Jane Goodman had not killed her husband, her son and herself.

He closed his eyes, taking as deep a breath as he dared. He could feel the tears welling up behind his lids and he willed himself not to cry; with his jaw wired shut he couldn't afford to let his nose get stuffed. It would only make things even more miserable.

He chuckled to himself, surprised by the ludicrousness of the situation; and the fact that he knew Mike would find it amusing as well brought a smile to his distorted face. He turned his head on the pillow, looking at the other bed, a warmth spreading over him.

They may be battered, bruised and wounded, but they were together again, and nothing was better than that.