The gun was shaking in his hand, the pounding in his skull seemed to reverberate forever and still the impossible choice. Which one to shoot, which one to save? Her life was in the balance and he was the only one who could help. But could he? He closed his eyes fighting the dizziness that came in waves, but when he opened them again there were still two images. It was no good. He had to do something and he had to do it now.
A tear of frustration rolled down his cheek and then he fired.
Before his eyes, her body jerked and spasmed. She spun round, as the force of his bullet brutally punctured her skin. He gasped in horror at the blood – there was so much blood, too much. And then she was falling towards him, her life draining away in the dripping of her blood. And then he was falling too, and although he reached out a hand, desperately feeling for a hold, he couldn't stop.
There were lights and sirens, voices shouting. His voice shouting? His head was splitting. The sirens faded, the voices were muffled, becoming indistinct. But the lights, the lights were getting brighter. He couldn't understand why.
He opened his eyes and groaned, as all at once his senses were assaulted. His vision was hazy. He blinked, tentatively at first and then more rapidly. As his vision cleared, he took in the familiar white walls, the machinery that monitored his heart rate. Through the window he could see nurses and orderlies going about their business. He turned his head and everything shifted, alarmingly. Nausea came quickly in a rippling wave. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, breathing deeply.
'Glad to see you finally decided to join us!' she said. Her voice was weak, tired, but she was smiling he could tell. Even with his eyes shut, he could tell she was smiling.He opened his eyes again - slowly, taking care this time not to move his head. She was seated across from him, but not in the chair reserved for visitors. A wheel chair had been moved beside his bed – his father or Jesse no doubt. From the crisp white sling that encompassed her left arm, it was obvious that she hadn't been able to manoeuvre the chair herself.
'You know sleeping beauty, we've all been waiting for you to wake up' she said teasingly. 'I heard your Father has been here all night. Travis practically had to drag him out to take a shower, get a change of clothes'. She smiled again 'Hell, I thought you were gonna sleep all day'.
From his hospital bed Steve smiled weakly 'I heard the Chief was gonna treat me to dinner' he responded wryly 'Now that's gotta be worth waking up for'.
'Don't get too excited Sloan' she returned archly 'You know as well as I do that the Chief never eats'.
Steve sighed 'We can but hope!'
'You said it!' she replied
He raised an eyebrow indicating her sling.
'Just a flesh wound' she said 'hurts like hell, but no serious damage'.
He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding
She cocked an eyebrow in return 'I still can't believe you shot me!' she said dryly.
'But that's what you told me to do' he protested. 'Besides, it's standard police procedure - shoot the hostage'.
She rolled her eyes 'I meant for you to shoot him! Jeeze a little bump on the head and you turn into Bruce Willis in Die Hard!' she teased.
He shrugged and smiled. She smiled back.
There was a pause.
They looked at each other, both suddenly awkward, neither knowing what to say next.
'Steve I ..' she began, just as he spoke her name. Abruptly they both stopped. He gestured for her to go first, but she shook her head 'No you go' she said.
Self-conscious, he cleared his throat, started to sit up. But the room refused to co-operate, pitching away from him, as if he were on a ship in a rolling sea. Closing his eyes, he carefully held his head in an attempt to steady it.
Immediately Tanis moved forward, leaving the wheel chair behind 'You okay?' she asked her concern all too apparent.
Nauseous, he swallowed hard before admitting 'A little woozy'.
Placing a supportive hand on his arm, she helped him lay back down.
'Well you can forget moving for a while' she told him firmly, 'For the time being you're definitely staying horizontal'. She paused then continued in a small voice 'But I'm real glad you made it to your feet last night'. She shuddered 'If you hadn't got there when you did …'
'Forget it Archer' Steve interrupted gruffly 'I got there'.
He didn't wanna think about last night. She could have been killed and they both knew it – if not by the attacker, then by Steve himself. A couple of inches the other way, she wouldn't have lived to tell the tale and he'd have killed his own partner in cold blood. As it was, they were both sporting the scars of last night, but they were alive.
He shivered; trying to switch off the images that flooded unbidden to his mind. He'd felt so helpless, when staggering round the corner, supported by his father, he'd seen her fighting for her life. Last night he could have lost her for good. If he'd been unconscious a couple of minutes longer, if his father hadn't shown up when he did, if his aim had been slightly off – there were far too many 'ifs' in the equation.
'Steve, I wanted to ….' she began
'Ssshh' he took hold of her hand, stopping the flow of words.
They looked at each other in silence.
For no reason she could think of, her heart was hammering. Suddenly she was very aware of him, the touch of his hand upon hers. Feeling slightly dizzy herself, she sat down on the edge of his bed, breathing hard. Jumping up like that sure hadn't been a great idea – just a flesh wound maybe, but she obviously wasn't back to her normal self just yet.
As she perched tentatively on the edge of his bed, Steve could feel her trembling and could smell the bitter-sweet scent of her perfume. All at once he was trembling himself, although he had no idea why.
The silence was suddenly deafening, the air thick with tension.
As she shivered, the sleeve of her blouse brushed his bare arm in a tantalising caress. Their eyes met; she held his gaze. Still neither of them spoke. Slowly she reached forward, gently pushing a strand of hair from his forehead. He found he was holding his breath. Their lips were so close.
They moved closer …..
The door when it burst open startled them both.
'Steve, you're awake!' Mark beamed as he entered the room.
The moment was gone. Tanis snatched her hand away and quickly stood up, smoothing her hair and unnecessarily straightening her clothes.
'You certainly took your time' Jesse added appearing from behind Mark and grabbing the chart at the end of the bed. 'You know Steve' he continued with a grin, flopping down in the spot so recently vacated by Tanis 'You're lucky he hit you on the head – anywhere else and he could have done you some real damage!'
Steve smiled faintly, but didn't reply; right now he was in no state to handle Jesse's up beat humour. His senses were still reeling from the intensity of the briefly shared moment with Tanis. The moment had taken him completely by surprise and his feelings were all over the place. What with his current physical condition, combined with the delayed shock engendered from the events of the night before, his emotions were dangerously close to the surface. He closed his eyes and willed himself to regain control.
Mark looked at him with concern. For someone with a concussion, being subdued was to be expected, but he knew his son and there was something else going on here. He'd seen something in Steve's expression, as he'd come through the door. For once his face had been completely open and Mark had caught a rare flicker of emotion. He couldn't place it - vulnerability, affection, desire? He paused in surprise – had it been love? But it had been only an instant, and now the habitual, impassive mask had returned – Steve's emotions were buried once more.
Turning to Tanis, Mark could see that she too looked close to the edge. Had he and Jesse interrupted something? His mind working quickly he turned to Jesse, desperate to give Steve and Tanis some time alone, but not wanting to embarrass them.
'You know, Steve's looking pretty tired Jess' Mark said pointedly, hoping the young doctor wouldn't argue 'I don't think he's ready for quite so many visitors just yet'.
He turned to his son 'How's about Jesse and I go grab a coffee and we can come back a little later when you've had a chance to get some rest?'
Before Steve could reply Tanis interrupted
'It's okay Mark, I was just leaving'.
She had to get out of there, get her head together and work out exactly what had just happened. At the moment her senses were still reeling, she felt like a school girl in the throes of a first crush.
Gathering up her coat and bag she headed for the door, completely by-passing the wheel chair in her haste to get away.
'I could really use some rest myself' she said hurriedly 'I didn't get much sleep last night'. She glanced briefly in Steve's direction; but his eyes were shut. It was painfully obvious that he couldn't face her, wanted to forget what had almost happened between them. She bit her lip; clearly she'd just made a complete fool of herself.
'Get some sleep Sloan' she instructed brusquely, desperate to cover her real feelings 'You look like hell'.
Mark turned 'Tanis, you know we really can't let you just walk out of here'. He gestured meaningfully at the wheel chair 'hospital policy you know that'.
She was about to protest, but he wasn't having any of it. Still flustered she sat down in the chair, her eyes resolutely fixed on the door, she steeled herself not to glance in Steve's direction.
'Jesse, wheel Tanis out will you' Mark said 'and make sure she has a ride home'.
He looked at Tanis, his eyes affectionate, but his tone firm 'That bullet didn't do any major damage, but you lost a great deal of blood. You really shouldn't be doing anything physical just yet. Promise me that when you get home you'll go straight to bed'.
She sighed 'I promise'.
'Okay ma'am' Jesse tipped an imaginary hat in his best chauffeur impression as he took the handles of the chair 'Let's get you home.'
Mark smiled, but it was a brief smile. Something was going on, he was sure of it, and whatever it was neither Steve nor Tanis seemed very happy. He rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully and stifled a yawn. Tanis wasn't the only one not to get much sleep last night. Once they'd arrived at Community General everything had been a blur. Tanis had been whisked off to the O.R. where thankfully Jesse had discovered that the bullet had missed the major artery. In fact the bullet hadn't even lodged in her arm, simply nicked her on its way past. Despite the large amounts of blood, it really was only a flesh wound.
He sighed; thank god Steve's aim had been good. Another couple of inches and it would have been a completely different story. As for Steve himself, he had briefly regained consciousness in the ambulance, but had been more out of it than in. A cat scan had diagnosed a moderately severe concussion. Again they'd been lucky. There was no permanent damage, and apart from the gash on his temple that required stitching, all Steve really needed was bed rest. Mark smiled ruefully, even though he knew Steve was fine, he'd still kept a vigil at his bedside, moving only when Jesse forced him to take a shower and change his clothes, and allowing Tanis to spend some time alone with her partner.
Last night had been terrible. He had accepted a long time ago that Steve's chosen career often put him in danger, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. Mark shuddered. There was something surreal about the whole thing. That the killer had been wearing the Egyptian ceremonial burial dress, complete with blue and gold mask, just added to the eerie atmosphere that had permeated this case from day one.
Looking through the thesis last night, he had been sure that Natasha Summers was the killer. He let out a breath, remembering the shock, the feeling of dread that had settled cold and unnatural inside him when he'd read the words on the pages before him. The killer was re-enacting the Ancient Egyptian revenge ritual from David Summers' thesis, following it word for word. The implements, the victims it was a complete match.
According to the ritual, the first and second victims had to be the elders of the tribe, the first to be murdered with a blow pipe filled with poison, and the second to be strangled with a sacred rope. Peterson and Summers were the project leaders, the modern day 'elders of the tribe'. The third victim had to be the tribe's witch doctor, purged with a blade – Schwenck, the group's specialist in the occult. And the fourth, the bravest warrior, the tribe's protector, clubbed to death. Mark shuddered again – Steve.
Nate Johnson had told him that Natasha and Summers had gotten together at Yale, when Summers was writing his Masters thesis. She had to know the ritual. Nate had also said that she wasn't just studying archaeology, she was living it. That had been the thought that had eluded him at the beach house. The killer believed in the rituals, Natasha believed in the ritual. And yet she had turned up last night in her street clothes, not a hair out of place.
He sighed – did she really have time to ditch the mummy suit? What did she do with it? Did she really have the nerve to front it out, like that? Wouldn't the killer have run as far away as possible? All night as he kept a fatherly watch over Steve, these questiones had gone round and round in his head and yet he was still no closer to the answers.
Wearily he pulled over the visitor's chair and sat down by the side of the bed, glancing at Steve as he did so. His eyes were still shut, but he didn't seem to be sleeping. What had gone on just before he and Jesse arrived? Why did Steve and Tanis seem so on edge? He sighed, more questions to which he didn't have the answers!
'Are you okay, son?' he asked tenderly.
Steve opened his eyes 'I'll be fine Dad – it's just a bump on the head, that's all'.
Mark paused awkwardly 'Son, I didn't just mean the concussion'.
Turning onto his side, effectively shielding his face from his father's worried gaze, Steve took a breath before replying
'I'm fine Dad, I just need some sleep is all'.
Sitting back, Mark sighed – Steve obviously wasn't ready to talk, but when he was, then he would be ready to listen.
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Steve was surprised at how miserable he felt. It was obvious Tanis regretted their moment of closeness. His partner couldn't get out of the hospital quick enough. For some reason, that thought was more painful than the persistent pounding in his head.
Author's note: Thank you very much for all the encouragement, I'm really enjoying writing this and I'm glad you're enjoying reading it. For those of you who are getting impatient to know who the murderer is, the net is closing in I promise