Steve felt his heart drop at the sight of his unmoving partner, his sluggish jog turning into a frantic run as he bridged the last few feet, horrified of what he might find.
Noticing Sawyer a couple yards out, lying still on his back with a crimson stain in the center of his chest, Steve couldn't hold back a fear-filled gasp as he looked over at his best friend, too far away to notice any obvious injuries but yet unnervingly motionless.
With his legs cramping and his body soaked in sweat, he made a sharp right turn, grateful that Dixon was keeping a close enough eye on him to notice the change of direction and followed along.
As he bridged the distance, Steve glanced over Mike's body, terrified to find a bullet wound in his side, blood having seeped through his blue vest by now, his arms lying lifelessly by his side, one hand still holding onto the .38 as if he'd died right there, in the middle of stopping Sawyer, the vivid images of the classic Shakespearean ending haunting him to the core.
Don't you do this to me…
The words kept swirling in Steve's mind over and over again as he fell hard onto his knees, too scared to even touch his partner for a fleeting moment.
Then, at the lack of seeing the Lieutenant's chest rise and fall like it should, he hesitantly reached for the side of his neck, his fingers shaking at the fear of what he might find.
Steve's relief of finding a steady, albeit fast pulse, quickly vanished when Mike's arms shot up lightning fast, one hand reaching up to grab his throat in trained, deadly precision, the other one shoving the barrel of the .38 up under his left arm, pushing it between two ribs right next to his heart.
"Michael!", Steve gasped surprised, seeing the cloudy, unfocused blue eyes slowly blink open, not realizing what happened or who was in front of him.
Completely freezing in his spot and trying to ignore the strong fingers digging into the sensitive tissue around his windpipe, Steve glanced down at his terror-stricken partner, waiting for the Lieutenant to gather his bearings before any unintentional damage could be done.
A few feet away, Dixon had come to an abrupt halt, watching the scene from afar, clearly confused but unwilling to interfere for fear of causing more harm than good.
"Michael…it's me…Ste…phen…your…partner…", he croaked, causing the fingers around his throat to tighten for a brief moment, before slowly releasing the pressure.
As some of the warmth returned to Mike's features, washing away the earlier confusion, the gun disappeared from his side, and the hand slid from his neck down to his chest, patting it amicably.
"Is that you, Buddy Boy?"
"You betcha…"
Reaching down to cover the blood-soaked hand with his own, Steve sighed in relief, trying himself in a smile that never quite made it past Mike's intuitive senses.
"Are you alright? Mahoney got to you?"
"Mahoney is gone. Don't worry about him.", he said a couple beats too fast, then pointed at the gunshot wound in Mike's side, "Let's worry about you. We gotta get you back in town to see a doctor. This doesn't look good."
In the background, Steve could hear Dixon relay their position to Devitt and the rest of the crew, hopefully signaling that the end to this nightmare was near.
"It's just a scratch…I've had worse. Don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about it?! You're in bad enough shock that you about crushed my windpipe. Just…just hang in there. Roland has some first aid supplies on him, we're going to put some pressure on that wound and get you to a doctor as soon as-"
His passionate explanation was disrupted when Mike moved his hand up to his cheek, trying to assuage his worry.
"Did you find Sarah?"
Never taking his eyes off his partner even when Dixon handed him a stack of gauze pads to put onto the wound, Steve nodded faintly.
"I did. She's safe, Mike. It's you we were all worried about…"
Never acknowledging his pleading words, the Lieutenant smiled satisfied and reached down to straighten out his collar, the dried blood turning the fabric of the mandarin dress shirt stiff and wrinkly.
"It's…it's wonderful to see you alive and well. Although…it looks like your shirt's a complete loss, Buddy Boy…"
Unnerved by his partner's peaceful demeanor considering the crisis afoot, Steve looked over at Dixon, who mouthed the word shock, then shrugged and turned back to man the radio.
"That's alright. I never liked that one anyways.", Steve lied, grateful when he heard shouting coming from several hundred yards out, the first sign of backup reaching their position.
When Mike didn't answer right away and brought his arms back to rest on his stomach, he reached down to gently shake his shoulder.
"Are you…you doing ok? I need you to hang in there. Don't go to sleep."
Focusing his eyes back on his young partner, Mike smiled broadly, his oversized pupils remaining glued to his best friend like a much- needed lifeline.
"You look like you're about to pass out. Relax, Steve. Don't worry, I am going to be alright. As a matter of fact, I just realized that my blood-covered hand touched your…your blood-covered hand…you know what that means?"
"Wait…what…what in the world are you talking about?"
By now even Dixon's reassurances that Mike's altered state of mind had much to do with shock and the pain associated from his injury did little to ease the pit in his stomach.
Unusually pale and with small scratches on his face from battling the underbrush higher up near the cabin, the Lieutenant looked decidedly vulnerable, something that ate away relentlessly on Steve's nerves.
It also raised a long-forgotten protection mechanism within him, an overwhelming need to guard his partner and best friend with everything at his disposal. Fueled by a sudden rush of adrenalin flooding his body, he jerked slightly, when he heard Mike clear his throat.
"We're blood brothers, you silly…", the Lieutenant blurted out matter-of-factly and reached for his hand to underline the statement, "Your blood mixed with mine means we're blood brothers, my friend. We're…we're warriors, bonded for life. Not that we weren't before…but now it's official!"
As the mix of emotions and ensuing exhaustion began to wear on his own mind and body, Steve felt his eyes well up with tears, having to bite the inside of his lip to keep a straight face.
Reaching forward to hold Mike's shaking hand with both of his, he managed a faint nod and a half-hearted smile.
"We always were, Michael, we always were."