Haseejian felt a tap on his arm. Tearing is eyes from the poignant scene playing out several feet away, he turned to find Neil standing between him and Healey. With a nod of his head, the black guard pulled them further away, out of earshot.
He lowered his head, pulling them into a tight huddle, and kept his voice low. "Listen, ah, I think you guys should know what happened over there," he nodded towards the area where Mike had been buried. He spent the next minute or two filling the two Homicide sergeants in on what little information he'd gleaned about their lieutenant and the young man who had been trapped beside him.
When Neil had finished, Haseejian turned his head slightly, nodding; his two colleagues still hadn't moved, still coming to grips with the realization that they had both survived the harrowing ordeal relatively unscathed, all things considered. He looked back at the guard, who had provided them with such invaluable assistance throughout the entire nightmare, and patted him on the arm. "Thanks, man," he said gratefully, unable to mask the sadness in his own eyes.
"You bet," Neil grinned then turned his sober eyes on the young man he had watched over with a paternal eye. He stared at the emotional reunion, a lump forming in the back of his throat. "They're tight, aren't they?"
Healey snorted. "You have no idea."
Neil's warm smile wavered and he sighed softly with a sad chuckle. "They're lucky…" he said quietly as he drifted away.
The inspectors watched him go, then looked at each other and smiled. Healey exhaled loudly and ran his hands over his tired face. "Look, ah, I'll go get the car -"
"They're not going anywhere in a car," Haseejian interrupted sharply, nodding towards their colleagues. "They both belong in the hospital and Mike is not gonna talk me out of it, he can pull rank all he wants." He turned on his heel and started back through the firetrucks to weave his way over towards the ambulances. Much to his surprise, the firefighter that had helped extricate Mike was leading medics wheeling two gurneys across the asphalt of the parking lot towards the firetrucks.
# # # # #
He felt Mike's hand leave the back of his head and relaxed his clinch somewhat, his arms still around his partner's chest but loose enough now so he could lean back and look up into his face. The sadness in the familiar blue eyes was heartbreaking. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked quietly.
Mike nodded softly. "Yeah… yeah. You?"
Steve tried to smile encouragingly. "Yeah. I got banged up pretty good, but nothing's broken… just dented, I guess." He tried to chuckle and was somewhat successful.
Mike smiled but it didn't erase the sadness in his features. He inhaled raggedly, not taking his eyes from this young man he was suddenly so reluctant to let go of, and his strong right hand circled Steve's shoulders and pulled him close once more. Steve could feel him shaking.
There was a discreet clearing of a throat from close by and, as one, they grudgingly turned their heads in that direction. Haseejian, with an apologetic smile, gestured towards the two nearby gurneys, and the patiently waiting ambulance attendants. He raised a warning finger, and his eyebrows, anticipating and putting the kibosh on any thought of resistance before it even had the chance to form in the lieutenant's mind.
Surprisingly, and worryingly, there was no resistance. With a final brief clinch, Mike dropped his right arm and turned slowly and carefully, holding his breath as he took the few steps to the closest gurney. After a beat, with a concerned frown at his partner, Steve did the same. Before he turned around to sit, Mike paused and looked back towards the ruins, to where he knew the rescuers were carefully extracting the body of the young man whose luck had run out way too soon.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly turned his head and watched as Steve gingerly sat on the other gurney, allowing the medic to help him lie back, his face lined with pain. And, despite everything, a tiny relieved smile washed over his face.
# # # # #
Haseejian rode with them to the hospital, Dan following behind in one of the LTD's. It was a quiet ride, no lights and sirens, and uncharacteristically no conversation at all from either of his injured colleagues. Worriedly, he kept them both under his watchful eye as they lay disturbingly still with their eyes closed. And he knew that although both of them were in various levels of pain from their respective injuries, it was the emotional trauma that was really taking its toll.
As the gurneys disappeared into separate examination rooms, the sergeant crossed to the bank of payphones, fishing in his pocket for a dime. He had just been connected to Captain Olsen when Healey appeared at his side, waiting patiently for the conversation to end.
Haseejian hung up then turned to his partner, his head down and his voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb anyone. "Rudy's asked us to stay, if we could. Turns out everybody's tied up and all leaves have been cancelled. The City's a mess. Seems there's a lot of gas fires still burning all over town and a part of the Embarcadero near the Ferry Building came down, some cars were trapped." He knew they were both tired, physically and emotionally, but that neither of them wanted to leave their colleagues at this point regardless of how they felt.
"What did you tell him?" Healey asked with a frown.
Haseejian smiled wryly. "I told him we weren't going anywhere."
Matching the smile, the Irish sergeant slapped his partner on the arm then, silently, the two Homicide veterans found empty chairs in the crowded waiting room and sat.
# # # # #
It seemed like forever before Healey spotted what looked like an emergency room physician scanning the room, looking for someone. His cop's intuition telling him they were the object of the search, he tapped Haseejian on the arm as he stood, raising his hand to get the doctor's attention as he started to pick his way across the room, his partner in tow.
The grey-haired doctor nodded in greeting as they approached. "Are you gentlemen with the two police officers who were brought in a couple of hours ago?"
The cops introduced themselves quickly, both noting the name Bergeron on the doctor's nametag. Healey chuckled softly. "Hey, you looked after me a coupla years ago when I wrecked my knee chasing some scuzzball."
Bergeron's brow furrowed slightly then he smiled. "Oh, yeah, I remember you. How's the knee doing?"
Healey grinned. "Good as new."
The doctor nodded happily then turned sober. "Well, I wish I could say the same about your colleagues right now." As their brows furrowed, he raised the hand not holding the two metal clipboards. "Now don't get me wrong, they're both going to be fine; just not tonight." With a grim but encouraging smile, he flipped the top clipboard open, his eyes scanning the report. "Ah, Steven Keller…" He glanced up at them briefly. "I didn't look after him so give me a second to read this…" He paused, continuing to scan the handwritten form. "Okay, ah, he's been through an entire battery of x-rays and he has no broken bones, lucky for him, but he does have some bone contusions, to his right hip and pelvis, which are going take some time to heal. Longer than a muscle bruise, unfortunately. He's definitely going to have to take it easy for awhile but they'll eventually go away on their own."
He flipped the top page over and continued to read. "He's also had a skull x-ray and it's clear so there's no brain injury, which is a very good thing. However, I see here he has a laceration on his forehead that's going to need the services of a plastic surgeon so he doesn't have a noticeable scar. And that's been scheduled for later tonight." He flipped another page. "And lastly, he has quite a large laceration on the calf of his left leg which was preliminarily treated on the scene but that was several hours ago. The wound has been cleaned and stitched and he has been placed on IV antibiotics." He looked up and snapped the clipboard closed with a grim but encouraging smile. "We're going to keep him here tonight, of course, and we'll see how he is tomorrow and if he can go home or not. Right off the top, I'd say no, not tomorrow… but we'll see."
He changed clipboards and opened the second one. "Now, the lieutenant I looked after," he told them with a smile, "so I really don't need this." He hefted the clipboard with a chuckle. "Considering he was trapped under all that rubble for almost twenty-four hours, he's in remarkably good shape. He's dehydrated so we have him on fluids, and he took quite a severe blow to the head. But, like his partner, he's been x-rayed and there's no sign of brain trauma, so I think we dodged a bullet there too.
"However, his left wrist is another matter. He's going to need a pin, and we're gonna put it in tonight. We're just waiting for an OR to free up - we've been overwhelmed, as I'm sure you can imagine, and as a broken wrist is not a life-threatening condition, we have to wait. But he's been medicated and he's not feeling any pain so time is on our side." He smiled. "He's going to be with us for a day or so as well but, considering what he went through, he got off lucky."
The sergeants had taken it all in wordlessly, nodding occasionally, starting to relax the longer the doctor talked. It was Haseejian who spoke first. "So, ah, Doc, is there any chance we could see them tonight?"
Bergeron shrugged. "Well, they're in separate rooms… we're tight for space too or we'd keep them together. Ah, I can check on the inspector but I have a feeling, looking at this," he raised the clipboards slightly again, "that he's probably been given some pretty strong painkillers so he might be pretty out of it right now. But I know for a fact that the lieutenant is still awake." He smiled encouragingly. "How about you give me a couple of minutes and I'll see if he's up to it and if he is, I'll send someone to get you. Does that work?"
Both sergeants nodded. "Yeah, it sure does," Healey smiled. "Thanks, Doc." As the physician walked away, he looked at his partner, exhaling loudly. The prognosis for both their colleagues was a lot better than had been expecting.
# # # # #
The bed slightly raised, Mike's swaddled left forearm and hand was elevated on a pillow at his side, an IV line in the back of his right hand. Now dressed in a light blue hospital gown and covered with a flannelette blanket, his eyes were closed, his face pale, the lines more deeply drawn. He looked exhausted.
They had been standing bedside for several long seconds before Healey cleared his throat softly. Mike's eyes opened slowly and slid in their direction. A very tiny smile curled his lips. "Hi, fellas," he said softly, his voice raspy and weak. "How are you doing?"
Both sergeants smiled. "We're doing great. How are you doing?" Haseejian asked warmly, taking a step closer to the bed.
The lieutenant snorted softly. "Better than I deserve," he said enigmatically, closing his eyes.
Haseejian snapped a concerned look over his shoulder at his partner; Healey shrugged and shook his head, his eyes widening. The Armenian sergeant cleared his throat slightly. "Ah, Mike, we just wanted to check on you, see if you needed -"
The older man opened his eyes and pinned them both, his brow furrowed. "Yeah, I need you to do something for me," he said with as much emphasis as he could muster at the moment.
Both sergeants shrugged. "Sure, anything," Healey assured him.
"I need you to make sure that Bobby gets a military funeral. He's a veteran… and he's entitled to one…"