He had no idea how much time had passed. He couldn't lift his left arm to see his watch, and it was too dark anyway. He knew he had drifted off once in a while, more from exhaustion than anything else, but he hadn't slept, and he was definitely stiffening up, unable to move his legs. The throbbing in his left wrist had settled down, only rearing its ugly head when he forgot and moved it.

He tried to lick his lips; his mouth was dry. It was becoming harder and harder to talk and he knew he was becoming dehydrated. The chill that had seeped through his topcoat, suit jacket and vest added to the misery, and he was now starting to wonder if help would indeed come before it was too late.

Bobby had fallen silent a long time ago but occasionally he felt the warm fingers move and knew the young man was fighting the same battle. He took comfort in that.

# # # # #

"Here."

A cardboard cup appeared in front of him and he could smell the comforting odour of strong coffee. He looked up into Haseejian's stern visage. Moving slowly, he reached out and gingerly took the cup. "Thanks."

The big sergeant's worried eyes stared at the younger man's bloody fingertips once again. They were rubbed raw in several places, and he had torn a fingernail off; others were down to the quick. Both hands looked uncomfortably painful. "Dan's tracking down something for you to eat," he relayed as he sat on the bumper of the firetruck beside his colleague. "You know, you really should let us take you to the hospital -"

Midway through a sip, Steve snapped his head up as quickly as he could, spilling a bit of the steaming hot liquid.

"Okay, okay," Haseejian said quickly, raising both hands in supplication, "I won't mention it again, I promise." As he watched the younger man take another sip of the coffee, he reached out and ran his hand comfortingly across his back.

They had been staying out of the way, watching as the rescue efforts continued. The sun was now high in the sky, a warm sunny day that belied the tragedy unfolding before their eyes. The tall pile of rubble was being cleared with painstakingly slow and deliberate care, and they were now working on what remained of the ground floor, different teams starting from the outside edges with meticulous precision.

The whole scene had taken on a strange rhythm. The entire area would go silent, all engines turned off, all voices hushed, and everyone would freeze, listening. Then, if they were lucky, someone would shout, "Over here!" and the frantic rescue efforts would once again commence until the victim, sometimes very badly injured, sometimes not, was extracted.

But as the day wore on, and the heap of ruins became smaller and smaller, there were fewer shouts of "Over here!", and eventually they stopped pausing to listen altogether. And the overwhelming reality began to sink in that this was no longer a mission of rescue but now purely one of recovery.

Haseejian's hand slid gently up Steve's back till it rested on the nape of his neck. He squeezed, dropping his own head as he tried to quell the emotions he knew were boiling just below the surface, not wanting his despair to overwhelm them both. He knew he had to stay strong, not only for the young man sitting beside him but for himself.

# # # # #

Mike's eyes snapped open. He lifted his head slightly, straining to hear. A slight smile curled his lips and he shook his right hand. "Bobby! Bobby!" he called through the tunnel. He felt the warm fingers curl around his hand slightly.

"Ummm…?"

"Bobby, can you hear me?"

"Unh-hunh…"

"Do you hear it? The engine…. Can you hear it?" He paused, waiting for a response.

There was a long silence then a soft, "Yeah…. yeah…."

"Hang on, son, they're coming. They're gonna get us out."

"Yeah…. That's good…"

"Yes, it is." Mike let his head fall back again, the smile lingering.

# # # # #

"So, you got a choice," Healey said with a chuckle as he approached Steve and his partner at the back of the firetruck, his hands full. "I've got pizza," he held out the small square cardboard box in his right hand, "and donuts," he hefted a larger white box, with a small stack of napkins on top, in his left. "Which do you want?"

Steve had glanced up perfunctorily then dropped his eyes again. "I'm not hungry, thanks."

Haseejian turned on him quickly. "You haven't eaten in hours and you're about to collapse. You're going to eat something if I have to hold you down and force it down your throat, and right now I think I could hold you down with my pinky. Do you understand me?"

Steve's defiant glare melted under his colleague's ultimatum and he dropped his head, nodding softly.

"Good," Healey smiled, holding out both hands again. "So, which one do you want?"

Steve looked at both options and nodded at the box in the sergeant's left hand. "A donut, please…"

Healey's face split in a wide smile. "Great." He looked at Haseejian. "Pizza for us." He thrust the pizza box towards his partner, who reached for it quickly, then, picking up the napkins and handing them to Steve, opened the box of donuts. They both watched as the young inspector stared into the box then slowly reached in with one of the napkins and picked up a honey glazed donut. Neither of the older men moved until he had taken a bite then, smiling at each other, Haseejian opened the pizza box and held it out to his partner.

# # # # #

It seemed to be taking forever, but the sounds of the engines were gradually getting closer, Mike was sure. Part of him wished they would move faster but a part of him was also worried about the vibrations the heavy machinery was sending through the ground, and the possibility that, if they attempted to remove the wrong piece of rubble, it would send the rest tumbling down on them like a house of cards.

Suddenly he felt his hand squeezed, more strongly than he was expecting, and he smiled spontaneously in relief.

"Mike…?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?" Bobby's voice sounded almost normal; Mike felt his heart start to pound.

"Sure, of course."

There was a soft chuckle. "I've never told anybody…" He paused, as if embarrassed.

Mike laughed gently. "Then I won't tell a soul, I promise."

There was a mirth-filled snort and then, "I like opera…"

The older man froze briefly then laughed again. "Opera?"

Bobby's chuckle was infectious and he squeezed Mike's hand tighter. "Yeah…"

"When did you get to see an opera?"

"I, ah, I was panhandling outside the Opera House a few months ago. This guy and his wife come out at intermission and they're arguing, you know… and she stomps off. I was near them; I saw them and he saw me." He paused, and Mike could hear him take a deep breath. "He put his ticket stub in my hand, said 'Enjoy the show' and stormed off…. So I went in."

Mike laughed again. "And they didn't stop you?"

"Nope…"

"Do you remember what show it was?"

"La Boheme."

"With Jose Carreras? I saw that one."

"You go to the opera?"

Mike chuckled self-consciously. "Yeah, I do. I don't tell many people either…"

There was a soft sigh that sounded almost envious. "You ever see Pavarotti?"

Mike shook his head. "Naw, he hasn't come here…"

"I'd sure like to someday… I have a tape of his… you know, his solos? I used to have a tape recorder but it broke…" His voice trailed off, and Mike wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or melancholy.

Shaking his hand, the older man said softly, "When we're outa here and you've recovered from all this, Bobby, you and me'll go see an opera. How does that sound?"

There was a soft and almost happy chuckle from the other side of the tunnel. "I'd like that…"

"Then it's a promise." Mike squeezed Bobby's hand once again, heartened.

The roar of the engines was getting louder.

# # # # #

"You know, you'd make everybody feel better if you'd lie down in the back of the car. I promise we'll keep you abreast of everything -"

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve reiterated for what felt like the hundredth time. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs and his eyes closed. It was obvious to even the most casual observer that he was in a lot of pain.

"I didn't mean go anywhere," Haseejian tried to keep the frustrated edge out of his tone, "just across the parking lot over there."

"I'm fine."

"Sure you are." The Armenian sergeant was losing patience but he was equally as worried. It seemed like hours since they had pulled anyone alive from the rubble as they carefully picked their way through the dwindling pile of debris. And the hope for finding any more survivors had definitely diminished.

With a heavy sigh, Haseejian reached out and gently patted his young colleague on the back. "Don't give up yet. You know he wouldn't."

After several long seconds, he saw Steve nod slowly.

# # # # #

The roar of the engines was slowly getting louder. But so was the now almost constant stream of concrete dust raining down on him. Lying on his back, it was getting harder and harder to keep it out of his nose and mouth, even with the dirty hanky over his face.

Conversation had petered out as the external noise grew progressively deafening but Mike could feel Bobby's fingers still wrapped around his hand. If their luck continued, it wouldn't be too long before their presence was detected and they would finally be freed.

His heart started to pound and he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop the shaking. The first and only thing he wanted to see when he finally got out was Steve waiting for him, alive and well.

# # # # #

"Here, I found these for you."

He heard the familiar voice from above and raised his head slowly. Grinning broadly, Neil was standing in front of him, the sports coat in one hand, raincoat in the other. Despite himself, Steve smiled and slowly sat up straighter, trying not to groan. Haseejian, still sitting beside him on the firetruck bumper, grabbed his arm to offer whatever assistance he could, exchanging a worried look with the middle-aged black man. Neil's grin disappeared.

"Hey, you okay?"

"We've been trying to get him to at least lie down in the car but…" Haseejian shrugged helplessly.

"But he's stubborn as a mule, I know," the guard finished, staring at the young cop ferociously. "I spent all night tryin' to get him to slow down. He'd have none of it."

Steve smirked. He nodded towards the man beside him. "Norm, this is Neil. Neil, Norm."

They nodded at each other.

"Neil's a guard here. Norm works with me and Mike -" He stopped suddenly, looking down, and the older men looked at each other again. Neil raised his eyebrows questioningly and Haseejian shook his head, mouthing 'Not yet' before reaching out to take the coats.

Suddenly there was a commotion from the rubble, voices yelling, people waving frantically.

Haseejian stood as they all looked in that direction. "What's going on?" he yelled at someone running past them.

Without stopping, the medic shouted back, "They've found someone alive!"

Haseejian looked down at Steve, who was trying to get to his feet. He pushed him back down with a stern, "You stay here!", putting the coats in his lap and starting to move away.

Neil grabbed the older cop's arm and pulled him to a stop. "You both stay here. I know what he looks like. I'll go," he ordered before sprinting towards the gathering crowd.

Nodding to himself, knowing it was the right call, Haseejian sank back down on the bumper. He turned slowly to meet Steve's penetrating but hopeful stare. "It's gotta be Mike, Norm… it's just gotta be…"