That Was Then This Is Now

by BJC525

Someone is after the 1 million he left behind. McCall pays a high price to discover where it was stashed.

Title: That Was Then - This is Now Author: Barb Rating: PG-13 for language.

Summary: Somebody wants the $1 million dollars he left behind when he went to jail. Rick and DeeDee will never guess where it's been stashed.

They had staked out the building a week ago and found the perfect spot on the second floor of a deserted warehouse. They situated themselves under a window that afforded them a clear view of the entire parking lot and settled back to wait for their prey. The building wasn't air conditioned and the dank, musty warm air was getting to him and even though he knew better than to distract her when she was preparing for a mission, his mouth bypassed his brain.

"Are you sure about this?" the tall, man with thinning hair and piercing eyes whispered. He knew not to look at her and simply kept the binoculars pressed firmly to his face and shifted slightly in an effort to relieve the cramping of his arms and legs.

The dark haired woman next to him simply rolled her eyes and adjusted her gloves. She gave no outward sign that the heat and stale air were bothering her in the least. As far as he could tell, she hadn't even broken a sweat, while he sat hunched down in a shirt that was sticking uncomfortably to his back. But her frustration with her partner would be glaringly obvious to anyone else. He, on the other hand, remained apparently oblivious.

She glanced over to see if their target had arrived yet, then took a peek at her watch. Any minute now, she thought eagerly.

"Look," he went on. She huffed in frustration, but he ignored her. "I don't see why we have to go through all this. We've got guns, you know."

"I told you," she hissed angrily, turning away from the window to fix him with her fiercest glare. "We don't need her dead. I'm not willing to risk Murder One. Are you?" Every other word was punctuated by a finger jab to his muscular chest. At the end of her rant, she whipped back around to continue to stare out the window.

He didn't back down. "No, I don't want a murder rap. The fall could kill her, you know. Did you ever think of that? She could break her neck."

Her shoulders slumped. God, help me, she thought, as another huge, put- upon sigh escaped lips thinned in anger, what did I do to deserve this?

"I told you - I'm a professional. I'm not going to get hurt and I won't let her die. We're just going to put her out of commission. Now would you please, shut up? I want to be ready the minute she pulls up."

"Well, that's another thing," he continued, clearly intent on pissing her off and succeeding royally. "How do you know she's going to show up alone? What then, Miss Smarty Pants?"

She was going to shoot him. So help me, God, she thought wrathfully, I'm just going to have to shoot him.

"Last time. I mean it, you big overgrown idiot. If she's not alone, it doesn't matter. I'll still take her down and it saves us the trouble of sticking around to call for help. Now, for the love of God, would you just be quiet and let me concentrate, or I - will - use the gun that you're so eager to pull out." She was flushed in anger, her eyes narrowed, her forehead deeply creased.

He shut up. He wasn't Einstein, but it didn't take a genius to see that she really meant business about the gun.

Fine, he thought sullenly, pouting like a toddler, but this better work or the boss is gonna put both our butts in a sling. Or worse.

After two minutes of silence, he risked a glance at his partner, crouched at the window, flexing and stretching her muscles to stay limber. Her features had smoothed behind a mask of total concentration. He shuddered slightly as he pulled the binoculars back up to his face. Damn, he thought, I hope this works.

"Here we go," she whispered, watching the red sports car pull slowly into view. Like a lion stalking dinner, she watched the car come to a stop right below the window, which had been left open just enough to hear any conversations below. "She's got him with her," she added unnecessarily since he did have the binoculars. Adrenaline surged through her veins and she moved into position.

Her partner fought to keep his breathing quiet, even though every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run. Trust her, he told himself over and over, just trust her. She's never let you down, keep the faith.

"Hunter, take the back."

They had to strain to hear the words as they floated through the barely open window.

"Be careful, McCall, I've got a bad feeling about this."

McCall's dark eyes scanned the front of the long, two-storied building with numerous narrow windows as Hunter ran to the rear. She didn't like it. Something about the place put her back up and she thought of Rick's warning, while she rechecked her weapon and flashlight. The smooth heavy metal was comforting in her hands and she wondered again about the tip they were investigating. Someone had apparently called in a report of mysterious ceremonies being held in the abandoned structure, including black mass and human sacrifice. She couldn't help but shudder at the gruesome thought as she tested the front door.

It was unlocked.

With all of her senses on high alert, she noiselessly slipped inside. She paused for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. Wrinkling her nose at the moldy odor that clung to her nostrils, she valiantly fought the sneeze trying to escape.

Sweeping her flashlight about, she looked around, moving down a short hall then turned into the main corridor. She found herself at the foot of a long, narrow staircase that went straight up to the second floor and she paused to look around the lobby. It appeared to have been deserted for quite some time, and the filthy windows had left most of the cavernous room in long shadows.

Walking carefully to avoid squeaks, she moved forward, stepping around boxes of old, musty papers, bare desks covered with several layers of dust and chairs and tables placed haphazardly about.

Unexpectedly, she was hit with the certainty that someone was behind her. With an almost silent gasp, she wheeled around, pointing her gun.

No one was there.

Her trigger finger relaxed only a notch.

She closed her eyes in mute relief, took a quiet calming breath, and then scolded herself for jumping at shadows. She caught sight of a light at the back and saw Hunter moving in. Not wanting to risk letting him see her nervousness, she quickly regained her self control.

She caught his eye and without saying a word, indicated that she hadn't found anything then pointed to the stairs beside her.

Rick nodded. He didn't need to repeat his warning. Instead, he moved to finish checking out the first level, including offices, closets and the bathroom. So far, this was turning out to be a dead end. Realizing it didn't offer him any comfort, though. His nerves were still sending warnings that coursed through his body like electrical currents of high voltage.

Meanwhile, DeeDee paused at the base of the stairs. She again felt watched, and she let out her breath in a long drawn-out whisper of fear. With a reassuring glance back at her partner as he stepped noiselessly about the warehouse, she tried to shake off the mantle of fear that had fallen upon her shoulders. The humid heat didn't help at all and she wished again that she could slip out of her jacket, but at this point there was no way she was putting down her gun. She shook her head once to clear the sweat threatening to drip into her eyes.

After several steps up, she stopped.

Had one of the shadows above her moved?

She stiffened and stood indecisively on the narrow metal stairs, eyes and ears straining. But as before, she neither saw nor heard anything unusual.

Once more, she started up the stairs; each careful step seemed louder and louder in her ears, while her pulse thudded steadily and deeply in her chest. The heat was worse as she climbed up and her breath was harsh and dry in her throat. Without conscious thought she placed her right foot, then her left, then her right, ignoring the banister in order to keep both hands on her gun and flashlight.

At last she made it to the top of the stairs. Sweeping her gun from left to right, she stared hard into the gloom ahead.

She froze.

For just a fraction of a second.

Just long enough for her brain to register the fact that she had been right after all.

She wasn't alone up here.

"Police!" she barked in a voice that never wavered, never hinted at anything but total control. "Come out with your hands up." Then, in the blink of an eye, the figure dressed completely in black, shot forward and enveloped her. Too close and too quick to fire her gun.

Forgetting where she was on the landing, DeeDee stepped back and for a moment time seemed to stand still as she tottered on the edge of balance. Then everything seemed to move at the speed of light, as the figure from the darkness wrapped arms of steel around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides.

With a strangled cry, DeeDee found herself in a human straight jacket and the two of them slid down the stairwell headfirst.

At the sound of his partner's cry, Hunter drew in a breath sharply and ran on rubbery legs to the stairs. The sight before him took him to a new level of fear.

DeeDee took the worst of the ride, hitting each step flat on her back with her assailant never letting go and riding her like a toboggan.

The terrifying ride ended with a bone-jarring crash that left DeeDee sprawled on the floor. The mysterious attacker however gracefully rolled off and landed neatly on feet that ran straight for the door.

Hunter witnessed McCall's attack but was too far away to save her. When he saw someone dressed in black racing away, rage spurred him to run even faster, gun at the ready, but it did not help his aim. Although his long legs ate up the distance rapidly, the four shots he got off missed the intended target.

And then he was at her side, panting heavily, blood throbbing in his temples. On shaky knees, he bent over his fallen partner, lying supine, unmoving. Despite the oppressive heat, his hands were cold as he reached a trembling hand to her neck, brushing away the dark silken curls and praying to any and all gods that he'd feel her pulse.

"McCall?" His worried eyes scanned her face. A kernel of relief multiplied with the discovery of no visible injuries to her perfect features and a rapid pulse under his probing fingers.

He was about to go and call for help when she began to stir, making soft hurting sounds. She came to a little at a time, the grayness draining away and the pain replacing it. The soft pain-filled cries emanating from her lips tore at his heart.

"McCall? I'm here. Can you open your eyes?" he said softly, trying to keep his voice calm though he felt anything but. Absently running a hand down her cheek and through her hair, silently willing her to be okay.

She was okay. She had to be okay.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------

She ran out the front door without looking back, without taking off her helmet, she just ran. It had been close. Oh, so close. She had actually felt one of the bullets graze the top of her bicycle helmet, causing her to misstep. She covered it well and was out of the parking lot in seconds. Her partner, Nash, had gone down the fire escape ladder when they determined that McCall was going up the stairs alone. As she nimbly vaulted the chain link fence and disappeared in the dense overgrown shrubs in front of the warehouse, she was grateful that they hadn't needed to utilize their backup plans. And she would never admit to Nash just how frightened she had been when the bullets had started flying.

She easily found her partner in the appointed spot, crouched low, and the high-powered binoculars in place.

"Well?" she demanded, panting only slightly. Perfect, she thought, absolutely perfect. Cool as a cucumber.

He marveled at her calm. "You're clear, Phoebe. No sign of anyone following you from inside and there's no one in the parking lot." Unknowingly, he was thinking the same thing as Phoebe: relief that the plan had succeeded thus far. Had Hunter gone up the stairs instead of McCall, they would have had to ambush him and lure her up there. After seeing the size of Rick Hunter, Nash knew it would have been a tough battle, even with Phoebe's help. Of course if McCall and Hunter had gone up together, he would have had to tangle with Hunter alone while Phoebe incapacitated McCall.

Best not to dwell on it, he told himself. They settled back to await the ambulance to come and carry McCall away.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------

Inside the warehouse

Hunter continued to gently stroke McCall's hair back, a gesture he hoped soothed her as much as it did him.

"Come on McCall. Wake up. This is no time to sleep on the job." He tried to keep his tone light. It wasn't easy.

DeeDee heard Rick's voice, floating through her pain like a cloud. Desperately she tried to reach out and hold it in her hand, but it seemed so very far away. So elusive.

She moaned softly, in frustration, battling the pain and the darkness and finally opened her eyes.

The relief she saw in Hunter's eyes was unable to comfort her. The throbbing in her head commanded most of her attention; a pulsating ache that encircled her head like a tight rubber band. She hurt in so many other places that she couldn't differentiate, that she wanted nothing more than to lapse mercifully back into unconsciousness.

"Hey, McCall. Talk to me." Rick murmured anxiously, as he stared at her face, so ashy pale. Her dark eyes dulled by the agony he knew she was in, and the almost vacant stare sent him to a new level of fear.

"Hurt. . . "She finally managed. Her voice came out a weak whimper, hardly a sound at all.

"Where?" Hunter spoke softly, trying to mask the urgency he felt as her eyes slowly slid closed. "Hey, stay with me DeeDee. Come on, talk to me. Where are you hurt?"

DeeDee reluctantly fought off the blackness of oblivion as she attempted to sort it all out. "Head mostly." She paused to take a small breath and do a mental inventory of her battered body and a little grimace of pain crossed her face. "Shoulders. Back."

Hunter blanched and had trouble getting the words out. "Are - are - you - para - Uh - can you feel your legs?"

Unbelievably, she managed to roll her eyes. "Why - do - you think - I hurt - so bad?" she quipped in a slow breathy voice that sent shivers down his spine.

Hunter rocked back on his heels, feeling almost dizzy with relief. She's ok, he told himself, she's joking with me. She's gonna be okay. "All right, lady, you stay right there. I'm gonna call for help."

DeeDee nodded once as Rick stood up.

"Rick." Her voice still barely above a whisper.

Anxiously, he bent back over her. "What? What is it?"

"Did you get the license plate of the Mack truck that hit me?"

Hunter chuckled ruefully. "Nope. Don't worry, though. We'll get to the bottom of this," he added, unable to disguise the undercurrent of rage; thinking what he'd do when he got his hands on the person who did this. "I'll be right back. Now don't move."

DeeDee quirked her lips. "Not to worry, big guy. This spot is much too comfortable."

Rick shook his head and reluctantly left her to get to the car and the radio. He quickly called for another squad car and an ambulance. Standing outside the car as he spoke, allowed him to scan the surrounding area. Not surprising, all was quiet.

Anxious to get back to his fallen partner, Rick made his calls, and then threw the mike back in the car where it landed on the driver's seat. "Fuck it," he thought, remembering his promise to McCall to find her attacker. He planned to more than find the asshole. Someone was going to pay and pay dearly, he vowed, his mind storing away the pain DeeDee was in and vowing to make sure that someone experienced double.

Maybe more.

Trying not to imagine that McCall's condition had taken a turn for the worse while he was gone, Hunter raced back inside the warehouse. He wanted to pick her up and cradle her in his arms and make all the pain go away. Hell, he would have settled for getting her out of the overheated warehouse, he thought morosely. but he knew better than to move her and risk further injury. The sight of her flying down the stairwell and crashing at the bottom promised to haunt him for a very long time. He shook his head, refusing to think about it now. Be strong for DeeDee.

He found her in the same position he'd left her in and was inordinately pleased that she was still awake, though her eyes were at half-mast. He settled his large frame next to her petite body.

"How're you doin'?" he asked as his hand reached out to cover hers, careful to avoid the scraped knuckles.

DeeDee bit at the inside of her lip, nearly overcome with the enormity of it all: the shock, the terror she'd felt, the pain and the obvious concern and love she saw in Hunter's face. Control, she told herself, control. Don't lose it now.

Instead of answering his question, she asked a question of her own that had been nagging at her since she had regained consciousness. "Was this a set- up?"

Not trusting his own voice, Hunter simply nodded. DeeDee accepted the news quietly, unable and unwilling to process it further right now. Not now.

Just then, the sound of siren signaled the arrival of help. Hunter brushed a feather-light kiss on her forehead, noting the heat radiating from her skin. "Hang in there just a little bit longer, partner. Let me go show them in." Buoyed by the tiny smile that crossed her lips, he leapt to his feet and hurried out.

Outside the warehouse

Phoebe and Nash had stayed to watch. With the arrival of the ambulance Nash stood to leave. Phoebe put out her hand and stopped him. "Where do you think you're going?" she barked.

"Gonna go call the boss and let him know mission accomplished," he retorted, his tone petulant. Where do you think I'm goin? To get pizza?"

Phoebe yanked him down. "Listen you idiot. Mission is - not - accomplished yet."

"What are you talking about? The ambulance is here - she's going to the hospital."

Phoebe breathed deeply, trying to keep her anger in check. When this was done, she was going to demand a new partner, she told herself. Better yet: she'd just take her share of the money and run. Hell, maybe she'd take Nash's share, too. Let him rot.

"I - know - she's going to the hospital. We have to make sure she - stays - in the hospital. Got it?"

Nash gaped at her. Yeah, he got it.

Inside the warehouse

McCall lay unmoving on the hard tile floor; her head was pounding with more ferocity and now the throbbing in her left shoulder was competing for her attention. She could just make out Hunter's voice floating through her mind like a feather in the wind on a hot summer day.

Hot, it's so hot in here, she thought disjointedly.

Hunter's return with the paramedics, Sam and Jack, were perceived as tacit permission to allow the blackness to wrap its cloak of comfort around her with its promise to lead her to a place where the pain could not find her. She let herself drift down the long dark corridor.

Hunter knelt at her head. "Hey, McCall, the cavalry is -" The words died in his throat when he saw her eyes become fuzzy; out of focus, then slip shut.

He became frantic and it was all the paramedics could do to keep him out of their way while they worked on his partner.

"Cops," Sam muttered to himself, as he quickly and efficiently gathered the necessary supplies. As much as he loved his job, and wanted to be the consummate professional, it was his opinion that taking care of cops was the most challenging. Not medically, but just dealing with them when one of their own was hurt. As long as the cop wasn't the patient, Sam didn't care if the whole damn precinct showed up at the scene.

But look out if he was.

Or she, he amended, getting a good look at Sergeant McCall.

Like a well-oiled machine they assessed airway, breathing and circulation, wanting to get their patient stabilized and transported as soon as possible.

And before we have a police convention on our hands, Sam thought darkly.

Hunter had described the attack and the mechanism of injury but Sam thought surely he hadn't heard correctly when he saw how long the staircase was.

"On her back - the whole way down? Sam asked. "Head first? With someone on top of her?"

"Yeah," Hunter managed to reply, looking positively stricken. "Head first."

Sam nodded; the information would help guide their care. As was his practice, he kept an almost constant stream of information flowing for Jack to radio to their Medical Director. Assessment and intervention occurred almost simultaneously.

"Airway clear, no facial injuries, respirations shallow, bilateral breath sounds, rate 24, pulse ox shows 97%. I'm putting her on 10 liters by non- rebreather. Distal pulses x4, a little thready on the left, no obvious deformities. Monitor shows sinus tachycardia without ectopy at 124 and blood pressure is 90/palp. Pupils equal and reactive to light. Starting a line of Normal Saline. 18gauge in the left AC."

They very carefully applied the rigid c-collar to protect her cervical spine from any further injury during transport and until she could get x- rays to clear her. Palpating the back of her head, Sam was not surprised by the large area of soft tissue swelling and that his gloved fingers came back smeared with blood.

Hunter paled at the sight of McCall's blood, dark red and sticky on Sam's light blue gloves. Sam quickly removed the stained gloves to reveal a clean pair underneath as many medical personnel double-gloved for safety and to save time in emergencies. He grabbed a stack of fluffy white 4x4 gauze squares and placed them over the wound as Jack lifted her head just enough to allow Sam to wrap the Kerlix gauze around McCall's head.

"Okay, Jack, let's log roll her and make sure we're not missing anything." Although Sam regretted the necessity of his next actions, he nonetheless proceeded to cut the back of McCall's jacket and blouse up the middle in order to check her back. They did not have the luxury of time to remove it without knowing the extent of her injuries. The sharp, tough scissors went through the material like a hot knife through butter and left her back exposed.

Hunter was dismayed that the perfection of her creamy skin was horribly bruised and swollen from the repeated jolting on the metal stairs. She was placed on the hard back board with only a thin blanket for padding.

"Anything we need to know medically, Sgt Hunter? Any allergies? On any meds?"

Hunter shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Okay, then. Let's roll." He let Jack lead the way, pulling the rolling gurney while he balanced the monitors and IV fluid.

"Hunter!"

Rick turned at the sound of Brad's voice.

"What the hell happened, man?"

Rick shook his head. "Details later. I need you to have them dust the landing up there, window sills, doors, anything that looks like the dust had been disturbed recently. Someone attacked McCall, dressed in black, possible 5'7", about 150 pounds and wearing what looked like a bicycle helmet. Only saw one person and I didn't hear any vehicles close by."

"Go." Brad pushed him in the direction of the door. "Go take care of her. I've got this."

"Thanks, man," Hunter called back, catching up to Sam and piling into the ambulance after McCall.

Brad turned to other officers gathered around him. "Okay. Everybody, you heard Sgt. Hunter. Move it. And let's get it right people. For McCall."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------- Outside the warehouse

After the ambulance had sped off, Phoebe quickly pulled Nash back when she saw several officers move in their general direction, searching for clues. "Come on, time to go."

They were able to avoid detection as they raced to their car.

"Now what?" Nash wanted to know. He was frustrated at how Phoebe kept him out of the loop, treating him like a trained monkey.

"Now, we get a hold of my contact in the fire department to tell me which hospital the ambulance is taking her to," Phoebe informed him in the tone of voice reserved for toddlers.

Nash glared at her. Bitch, he thought wrathfully, sulking in the passenger seat. No more, he promised himself. He just wanted to collect his share of the money and to get the hell away from Phoebe. For good.

A veteran paramedic, Sam wasn't going to waste precious time trying to keep an unauthorized Sgt. Hunter out of the back of the ambulance, instead of riding up front with Jack. He gave Hunter credit though, for remaining quiet and staying out of the way. He found it touching to watch him fold his large frame into the cramped box, pressing himself back into the corner, but reaching out with one hand to take hold of McCall's hand and gripping it tightly.

The ride to the hospital was mercifully short and McCall's condition remained unchanged. Staring at his partner's face, Hunter couldn't think; he felt like his mind had gone completely blank. DeeDee had been attacked, she was hurt, God only knew how badly and apparently only God knew why. He hoped like hell that Brad could find some clues as to whom or at the very least - why.

Jack smoothly backed into the ambulance bay, where they were met by a nurse and a tech that had just finished loading a young football player with a brand new cast, into his dad's SUV.

Hunter was told that he would have to go to admissions in a voice that was firm, but polite and would not take no for an answer.

He waited until DeeDee was in the trauma room and swarmed by ER personnel before going to get her registered. It wasn't long before he was standing outside the room, peering anxiously through the glass.

"I don't want any trouble out of you, Sgt."

Hunter turned to see a tall brunette standing next to him but looking through the glass at DeeDee as well. He knew the owner of that voice.

"Linda - "

"It's okay, Hunter," she broke in with a sad smile. "I know Sgt. McCall is your partner. Just keep it quiet over here and let them do their job and I'll make sure you're in the loop."

"Thanks, Linda." His gaze returned to the busy trauma room. A large portable x-ray machine was parked next to the stretcher and DeeDee was placed into position over the plates that would produce the films.

"So, what happened, exactly?" Linda asked softly.

Hunter briefly recounted the events as a pained look crossed her face.

"God, I'm sorry. I got a look at the bruises and . . . " She stopped herself. "Well, I'm sure she's going to be fine." The words sounded hollow even to her own ears. "Just behave Hunter, this is my first week in charge and if I get in trouble - you're in trouble." She winked.

Hunter caught it but couldn't return the smile and simply nodded. Linda sighed, patted his shoulder and moved off.

Twenty minutes later, after telling Charlie that he would call back after he got a report on McCall, who remained unconscious, the doctor pulled him into the conference room.

"Sgt. Hunter, I'm Dr. Carmichael." The two men shook hands. "I understand Sgt. McCall is your partner." The ER physician was as tall as Hunter with short black hair, piercing blue eyes and a slow southern drawl.

"How is she?" Hunter forced himself to remain calm.

"She hasn't come out of it yet, as you know. We're going to get a CAT scan in a few minutes to hopefully find out why. You're familiar with CAT scans?" Hunter nodded and he continued. "The x-rays showed a dislocated left shoulder, which is being reduced as we speak and is not broken. In fact, we've not found any broken bones, which, considering the mechanism of injury is almost a miracle. The bruising to shoulders, back and hips is considerable but nothing serious."

"So, when will she wake up?" Hunter thought he knew the answer, but felt compelled to ask anyway.

Dr. Carmichael shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sgt, but I can't give you an exact answer. Head injuries from the mildest concussion to an extreme intracranial bleed affect individuals differently; making one permanently disabled and another with no after effects at all. Despite all our technological capabilities, we simply do not understand them well enough. Personally, I suspect it will be many years before we do. We're hoping for the best - I see no reason for her not to regain consciousness soon."

Hunter just stared at him.

At the Hospital

Linda, the charge nurse in the ER, noiselessly entered the conference room behind Hunter and watched with worried eyes.

Finally Hunter found his voice. "Can I see her?"

Dr. Carmichael glanced over Hunter's shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Linda, asking a silent question. She nodded.

"They're finished with her shoulder, so you can go with her to radiology for the CAT scan. They also sutured the laceration on the back of her head.

Hunter followed them back through the ER and met up with a tech guiding the stretcher carrying his partner to radiology. When he saw her, he noticed that she was now wearing a shoulder immobilizer and he wasn't sure, but he thought her face was even paler than before. It seemed almost as white as the thick gauze bandage encircling her head.

The CAT scan went smoothly and the radiologist was pleased to report there was no fracture or bleed noted. He classified the head injury as concussion and Hunter breathed a sigh of relief, but wondered why she hadn't awakened yet.

Dr. Carmichael seemed to have heard the unspoken question. "Hang in there, Sgt. The human brain can be very resilient and I'm sure that this is just a protective reflex from the pain and trauma. Let them get her upstairs and settled in a room and you can sit with her, talk to her, and reassure her."

Rick nodded. "Thanks, Doc."

Dr. Carmichael started to leave but turned back. "Oh, I almost forgot: your Captain called and wants you to call ASAP."

Somewhere in L.A.

Nash sat in the car, staring out at the busy traffic and waiting for Phoebe to return. She was standing in a public phone booth, the door partially open to allow some fresh air in. He wished she would hurry up: he needed some fresh air as well. She had turned the engine off and taken the keys with her.

"Bitch," he muttered for the third time in as many minutes, eyeing a bright yellow Corvette idling at a stoplight. A new car, he daydreamed, that was first on his list of things to do with the money.

Actually, the more he thought about it, the closer he came to finalizing a plan to take all the money and to hell with Phoebe and the Boss.

The Boss. What a joke, Nash snorted derisively. One million dollars stashed in a house that now belonged to a cop. And, if he was such a great boss, how come he was the one in jail while he and Phoebe were free. Nash, however, knew better than to question the dumb luck that had allowed him to escape capture during the bank robbery all those years ago.

Phoebe. She was the problem now. Fiercely loyal to the boss, she was apparently setting herself to get not only her share of the money, but a higher position in the organization. The boss trusted her and only her with the knowledge of exactly where the money had been stashed.

So lost was he in his fantasy, that he didn't hear Phoebe return. When she opened the door and slid in, he jumped slightly. She noticed.

"What's with you?" she snapped.

"Nothing," he answered, his tone equally brusque.

"Fine, sulk all you want." She turned the key in the ignition with a vicious jerk. "But we've got a job to do."

Nash kept his head turned away. Just the sight of her was starting to make his blood boil. Condescending whore. "So the coast is clear?"

"Of course. I told you I'd take care of her and I did." She smoothly pulled out into traffic, carefully observing the speed limit. The last thing she needed was to get pulled over. Not when she was so close to having it all. "I also checked and the Boss is out. He's sure he's being watched, though, and we'll have to be careful getting his share to him."

"I still can't believe you didn't kill that cop," Nash needled her.

She took the bait. "Oh, knock it off," she snapped, "I had everything under control. The hospital said that she's in stable condition and not in ICU." She checked the rearview mirror and tensed when she saw a patrol car behind her, coming up fast. When it hurried past, she let out the breath she hadn't know she was holding. "Now, why don't you make yourself useful and give me the map."

One hour later, they were parked behind Sgt DeeDee McCall's home, the car left behind for a repair van. Phoebe and Nash, dressed in coveralls and carrying tool boxes quickly and professionally broke into the house and went to work.

"Make sure all the windows are covered and I'll clear out the fireplace," Phoebe ordered as she sat down the heavy toolbox with a loud clang.

For once, Nash didn't complain. He was so close to the money now, he thought he could smell it. The fireplace? Not too bad, he thought. Even if homeowners remodeled, they rarely seemed to mess with the fireplace.

"Wait 'til she finds out that she's been living on top of one million dollars all this time."

Phoebe laughed. "She can think about it while she cleans up the mess we're gonna leave." And with those words, she hefted a sledgehammer over her head and proceeded to demolish the brick hearth.

At the Hospital

Hunter took a few moments to update Charlie while they got DeeDee settled in her room. They had gotten her cleaned up, rebandaged the laceration on the back of her head and dressed her in a hospital gown. She was placed on her right side to keep pressure off her back and injured shoulder. An egg crate mattress had also been placed for extra padding.

Hunter just stared at her from the doorway, trying to take it all in, feeling like he'd been kicked in the gut. Without conscious thought, his feet carried him to her side and he sank bonelessly into the chair one of the nurses had left for him and he settled back to wait.

Sometime later, she moaned softly, drawing his attention.

He reached out and gently cupped her alabaster pale cheek. "I'm here, Dee."

His other hand reached over to cover hers. DeeDee felt the pressure of it and heard his voice as if from a great distance. Those hands had saved her so many times and that voice had kept her going, made her want to see him every day.

She stirred slightly and made a thick sound in her throat. Rick hovered over her with bated breath, watching as her eyelids slowly fluttered open. Closed. Then opened again and at last focused on his worried face.

"Welcome back," he said with a smile.

"Thanks," she whispered, her mouth parchment dry.

"Think you can stay with me this time?"

"I think so." She shifted slightly, wincing with the pain it brought. "Oh - remind me not to do that again, anytime soon." She took a small careful breath.

"No problem, partner." Rick grinned, relieved beyond words that she was awake. "You know you had us worried."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that." She moved her eyes and spotted a water pitcher. "Is there any water in that thing?"

"I'll check." He peeked inside. "Yep." He poured a glassful and guided the straw to her lips. She drained the glass in one breath.

"So, do you know anything more about what happened to me and why?"

Rick leaned back in his chair, but continued to hold her right hand lightly in his, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. "I spoke to Charlie while they were getting you bandaged up. He said that Brad found one print on an upstairs window sill, one clean foot print and fresh car tracks nearby. There was absolutely no sign of any of the activity we were sent to investigate."

DeeDee nodded. She expected nothing more, nothing less.

"Do you remember anything about the guy that attacked you?" Rick asked hopefully.

"Girl."

"Excuse me?" Rick wasn't sure that he'd heard correctly.

"It was a she - not a he."

"You're kidding!"

"No, definitely female. But strong, really strong and lean. She had, I believe, a bicycle helmet on."

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I thought that's what it was."

"And goggles - the kind for snow skiing. Other than that - well - it just happened so fast." She closed her eyes and took a quiet cleansing breath, as though ridding herself of the memory. When she opened them again, she looked around the room, taking in the IV, shoulder immobilizer and sling. "So - what's the damage?"

"Concussion, laceration to the back of your head and dislocated shoulder." Rick ticked off each of the injuries.

"You mean nothing is broken?" DeeDee could hardly believe her good luck despite the pounding headache.

"Nope. Your front's okay, but your back is one gigantic bruise."

DeeDee grimaced. "Great. I guess that explains why I'm lying on my side."

"That was a pretty rough ride you took."

At that moment, a nurse walked in and upon seeing that her patient had regained consciousness, hurried back out to notify Dr. Carmichael. He was in the room less than five minutes after the call.

"Boy, that's service," Rick commented, moving behind DeeDee as the doctor stepped up to the bedside.

"I was in the ER consulting on another patient when I heard that one of LA's finest and most beautiful had decided to wake up. Sgt McCall, I'm Dr. Carmichael," he introduced himself with a warm smile.

DeeDee cocked an inquiring eyebrow up at him. "Well, thank you, I think."

Rick stood protectively on the opposite side of the bed.

Dr. Carmichael noted the posture of the tall Sgt and tried no to laugh. He had no intention of making a move on the lovely patient before him. Not only because it was inappropriate, but he was very happily married and he was starting to think that these two might be more than just partners. Maybe.

He performed a quick thorough neuro exam, asking numerous questions to check memory, orientation and cognitive processes. "Well, I'm pleased to say that you pass with flying colors."

Rick smiled but the smile quickly vanished when DeeDee spoke.

"So, I can go home now?"

Rick's mouth dropped in astonishment. "McCall! Are you nuts!? What happened to 'remind me not to do that anytime soon?'"

DeeDee opened her mouth to respond but Dr. Carmichael held up a silencing hand. "I'm afraid I must agree with the Sgt here. You passed a neuro exam and are very lucky, but you still have a serious concussion and you were unconscious over three hours."

DeeDee rolled her eyes and refused to acknowledge the nausea doing that had caused. "Dr. Carmichael, please. I don't have any broken bones and there's nothing here that I can't get at home. I don't need this IV, plus my bed is a lot more comfortable. I don't care how much padding you put on this thing: it's still a hard plastic mattress."

Dr. Carmichael glanced over at Hunter. "Is she always this much trouble?"

"What do you think, Doc?" he answered with an exasperated glare at DeeDee that she missed. "Actually, right now, I'd say more."

"Hey!" DeeDee protested and was ignored.

"That's what I thought." He stopped to think, his index finger absently stroking his bottom lip.

"Doc - you can't be seriously thinking of letting her go?!" Rick exclaimed in disbelief.

"Wait just one minute!" DeeDee demanded. "Who's side are you on? And get over here where I can see you."

Rick stepped back around the bed. "My point exactly."

"Sgt. Hunter, Sgt McCall, please. Just a minute," Dr. Carmichael soothed.

The two officers stared at him expectantly.

"You both have valid points," he said placating them. "I'm willing to offer a compromise." He glanced at his watch. "It's 4:00 now. I'm not due to leave here until six. Sgt. McCall, if you still feel up to going home then, I'll sign you out. Provided of course, that someone stays with you the whole time. I absolutely refuse to allow you to be alone for the next 24 hours."

DeeDee turned her gaze back to Rick.

He knew exactly what she was thinking. "Aww, come on McCall, give me a break. Point those brown puppy dog eyes somewhere else."

"Rick, please. Please. I don't want to stay here. It's a hospital!" she said in the same tone as if she was in a jail cell.

"DeeDee, you were unconscious. You're obviously in pain. You went down an entire flight of stairs, for Pete's sake!"

"You'd feel the same way, Rick Hunter. You know you would. And do you think I hurt more or less than being shot?"

"Point taken," he muttered, knowing that yes, he would feel the same way. They both abhorred being hospitalized, but then again, who wouldn't.

Dr. Carmichael simply stood back and watched the verbal sparring and he had a pretty good idea who'd win this little battle.

Rick and DeeDee locked gazes. No further words were needed. After several moments of tense silence, he let his shoulder slump and admitted defeat. "Okay."

DeeDee extended her right hand. "I'll be fine. I promise."

Rick swallowed her hand in his. "I'm gonna hold you to it."

"Deal." Her cheeks flushed a pale pink and Rick thought she was beautiful.

"All right, you two. I'll be back in at 6:00. Sgt, try to get some rest."

DeeDee smiled and settled herself back in. Her eyes closed almost immediately, her brain muffled by exhaustion and the physiology of her concussion. Rick stepped out with Dr. Carmichael. If she wasn't awake at six - he sure as hell, wasn't going to wake her.

It was with great difficulty that Hunter resisted the very strong urge to return to McCall's bedside. Looking so impossibly tiny that the alpha male in him kicked into overdrive and for a minute he considered just picking her up and carrying her off. And then he remembered just why she was tucked into that hospital bed.

The nurses were aware of the bargain that Dr. Carmichael had struck with the determined patient who happened to be a police officer and had planted themselves firmly in Hunter's corner. They practically tiptoed past her room and made sure to have the switchboard hold all calls. Hunter was given permission to wait in the nurses' lounge and use the phone to get caught up on the investigation which seemed to be making little, if any headway. They were still waiting to see if they could get a match on the single fingerprint and the only thing that they could determine from the shoeprint was that it was a size 8 or 9 ladies work boot. Hunter nodded - well the shoe fit. He told Charlie that McCall was positive that she was attacked by a female.

"The question is why."

"So you still feel that you were set up?" Charlie asked.

"Positive," Hunter affirmed. "We hadn't gotten back from lunch and the new guy, Jack, took the message. It was a male, claiming to be a friend of Sporty's and asked for us by name. Now, Sporty swears that he hadn't heard anything about black mass or human sacrifice and that no one -he- knows would bypass him to call us directly."

"Hmm. So the next question would be: was McCall the intended target? Or the unlucky one to go up the stairs first?"

Hunter was silent as he pondered the questions. After several moments of deliberation, he told Charlie that whoever she was was probably after McCall.

"Why?" Charlie asked, curious.

"Nothing concrete. It's just that I don't think that she would have gone after me like that. Don't get me wrong - I'm the first to say McCall's tough and has taken on bigger, stronger opponents and won. But by launching herself at McCall at the top of the stairs and using her superior height and weight combined with the element of surprise - I don't know, Charlie - she made it look so smooth. She was able to sit on McCall like she was riding a fucking sled. She made it look so smooth and when she got to the bottom, she hopped up like she was making a dismount or something." Hunter paused, wincing as the vision of his partner bouncing and sliding down the long staircase replayed itself in vivid detail and making him almost physically ill. "Charlie, she had McCall in a perfect position and I just don't think it would have worked on me. She was that much bigger over McCall as I would have been over her."

"Hmm." Now it was Charlie's turn to pause as he tried to picture it. "I see your point. Usually, if a woman is the aggressor going after a larger male, she would have used more than her body as a weapon. But -"

"What?"

"How did she know McCall would go up the stairs? What if you had? Or what if you had gone up together?"

"God, I wish it had been me." Hunter blurted out. But Charlie had a point. "I don't know. Maybe there were two of them up there. Get a rush on that print, will you?"

"Brad's here now. We'll push it along."

Hunter glanced down at his watch. Five fifty pm. Dr. Carmichael would be returning any minute. "I better get back."

"Are you really going to take her home?" Charlie was incredulous.

Hunter sighed. "If she insists, yeah. I guess I will. I do have to admit that she would definitely be a hell of a lot more comfortable at home. She's right about these hospital mattresses and I don't think I could lay on one if I was a bruised up as badly as she is."

"Well, be careful. I had one of the boys bring her car over there - the keys are at the front desk. Make sure she rests." He broke off, remembering this was Hunter and McCall. "Well," he amended, "do the best you can."

"I'll try, Charlie. Keep us updated."

"You too, Hunter. Give McCall our best."

The two men hung up and Hunter reluctantly headed back to McCall's room and met up with Dr. Carmichael conferring with DeeDee's nurse outside.

He looked up at Hunter's arrival. "Well, Sgt, Cheryl tells me that she's been asleep since I left. Shall we peek in on her?"

Hunter nodded and quietly pushed the door open.

He looked across the room and saw exactly what he predicted he'd see.

Two beautiful brown eyes watching him expectantly.

His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Hi, Hunter," she said softly, "Did you bring the car around?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------

McCall's House - 6:00 pm

By this time, Phoebe and Nash had almost completely demolished the living room. Nothing was left except piles of bricks, sheetrock, lumber and furniture surrounding a cavernous hole where the floor used to be.

They were resuming their destruction after spending an hour raiding the refrigerator and leaving an almost bigger mess in the kitchen.

"Pretty good spread, eh Nash," Phoebe cackled, polishing off her fifth beer with a loud belch.

Nash wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Nice, Phoebe. Now why don't you scratch your crotch and sit around in your underwear." Nash was just starting his second beer.

"You're such an old lady, Nash," Phoebe snorted derisively. "How in the hell did I get stuck with such a fuckin' wimp?"

Nash noted that she was beginning to slur her words slightly. "Because I'm your fucking husband, as you always seem to forget," he snapped, finishing his beer in one gulp.

Nash had finally had enough. A mere two beers had managed to loosen his tongue. "And our boss just happens to be my father. And don't think for one fucking minute that I don't know that you're using me - you've been using me this whole time. Stealing my dad's trust, and turning him against me so you can get your hands on the money."

He abruptly stopped. He realized that he'd just tipped his hand. He had kept Phoebe fooled just as she had thought she had him fooled - both desperate to get their hands on the money. And Phoebe knew that his dad had other stashes as well. If she passed this test - she was in.

"I'm going back to start loading the money into the van. When you're done stuffing your face, you can finish digging it out." He stormed off.

Phoebe watched him leave with slitted eyes. She was definitely going to have to do something about Nash. He was turning into more than a nuisance: husband or no husband.

Okay, she'd dig the money out and let him do the hauling back and forth with the heavy, bulky bags. She tossed the empty beer can aside, picked up a shovel and went back to work, rather enjoying the buzz she'd gotten from all the beer.

Actually, this whole situation was starting to seem rather humorous. Digging for one million dollars in a cop's house. She remembered when her father-in-law, Anthony "the Boss" Gambino had summoned her to the jail three weeks ago.

"I'm getting' outta here, doll. How'd you like to get that money I managed to squirrel away from that bank job?"

She was shocked. "You mean it's still out there?"

Gambino roared with laughter. "Well of course, darlin'. And if you and that wimpy son of mine can get it, I'll give you half."

Her mouth dropped. Half?!

He stared at her intensely. "But you have to get it. And if you do that, I'll take you along and we'll go after my real money." He winked at her.

"Real money?" She practically squeaked, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead.

"Darlin', I've been robbin' banks, quite successfully for a long, long time now. This was the first time I ever got caught."

Phoebe was stunned. 'You - you can count on me," she managed.

"I know I can, darlin'. I know I can. Now here's the tricky part." He described how he'd found a house that was being built and where he'd buried it during the construction phase. "A cop has it now."

"A cop?" Phoebe stared at him.

"A female cop. I'm sure you'll have no problem."

Phoebe roused herself. Well, it hadn't been a problem. Until now. She glared at Nash's retreating back as he made another trip to the van, juggling two more bags.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------

Wilshire Hospital 6:00 pm

DeeDee kept her eyes focused on her partner's worried face. Part of her regretted her insistence on leaving. Actually almost every part of her, every aching muscle and bone in her battered body was already protesting. Loudly.

But the desire to go home was too compelling. "Help me up," she whispered.

Hunter was fascinated by the sheer determination on her pale, drawn face and stepped forward. When she reached out with both small hands, he automatically took them in his own. Using only her uninjured right arm, she slowly and carefully pulled herself to a sitting position and then forced herself to her feet.

Immediately, she closed her eyes, taking slow easy breaths and trying to ignore the sudden rolling sensation as if the floor had morphed into a lazy ocean wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.

"DeeDee?" There was no mistaking the sharp rise of concern. "Slow down. Are you okay?"

"Just give me a minute. I've been lying down for a long time now," she whispered hoarsely wavering on unsteady limbs. With her good hand, she held onto Hunter's strong arm, trying to draw from his strength.

Hunter was torn. He wanted to cradle and comfort her, to

wrap his arms around her, lift her up and pull her close. But he didn't know where to touch her without causing further discomfort. He settled for gripping her forearm with one hand and placing his other on her left hip to steady her.

McCall opened her eyes to Hunter's relief and gave a wan smile that didn't fool anyone. "I'm fine," she said softly and a bit too quickly.

Hunter simply stared at her, letting her know in no uncertain terms that he didn't buy that line for a minute.

"Okay," she relented, "I'm just dizzy." She glanced over at Dr. Carmichael, who was busy writing in her chart.

He looked up and nodded. "I can see that you're dizzy. The way you're swaying it looks like a good gust of wind will knock you over. Sgt, are you absolutely positive that you won't reconsider?" He inquired hopefully.

"Home, Dr. Carmichael. And straight to bed. I promise." Having made it this far, she wasn't about to back down now.

He gave up. "Okay, why don't you take these? Open up." He placed two pills on her tongue. They dissolved quickly. "That's for nausea." He then picked up the glass of water. "And swallow this one." He helped her take the pill and sip the water. "And that's for the pain."

"Thank you, Doctor." She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It was going to be okay. She was going home. She let Hunter guide her to the bathroom where Cheryl helped her put on scrubs to replace her ruined suit.

Dr. Carmichael reviewed home care as Hunter listened attentively, pocketed preprinted instructions and prescriptions and signed the necessary paperwork.

By 6:30, he was bringing DeeDee's car around and as he helped her from the wheelchair to the passenger seat and buckled her in, he was inordinately pleased to note that she did indeed look a little better.

McCall sighed in relief. The aches and pains, while not gone by any stretch of the imagination, had diminished to a more tolerable level.

She's going to be all right, Hunter thought happily, watching her carefully settle herself back. He ran his hand tenderly down her cheek. "Let's get you home."

She reached up to take his hand and rewarded him with a bright smile that set his heart soaring. "Thank you."

Two blocks later, she was asleep.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------

McCall's House

The ride to McCall's house was uneventful and she remained asleep the whole time. Hunter slowly pulled up to the curb but did not go up the driveway. He stared hard at the front of the house. Something didn't seem right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. The front door was closed; every one of the windows had the blinds down and the curtains drawn. There was no visible sign of any disturbance, but Hunter was not satisfied.

McCall opened her eyes and looked over at him, then followed his gaze to her house. "What is it?" she asked sleepily, her voice husky.

He didn't answer.

"Hunter, what is it?"

He glanced over at her. "Hmm - probably nothing. Why don't you just stay here and let me make sure the coast is clear."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am." He told her about his and Charlie's thoughts about the attack and that it was felt that, for whatever reason, she was the target.

"You are serious." She was incredulous.

"Yeah. Now sit there." He undid his seatbelt and opened the door.

McCall moved to undo her own seatbelt.

"Stay," he ordered, half out of the car.

"Woof, woof."

"Very funny, McCall," he shut the door and took two steps before turning back. He held up his hand, palm out like a traffic cop.

McCall pouted and slumped back in her seat.

Hunter moved quickly and quietly to each window but was unable to see inside at all. Finally he went to the front door and, using the key, stepped inside with his gun drawn.

Outside, McCall watched him and huffed. She still felt a little fuzzy from the medication but the need to back up her partner overrode her body's desire to stay in the car. When Hunter was out of sight, she managed to get out of the car and wobbled slightly before regaining her equilibrium. A couple of slow deep breaths and she felt better. Her back and shoulder was still protesting the movement and the pounding in her head joined in, but she had gotten a handle on the pain and refused to give in now. There'd be time for that later. Even though her left arm was pinned close to her body, she tried to jog to the back but gave up almost immediately and settled for a fast walk.

When she got to her back door, she plucked her spare key from its hiding space and entered her kitchen without a sound. Slightly fuzzy from the drugs, she didn't realize that the door was already unlocked. Remembering that she was unarmed, she reached for a long butcher knife and slid it carefully into her sling.

She looked around. All clear here.

She moved forward.

Suddenly the sound of Hunter's voice rang out and she was shocked to hear him order someone in the living room to freeze.

Oh my God - Hunter was right - someone was in her home. Had been lying in wait.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------

Hunter's mouth had literally dropped when he took in the total destruction before him. It actually looked like a bomb had gone off.

He moved cautiously to the edge of the pit and was caught off guard when a tall brunette jumped up at him, wielding a shovel.

Recovering quickly, he pushed her back and leveled his gun. "Police - Freeze - You're under arrest," he barked.

And then the phone rang - shattering the quiet.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------

Police Headquarters

"Captain!"

Charlie looked up at the excited shout.

It was Jack, the unfortunate rookie who had sent Hunter and McCall to the abandoned warehouse. He had been devastated to hear that McCall had been attacked and hospitalized, his guilt threatening to consume him, despite reassurances by his fellow officers.

He had liked and respected Sgts Hunter and McCall from his first day there and strived to learn as much as he could from them, impressed with Hunter's toughness and McCall's quick analytical mind. He decided that the only way that he could make it up to them was to throw himself into the investigation and do whatever he could to solve the case, even though he was supposed to have gotten off duty over four hours ago.

When he had heard that the owner of the fingerprint was almost certainly Nash Gambino, he thought that the name sounded familiar and immediately went down to the file room.

It wasn't long before he had some very interesting news to report.

"What is it, Jack?" Charlie was busy going through reports sent to him on the warehouse, looking for any clues as to why his two best detectives had been lured there.

"Got a probable ID on the print. Nash Gambino." He held up a mug shot.

"Never heard of him," Charlie said brusquely.

Undeterred, Jack pulled the picture down. "Not surprising, sir. He's small potatoes. But how about his dad, Anthony Gambino?" He displayed another picture.

Charlie whistled appreciatively. "The Boss?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hell, he's robbed more banks than - than -" he struggled to find an appropriately high comparison then gave up. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, sir. But no one could ever pin the heists to him. Until the last one."

Charlie took up the story. "I remember. I also seem to recall that they never recovered the money." He paused. "Are you saying that the money is at the warehouse?"

"No, sir. I don't think so. That wouldn't explain the need to bring Sgts Hunter and McCall in. They were never even involved in the case."

"And Gambino is still in jail." Charlie added.

"Was," Jack corrected respectfully. "Got out two days ago."

Charlie leaned back in his chair. "Okay. Let's put it together. Gambino's out, one million dollars is missing, we've got Nash at the warehouse - what about McCall's attacker. Hunter's pretty sure it was a female."

Jack displayed a third mug shot. "Meet Phoebe Gambino - Nash's wife. At 5'8", she could more than likely fit in the boot we got a print on. And get this: she's a former Hollywood stuntwoman."

Charlie was silent as he processed it all. "Okay," he said at last, "everything fits except how Hunter and McCall are involved." He glanced at his watch and reached for the phone. "Patch me through to Hunter, he's in McCall's car.

Jack fairly danced with impatience.

"No answer, huh? All right - put me through to McCall's house - they've had time to get there by now."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- McCall's House

Hunter never expected the phone to ring while Phoebe had been hoping that Nash would come through with a distraction of some kind, so she was better prepared to move.

An explosive kick to Hunter's right shoulder spun the gun from his outstretched hand. The kick was perfectly delivered. She followed up with a powerful swing of the shovel and caught him on the side to his head. He went down, stunned and Phoebe pounced.

Hunter was ready. He launched himself at her grabbed the front of her coverall and furiously bounced her off the wall. Her arm cracked against the bookshelf and the shovel fell to the ground. She let her leg buckle as if she lost her footing and sucker-punched him to the side of his head.

He went down on one knee, his ears ringing painfully. She pressed her advantage and crunched her hand into his stomach.

Hunter groaned and slumped over like a badly beaten club fighter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, in the kitchen, with the phone ringing loudly in the other room, McCall never heard his approach. In the blink of an eye, she was grabbed from behind.

Damnit - there were two of them!

She froze and tried to stay clear and focused as she felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed firmly in her right ear and the hot breath of the intruder's mouth at her left.

He leaned in closely. "I know you're a cop," the faceless voice hissed, "so you even think of doing anything stupid and I can promise you that your brains are gonna be splattered all over this floor. Got it?"

McCall nodded.

"Okay - let's go." He kept one hand firmly on her right upper arm and the other kept the gun pushed painfully in her ear as she was guided outside.

Phoebe leaned in and learned the hard way that Hunter had tricked her. His distress was a trick; a slick feint. In the blink of an eye, he propelled himself up, enraged now and fired a punch that caught the side of her head.

Now, she was the one reeling and, remembering the sight of the bruises covering McCall's back, Hunter slammed his fist into her stomach. He was absolutely livid - his eyes blazing and the rage poured through him, augmenting the force of the blow.

She spun around, retching and gagging. Hunter moved in for the kill.

He brought his hand down hard over her mouth and nose. He thought he heard the satisfying crunch of cartilage.

Phoebe, however, wasn't about to give up and when she tried to pull out of his grasp, he was forced to tackle her, using all of his weight to pin her down.

Obviously highly motivated herself, she braced her legs and twisted her body hard to the right. Suddenly, she threw all of her weight away from him and then was out of his grasp.

"Big mistake, lady," Hunter growled.

He yanked Phoebe to her feet by her arm and turned her around, pulling the arm hard behind her back.

It seemed to take the fight out of her but Hunter took no chances. He continued to keep the arm high behind her and she bent almost double in front of him. He used his free hand to reach for his cuffs.

When she was secured, he turned her around to face him and grabbing the front of her shirt, pulled her close, his face inches from hers. "That was from me," he whispered harshly, taunting.

And in the instant that he saw her jaw twitch when she prepared to spit, he pushed her violently down to the ground. Unable to use her hands, she fell heavily on the edge of the pit, landing on her left side. She emitted a grunt of pain at the impact then slid down to the bottom of the cavernous hole in a parody of her attack on McCall. She groaned loudly, the rocks and boards making it a rough landing.

"And that's from my partner," he called down to her. He stepped back and took a deep breath. Now he had a monster headache of his own and felt a little sick to his stomach. He shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs and regretted it instantly. And then it hit him - shit! McCall!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------

Nash escorted McCall to the van she hadn't noticed before.It had rained recently and the ground was still very muddy. Both of them stepped carefully, not wanting to fall.

"Get in," he barked. "You're driving."

"Are you insane?!" McCall exclaimed. "In case you haven't noticed - I can only use one arm." She looked into his face. His narrow, feral eyes held not a bit of warmth.

"Just shut up," he snarled. He opened the door and pulled her over. "You can steer with one hand. Now move it. We don't have far to go."

McCall gave up. Moving on to plan B. "Fine. If we wreck, it's your funeral, you idiot." The derogatory comment popped without prior thought.

McCall had turned to get in the car. From where he stood, it looked like she was reaching for the steering wheel to pull herself up, but in reality she was reaching for the knife.

In the instant she smarted off, she realized what she'd said and so did he.

Now he was really angry. Just another female who thought she was better than him.

Well, not this time and without pausing to think, he pulled her back around, intending to teach her a lesson she'd not soon forget.

Instinctively, McCall yanked her arm free even as Nash lunged for her throat. He never saw the knife until she slashed him.

He took the first blow on the forearm that was extended to clamp off her scream. He saw the second strike coming but was only able to avert his face before the blade caught him on the scalp.

Putting his left hand on her face while grappling for the knife with his right, McCall managed to bit him with every ounce of strength she could muster.

Screaming himself, he moved his wounded hand to her throat and squeezed. Again his right hand went for the knife, but the blood was flowing freely from his wounds making his hand too slick and McCall had a firm dry grip on the wooden handle. His hand slid uselessly along the blade slicing it to the bones and she was able to extend the knife directly into his chest. She had enough presence of mind to turn it sideways and it slid easily past the ribs and into his heart. And still he continued to cut off her air supply.

Adrenalin gave her the added strength to bury the 6" blade to the hilt, even as her vision began to dissolve into tiny black dots.

As the blade pierced his heart Nash immediately released his death grip on her throat and dropped to the ground. His feet slid in the thick mud. McCall twisted her wrist before releasing her hold.

Frothy pink blood bubbled from his mouth as Nash fell to the muddy ground, gasping like a beached fish. His legs wouldn't work and the expression on his face was one of disbelief.

Watching him warily, McCall managed to yank the knife out, securing his death then took two stumbling steps back and sank bonelessly to her knees. When she saw his eyes roll back, leaving only the whites visible, she knew she had won. He was dead.

Now her throat was on fire, her head pounding with unbridled fury. She felt faint and though she fought desperately, the dim ringing in her ears grew louder and louder. The colors of the universe appeared to fade all at once and blackness caught her in its grasp and pulled her down, still clutching the knife.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------

Inside, Hunter realized something had to be wrong for McCall to actually have listened to him and stayed in the car all this time. Damnit - what if this bitch had a partner? He ran to the door and nearly collided with two police officers, coming in with guns drawn.

"Whoa!" One of them yelled. "Sgt. Hunter - what's going on?"

Hunter just stared. What in the hell were they doing here? No time for chit chat. He pushed past as they stood there dumbfounded, and ran out to McCall's car. He pulled up short. The car was empty.

No. This could not be happening. Tell me this is not happening, he thought desperately. He looked around frantically, searching for any sign of his partner. "McCall!" he shouted. "McCall!"

The two officers, Ryan and Angie came up behind him.

"Sir, what is it? What's going on?" Ryan looked around not entirely sure for what - or who.

Hunter was off again. "McCall's missing!" he yelled over his shoulder. "There's a prisoner inside - read her her rights," he added as an afterthought. "And get some backup out here - she probably had an accomplice." He raced to the back.

Ryan and Angie exchanged quick looks then he went inside to secure the prisoner and she followed Hunter.

He slipped on a muddy patch as he rounded the house, pin wheeling his arms to regain his footing and hurried on.

Oh shit! Was his first thought. The sight before him took his breath away. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh please no. Shit - not again. His arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably as he made his way to his fallen partner, sprawled on the ground, covered in blood and mud. A man, even bloodier was lying next to her. Neither was moving.

It was like plodding through quicksand, his brain screaming, his eyes tearing, he felt like he was losing control.

He collapsed next to her, his hands fumbling at her neck, desperately praying he'd find a pulse.

At his touch, McCall's eyes flew open with a gasp, scaring him badly.

"DeeDee?!" He was incredulous. "Where - where are you hurt? All the blood- " His eyes searched her face, arms looking for the source. And that's when he saw the knife. Carefully he plucked it from her hand.

"Not - me -" McCall panted. "It's not - my blood."

Hunter sagged in relief, his heart felt like it had skipped several beats. He turned back to Angie, who was checking the body next to them. "He's dead, sir."

Way to go, McCall, he mentally cheered. "Okay - get on the horn and get a team out here and an ambulance."

With surprising power, McCall's hand shot out to grab his arm. "No. No ambulance. I'm not hurt - just filthy."

Hunter stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Please, Hunter," she implored, "please - just let me get up and get cleaned up."

Hunter relented and scooped her up. His stomach, reacting to the blows he'd received, the odors of blood and the sight of McCall covered in it were working together to send acrid jets of bile into his throat. He swallowed several times.

"Hunter?"

"I'm okay. It's just been a really long day."

McCall nodded as he walked to the house. Abruptly he stopped and she stared at him. "You know," he remarked, "I seem to recall telling you to wait in the car."

McCall simply rolled her eyes at Hunter's absurd comment, not dignifying it with any other response. Stay in the car, she thought, like that's ever gonna happen. Instead she subtly snuggled a little deeper in Hunter's arms, ignoring the painful pressure on her back. She was so tired and a hug was worth a bit of discomfort.

Hunter noticed, but before he could take two steps into the kitchen he remembered that McCall didn't have a clue about the complete demolition of her living room. Not wanting to dump something that shocking on her in the condition she was in without some kind of warning, he carefully set her down and guided her to a chair.

"Hunter, what are you doing?" she exclaimed in exasperation, "I just want to get upstairs for a long hot bath and then to bed. Not sit down to dinner." She moved to stand back up.

"McCall, wait," Hunter placed a hand on her good shoulder and gently pressed her back. "I - well - there's - uh - something -" he fumbled over the words, unable to decide the best way to break it to her.

"Hunter," McCall broke in impatiently, "What is it? What's going on?"

"I -" he was interrupted by the arrival of Capt. Devane, who barreled into the kitchen looking for his two detectives.

Hunter jumped to his feet. "Captain-"

"McCall! Hunter! What in the . . . hell. . .happened. . . out-" Each word became slower until he faded out, staring in obvious confusion at Hunter, gesturing frantically at him behind McCall's back and shaking his head furiously. He looked from one to the other. "McCall, are you okay?" The amount of blood and dirt startled him. "I thought you went to the hospital."

DeeDee nodded and managed a wan smile. "I did - this is part two, but I'm okay - it's not my blood. I'm just really tired and really sore. And I -was- on my way upstairs to get cleaned up." She glared back at Hunter, who conveniently ignored her and focused on the Captain.

"All right, start talking!" Charlie demanded, looking directly at Hunter.

"Uh - we're not exactly sure of all the details. When we got here, we found that her house had been broken into. I was able to apprehend the female who was in the living room and McCall here, (he remained oblivious of the daggers being sent his way), took it upon herself to go around to the back. She had a butcher knife and the guy is dead."

Devane let out a huge, put-upon sigh. "Okay, but would you mind explaining what they were doing here and why they felt it necessary to - Hunter!" he barked. "What -is- it?!"

Hunter's shoulders slumped. He gave up trying to postpone the inevitable. McCall had to know. "Look Charlie, I haven't had a chance to - uh - tell McCall what happened in there," he finished weakly.

McCall stared at him, her eyes wide. "What is going on, you two? What aren't you telling me?" She kept looking from one to the other. "Wait a minute - what do you mean 'what happened in there?'" Again she started to stand and this time Devane stopped her.

"Lookit, McCall, I didn't know that you hadn't been in the living room yet."

McCall closed her eyes and silently counted to ten. She was starting to get angry with all this coddling and each word was clipped and curt. "What - happened - in - my - living room?"

Hunter and Devane exchanged glances and Hunter drew the short straw.

"McCall, they've pretty much gutted your living room."

"What!?!"

"Most of the floor is gone, there's just a very, very large crater left. I don't know what they were after. I just saw a bunch of bags. I went after you before checking what was in them."

"What?!" She repeated. Oh God, her head was really starting to pound now.

Devane jumped in. "That's why I was trying to get a hold of you. We got an ID on a print from the warehouse - Nash Gambino. I'm guessing that he's the DB in the backyard. Angie tells me Hunter got his wife, Phoebe."

"Okay, great, that answers that. But what does that have to do with me and my living room - or I should say, what's left of it."

Devane continued with his explanation. "Jack put most of it together and I think I've got it figured out. Nash's father is Anthony Gambino."

McCall stared at him blankly, but Hunter perked up. It was all starting to fall into place.

"Anthony Gambino, AKA 'The Boss', a big bank robber was finally put away but the million dollars from his last heist was never recovered, so I'm betting there's stolen money in those bags. They were trying to get you out of the way to get the money."

"Are you telling me that I've been living over one million dollars?" McCall was flabbergasted.

"Apparently," Devane continued, "he's out now and wants his money."

McCall felt herself beginning to unravel. The little bit of comfort that the medications had granted her was draining away faster than the adrenalin. No more. She didn't want to deal with one more thing. A bath and bed. That was it. She bit her lip and put her head in her hand.

Hunter and Devane watched helplessly, looking at each other and back at McCall, forlorn and filthy. The Brass Cupcake had checked out. It was just DeeDee McCall, her brown curls tangled, flat and limp and her borrowed scrubs too big and

hanging on her tiny frame.

Abruptly Hunter pushed back from the table. "We're outta here."

McCall didn't look up. "What are you talking about?" Her voice was muffled.

"Just sit there a minute - I'll get your things. You can't stay here so you're coming with me." Without waiting for a response, he hurried out of the kitchen, leaving a bewildered Captain in his wake.

"Uh - McCall -" he looked around for inspiration. He spied the sink. Water! He opened several cabinets before locating the glassware and brought her some ice water.

McCall smiled in spite of herself. "Thanks, Captain." She managed a tiny sip.

"If it's any consolation, from what I could tell, they left the furniture intact and just pushed it back."

McCall nodded. Whatever.

Wanting a woman's touch to make sure he got everything she'd need, Hunter grabbed Angie and took her to McCall's bedroom. "Help me pack some stuff for McCall. She's not going to be able to stay here," he told her.

Angie just smiled. "Yes, sir." She quickly and efficiently put a make-up and toiletry kit together, while Hunter located a small suitcase. She gave it to him to pack then gathered lingerie, pajamas and comfortable casual clothing.

Hunter put it all in and thanked her profusely. "One more thing, Angie." He reached into his back pocket and handed her the prescriptions he had gotten from Dr. Carmichael along with directions to a pharmacy near his house. "Just tell 'em I'll be by and to put a rush on it. And thanks again."

"Sure thing, Sgt. Give my best to Sgt McCall."

He put the suitcase in the car then hurried back inside to collect his partner. Devane was handing her wet paper towels and she trying vainly to remove the grime and blood.

"Are you sure you don't need a doctor to check you out, McCall?"

Hunter answered for her. "Don't waste our breath, Captain."

She looked over at him, gratitude evident in her tired eyes.

"Let's go, McCall. Angie got your stuff packed, so blame her if something's not there." He reached out to help her to her feet.

"What? You passed up an opportunity to raid my panty drawer?"

"No - I just waited 'til Angie left."

Devane sent his gaze heavenward. "Just get going, Hunter."

"Do you want me to bring the car around back so you don't have to - " Hunter asked solicitously.

McCall shook her head just once. "Thanks, but no thanks." Resolutely she took a breath and without hesitation stepped through the door before Devane or Hunter could say another word.

She took two steps and stopped dead. The two men barreled after her and nearly collided into her, stumbling over themselves in an effort not to crash. It looked like a scene from the Keystone Cops.

McCall wasn't laughing. Or crying. Or anything.

She simply looked around, letting her eyes fall on each corner of the room and finally the crater. Hunter and Devane respectfully remained silent.

Abruptly she turned on her heel and headed for the front door and never looked back.

Hunter took off after her, leaving Devane to secure the scene and without a word, he got his partner settled in the car. Using his peripheral vision to check on her while he drove, he noted that she remained expressionless. He opened his mouth to speak but McCall cut him off.

"Not a word, Hunter. Not now. It's over and I just want to get cleaned up and get some sleep. I just don't want to think about it right now. I can't." She spoke in a monotone, but there was a catch in her voice at the end.

"Sure, McCall. No problem." Hunter gripped the wheel tightly, concerned by her flat affect. Well, what do you expect, he told himself, she's been to hell and back on just two hours of sleep. Just get her home, get her in the bath and get her to bed. He sighed. God, he wished he had a better reason for having McCall in his bed.

During the drive, McCall leaned against the door and window, taking the pressure off her aching back and tried not to wince at every bump, thus worrying Hunter even more. Over, she just wanted this day over. It was dark now and it was so incredibly hard to stay awake, especially when she only wanted to close her eyes every time a passing headlight sent a piercing bolt of pain through her skull.

At the last minute, Hunter remembered to stop at the pharmacy. He ran in, promising McCall he'd just be a minute and thanked the pharmacist for filling the scripts so quickly. It wasn't quick enough. Upon returning to the car, he found McCall had been unable to fight off sleep any longer.

"Hey, McCall," he called softly.

She mumbled incoherently.

Hunter let her sleep and headed home. When he arrived, he tried again to rouse her without success. He quickly grabbed her suitcase and went to open the door and clear the way before returning to the car. He scooped her into his arms and went directly to the bedroom, hesitating only a moment before removing her shoes.

She didn't stir.

Great. Now what, he asked himself.

Hunter looked down on the floor to where he'd placed McCall's muddy boots and socks then back to her bare feet peeking out from the too-big scrub pants. Without warning, his blood began to race through his veins making him feel suddenly giddy, light-headed and totally turned on.

For a moment, he wondered why the sight of her bare feet with ten small toes painted red (red? his addled brain thought) should send such a shiver of pleasure throughout his body. He sat down heavily at the foot of his bed, next to her feet and just stared, trying to figure it out. Then like a flash, it came to him and he realized that he was seeing a part of her that she normally kept hidden away. Boots, pumps, slippers, but never bare feet. When she'd been in the hospital, she had been lying under the sheets and blankets. Even when he'd caught her in the bathtub, he'd seen only head, shoulders and arms.

With a rueful shake, he roused himself out of his reverie. On the one hand, he figured she'd probably take his head off if she awoke and found him contemplating her bare feet. And on the other hand, he felt a little disloyal considering her body in such a fashion. Her body. Did she have any idea how many nights he'd lain awake fantasizing about her perfect form? His eyes traveled slowly up until they settled on her face, so peaceful in repose. So beautiful.

His partner. Steve's widow. His former partner's wife. His best friend.

Seemingly of its own volition, his hand crept forward and gently, ever so softly, skimmed across the top of her foot, marveling at how silky soft they skin was, while he flashed back to the first time he'd met DeeDee McCall. He had told Steve that he was a lucky man and shortly after had been charged with taking care of her when Steve had been killed. He had done so.

Until now, he had resolutely and loyally kept any feelings other than purely platonic ones back in the most remote corner of his mind, buried under the banter and jokes and harmless sexual innuendo. And of course, she gave as good as she got.

He had refused to dwell on her beauty, her flashing dark eyes and perfect body, even when she'd gone undercover in the most body hugging outfits he could imagine.

Until now.

Until now, he'd never had to deal with her other than a partner. And a friend. She knew him inside and out and determinedly stuck by his side; protected his back.

And now she was sleeping in his bed.

Hunter shook his head. He knew from painful experience that friends like her were hard to come by and there was no way he'd jeopardize their bond. But under different circumstances. . .

Stop it, he scolded himself. Circumstances were what they were. McCall was his best friend and he would not take advantage of the situation and her. Not ever.

No matter how much he loved her.

But maybe, someday; things could be different. Even though she had thus far given no indication that she wanted their relationship to be anything other than what it was.

He had long ago decided that he would wait and want and love. . . in silence.

Okay, so now what? He knew that she desperately wanted to get cleaned up, but she was in definite need of sleep. It's not like he could actually undress and bathe her while she was asleep. That was totally ridiculous. Plus she really needed to wash her hair as well, but he remembered the large cut on the back of her head and something in the discharge instruction about getting wet.

Quickly he pulled out the papers from his back pocket and scanned it looking for care of the sutures. Hmm, a quick shampoo was permissible, but she was to avoid prolonged rinsing and no conditioner. That answered that. She could wash her hair, but it was definitely a two person job and she could only use one arm anyway and he couldn't do that with her asleep either.

Deciding to let her sleep a while longer, he felt like he would pass the time and get cleaned up himself. After pulling the covers over her, he made a quick detour to the kitchen for a sandwich and a beer then headed back to the bedroom.

A glance over at DeeDee showed that she was still sound asleep, so he gathered up some clean clothes for himself and went to the bathroom. He left the door slightly ajar in order to listen for DeeDee or the phone and reached into the shower and turned on the water. While waiting for it to heat up, he decided that he could really use a shave. Soon billows of steam were floating out of the stall, fogging up the mirror just as he completed the last stroke of his razor.

After letting the water get as hot as he could stand, he stepped into the shower leaning under the spray to douse himself entirely and then tilted his head back to brush the water out of his eyes.

This was a good idea, he thought as the hot water pounded his tight muscles into submission. He aimed the nozzle directly onto his back, bending slightly at the waist to place both palms on the wall to get maximum exposure. Letting his head hang down and closing his eyes, he tried to turn his brain off and simply savor the moment. DeeDee was asleep in his bed, safe now if not completely sound and he knew he was thankful that her injuries weren't more serious.

Still savoring the mental picture of DeeDee's dainty feet and red toenails, he let the heat and the spray work together to ease the soreness and tension from his body and his mind.

DeeDee wasn't exactly sure what woke her. Not quite ready to open her eyes, she tried to sort out the sounds and sensations and what was the last thing she remembered.

Start with sounds. It sounded like running water - a shower. What did she feel? Well, still tired; really tired and achy, with a dull headache throbbing behind her eyes. But even though her back and shoulder were protesting the fact that she was lying on them, instead of on her side, she realized that she was on top of a soft mattress. Sighing contentedly, she managed to tilt her body to the right, enough to ease the pressure, then suddenly hissing quietly when her immobilized left shoulder shifted downward. Biting her lower lip to keep a groan of pain at bay, she struggled to find a more comfortable position.

It took several minutes, but finally she got herself situated.

Okay, she told herself, back to the business at hand. She opened her eyes and looked around.

Hmm, that answered the rest of her questions. She was in Hunter's house, specifically Hunter's bed, which meant that he was in the shower she heard.

A smile touched her lips. Obviously she had fallen asleep on the way here and he was letting her rest while he got cleaned up.

God, she wished she was in that shower with him right now.

DeeDee froze. Where in the world had -that- come from? What she -meant- was that she wanted to get in the shower as soon as Hunter was done.

Right?

Right, of course that's what she meant. Not to join her partner, her friend in the shower. She blushed furiously, thankful that he wasn't here to witness her discomfiture.

In fact, she continued to lecture herself, he was the best partner ,the best friend she could have ever asked for. Especially being a female detective. No other male on the force, not even her own parents truly knew what she faced on a daily basis. No one except Hunter.

She smiled again. Her partner. Oh, he could be aggravating, a total slob, a loose cannon, almost reckless, endangering his own life. Not hers though. Not if he could help it or at least be right there to back her up. He was protective of her, but respected her abilities to take care of herself as well as back him up.

She couldn't resent his protectiveness, recognizing it as a reflection of their very special friendship.

Was it more than that?

She sighed ruefully. She'd seen some of the women that Hunter had dated. They seemed very different from herself. She assumed that meant that she wasn't his type in the romance department. She was the Brass Cupcake and maybe she wasn't woman enough for him.

Somehow, she seemed to have conveniently forgotten that the men she had dated hadn't been anything like Rick Hunter either. And it was him she was thinking of sharing a shower with.

She figured that she knew him too well to get involved with him. No matter how attracted she was to him.

DeeDee McCall, she berated herself, her brow darkening in vexation, stop it.

It wasn't as if they had any potential as a couple, right? A relationship of that type was simply beyond the realm of consideration. He's your co- worker. And your friend, right?

Best friends make the best lovers, came a voice from her heart and not her mind.

She closed her eyes.

Friends. Lovers.

Could they really be both?

Could they?

What if Hunter didn't want to risk their friendship?

Did she?

Yes, she moaned softly. God help me, I do.

I love him.

DeeDee stared up at the ceiling, surprised by her mental admission of love for her partner.

As close as they were, she knew that they both loved each other, but to be - in- love, well, that was a whole other issue all together. She so valued their friendship and being partners, that the idea of romantic love terrified her. She had been in love with Steve first. They were friends, sure, but not partners and now he was gone. With Rick Hunter, she felt a deeper, special friendship and an excellent partnership and wouldn't romantic love spoil it? They'd be split up if she chose to spend the night in his bed instead of the work day in his car. And what about Hunter? Didn't he have anything to say in this? She knew he cared, of course, it was extremely obvious. That, however, did not necessarily equate with being in love. Rescuing a damsel in distress and taking care of her did not mean you were in love with her.

DeeDee nearly moaned aloud: it was too much to think about right now. Her muddled brain was on overload and she knew that she wasn't thinking entirely clearly anymore. In desperation, she focused on the sounds emanating from beyond the open bathroom door. The soothing sound of the shower soon lulled her back to sleep, more comfortably curled on her side.

Rick knew he should probably turn off the shower or risk using all the hot water before McCall could get cleaned up herself. Of course, he told himself ruefully, a cold shower would probably be just the ticket to steer his brain away from any fantasies he had about his beautiful partner sleeping in his bed. And soon she'd be taking a bath. Quickly he shook his head. No, no, no. Do not go there. She needs a friend to help her, not a lecherous man to ogle her and fantasize about her. With a heavy sigh, he turned off the water and reached for a towel.

DeeDee went from dead asleep to full awake in an instant and it left her nearly overcome by a sense of fear. She lay still, unsure of what had awakened her and then realized that it was now quiet - the shower had stopped. That's what comes from sleeping someplace new. Noises or lack thereof can take on a whole new meaning. She told herself to quit being so jumpy - if Rick was done in the shower, then it meant it was her turn.

Summoning all her strength, she managed to push herself to a near sitting position. From the sounds she deduced that Rick was getting dressed now. She was about to swing her legs over the side of the bed when she felt a wave of dizziness. She paused, thinking it would pass quickly. But it didn't.

She stopped. Suddenly her whole body began to sweat. She shook her head as if to clear it and the dizziness intensified.

What was going on? She opened her mouth to call out to Rick, but her voice had no strength. The bed began to spin. In desperation, she threw herself to the side of the bed, knocking over the lamp and sending it tumbling to the floor where it landed with a resounding crash.

Hunter didn't hesitate for a moment, rushing out of the bathroom to McCall's side.

"McCall - what is it? What's going on?" His eyes searched

her pale, perspiring face for some kind of clue.

When a wave of hunger washed over her, followed by more dizziness, DeeDee finally understood what was happening. "Juice," she managed, "orange juice," before slumping back against the pillow with Rick supporting her descent.

"Hang on!" He ordered even as he tore himself away and raced to the kitchen. Yanking on the door of the refrigerator hard enough to rattle the contents, he found a carton of orange juice and snatched it up.

DeeDee lay still, her vision starting to blur as she waited for Rick to return. It seemed like a lifetime when it was actually less than a minute.

"McCall - come on - here's the juice." He supported her shoulders with one arm and put the carton to her lips with the other.

DeeDee gulped at the cold liquid frantically, some of it dripping down her chin. Barely stopping to breathe, she continued to swallow as fast as she could without choking.

Finally, she came up for air, letting her body go limp; her heart beating wildly in her chest. Rick just stared at her. "Would you mind telling me what the hell just happened? And do I need to call an ambulance?"

DeeDee dragged her gaze up to his worried face and tried to reassure him. First she needed to catch her breath.

Rick's brow furrowed. "Wait a minute - orange juice - you - you're not diabetic, are you?"

A tiny smile crossed her lips, "No," she panted slightly, "I'm not a diabetic." She reached for the orange juice and finished off the carton, breathing a sigh of relief. That had been close, she thought, it had never been that bad before. Now she was really hungry. "But you don't have to be a diabetic to have your blood sugar get too low. Some people don't tolerate it very well and I'm one of them. I only had coffee this morning with just a bite of bagel before we went out on a call."

Rick nodded. "I ate in the car, but you drove."

"And I got pulled away from lunch after barely getting started to talk to the Captain about shooting that drug dealer last week."

Rick rocked back on his heels. "So, you're okay now?"

"Well, other than being absolutely starving, yeah - I'm fine." She reached out her hand to stroke his cheek. "I'm sorry I scared you. It hasn't happened to me in so long, I guess-"

Rick shushed her, clasping her hand and bringing it to his lips. "It doesn't matter. As long as you're all right."

DeeDee stared at him, her eyes wide. Her hand suddenly on fire where his lips had touched her. Her eyes traveled down his bare chest to the top of his form-fitting jeans. Unaware of the effect he was having on her, Rick stood up. "What do you want to eat?"

DeeDee gaped. Unexpectedly, she felt her whole body burning with the heat of her blush for staring at her half-naked partner.

"I mean, you do need to eat something now, right? I don't want you passing out on me in the tub. I don't think my heart could take any more scares tonight." He winked, trying to soften his words.

"Yeah - you're right. Why don't we try some soup?"

"You got it, kid. Don't move - I'll be right back." And he was gone before she could utter a single word.

DeeDee sank back, gazing longingly after him. She brought her hand, the hand Rick had held to his lips, up to her own. She prayed he hadn't noticed the direction of her thoughts by her body's reaction.

DeeDee lay in bed for several minutes after Rick left, trying to get her emotions under control and trying to decide what to do. It only took a minute to decide that she wasn't going to stay in bed any longer. Looking over at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was 10:30 at night. She groaned.

God, would this day never end? she thought wearily. And she - still - hadn't gotten cleaned up. Well, that decided that. Summoning all her remaining strength, she pulled herself to a sitting position and prepared for the dizziness that thankfully never came. She took a couple of slow cleansing breaths.

"You can do this," she encouraged herself. Letting visions of a nice hot, luxurious bath pull her to a standing position she managed five steps before admitting defeat. Placing her right hand on the wall, she sank slowly to the ground. Sighing heavily, she cradled her left arm in its sling and huddled over her bent knees.

Which was how Hunter found her when he returned, carrying a TV table laden with a steaming bowl of soup, crackers and a large glass of milk.

"I'm okay," she called out without looking up, before Hunter could utter a sound.

He put the tray next to the bed then turned back to his partner, towering over her with his arms crossed.

"So this is your definition of okay?" He ventured his voice worried and amused.

McCall rolled her eyes. "No - yes - I mean -"

Hunter reached down and carefully assisted her back to the bed. "Now, why don't you just sit here and eat something before your next trick, Super Girl."

"Very funny." But she relented, knowing he was right and picked up the spoon. The soup may have been heated from a can, but it smelled delicious and she eagerly dug in.

"Okay, I'll get your things set up for you in the bathroom while you finish up," Hunter told her as he went to get her suitcase.

McCall just smiled up at him as she took a long gulp of milk to wash down the crackers.

Hunter placed the suitcase on the sink. Unzipping the bag and propping the lid against the wall, he looked inside.He left the make-up kit and checked the toiletry bag. He found a small bottle with a purple lid. Bubble bath.

Okay, now we're getting somewhere, he thought happily. Thank you, Angie. Pulling it out, he twisted the lid off and brought it close to his nose. The fragrance was one that he associated with her and he smiled, glancing at the label and making a mental note of the brand for future reference.

Glancing back at the open suitcase, he decided that he would just leave it propped open for her and let her get her things out herself. Shampoo, he suddenly remembered, going back to the small bag. Sure enough Angie had placed a bottle of shampoo there as well.

Setting both bottles on the side of the tub, he pulled out several large towels and a washcloth, and then turned on the water to get it warmed up. When he got the temperature to his liking, he poured in a generous dollop of the bubble bath, watching the fluffy bubbles foam and fill the tub.

Letting the water run, he went back to the bedroom to help McCall, remembering to close the door, trapping the heat inside. He nearly ran into her as she made her way over, unable to wait any longer. Hunter didn't say anything, simply guiding her in.

Once inside, the warm steamy air and rich sweet smells left him lightheaded and suddenly unsure of what to do next.

McCall needed no instructions. She stepped over to the toilet and sat down on the closed lid. "Oh, Hunter, this is perfect," she sighed happily.

Hunter shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Half a dozen lecherous double entendres sprang to his lips and he bit every one of them back.

"Uh, McCall - how - uh - what can I -"

"Rick - it's okay. First, let's get rid of this sling." She glanced down at it in distaste.

"Okay, sure." He undid the straps and cautiously eased it off her arm, not failing to notice her grimace. "Why don't I go put this thing in the washing machine and get your medication?"

McCall nodded wearily, unable to ignore the aches and pains. "Yeah, that'll give me a chance to take care of some things that you can't help me with." She shot a quick glance down at the toilet.

"Got it. Just be careful, will ya?" He was serious.

"Go on. I'll be fine, I promise." She smiled trying to reassure him.

Hunter backed out, still reluctant to leave her alone, but having no other choice at this point.

As soon as he was gone, McCall got moving, knowing that her mother-hen partner would return any minute and when he did, she wanted to be safely ensconced in the mountains of bubbles growing in the large white tub.

The limited mobility of her left arm made going to the restroom more difficult than she bargained for. Fortunately the scrub pants were too big and slid down easily, but her panties had elastic and it took some uncomfortable maneuvering to get them down and off.

It also took more time than she planned. Hurriedly she sat back down on the toilet to work on getting the scrub top over her head. After several painful attempts and contortions, she was forced to admit defeat. There were no buttons, no snaps or zippers and while it was cut like a t-shirt, it had absolutely no give. She remembered how the nurse at the hospital had gotten it on by sliding it over her left arm first, then her head and finally with a lot of difficult manipulation she had angled her right arm in.

She wouldn't be able to do it alone, so she decided she would wait for Hunter to help her, and went ahead and got in the tub so that at least her bottom half was covered.

She stepped carefully into the steaming bath water, sighing in sheer pleasure and sank down into the now billowing bubbles. With the tub almost full, she slowed the water to a trickle to keep it warm. She didn't bother trying to keep the top dry. As far as she was concerned, he could just cut it off. Easing down even further, she let the warm waters do their magic on her battered body and the fragrant smells soothe her mind.

Suddenly exhausted all over again, she leaned her head back and tried to get a handle on the aching in her shoulder and the throbbing headache that had returned with a vengeance. She hoped Hunter wouldn't take too long.

Hunter threw the sling into the washer with a splash of detergent and turned the machine on. As he retrieved McCall's medication and filled a glass of water, he tried desperately hard not to dwell on the fact that his partner was in his tub, taking a bubble bath.

Don't think about her naked, he told himself over and over, walking slowly back to the bathroom, don't think about it.

He knocked softly on the door. "McCall?" His voice was shaky and he cleared his throat to try again. "Is it safe to come in?"

Inside, DeeDee smiled. "Yeah," she murmured sleepily, "the coast is clear."

Hunter opened the door hesitantly, unsure of what he'd find. Seeing her buried in a mountain of bubbles, her dark hair even darker against the white foam, he grinned.

"Do you need a life vest?"

McCall chuckled, "No, but I do need help getting this stupid top off. It doesn't stretch at all and I can't do it alone. In fact, as uncomfortable as I am now, I'd rather you just get a pair of scissors, okay?"

Hunter felt bad for her. "Sure. No problem. But first, why don't you take these so they can start working." He stepped over and sat down on the edge of the slick porcelain and handed her the water. "Open up."

Dutifully, she did so and let him place the pills on her tongue, following it with a large swallow of the cool water. "Thanks."

"Now sit tight and I'll be right back with those scissors." It took several minutes of frantic searching before he finally gave up and returned with his pocket knife.

"Sorry," he told her, holding it up, "this is all I could find."

McCall eyed it dubiously. "Well, be careful, I don't want any more stitches."

"Don't worry," he responded, "just sit still."

DeeDee pushed herself up higher so he could work easier. Chewing on his bottom lip in concentration, he contemplated the best way to go about it. "All right, I'm gonna slice across both shoulders and then up the back. It should slide right off."

She nodded and bent her head down, pulling her knees to her chest and leaning forward. When he was done, she pulled the pieces away as Hunter hastily averted his eyes while she covered her exposed breasts. Slinking further into the bubbles, she handed him the ruined top. "Thank you."

Rick tossed the scraps aside and got a good look at her back. The too numerous to count bruises seemed even worse now. His mouth went dry.

"Can you hand me a wash cloth?" McCall asked, feeling his eyes on her body like a physical touch.

"Uh - yeah - sure." He felt awkward, unsure what to do or say. He handed her the cloth and she pulled it under the water then back out.

"Um - Hunter - I think it would be easier if you got it soapy for me." She was having a hard time meeting his eyes and prayed the bubbles were hiding the flush on her body.

He simple nodded and worked up a lather. "I was going to offer to wash your back - but I'm afraid I'd only hurt you." He held out the wash cloth to her.

McCall, starting to feel the effects of the medication, was also starting to feel a little braver. She placed her hand over his and pushed it back towards him. "You won't hurt me - I think it would be easier if you did this for me. Would you?"

Hunter swallowed, his breath starting to hitch in his chest. Unable to speak, he simply nodded. Hesitantly, he reached forward and decided to start someplace safe.

With the gentlest of touches, he bathed her face; first one cheek, then the other, then sliding across her forehead, down her nose and finally along her jaw.

DeeDee closed her eyes, an expression of sheer bliss transformed her features. Rick moved to her neck.

"Shit," he breathed, when he had washed away all the dirt and old blood.

McCall's eyes flew open. "What - what is it?"

"You're neck - those bruises -how -?"

She had forgotten. "Nash was trying to strangle me when I stabbed him. I'm okay. I didn't realize there were any marks."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him, "just keep going - you're doing great."

Hunter wasn't entirely convinced and hesitated. DeeDee lifted a dense hand full of bubbles close to her mouth and blew them off her hand and into his face.

"Hey!" he sputtered and returned the favor before she could put up a hand to block them. She giggled and brushed the bubbles away.

Suddenly, Rick put a finger under her chin, staring deeply into her brown eyes. Silently she put her hand on his arm, meeting his gaze.

The electricity crackled between them.

"I -" Hunter started to speak, but McCall overrode him.

"I love you," she murmured.

Hunter's eyes grew wide. McCall froze, not believing that she had actually spoken aloud.

Hunter put the wash cloth on the side of the tub and using both hands he cupped her face and slid one thumb across her lips.

"I should have been the first one to say it," he whispered reproachfully.

McCall cocked an eyebrow. "You know, you could be the first one to show it."

Hunter blinked at her bold statement, then with a grin, leaned in and did what he'd wanted to do for a very long time. But having waited this long, he decided to stretch out the moment. And his pleasure. And hers as well, he hoped.

First, he brushed his lips against hers, lightly, chastely, just enough to discover their texture. Oh, God - it was like satin.

He pulled back and looked at her closely, gauging her reaction. Their eyes were locked and he was happy with what he saw as they both fed off sudden heat and passion. Again he leaned in and this time deepened the contact, but kept it innocent and sweet. After several moments of gentle exploration they were both breathless.

Confident now, he captured her lower lip and softly, tenderly ran his tongue over it. He felt her shiver and he pulled back enough to see her staring dreamily up at him, her eyes wide and a tad unfocused.

"Are you sure about this, McCall?"

"I'm sure that I love you."

"I love you, too. But what about -?"

"No," she said, placing her finger against his lips, effectively stopping him. "No buts. Not now. Not tonight."

He nodded in understanding. "You're right." Slow, one step at a time. And the first step was to get her cleaned up and in bed.

He kissed her and proceeded to lovingly bathe her battered body, even managing to shampoo her hair for her. When she was finally cleaned from head to toe, he handed her a towel.

"DeeDee, right now, I want you so badly, my teeth hurt. But I hope you understand, why we can't - not yet."

She wrapped the large terry cloth securely around herself. "I want you too, Rick. I hate that we have to wait."

"I know you do. But I don't want anything to get in the way - I want you healthy and comfortable and I just couldn't take the chance of causing you any discomfort, even accidentally."

McCall dropped her head. "You wouldn't."

He kissed her again. "I've waited this long, haven't I? Don't worry, McCall - I'm not going anywhere without you."

She leaned into him and he carefully pulled her close. They had opened a door to a brand new world. Neither knew what to expect, but they mutually decided to find out together and let their declaration of love guide them along.

McCall slipped into her nightgown and let Rick brush her hair out. Since she was barely able to keep her eyes open as the effects of the medication took hold, he carried her to bed and lovingly laid her down. He quickly removed his jeans and crawled in next to her, pulling the covers up and letting her find a comfortable position.

"I love you," she whispered on the edge of sleep.

He kissed the top of her head, which was nestled in the crook of his arm. "I'll always love you. Always."

DeeDee sighed happily and drifted off to sleep, secure in his embrace. Rick closed his eyes and fell asleep, too, dreaming of his future with DeeDee McCall and knowing he'd move heaven and earth to make those dreams come true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~

That Was Then, This Is Now - by The Monkees

You always say you like my style.
You say I'm tough and kind of wild.
Am I too much for you to tame?
I swear this time it's not a game.

I've known a lot of girls.
No, this I won't deny.
I'll give our love,
I'll give it more than a try.

That was then, (that was then) this is now.
Let me prove my love girl, I'll make you proud.
I never made (never made) this kind of vow.
That was then, this is now

I've led a thousand lives it seems.
And there's been a lot of broken dreams.
My mind's just swept love aside.
But you broke me down and put me wise.

I've doubted all compassion,
But you showed me the door.
I can't doubt it,
I don't doubt it no more.

That was then, (that was then) this is now.
Let me prove my love girl, I'll make you proud.
I never made (never made) this kind of vow.
That was then, this is now.

I've known a lot of girls.
No, this I won't deny.
I'll give our love,
I'll give it more than a try.

That was then, (that was then) this is now.
Let me prove my love girl, I'll make you proud.
I never made (never made) this kind of vow.
That was then, this is now.

That was then, this is now.
That was then, this is now.