"He feels cold, Mike."
Haseejian's sorrowful words disrupted the silence once again, tearing into his soul, as he tightened the grasp around his partner's throat, desperately seeking for the faintest sign of a pulse.
"Of course, he feels cold! It's freezing out here and he's just in his suit."
Even though his mind comprehended what had happened, trying to come to terms with the inevitable outcome, he couldn't stop himself from leaning over Steve's face, hoping to hear a breath escape his lungs, but it was only stillness that greeted him.
"No Mike, he feels cold."
"He's gone into shock, Norm, we gotta hurry. Open his shirt. He's not breathing. We gotta do CPR to start him up again."
"Mike."
"Do I need to make this an order, Sergeant?!"
With his heart beating frantically, the panic sending all his nerve endings into overdrive, he helped the Armenian detective strip Steve out of his tie and shirt, gasping at the gray hue of his skin, as he leaned over to put an ear against his partner's chest, reaching for the last proverbial straw in hopes of hearing some sort of life sign.
"Get started on chest compressions, Norm."
"He's been gone for a couple of hours, Mike…I am sorry. But he's gone.",
It was the look on the Armenian detective's face that tore him up more than any words could have. It was the look of utter and undeniable defeat.
"His blood is starting to pool. Check his pupils. I am sure they'll tell you the same thing."
"Since when are you a doctor?"
The cloudiness in those curious green eyes he cherished so dearly was too much to bear that night, the finality of death hitting him so hard it turned his vision blurry, making his hands shake as he reached down to caress his partner's cold cheek.
"He's gone, Mike. I am sorry. We came too late."
Mike woke up with a start, sweat dripping off his forehead, his breaths coming in short, wheezy gasps as he tried to gather his bearings. The rapid pounding in his chest was an undeniable reminder that the night had ended like every single one had for almost two weeks now, quickly robbing him of both, his sleep and his sanity. The images, still vivid in his terrorized mind, were as dramatic and daunting as his fear that they might become a reality, one he wouldn't be able to live with no matter how powerless he was of the outcome.
Taking in a deep breath to clear his mind, Mike opened his eyes for a split second, noticing that he was sprawled out on his partner's couch, several sets of sheets and blankets keeping him warm against the cold dampness of the sterile apartment. As he ran a hand across face, unsuccessfully trying to wipe the remnants of the nightmare away, he sensed a presence next to him.
Opening his eyes back up, Mike saw that Steve had pulled the armchair closer, before curling up in it for the night, falling asleep in the most uncomfortable of positions in order to stay close to his best friend.
Feeling a welcoming warmth spread within him that night, he smiled faintly at the sight of his partner's head buried somewhere between his elbows and a couple cushions, the futile effort of fitting his entire body into the chair turning him into a human pretzel.
As he settled back into his sleeping position, Mike reached over to touch Steve's back, the slow motion of deep, peaceful breathing below his fingertips doing wonders to his tormented soul. With a final sigh, he closed his eyes again, the hand on his partner's back remaining in the same spot until both detectives woke up the next morning.