Four

Cheryl holstered her gun automatically, flew the short distance to the stack of pipes. She kicked the submachine gun out of reach and dropped to her knees, clawing at the body that now covered Steve. It was heavy and inert, and the small hole she could see in the back of his head confirmed her suspicions that he was dead. Her only regret was that he hadn't suffered. She managed to roll him off of Steve, her mind puzzling for just an instant on the larger, more ragged hole that marked his forehead, then she forgot him and turned her attention to her partner. The color of his skin made her heart press suffocating against her breastbone.

"Steve?" She touched his cheek. It was clammy and cold, and she gently pushed the hair matted damply against his scalp away from his forehead, noticed that one side was caked with blood. Mark Sloan had told her once that head wounds could be deceptive - that they bled a lot and were often overlooked, so that the patient suffered dangerous blood loss before anyone took it seriously. She fumbled for something to staunch the flow. "Steve? I'm going to get you fixed up right away. Help should be on the way, and I'll be right here until it comes." If not for the shallow rise and fall of Steve's chest, she would have thought that she was too late.

She noticed that he was shivering and struggled out of her jacket. "You just take it easy…" She wondered what she had available to use to slow the bleeding from his arm. The sight of that tangled mess made her stomach roil warningly, but she knew she needed to halt blood loss. She considered trying to remove his leather jacket to get a better look at the injury, saw that the leather and the wound were too mixed up together for her amateur efforts and looked away, her throat moving spasmodically. Oh, God. Just - just hang on a little longer, Steve…she draped her jacket over him, folded it around him. Try to stay warm…I'm going to do everything I can…

She pushed on the arm underneath the jacket, used one sleeve to press against the wound on his forehead. If she lay across him, she could keep pressure on the arm and the temple at the same time and maybe keep him warm too…she could feel his heart beating underneath her, fast and faint. Come on, Steve…come on, come on, come on…the worst is over, I promise - you just need to stay with me now. I'm going to try calling for an ambulance…

She fumbled for her cell phone with her free hand, but something caught at her arm instead, pulled at her, lifting her - she struck out at it, flailing wildly. It had never occurred to her that there might be an accomplice after all this time, but he could just go ahead and shoot her then, because there was no way she was leaving Steve now…she clutched at the form beneath her…

"Come on, Banks - let him go - come on, honey, you did real good, you did great, but we gotta bus here now and they're gonna take good care of him. You need to get outta the way…you need to let him go…come on, it's gonna be okay…"

That voice was vaguely familiar and she turned her head, caught a glimpse of a square block of chin shadowed with blue-black, a receding head of curly dark hair. She stared. Oh. Mallozzi, wasn't it? She didn't know him well, but she recognized him…

He gave her a watery smile and pulled her off of Steve and into his arms, holding her tight. "You did great, but it's all over now. It's over. Let these folks do their job while we sit over here…"

Suddenly, there seemed to be people everywhere. Cheryl let Mallozzi guide her away, confused and disoriented by the sudden change in circumstances. She sank into his comforting embrace for a moment, then sat up straight as the puzzling bullet wound suddenly made sense. "You shot him!"

"Well, not me, Withers, but yeah - that was us. But I'm betting you got a couple of plugs of your own in - we'll know more later. Right now, just try and relax…"

Cheryl frowned more deeply, pushed away from him and smacked him in the chest. "Wait a minute! How long have you BEEN here?"

Mallozzi ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. "A little while."

Cheryl hit him again, harder this time, but he didn't even flinch. "So what were you waiting for? To see how long it would take him to bleed to death? Or were you just enjoying the show?"

"Sh, sh -" He kneaded her back soothingly. "We were waiting - just like you - playing the percentages. We didn't exactly have a rifle with night scopes along and we didn't dare get too close in case that dog smelled us - could've ended up getting both you and Sloan shot to pieces. Taking out that dog really picked up the pace, by the way - good call."

"Well, thanks!" Without thinking, Cheryl hit him again. She couldn't believe how furious she was, but it made her feel better to have someone to release her suppressed rage and terror on. "Thanks a whole lot! I'm glad you approve!" Her voice rose higher still. "I hope you guys had a chance to sneak in a cigarette or a cup of coffee or something? While you were hanging out waiting?" She heard Mallozzi click his tongue, didn't resist as he gently caught hold of her hands, embarrassment starting to creep over her. She must have been hitting him pretty hard.

"Hey, hey, c'mon - we called the SWAT guys - had the dog folks on the horn - we were lookin' out for you. There would've been a regular army here in another couple of minutes, if everything hadn't come to a head. Helluva situation. He wasn't lying about those modified street guns, either, you know - really unstable. The way he was using it as a club, it's a miracle there wasn't lead flying all over the place."

The mental image made Cheryl shudder and she leaned into him again. She realized for the first time that she was sobbing and had been for some time. She closed her eyes, humiliated. Some cop she was. "I don't know why I'm crying…" she choked.

She could hear the smile in Mallozzi's voice. "Don't worry about it - it's just reaction. Hell, I feel like bawling myself."

She gave a small, damp laugh, dashed her hands at her eyes. "Don't you dare tell him that I cried like some girl!"

A meaty hand patted her shoulder. "Aw, honey - give the guy a break! Makes a man's day to think some dame trickled a few tears over him." His voice changed, sobered. "And his day could use a little making."

Cheryl turned her head at that to look over her shoulder and try to see what was going on. "How is he?" She sniffed, dabbed at her nose. "Is he all right? I want to see him - I want to ride in with him - can I ride in with him?" She stood up a little shakily and moved toward the area where two paramedics were busily at work and another plainclothes officer, one she recognized as Withers, was marking the scene. Mallozzi came with her, his arm still around her shoulders. It was dawn now, more light than shadow, and her first clear view of the puddles of blood made her stop dead for a second, her head suddenly light and buzzing.

Mallozzi squeezed her shoulders understandingly and spoke for her. "This is Detective Banks. She wants to know if she can ride along with her partner. Probably somebody should have a look at her too."

"I'm fine." Cheryl craned her neck, trying to really see Steve, but the busy paramedics blocked her view. "He'd want to go to Community General. Can you do that? Is that all right?"

"His Dad is some big mucky-muck doctor there." She heard Mallozzi's voice from over her shoulder, saw the paramedic raise his eyebrows in response to some look from Mallozzi. "Might be - better if he's there - y'know - just to be safe…"

The reason for the exchange of glances registered with Cheryl and she shook Mallozzi's arm off. "He's going to be fine!" she insisted fiercely. "Can I ride along? Is that all right? I want to stay with him."

"We were just going to load him. Have a seat in the ambulance and we'll look you over on the way."

"I said I'm fine." It occurred to her that that sounded just like something Steve would say and, idiotically, she began to cry again.

A paramedic gripped her arm firmly and led her to the ambulance. She slid onto the bench seat without another word and watched them load Steve's gurney. She could talk to them on the way - make sure they took him to Community General. That is, as long as that wouldn't endanger his life.

She was busy trying to see Steve under all the equipment, to try and tell if he looked better or just cleaner, when a broad hand patted her knee. She glanced up into Mallozzi's kind brown eyes. "Hang tough, Detective. We'll meet you there."

She nodded silently, staring at him in surprise before sinking back against the wall behind her.

Well, son of a gun, she thought as the ambulance pulled away. He wasn't kidding - he really does look like he wants to cry.

TBC