"Steve!" Mike bellowed in shock and fear as he watched his partner's unconscious body being lowered to the floor. He took two quick steps forward then stopped as the room suddenly spun and he staggered. His right hand automatically shot out towards Haseejian beside him, who grabbed his arm and held on as all three continued to stare at the scene playing out before them.
The paramedic shot to his feet and headed quickly out the metal-and-glass front door.
Healey, kneeling beside his colleague, his hand under Steve's head, looked up in Mike's direction, his features obscured, the flashlight beams on the young man's ashen face, his eyes closed. "It's okay, Mike," Healey reassured quickly, "he just passed out. He's gonna be all right."
"Steve," Mike tried to call out again, his voice shaking, as Sam and Haseejian helped him move closer, a hand on each arm. Then Sam let him go and followed his colleague out the front door.
"He's gonna be okay, Mike, don't worry," Haseejian said quietly, feeling the despair emanating from the man beside him.
Slowly Mike began to kneel, trying to reach out, and the sergeant sank down with him, giving as much support as he could. "Steve…" Mike breathed, repeating his partner's name over and over as he tried to lay his trembling right hand against his partner's face. Healey looked at him again, his encouraging smile barely visible in the dim reflected glow from the flashlights.
The front door banged open and Sam reappeared, dragging a stretcher behind him, Andy bringing up the rear. Both Healey and Haseejian got quickly to their feet; Haseejian helped the lieutenant up and they all took several steps back, Mike reluctantly, his eyes never leaving his young friend's face.
Healey handed Haseejian his flashlight as he skirted the stretcher and crossed to the door, holding it open. Streetlight, muted by the fog, and the bright headlights from the emergency vehicles parked near the door helped to throw a bit more illumination on the dim interior of the abandoned bodega.
Moving swiftly, and with practiced ease, the two paramedics picked Steve up and laid him gently on the stretcher, then immediately wheeled it through the door Healey was holding open and within seconds it was sliding into the back of the ambulance. As Sam slammed the back doors, he turned to Healey, who was right behind him. He nodded towards Mike and Haseejian, who were just coming through the door, Mike looking anxiously in their direction. "Mike doesn't need to go with us in the ambulance. Can you take him to St. Francis?"
Healey nodded quickly. "Sure."
"Great. Tell him Steve's going to be okay… and you drive carefully." Sam smiled grimly then circled the ambulance and got in the passenger side door. The siren started to wail as it pulled away from the curb, the flashing lights almost blinding in the gloom of the foggy night.
Mike had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the departing ambulance in confusion. Healey approached in two rapid strides. "They're taking him to St. Francis. He wants Norm and me to take you."
Mike's eyes swung slowly in his direction; the older man looked worried, and frighteningly unsteady. He was visibly shaking, and Haseejian realized he was wearing just a cotton shirt over a t-shirt. "Hey, ah, do you have a jacket or something?"
Mike nodded slowly, his attention returning to where the ambulance had disappeared. "Ah, yeah… yeah, it's in there somewhere…" He nodded faintly back at the store.
Haseejian tossed a glance over his own shoulder then started to shrug his overcoat off. He draped it across the older man's shoulders then put his arm around him and started to lead him towards the moss green Galaxie angled to the curb. He opened the front passenger side door and helped Mike in then sat in the back as Healey got behind the wheel.
The quick trip to St. Francis was made in silence. Haseejian stared at the back of Mike's head while Healey kept taking quick glances across the front seat, then meeting his partner's eyes in the rearview mirror.
It took them a lot longer to get to the hospital than the ambulance and, surprisingly but comfortingly, Sam was waiting for them when the unmarked cop car pulled up to the Emergency entrance. The senior paramedic smiled as he moved to the passenger side door and opened it as an obviously worried Mike turned in the seat, trying not to wince as he started to climb out.
"He's going to be fine, Mike, you can relax," Sam said quickly, moving closer to the car to block the older man's unnecessary and potentially injurious hurried exit. The two anxious blue eyes looked up at him, as if begging for confirmation. His smile getting a little wider, Sam nodded. "He woke up in the ambulance and he was asking about you."
Mike swallowed unsteadily. "Why did he collapse?" he asked hoarsely, trying to find his voice.
"Well, we don't know that yet, of course, but I think it might be his ribs. He could have a partially collapsed lung but we'll have to wait and see after they finish with the x-rays." He took a step back as Healey arrived with a wheelchair, the sergeant frowning at his boss with a no-nonsense glare that told the older man that he didn't have any choice in the matter.
Frowning his disapproval but wisely remaining silent, Mike allowed Sam and Haseejian to help him out of the car and into the chair. His head was pounding, and he was worried, and he just didn't have the strength or the will to fight anymore.
# # # # #
He was lying on a gurney in the examination room, his right hand on his forehead and his eyes closed. He had been examined, stitched, his head x-rayed and re-bandaged, given Tylenol, had the broken cast removed, his wrist x-rayed, and was now waiting for an orthopaedic technologist to arrive to apply a new cast.
He had no idea how much time had gone by, but his stomach was in knots. No one he had interacted with had any idea what was going on with his partner, and the lack of information was beginning to take its toll.
He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, feeling the thin layer of tears balanced precariously between the lids. He rubbed at his eyes with his right fingers, keeping his temporarily tensor-bandaged left arm on the bed like he had been told.
He exhaled loudly and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, trying to distract himself by counting the small decorative holes in the ceiling tiles once again. He heard the door open. "Oh, here you are…" came a familiar voice and he opened his eyes, raising his head slightly so he could see his visitor.
A smiling, though worried-looking, Roy Devitt moved closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"
Mike frowned, his heart starting to race. "How's Steve?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Devitt chuckled, raising both hands as he stopped beside the bed and looked down at his battered colleague. The words sent a shiver down Mike's spine and his frown deepened. "One thing at a time, okay? How are you doing?"
Mike's right hand shot out and he grabbed the captain's forearm roughly. "How's Steve?" he repeated, his voice louder and more frantic.
Devitt's smile disappeared; there was no mistaking the naked anxiety in his colleague's demeanour. "He's okay, he's okay," he said quickly, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his friend's heaving chest. "I just left him," he continued soothingly, knowing he had to say more. "He's resting comfortably and he told me to tell you he's doing fine." He tried a light smile. "He, ah, he wants me to go back and tell him how you're doing," he chuckled.
Mike closed his eyes and let his head drop carefully back onto the pillow, taking longer and deeper breaths in an attempt to get himself under control. He could feel Devitt's gentle hand patting his chest, and he was grateful for the soothing touch.
When he finally had confidence in the strength of his voice, he asked, "Do they know why he passed out?"
Devitt nodded with a tiny smile. "Umh-humh. He has two broken ribs on his left side, and his lung partially collapsed." When Mike's eyes widened in alarm, he continued quickly, "Don't worry, like I said, he's okay. They used a needle," he shuddered theatrically with a slight chuckle, trying to take the enormity out of his description, "and re-inflated it and now all he has to do is rest." He shrugged to punctuate the end of his explanation.
Mike was eyeing him skeptically. "Is that all?"
Devitt frowned. "What do you mean, is that all?"
"He hurt more than just his ribs, so what else aren't you telling me?"
The captain's eyes widened and he chuckled. "Oh, well, if you're talking about his face, he had two stitches in his eyebrow and one on the corner of his lip, and he has a couple of bruises on his chest and stomach, but those are minor, believe me. Even Steve said so." He pointed at the door and chuckled. "Go ask him if you don't believe me."
Mike stared at him expressionlessly, not appreciating his colleague's attempt at levity, then he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. A very tiny smile appeared on his lips. "I believe you…" he said softly and Devitt's chuckle turned into a full-throated, and very relieved, laugh. He patted Mike's chest a few more times before removing his hand. He glanced around, finding a stool near the far wall, and pulled it closer to the bed. "So, as I asked before, how are you doing?"
Mike opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "I feel like hell."
"I'm not surprised. From what I heard, you took quite the whack on the head. But I also heard you also managed to solve that series of homeless murders?"
Mike turned his head slightly and stared at his colleague through slightly baffled eyes. "Well, inadvertently."
Devitt frowned with a confused smile. "What do you mean by that?"
"It was a… a happy accident, I guess you could call it. I just stumbled onto it… one of the murder weapons… by accident."
"Is that when you got hit?"
Mike nodded carefully, reaching up to gently touch the bandage around his head. "Yeah…"
"Was Steve with you?"
Mike shook his head slightly with a soft shrug. "No… I'm still not sure how he got there… or why…"
"Well, we can figure that out later. Look, I'm gonna let you rest. I just want to let you know that I'm here, and Rudy will be on the way shortly. And, according to your orders, or so I've heard, Dan and Norm are taking over your case. They're at 850, by the way, following up on things there so you don't need to worry about anything… it's all being taken care of, okay?"
Mike nodded slowly again. "Thanks, Roy." As Devitt got up from the stool, he reached out and grabbed the captain's arm. "Tell Steve…" he started, then stopped, his eyes drifting away slightly and swallowed, "ah, tell Steve…"
Devitt smiled. "I'll tell him you're fine and you're thinking of him too. Is that what you want me to say?"
With a grim, grateful smile, Mike nodded.
Devitt turned back at the door. "Oh, ah, by the way, there's a couple of undercovers out in the lobby too. Watson and Kendall? They want me to tell you to get well soon and, ah… and that you're welcome." He shrugged in confusion and chuckled.
Mike's smile got a little wider and, for the first time, he chuckled. "Tell them thanks… and tell them I have a lot of questions for them too."
Devitt laughed. "I bet you do." He winked. "I'll see you later."
Mike watched the door close then looked up at the ceiling again. He closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. Then he smiled.
