"I don't care!"

The words, so utterly ignorant, escaped his lips long before he could even think about them.

Dropping down hard on his knees next to the fire fighters, Mike reached for his partner's tie, carelessly pulling on the knot with his index finger until it came lose, before throwing it aside and opening up his dress shirt.

"This can't be the first time you had to revive somebody, so let's get busy…this is my partner."

His urgent plea sent both fire fighters into working mode, two curt nods his only answer as they readied themselves to start CPR.

"Did you find a pulse when you discovered him upstairs, Lieutenant?", the younger of the two asked cautiously, as he positioned himself with his back toward the police car, worried eyes quickly scanning the large crowd of gapers surrounding the group, before focusing on the patient in front of him.

"Come on, let's go, Evan", came then emotionless order from the older firefighter as he began chest compressions, his features turning somber under the scrutinizing eyes of the two San Francisco Police Officers watching them intently.

"He was…still trying to breathe…they didn't do this. He wasn't strangled to death. He was still…alive.", Mike repeated with a shaky voice, trying to ignore the red line along his partner's throat, then stood back up to make room for them to work, nearly bumping into an older man who was leaning forward to take in as much of the excitement as possible.

With a renewed sense of anger, Mike spun around on his heels, his fierce blue eyes parting the group of onlookers like Moses parting the Red Sea.

"What is it you guys are so eager see, mh? You look forward to watching a young cop die? You enjoy witnessing death and destruction? Is that what feeds your interest on a sunny afternoon?! Tell me?"

"Mike, come on…calm down…come on back over here…"

Hassejian's calming voice was followed by a warm hand on his shoulder, carefully nudging him away from the crowd, but finding only resistance.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves standing here like a bunch of vultures waiting for a kill. Give us some space to work, for God's sake. Show some respect. We're trying to save a life here!"

Guilt-ridden stares were his only response as the small group retreated several more steps, some people walking away altogether.

Turning back around and feeling the panic in his system making him dizzy, Mike glanced up in time to see Haseejian stare at him worriedly. Drawing in a deep breath, the Lieutenant subtly shook his head, unwilling to give up so soon. Instead, he turned his attention back to Steve, eyes fixated on his partner's lifeless body, the slight blue tinge on his skin, and the two men trying to coax his heart back into rhythm.

"Still no pulse. You got anything, Evan?"

The young firefighter paused and leaned his ear against Steve's chest, before shaking his head.

"No breathing. No heartbeat. Nothing."

"Okay, keep going.", came the automatic response, as the two men got busy again.

With his teeth clenched, his world reduced to nothing but the still form at his feet, Mike didn't notice Norm's hand squeezing his elbow until the Armenian gasped in relief.

"I'll be damned…"

His words made all of them stop in their tracks for a brief moment. As Mike followed Hassejian's glance, he could see Dan appear from the crowd, a handcuffed Erin McMillan by his side.

Torn between ravaging anger and horror at the sight of the injured woman missing all her hair, her cheeks blistered from severe burns; Mike reduced his reaction to a faint nod, then clenched his jaws, knowing that his energy needed to be spent on helping his partner survive, not unload his anger on their latest murder suspect.

"We thought you were dead, man!", Norm greeted his partner enthusiastically, stepping away from the Lieutenant to slap Haley's shoulder passionately.

"After a half mile foot chase, I thought the same thing. Heard the explosion and went to check on Steve when I saw her come down the stairwell and try to run from me. She needs an ambulance, her hands are burnt pretty badly. So is her face.", Dan explained, his features turning pale when he noticed the commotion going on below, "Oh no."

Those two simple words cut into Mike's soul deeper than any knife ever could and the Lieutenant looked away again, his wide-eyed, terror-stricken glance returning to the set of hands on his partner's chest, desperately trying to bring him back to the world of the living.

Another explosion disrupted the intense scene, as a wall of fire emerged from the southeast corner of the apartment complex, sending a new wave of building materials and glass onto Mission Street, much to the excitement of the blood-thirsty public gathered around to watch the spectacle.

Somewhere on the other side of their unmarked police car, the Battalion Chief was calling out for all of his men to gather and prepare for a more aggressive approach to the blaze, an order that caused the two fire fighters to look at each other insecurely.

"We can take over from here. Get that fire under control. And get that ambulance over here as soon as possible. Hassejian, get over here to help me out.", Mike ordered urgently and went back on his knees, before scooting over to make room for a worn-out Norm to slide next to Steve's shoulder, a look of utter helplessness on his face.

"Start with the chest compressions…quick."

"He feels cold, Mike…"

The Armenian detective's voice was breaking, as he rested a hand on Steve's chest, hesitant to begin.

"Of course, he feels cold! He's gone into shock, Norm, we gotta hurry."

As the scene from his nightmare turned uncomfortably real right in front of his eyes, Mike couldn't stop a desperate gasp from escaping his lips, as he ran his fingers through his partner's sandy hair.

"Damnit Steve…", he cursed with his voice breaking, "It's not going to end like this, you hear me? This is not going to happen. This isn't real!"

"I'm at thirty, Mike."

Nodding, as he fought to regain his composure, the Lieutenant leaned over, giving two deep rescue breaths in succession and watching his partner's chest rise with each one of them, tasting the smoke on his lips as he straightened out again, allowing Norm to continue.

"Keep fighting, you hear me!", he begged, using the hand that was tilting his partner's head back to gently caress his cheek, "Don't quit."

He waited until Norm was done with another round of chest compressions, before sliding his index and middle finger below Steve's jaw line, searching for a pulse that wasn't there.

"Damnit, I said don't quit!", he yelled desperately and leaned down to continue respirations, when a brown leather bag appeared next to them, followed by a set of worn out dress shoes.

"You sure know how to keep me busy, Lieutenant.", Joe Ford said, trying to control the tone in his voice, as he knelt down, preparing to take over for Norm, one hand in his bag searching for supplies.

"What are you doing here, Joe?", Mike asked curter than intended, despite the relief he felt at the ER doctor's appearance.

"I live just a couple blocks from here. Was getting ready to head in for my evening shift when I heard the explosion and figured that my services might be needed here. If nothing else, I'd see the victims sooner or later, so I wanted to triage in the field if possible. How long has he been without a pulse?"

"We've been going at it for about five minutes now.", Norm answered instead of Mike, and slowly got back on his feet to make room for the doctor, before using his large frame to push the crowds of gapers farther back, "Found him upstairs in the smoke-filled hallway."

"That figures…", the tall blonde man said and reached for his stethoscope, "Smoke inhalation. Acute respiratory failure. His heart stopped because he stopped breathing. That's better than the other way around."

He followed his cryptic comments by listening to Steve's chest for a few seconds, then shook his head and began compressions.

"Mike, there's an oxygen mask in my bag, grab it and put it over his face."

The wailing of approaching sirens nearly drowned out their voices and he resorted to an understanding nod, before reaching into the large leather case, careful not to damage the vials of medication and other supplies in there, as he retrieved the bag valve mask.

"You used one of those before?", Joe asked without looking over, his back rigidly straight as he counted out chest compressions.

"Never. We're cops, remember? Not doctors."

With a faint smile, the tall man nodded and reached over to fit the mask over Steve's mouth and nose, then gestured for Mike to move into position.

"Use your left hand to keep the mask in place and to keep his chin up and head tilted backward. We gotta make sure his airways stay open. He desperately needs some O2. There's a small plastic strap on the self-filling bag, slide your right hand under it and use that strap to keep it in place. Squeeze the bag slowly, twice, with about 4-6 seconds in between breaths when I get done."

"Do I watch the pressure gauge?", Mike asked with a trembling voice, his eyes moving back and forth between the mask and the busy doctor.

"No. Just squeeze the bag right about…now…"

Following the order, Mike watched his partner's chest rise with the artificial ventilation, as condensation formed inside the mask with each exhale.

When the stethoscope didn't give him the desired result, Joe stopped working and frantically began to search through his doctor's case again.

"You're not giving up, are you, Joe? You promised me that you'd help when the time comes. We can't quit now. He's my partner. I can't lose him."

"Far from it, my friend.", the doctor replied evenly, trying to sound professional and optimistic in light of the tragic situation, "Besides, Stephen still owes me from losing a bet a couple months ago. I won't allow him to get out of it that easy."

With a faint smile, Joe retrieved a plastic bottle filled with clear liquid, a vial and packaged syringe from his case, before pouring the presumed disinfectant on Steve's chest.

"We're going to jump start his system a bit more aggressively. This will help concentrate the blood around the vital organs, and hopefully get him to snap out of this. Of course, without good venous access, we're going to have to make this a bit more dramatic. Then again, you two do have a hankering for drama."

Mike flinched when he watched his friend draw up some of the medication, then grab the syringe tightly with his right hand, and slam it below the center of Steve's chest, before depressing the plunger.

Without caring about the audience gasping in surprise, Joe threw the syringe off to the side, before resuming compressions.

"Concentrated adrenaline right into the chest wall. Hopefully that'll be enough, if not, I'll give him another dose in a few minutes and we'll start packing up our stuff and head to the hospital, where I have more toys at my disposal."

Nodding at the words that made such little sense now, Mike focused on squeezing the oxygen bag in his right hand, his traumatized mind slowly detaching from his body and wandering to a happier, far more peaceful place.