The whole Homicide squad was down at the hospital, waiting anxiously for Kellerman to come out of surgery. They assumed since the bullet had exited his chest, it wouldn't be so bad, but the doctor reported midway through the operation that the bullet had punctured and collapsed one of the Kellerman's lungs. However, he was optimistic that Kellerman would make a full recovery.

And yet, even though the operation was a success, hours later, Kellerman wasn't coming out from under the anesthesia. He was in a coma.

"The next forty-eight hours are crucial," the doctor said. "If he wakes up by then, he should be fine. But any more than that and there may be permanent brain damage. You can go in to see him one at a time. Talk to him. Hold his hand. People who have recovered from comas have reported being more aware of their surroundings than tests would indicate."

Kellerman's parents went in to see him first, and his mother came out crying. Then went Gee and the other detectives. Next was Julianna Cox.

She stepped into the private room and looked up at the beeping monitors. Kellerman's blood pressure and sinus rhythm looked good, under the circumstances.

She sat down next to his bed, then reached over and stroked his cheek tenderly. His skin was hot and feverish. "Don't die on me, Kellerman. We haven't gotten to know each other well enough, yet. I was going to send you flowers on Valentine's Day, you know. Lewis suggested it. But I didn't think you'd want them." Cox paused and took a breath that caught in her throat. "I should have, though. Maybe then you'd have known how much I care about you."

Cox got up, leaned over Kellerman, and kissed him on the mouth. Somewhere, deep down, the child inside of her was envisioning Snow White being awakened from her enchanted sleep by the kiss of the handsome prince. But instead of indulging in irrational hopes, Cox briskly walked out of the room and nodded to the next person waiting to go in. That person was Terri Stivers.

For a moment she hesitated. She even pushed the door open tenatively, like she was afraid of what she'd find. And even once she saw that Kellerman may not have looked great, but didn't look like he was on his deathbed either, she still kept her distance.

"I'm sorry, Kellerman," she said. "I mean, it's not really my fault that you got shot, but I really thought I was getting through to them. I really thought that I could get them to put down their guns. I shouldn't have put my gun away. I should have been braver, like you. Narcotics is dangerous, you know. Probably more dangerous that Homicide. But in Narcotics, you're never alone. There's always back-up. Enough back-up to take down an army. I'm not used to working so independently. If this had gone down right, I was probably going to transfer into Homicide. Now I see I have a lot to learn before I can do that."

Stivers stopped talking, wondering if she'd said too much, even if it was to someone who couldn't really hear her. All she knew was that if Kellerman didn't live, she'd feel guilty for the rest of her life. She had been closer to Clarence, physically and mentally. She should have taken him down.

"Feel better," Stivers said quickly, and left the room.

Finally, it was Lewis's turn. He walked in like he was just on a visit with Kellerman on his boat.

"Hey, Mikey, you look like crap, you know that? But guess what, Mahoney looks worse. He is stone dead. His dying sure brought us a lot of work. All of his lieutenants are fighting to take over his operation. It's a bloodbath. We need every guy we got on the street, so you'd better come back soon."

Lewis paused.

"Why'd you do it, Mikey? Why didn't you just let Clarence shoot Mahoney? No, you had to go and play the hero. Clarence wouldn't have shot the rest of us, I'm sure of it," he said defensively.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Mahoney shot you with my gun, Mikey. My gun. You are not going to die from a bullet from my gun, you got that? You are going to live because you're the best cop I know. Sorry for the amateur analysis, but I just have to tell you that you're different from the rest of them. To Pembleton the job is about outsmarting the bad guys. To Bayliss it's about proving his own self-worth. For Munch sometimes it's just a way to pass the time between divorces. And for me? It was a way to get out of the ghetto.

"But you're different. You're a cop from your soul. You believe you have to do your part to tilt the world toward the good.

"So, my brother, my hero, say something. Tell me how stupid I was for beating up Mahoney." Lewis chuckled. "Naw, that's okay, I knew it all along."

Lewis took Kellerman's hand in both of his and held onto it. "You need to come back soon because if you don't, you'll wind up using all your vacation days," he said.

Despite the joke, Lewis left Kellerman's room with his hat in his hands, eyes glued to the floor. There was still blood beneath his fingernails that hadn't washed out. If Kellerman doesn't live, he thought, it never will.

THE END