Six

Cheryl didn't linger in the hall, but slipped quietly into the glass cubicle. Immediately she was aware of a quiet symphony of sound - faint mechanical beeping and humming and whooshing, in a steady timpani. She looked at the machines - she had no idea what any of the flashing numbers meant, she only knew that they looked all wrong attached to her rugged, active partner. Oh, great. And now she was going to cry again.

She sat in Dr. Sloan's abandoned chair and looked some more. Wires everywhere. It was hard to believe that just this morning…her eyes danced away, caught the clock. Check that. Yesterday morning.

"Hey, Partner." Probably he couldn't hear her, but maybe the sound of her own voice would make her less conscious of the beep-hum-whoosh of all that life support equipment. "Captain Newman stopped by. Seems we tripped over something pretty big. That garage was chock-full of contraband weapons. And when they brought in the dogs and started digging under that stack of pipes, they found the remains of four bodies. To start. They're still counting. Can't tell exactly what was going on out there - it will take a while to put it together now that the perp's dead -" she broke off abruptly, glanced at the clock again, the machines, the walls, struggling for her composure. "Anyway, I guess we'll take that snitch a little more seriously in the future, huh?"

She leaned forward, resting her crossed arms on top of the bedrail, risking a closer look at his face. His eyes and cheeks had a sunken look, and a blackening bruise spread like a stain from under a square dressing near his hairline. She dropped her eyes to his hand instead, the one that wasn't suspended over the bed in a contraption of some kind, noticed that she could make out every bone and tendon. She brushed her fingertips across the back of it anyway, careful to avoid all the tubes and wires. "Um - so - he, uh - the Captain - he gave blood. Said he figured since it seemed to be his people who were always draining the hospital's supply, it was the least he could do. Bunch of the guys from the station donated - the Captain, Pulaski, George, Freeman, Rydecker…so if you wake up with a sudden urge to issue orders, chow down on pepperoni pizza, read Elmore Leonard, pick your teeth with the corner of your reports and wear bright coral lipstick, well, I guess you'll know where it came from."

She covered the long, still hand with her own, massaging it gently with her thumb. "The important thing is to wake up. I don't think your Dad plans to sleep until you do and it's been almost twenty-four hours, so I'm sure he'd really appreciate it…" She swallowed carefully. "I know I'd really appreciate it…" Nothing. She shifted so that she could lean back against the wall, sighed soundlessly. "Your hand is really cold. Well, I guess that means no infection yet, at least."

There had been a lot of brisk and semi-hushed talk about that, about whether or not to add an antibiotic to the IV. She wasn't sure exactly how it had turned out.

"Dr. Ellis, your doctor, is a specialist. She seems very nice. Your Dad seems to have a lot of faith in her. She's not Jesse, of course, but he won't be back until tomorrow and anyway, this isn't his specialty. Amanda called and left a message for him so he wouldn't just report to work and find out that way. Probably he'll make a pest of himself with poor Dr. Ellis, demanding all kinds of information, so you might need to wake up to call him off."

Come on, Steve, come on - I know you're in there. Well, maybe it wasn't fair to want him to wake up just because she couldn't sleep. She cleared her throat. "Dr. Ellis says that the leather jacket probably saved your arm. Your Dad joked that he was going to get you another one right away, but I think he really means it. So if you want to have a say in what he picks out…"

Still nothing. She gave the cold hand a pat. "All right. You just rest, then. As long as you wake up eventually. I'm not interested in breaking in a new partner. Do you know how long it takes to get somebody to understand when you need to stop for a strawberry milkshake? I've got you broken in just the way I like you - I have no intention of starting over." She coughed to clear the fog from her voice, scrubbed a hand across her eyes.

"But, um, there is one thing that you said that I've been thinking about - remember how you trounced me on the range last week? You were really nasty-smug about that, by the way…" She smiled a little, remembering. "Well, I've decided that I need to put a little more time in there. See if I can't get a score that kicks your ass next time. I want to feel a little more…a little more…deft -" She broke off suddenly, frowning in concentration. Hey. That felt like…it came again - a faint twitching under her hand. One of the machines started to beep a little faster.

"Steve?" She leaned forward eagerly, watching his face. His eyelids quivered. She breathed a joyous laugh. "C'mon, Steve - come on - you can do it…"

His brows twitched together and he made a feeble attempt to turn onto his side. The mechanism that kept his arm stabilized over the bed stopped him and his brow puckered. His eyes flickered open, trying to see. He stared at his arm, gave a grunt of pain through the respirator as he tried to shift it, then tried to lift his hand to reach the respirator mask.

Cheryl held his hand gently down. "No, no - don't do that - you know they hate it when you do that - just take it easy. Relax. Your Dad's not far away. I'll call somebody. …"

She didn't have to. The ICU nurse was there immediately, checking the machines and smiling. She noted Steve blinking at her and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "It's nice to see you. You just rest for a minute and I'll see if we can't take that tube out."

"Dr. Sloan's with Dr. Ellis," Cheryl added helpfully. She noticed Steve trying to turn his head to get a look at her and shifted closer so that he could see her more easily. "Hi, there."

He stared at her, then moved his eyes to try and take in the cubicle.

"Yeah. The hospital. I'm sorry."

His eyes returned to her, shut tightly and reopened, blinking. He looked troubled, and she finally realized that he was looking at her robe.

"Oh, yeah. It's Amanda's. Like it?"

The furrows in his brow deepened and she realized what was bothering him.

"Oh, no - I'm fine. I just figured that if you were going to malinger around here, then why should I hurry back to work?" His expression didn't lighten, and she continued, more gently, "Really, Steve. I'm just here overnight, for no good reason that I can figure. I'm fine, the perp and the dog are dead, and the only one who needs a little TLC is you."

He watched her face, then seemed to relax a little.

"You had your Dad pretty scared, though. He's going to be glad to see you awake. Okay, maybe I was a little bit scared, too." She watched his eyes, saw him struggling to remember, to put the pieces back in place. He turned his gaze back to the suspended arm, blinked at it. "Your arm is kind of a mess, but they're taking care of it."

His eyes fluttered closed, then opened wide again. The beeping from the machine picked up pace. He tried to look at her, and she could see from his expression that he remembered what had happened.

"He's dead," she repeated. "The dog, too. They brought the dog in for testing, rabies and things, but I could see if I could get his head for a trophy for you."

She watched the eyes narrow in amusement, chuckled in return. "Everything's okay. They're just putting the pieces together. The pieces of the crime scene, and the pieces of you."

Even behind the respirator, she could tell he was trying to smile. He let his eyes slide shut again, but she felt his hand turn under hers, saw him offer it to her, palm up. That tediously predictable flood of dampness pressed at her eyelids again, and she wrapped her hand around the offered palm and squeezed firmly, felt a faint, answering squeeze in return. The tears flooded over before she could stop them.

One must have dropped on Steve's hand, because he opened lazy lids again and turned his head questioningly. The alarm in his eyes when he saw her had her blotting at her face with her sleeve again, waving a hand dismissively as she fought to get herself under control.

"I'm fine," she sniffled. "It's just - it's all right - I've been doing this all day."

He looked puzzled, then understanding and surprise, followed by a faint flicker of boyish pleasure, swept over his face.

She laughed out loud. "Yes, over you." Mallozzi, you weren't kidding. "And don't you dare look smug!"

His eyes dropped shut again. The beeping had a steady, peaceful sound.

Cheryl smiled. "Oh, all right, go ahead and be a little smug. Just this once." It was beyond her to deny him anything right then anyway.

"Just as long as we're agreed this will never, EVER leave this cubicle!"

TBC