He was numb. He knew people were talking to him but he couldn't hear the words, just the soothing tones. He knew someone was standing over him, leaning down. He felt gentle hands on both sides of his chest, carefully sliding him to the left so they could ease his right arm out of the small tunnel he had dug.
The face he couldn't see hovered above his own again, repeating the same phrase over and over. It finally pierced through the fog enough for him to respond. "Mike, can you sit up?"
He blinked slowly, breathing through his mouth, then bobbled his head. "I think so…" he mumbled. He felt hands under his shoulders and the back of his head, and he was lifted into a sitting position, the jarring motion reawakening the pain in his wrist. He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, and crossed his forearms across his body, cradling his left arm.
"Here," he heard softly and felt something slide over his head, carefully so as not to disturb the hat, and very gently his left forearm was lifted and slipped into a sling. "There, that should help," the calm voice murmured in his ear.
He tried to focus on the face mere inches from his own but his vision was still blurry from the unshed tears. He thought he could make out a fireman's helmet but he wasn't sure. He took a deep breath and began to cough, inhaling more of the concrete dust still suspended in the air around him. His stomach muscles tightened as he leaned forward, wincing as he tried to draw breath, choking, feeling strong hands supporting him. He heard a voice yell, "Water! We need water!"
There was a frenzied flurry of activity around him which subsided somewhat when the now familiar voice said urgently, "Here, here…" He managed to lift his head and open his eyes slightly, still trying to take a deep breath. A small while plastic cup of water was hovering in front of his face and he reached up with a shaking right hand to guide it to his mouth. He managed to take a sip of the cool, very welcome liquid, closing his eyes, his shoulders heaving with the effort to breathe normally. He took another sip.
The hands supporting him released their grips, patting him lightly, comfortingly before disappearing. He felt the gentle hand on his shoulder tighten slightly as the cup was taken from his grasp. "Do you think you can stand?"
After a beat, as if in a trance, he nodded slowly. "Yeah…"
"Okay, let's give it a try." The fireman stood from his crouch then leaned forward, both hands under Mike's right arm. Suddenly the other hands were on him again, on his back and supporting his upper left arm, and he felt himself almost lifted as he got his feet under him and stood. The hands stayed on him, holding him steady. "Are you okay? Do you think you can walk?"
He could feel all the eyes staring at him and he nodded slowly. "Yeah… yeah, I think so…"
"Okay, great. We're just gonna help you get over all this stuff here," the rubble that had been the walls of his little hollow were indicated by a nod of the firefighter's head, "so watch your step."
The strong hands on his arms almost keeping his feet from touching the ground, Mike was guided over the debris, then everyone stopped. The rescue team wanted to make sure the man who had just spent almost a full day trapped in the rubble of a collapsed warehouse wasn't in need of a stretcher to go any further. Satisfied that he was in better shape than they could've hoped, everyone except the lead fireman took a step back, watching him carefully.
"How do you feel?" he was asked.
Still squinting in the sun, Mike looked around almost somnambulantly. He didn't notice the intense dark eyes of a middle-aged black man watching his every move. He was still in shock, and not just because of the physical ordeal he had just been through. He heard a soft snort and the fireman leaned closer. "Ah, there's some friends of yours around here somewhere that are going to be thrilled to see you," he chuckled, his tone warm and encouraging.
Mike nodded absent-mindedly, as if he hadn't really heard. He looked down slightly and inhaled. "I want to see him," he said softly.
The firefighter frowned. "See who?
Inhaling raggedly, Mike started to turn slowly. "Bobby…" he said quietly, his voice breaking. "I never saw him…" He felt a hand grab his right arm again as he took an unsteady step back towards the rubble.
"Sure… of course," came the quiet voice in his ear.
With a grateful nod, Mike took another step closer to the debris then stopped. Lying on its side in a depression in the rubble was the body of a slight young man with long curly dark blond hair, his unlined face partially obscured by a well-kept beard and mustache. His eyes were closed and he looked almost serene, his lips curled in what looked like an incongruously content smile. His right hand, the one Mike had held for such a long time, lay near the opening of the tunnel that had connected more than just two people who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Mike stared at him for several very long seconds, as if trying to memorize every feature, feeling his entire body start to shake, the tears blurring his vision again. The hand that was on his arm slid up to his shoulder and he could feel the fireman's fingers tighten in support. "We'll, ah, we'll take good care of him, don't you worry."
Swallowing heavily, Mike nodded, continuing to stare. He was breathing heavily through his open mouth as he fought for control, and he brought his right hand up to cover his eyes. He wanted to reach down, to touch the face of the young man with whom he had, so quickly, developed such a strong connection, but he knew he wasn't strong enough. And people were waiting for him to leave; there were quite possibly others who needed rescuing just like he'd been and time was of the essence.
He nodded, turning slightly towards the fireman still holding his right arm. "Thank you," he whispered. He felt the grip tighten again.
"Come on," the fireman said gently and helped him turn away. "You sure you're okay?" he asked again as they started slowly, under very many watchful eyes, away from the ruins.
Looking down but moving under his own steam, Mike nodded. He didn't notice the middle-aged black man, obviously not a member of any of the kitted-up rescue teams, trailing discreetly behind, his eyes riveted to the back of his head, watching him closely with a soft, relieved smile.
Neil, trying to be discreet, slipped quickly around the group accompanying the newly rescued cop towards a waiting ambulance and leaned close to the firefighter at Mike's side, whispering urgently and pointing towards the firetrucks. Nodding, flashing a grateful smile, the firefighter, whose nametag Neil noticed read 'Clark', laid a soft hand on the cop's elbow and pointed to their left, as the group slowly changed direction.
His head slightly lowered, taking each step slowly and carefully, Mike allowed himself to be guided away from what was left of the collapsed warehouse. Behind him, he could hear the engine of the crane crank up again as the search continued.
# # # # #
As the lull in what had become the almost normal cacophony had continued, Steve had struggled to his feet again, Haseejian at his side, and moved to where he could see the large group of rescuers still milling about. It was seeming to take forever this time to extract whomever they'd found and the Armenian sergeant knew that his young colleague was losing whatever little hope he'd had remaining.
Haseejian took a step closer and wrapped his arm around Steve's shaking shoulders, a connection that both of them needed.
The tight crowd in the distance started to disperse slightly, and several turned to start away, They couldn't see a stretcher, and both cops frowned, not sure what that meant. A group of people had started to slowly make their way towards the waiting ambulances when suddenly they changed direction towards the firetrucks.
And that was when they saw him, in the middle of the small entourage of firemen, the down-turned face hidden by the fedora, the black topcoat now almost white with concrete dust.
Haseejian felt the thin shoulders under his hand begin to tremble even more as Steve caught his breath then exhaled loudly with a slight whimper. His own throat tightened and his eyes stung as his fingers gripped Steve's shoulder even tighter as they watched the slow progress towards them, neither them really believing what they were seeing.
# # # # #
Mike was putting one foot in front of the other, his mind still numb from everything that had transpired in the last few minutes. His entire focus was concentrated on moving forward, not really aware of where he was going, putting distance between himself and the horror behind him.
He felt a hand grip his upper right arm and he turned his head slightly. The fireman beside him was staring straight ahead and, when he felt the cop's eyes on him, he nodded forward with his chin. Mike slowly followed the gesture, his eyes falling on a sight he thought he'd never see again and his measured pace slowed even more as his overwhelmed mind tried to process what was now before him.
He stopped, his face unreadable as his red-rimmed eyes stared without blinking at the spectre of the young man standing unsteadily several yards in front of him. He dropped his head and dragged a ragged breath into his lungs as he raised his shaking right hand to cover his face, feeling the hand on his arm tighten its grip.
Trying to control the trembling that was now visible to everyone watching, he raised his head and lowered his hand, his bright eyes boring into the face he seriously thought he might never see again. He felt the hand on his arm let go as he took another step forward.
Haseejian, almost unable to contain the smile that continued to build, oblivious to Healey who had suddenly appeared at his side, slid his hand from his young colleague's shoulder to his back, giving him an encouraging pat before moving off.
Steve, his eyes suddenly bright, his quivering lips trying to form a smile, watched as the man he thought he might never see alive again slowly closed the distance between them.
As if as one, everybody else backed away, knowing that this moment was private, was personal.
Mike slowly approached, his face haunted, his eyes unbearably sad. He stopped in front of his bandaged, bloody and disheveled young partner, who had obviously gone through an equally horrific ordeal, and stared at him silently. Very slowly, he raised his right hand and gently touched the younger man's forehead near the dirty bandage as Steve's eyes dropped to the sling supporting Mike's left forearm.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked breathlessly, and a soft smile curled Mike's lips as he nodded softly, briefly closing his eyes. He tried to smile back, feeling his throat constrict. "So am I…" he managed to get out before he took a step forward and slowly and carefully, mindful of the sling, wrapped his arms around his partner's chest.
His eyes closing, Mike's right hand snaked behind the younger man and cupped the back of his head, pulling him as close as he could. And as some of the others around them watched, overcome by the scene playing out before their eyes, and others turned away out of respect for their privacy, they stood that way for a long time.